#when rodney's not even around

[stargatebarbie]

it's SO important to me that they play chess together. and that they play prime not prime, quiz eachother on tv & movies, play with rc cars, play virtual golf. but especially the chess

[4milly]

over it. - sefa f. +millytober+

am i really that much…to handle?

*y’all met him as solo sikoa, i met him as fine ass sefa w that long ass hurr😩 ignore the time stamps on the messages, i noticed an error and had to redo one 🙂‍↕️*

warnings: cheating (semi; not established), ex’s to lovers, eating out, oral sex (femme receiving), use of n word, mentions of sex, mentions of breeding, aggressiveness, choking.

parings; sefa fatu (solo sikoa) x black!reader.

you rubbed a hand over your face, throwing your phone on the couch. your nerves began to rise, at the thought of sefa wanting to pop up again. the last time you two saw each other…it wasn’t pretty. to simply put, you wanted more from him and sefa was just going on the road to start his wrestling career. the night ended in him calling you ungrateful, and you calling all types of ain’t shit ass niggas left and right.

you were ready to take that next step with him; you stood there and poured your heart out about wanting to be exclusive, how much you loved and cared for him, being with him made your heart swell…and he just threw up all over it with his bullshit.

he told you, how the fsw brand wanted to finally sign him on; he couldn’t make time for a serious relationship right now, the long distance, the different time zones, he wanted to completely focus on getting everything in place to soon join his family at the top in wwe.

to many, they considered you selfish. but who gives a fuck what they think? your man told you he couldn’t be with you, couldn’t even fuckin’ try…because he got a job. okay.

you were ungrateful ass fuck and a clingy selfish brat, and took that title proudly. it didn’t matter. when you walked out the door of his condo a year and a half ago that was it. he flooded your phone with messages and calls begging you to hear him out, and to apologize.

you simply ignored him.

you did eventually caved after a few weeks. he promised no arguing, keeping his hands to himself, and full immunity to voice how you felt…0 truths and all lies. the night ended with you bent over his couches arm rest as he pounded into you from behind, engraving his aura into your pussy. he almost didn’t even leave with the way you kept creaming all over him.

while you both agreed to break up, he wasn’t leaving without a goodbye gift. although he knew you were on birth control, he made sure to pump all of his cum deep into you; even falling asleep with his dick plugged into your pussy to make sure it would reach your womb.

sefa wasnt slick; he wanted you to wait for him to reach a comfortable pace, so the two of you could be together again. you couldn’t bare it. waiting for a man who invalidated your feelings when you wanted to finally take that next step? all because he couldn’t handle it? you ignored the fuck out any communication he attempted. as weeks went by the phone calls, messages, emails, and even letters slowly faded, until he completely stopped. he finally got the memo. you moved on with life.

after going out for drinks one night a few months ago, you met rodney. he never quite compared to sefa, but he was okay. he was great at conversation and took you out on dates, but that was all. for two months, you’ve been giving him the run around

he wasn’t getting any pussy, with how he sweated you. he wanted to be under you all day, over your house, on the phone, kissing all on you, questioning you about where you are, who you been with, how you know em’. all he got was to be able to play around with your tits and your pussy a little with his hands. whenever he’d attempt to do more, you’d push him away.

you liked rodney, but you couldn’t stop wanting your man back. nothing compared.

a swift knock on your door sounded as you picked a playlist. summer walker’s over it album was going to be the mood tonight. you looked in the mirror by the door as you reapplied a thick coat of lipgloss, before opening it.

your heart thumped out your chest at seeing sefa. here he was after a year, his hair tied into a low ponytail, dark grey sweatpants and a matching sweater, with jordan’s on his feet.

“you always braiding muthafuckas’ hair in booty shorts?” his eyes raking up and down your body slowly

“this is my house. i’ll wear whatever i want. cool with you?”

“didn’t i tell yo ass chill the fuck—“

“i don’t have time for your bullshit. i’ll braid you hair and then you’re leaving. that’s it. c’mon.” you left him at the door with an eye roll to walk towards the couch

sefa’s eyes stayed planted on your ass, watching it jiggle as you walked away from him. he had to bite his lip and mentally count down to keep himself from getting hard. the way he felt? he wanted to bend your ass right over the couch arm rest and see if your pussy was still always ready for him.

your smart ass mouth was one thing, but he finally got what he wanted. here he was right back in your space again, and this time he he wasn’t leaving without making sure you weren’t going anywhere.

“sefa, i don’t have all day. hurry up, i got things to—.” you spoke again opening the jar of grease and spreading your legs, before the sound of your phone ringing caught his eyes

“aye man, who the fuck is rodney? deadass?” his teeth grit snatching your phone about to press answer

“stop! nigga, are you crazy!” you yelled out snatching your phone back from him, “ya know what? get the fuck out. i’m not playin these games with you. it’s been a year. you thought i was gone wait around? life moves on. just like you did.”

“that’s yo fuckin’ problem right there. yo stupid ass don’t listen. i never moved on. i said what had to happen for me—“

“it’s always you. just you, you, you. never us, or even me!”

“oh, so you and rodney? that’s all you, baby?”

“you’re absolutely insane…” you shook your head amazed at him “you care more about if another nigga has been fucking me, than anything else. you’re such a bitch for that shit. get ou—“

you words were cut off at sefa bringing his hand to wrap around your throat, putting just the right amount of pressaure that made you submit to him. immediately you quieted down, tucked your tail between your legs and looked away, knowing eye contact would be the one thing to send you over the edge.

you could your pussy began to drip through your panties, the ache starting to form at the aggressiveness he displayed. you tried to subtle squeeze your legs shut to create small friction there.

“i said watch yo fuckin’ smart ass mouth. you been turnt all day wit my ass. i’m sick of that shit. you been giving other mutherfuckers my pussy?” he growled out into your ear bringing your body flush to his “now yo ass quiet as a fuckin’ mouse? answer me.”

you kept your mouth shut. part of you liked this side of him, you wanted him to be rough with you; show you how much he missed you. that he still cared.

“ight…i see i gotta find out myself. get them shorts off. panties too.” he rushed out as he pushed you towards the couch, “bend over.”

you pushed your thumbs into the band of your shorts and panties pushing them towards your ankles before stepping out of them. your lower body moved over the arm rest, perching your pussy on full display for him.

so roped up in your thoughts, you didn’t even hear ur phone buzz again. this time, sefa reaching over to answer rodney’s phone call.

“yea…look at that pussy. so fuckin’ wet fa me. gotta inspect her first. see who else she had.” he panted before easing two fat fingers inside you

“ah!” you softly moaned as his fingers curled to rub that spongy spot inside you

sefa’s eyebrow raised; he didn’t always remember a lot, but he knew how pussy felt. his pussy felt. it was still just as tight and wet as when he was last in it, “damn bae. kept my pussy nice and tight, fa’ me? yea?”

you lost the power to string a sentence together, only focusing on fucking yourself on his fingers and releasing loud moans, “you been takin’ care of this pussy? givin’ her the attention she need since daddy’s been gone? tell me whose pussy this is.”

“i-it’s your pussy, sefa. oh my god!” you cried out, unable to hide how excited you were he was finally back—the wetness easing down your legs a testimony to that.

“gimme your hands, mama.” you quickly obeyed him moving your arms behind you, him positioning your hands to spread your ass cheeks to allow him to spread you open, “pretty ass pussy, my girl so fuckin’ messy, gotta clean her up.”

you were so fucking sweet and ready to be fucked with his tongue. he lowered to be eye level with your pussy and reached forward to suck your clit into his hot and wet mouth. he hummed at the taste of you on his tongue and sent vibrations through out your body.

your cries of ecstasy sounding like a lullaby in the room. he pressed his face further into you, his beard occasionally scratching against your sensitive clit. you widened your legs to give him better access to run his beard on you. he gripped your thighs tightly as he took your pussy whole into his mouth—flicking his tongue in and out of your entrance.

the room echoed with the sounds of his obscene slurping and sucking—drowning out the noise of summer walkers voice.

“aw fuck! sefa! don’t stop…pleasee, don’t stop.” you shrieked, your nails creating crescent moon shapes on your ass cheek to relieve some of the pressure. your thighs quivering as you grew closer to flooding his tongue with your cream

him harshly sucking your throbbing clit back into his mouth, turned that into a reality. your cum gushing out your pussy onto his tongue as your entire body convulsed. you couldn’t stop shaking, sefa’s tongue still licking and sucking making your eyes roll to the back of your head. your pussy now getting sensitive and twitching around his tongue. your mouth opened on a strangled cry, erupting in a shuttering orgasm for the 2nd time on his tongue.

you were paralyzed and your mind was blank. your tears and spit making a dark spot on the couch cushion. all you could wanted to do was lay there and take the assault of his tongue, even if you couldn’t take it anymore. he gave your clit one last suck and placed soft kisses around your entrance, before standing back to his full height.

“tell rodney, you ain’t finna be seein’ him no mo, baby.” his voice deepened and filled with urgency, ready to get back to reminding you who he was.

undoubtedly, you belonged to sefa. you always di—wait,

rodney?

❦: @caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine

@angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23

@empressdede @trentybenty @shes2real @blacst4r @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @brwnlikefoxy @romansthrone @bebesobrielo @southerngirl41 @yana3sworld @jaza23

[cow-on-a-skateboard]

In the episode about McKay's "second childhood", after John and Rodney sat on the pier with beer and had a heart-to-heart talk, I want to believe that then they returned and John offered to spend the night with him so as not to run around the cabins. After all, he suggested it at the very beginning, when his terrified friend came running to him.

(I tried to depict a relaxed light from those panels that are located in each room, but it turned out to be too bright)

It seems to me that the moment I depicted is a bit mawkish, but due to the situation, this is the best that John could offer him. McKay is scared, confused, and very outraged that his brain is degrading, and he's still aware of it. He curled up and pressed his arms to his body, falling asleep more or less normally, feeling calm and protected. But John didn't even close his eyes all this time, replaying Rodney's last words in his head and sometimes glancing at him with concern.

It seems that his arm has already gone numb, and unpleasant tingling has begun. Sheppard decided to try to change his position a little, but it would be a real success to free his hand. John inhaled and held his breath, carefully starting to remove his hand from under McKay. Because of John's movement, Rodney shifted his head and put it closer to his friend's chest, pressed his hands tighter to his body and shifted slightly, finally languidly and deeply sighing, continuing to sleep. John exhaled in frustration and abruptly relaxed, sprawling on the bed, realizing that he was trapped. At least he was glad that there was less pressure on his arm now, and he gently stretched it, getting rid of the tingling.

It was a little unusual to feel Rodney's breath so close. It's too dark, too quiet, too drunk to ignore his calm monotonous breathing. John finally gave up trying to get out, which caused a quiet chuckle to escape from him. Either from hopelessness, or from the way McKay sighed softly again.

But what will happen in the morning? What if McKay wakes up later and finds no one around, gets confused about where he is, or tries to figure out what kind of place this is by shouting someone's name? Or vice versa, will he wake up earlier, and how about shaking John (or screaming) to wake him up and find out why he's in the same bed with him?

I like to imagine the chemistry between the characters, which can be off-screen. What could be the consequences or what consequences would actually happen.

[fuck-customers]

Imagine trying to work in pet nutrition, sounds easy at first. Until you realize that 99% of America doesn’t even understand how to feed themselves so imagine what morons they are when they try to feed their dogs.

These are the issues I see on a daily basis:

Calories. Everyone has misinformation on what calories in food even are, idk how many times I’ve explained this one .

Fat content. Everyone with an obese dog thinks their dog needs a low-fat diet, when it’s the caloric surplus that is making them obese.

Carbs. Same as fat, everyone with an obese dog swears that carbohydrates are the culprit even though there are plenty of athletic prize-winning dogs that are on high-carb diets, which brings up the next concern…

Physical Activity. People think walking their dog around the block once a day is enough to count their physical activity as “high” when it’s actually a mere 10 minute walk, and then they wonder why their dog won’t lose any weight even though he’s on a low-fat diet.

Water content. When I explain to people that the food we are going to give them has a high water content, they go “well why do you guys add water to the food for?” So I explain that we aren’t adding water, all food just naturally has water in it. Somehow this leads them to believe that I’m lying to them and making up false things because they cannot fathom that chicken breast has moisture in it and moisture = WATER.

Poultry. It’s actually common that people need me to explain what poultry is because they simply never even heard of the word. Which I don’t understand because even at the grocery store there are signs labeling the poultry apart from the fish, red meat etc.

Welcome to America, where even the dogs are morbidly obese because no one can do simple research on nutrition without falling down some fad-diet rabbit hole.

Posted by admin Rodney

[tinystepsforward]

automattic vs wp engine mastterpost

adrienne's GitHub recap is probably the best place to see a comprehensive timeline of what's going down. it's been kept up to date. my (very out of date) previous writeup is here.

what's happened/other links

Matt has not logged off, just switched platforms, so there's lots on X/Twitter, Reddit, and Hacker News. it's really not worth wading through.

WP Engine actually filed suit.

the complaint includes some truly remarkable screenshots of Matt trying to blackmail the CEO of WP Engine.

which... personally i would not happily work for someone who just blackmailed me while not even my boss, but that's just me. he hasn't denied this at all, in fact confirming on Hacker News:

I haven't doxxed any private texts from other parties like they have. [source]

and, notably,

I even invited her to my 40th birthday on Jan 11, another text message she decided not to share. [source]

this gives me the creeps. in the context of the rest of the way he's talking to her, and the ways in which he's interacted with women in general, it's. not great.

also he slid into an ex-employee (also a woman)'s DMs asking why she was being mean to him bc he'd never been nothing but nice to her, while also making legal threats. so y'know, pattern of behaviour.

a good writeup of the social side of things

if you don't care so much about the open-source stuff, Steph Lundberg's writeup is, like her previous one on Matt's Tumblr meltdown, pretty solid and people-focused.

Mullenweg has already demonstrated egregious lapses in judgment and abuses of power, it’s just that up until now he’s wielded his power against vulnerable populations without access to high-powered lawyers and their own massive platforms.

a more technical writeup

this one is melodramatic in the same ways Matt was (uses war terminology), which i don't agree with, and which led to some... internal arguments at Automattic. that part's not my story to tell, but a little more on that later. it's a solid writeup of the actual WordPress side of things. there's some seriously dodgy trademark behaviour going on here.

of note: this blogger locked comments on his post:

and then Matt, uh, found a way around that:

wild!

10% of Automattic leaves

that's a link to Matt's blog post. here's an Internet Archive link.

in short, staff were offered a severance deal of the higher of $30k or six months' salary. while that's very generous, it's still very risky in today's tech market, especially (for the same reasons i mentioned when Matt was melting down on here) for people outside the US, people who need the health insurance, or people with young kids. despite that, 10% decided with very little notice (they had two days to decide) to leave.

However now, I feel much lighter. I’m grateful and thankful for all the people who took the offer, and even more excited to work with those who turned down $126M to stay. As the kids say, LFG!

i'm thrilled to see some of my ex-colleagues make it out. i'm keeping the rest who have stayed on in my thoughts. i don't know anyone who's wholesale shilling for Matt.

Matt's been pressuring staff to post in support of him, @-ing the entire company to vote on Twitter polls in his favor, and so on. many of the people who stayed have written blog posts about it, all starting with "I stayed". people on social media have pointed out the very clear pattern of Automatticians jumping into discourse to defend Matt, and it doesn't look good.

i don't have a lot to say about those posts, except to highlight Jeffrey Zeldman, whose "I stayed" post is perhaps one of the more honest ones. (his Rodney King reference was in poor taste, and he... i don't like his role at automattic, tbc) but like. he's nearly 70. he helped shape the modern internet and develop its accessibility standards. he has often put his neck on the line for disabled staff who don't have as much clout as he does. given the financial troubles he talks about and the state of this market and how old he is, i personally have read between the lines of what he's saying in a particular way.

fuck, man. i'm sad. i'm sad for all my friends who are creaking under the strain and watching others leave but who can't do that. i'm sad that many of them are left in teams which are half-empty or divisions where significant senior leadership are just gone, with no time to document what they had in progress.

i'm sad for Josepha Haden Chomphosy, the former executive director of the WordPress Foundation, who was dealing with a personal emergency and ended up having to miss WordCamp US (where Matt started publicly starting shit with WPE). she came back from that to a gigantic fire in the community she's invested a decade of careful, Matt-negotiating, stewardship to, and decided to take the severance offer. she deserved better.

other things Matt's been up to

mostly linking to comments or posts which compile things here, bc it's too scattered otherwise.

blocking people from the official WordPress X account if they disapprove of his actions.

publicly talking about a vulnerability in ACF, a plugin WPE maintains, which could put thousands of sites at risk. this is not normal, and he met with so much horror even from current staff that he deleted his post.

saying he comes across badly because he's "a little ASD", which is driving me personally up the fucking wall. he's never once said it before and he really is turning into Temu Elon.

generally bragging that he still has more planned. jesus fucking christ

continually saying that WPE's suit is against WordPress.org and the community, which is not true. on which note, his pinned tweet is certainly something:

his choice of lawyer is uh. the kind of guy to defend nestle against literal child slaves.

as always, while i think WordPress crumbling will disproportionately affect websites in poorer parts of the world, there are certainly tyrants who are causing much more immediate and potent suffering. if you've read this far, please do send anything you have spare to gazafunds.com.

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter One - Tyler Owens x Reader

Chapter One - Nice Try, Owens

It was the end of the second tornado-chasing season for (Y/n) and the Storm Riders. A couple of years ago a local bar in Oklahoma named the Dust Devil Dive hosted a yearly celebration party for all the storm chasers to relax and share stories from the year's chases. 

Granted, most times it was just your team, a few from Storm Par, another smaller team named Atmosphere Aces, and the Tornado Wranglers. Thankfully when the owners, Kathy and Randy, threw this party they closed the place down to outsiders, which included all of the Tornado Wrangler fans. You and your team got tired of having their fans around constantly just because the leader, if you could call him that, was good-looking and charismatic enough to make any girl who looked at him melt. That man is Tyler Owens. 

While, yes, he is good-looking and a smooth talker, he was also reckless and annoying. There were numerous times you had watched him and Boone drive into the middle of a storm in that old red truck of his and put it in park to then shoot fireworks up into the tornado. You’d have to admit that his bravery and respect for the storm were admirable; driving into the middle of a tornado was not as admirable. 

You smirked to yourself while sitting at the bar while sipping your whiskey and diet coke thinking of all the crazy stunts the Tornado Wranglers have pulled. You turned your barstool slightly to watch the teams intermingle on the dance floor, forgetting about all the turbulence everyone had gone through the last few weeks. 

As Rodney Atkins played throughout the bar, you turned back to the bar and finished your drink hearing everyone sing along at the top of their lungs. 

“If you’re going through hell, keep on going, don’t slow down!” They all sang, “If you’re scared, don’t show it, you might get out ‘fore the devil even knows you’re there!” 

In the corner of your eye, you could see Tyler playing pool with Dexter while trying to teach Ben, a journalist from a city near London. You smirked while watching Ben try to use the cue to hit the white ball on the table which was basically lined up with the seven ball and one of the corner pockets. 

While he took his shot and missed horribly by barely hitting the white ball and almost falling onto the table, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. That caused Tyler to look up from under his cowboy hat and make eye contact with you. 

For a man you didn’t necessarily enjoy talking with, he sure did something to your brain chemistry. You lifted your new drink and slightly tipped it toward him in a cheers manner. He did the same with his beer bottle, the two of you both took a drink and you turned back to the bar where the bartender was asking if you needed anything else. 

“I’m good, thanks,” you said, placing your glass back on its chintzy bar coaster. You took your phone out of your pocket and scrolled Facebook for a minute or two to catch up on your family's lives that you had been missing for the last few years while out storm chasing. 

“It’s hard for you, too, huh sweetheart?” A voice you knew instantly asked from beside you. 

You glanced over and saw Tyler sitting on the stool while putting his bottle on the bar to signal the bartender for another. 

“I wish I could go back more and- wait. Why am I telling you my sap story of not seeing my family for the last couple of years?” You laughed, putting your phone down and grabbing your drink. 

“Because I’m just another friendly face at the bar?” He said, looking over at you and smiling slightly. 

“I don’t know about friendly, but definitely another face,” you said, stirring your straw around. 

“Ouch, okay, (Y/n)’s in that type of mood tonight,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I’m in no mood, Tyler,” you stated, “Just stating a fact.” 

“I see how it is,” he chuckled, “And to think I was talking to quite a beautiful face.” 

This statement took you back slightly, you were used to Tyler picking on you and calling you other things like your last name and calling you Salado, which is the town in Texas you’re from that’s about 45 minutes away from Waco, Texas. Salado is a quaint village with what you can call an artistic flair. While your parents were cattle farmers, you did your chores and spent time with a few favorite cows; you also liked going to the heart of the small town and enjoying the artists painting and sculpting in the parks and the numerous bands playing around the town in the little saloons. That’s where you fell in love with music and tried to pursue it as a second job aside from helping out on the farm as that was a full-time job. 

When that fell through, you moved up to Oklahoma to try storm chasing as you had always been in love with storms when you were little. Instead of hiding under the covers or running to your parents, you were at the big picture window in the living room watching the lightning and trees blowing in the wind. 

You were jolted from your thoughts by Tyler nudging your elbow with his. 

“Hmm?” You asked. 

“Dance with me?” He asked, standing up and holding his hand out to you. In the mirror behind the bar, you could see the teams paired up in couples to do their best slow dancing. 

You laughed slightly, “Nice try, Owens.” 

“Please? We’re the only ones not dancing right now,” he said, taking your hand off your glass and pulling you to the dance floor to the tune of ‘Made For You’ by Jake Owen. 

He didn’t give you much of a chance to say no as he pulled you to his chest, his right hand going to your waist and his left finding your hand. You sighed to yourself and put your left on his bicep, which was more muscular feeling than it looked. You figured as long as you were here, you might as well enjoy the dance since the last time you slow danced was with your dad at a friend's wedding. 

You weren’t sure if he was just that intoxicated or if he was fully coherent, but he was rubbing small circles with his thumb on your hip while you both swayed to the music. While your body relaxed you took a deep breath in, smelling the mix of leather, dried rain, an almost musky smell, and a hint of sweat. All of it combined made your heart swoon for this crazy cowboy. 

“Hey (L/n)?” He whispered in your ear, holding his head close to yours. 

“Yeah, Owens?” You whispered back. 

“Think maybe sometime I can take you out?”

You looked up at his blueish green eyes that looked down at you with the most sincere look. 

“Why?” You asked, giggling slightly, “Why would Tyler Owens want to go out with someone like me?”

“Because the girl I’m holding in my arms is the best woman I’ve met in my years of livin’,” he stated, pressing the bridge of his nose to the top of your head. 

“Yeah right, Tyler,” you said, sighing, “Everyone knows you got a thing for Kate.” 

“But she is nothing compared to you,” he said, pulling you closer slightly, “Call me crazy, but I fell in love with you when we first met and I knew I’d have to try and get closer to you somehow. I just hate that it’s taken me this long to finally say somethin.” 

“I guess I don’t believe you?” You said softly, taking in the scent you’ve grown to want more of.

“I mean it, sweetheart,” he said, “It might be, well, I know it’s the beer talkin’, but everything I’m sayin’ is true. You’re one of the smartest and most beautiful girls I’ve seen. And that’s sayin’ a lot since I’ve seen my fair share of gals.” 

“I can’t tell if that last part is an insult or a compliment,” you whispered, Tyler kissing the top of your head softly. 

“Always a compliment when it comes to you, baby girl,” he said, pulling away and twirling you as the song ended and ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ by Luke Combs started. 

You looked back up at him, his eyes looking back at you with happiness sewn in them.

“I suppose one wouldn’t hurt, just no YouTube star Tyler, got it?” You said, walking back to your seat at the bar. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, following you to the bar. 

“You should probably get back to your game of pool before Ben hurts someone,” you giggle, Tyler looking over and seeing Ben almost hit Boone in the gut with the end of the cue. 

“Good call, I’ll be back once we win,” he said while grabbing his beer. 

“If you win,” you state, taking a drink of your now watered-down whiskey coke. 

“Don’t test me, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your head, kissing it before walking back to Dexter and Ben. 

You shook your head and laughed softly. If the tornadoes you chased didn’t do anything to you, this cowboy definitely would. 

Want more? Here's Chapter Two! Masterlist :)

[sunni-stuff]

Silent pining

Part 1

What does he do now?

Ghost can't seem to get you out of his mind. The events from that day replay like a record in hia head. Oh, what a head-strong woman you are, with such a soft touch too.

Lying in his bed, Ghost found the constant wailing snores from Soap doing nothing to quell his thoughts. He'd been thinking about you for days now. Normally, he was good at stifling feelings, stuffing them into a bag to be opened later, but oh... when you fixed up his arm, he felt a new sensation coursing through his veins.

The memory of your gentle hands on his skin haunted him like a phantom, keeping him awake at night.

Ghost sat up in his bed, the dim light from a nearby lamp casting shadows on the walls. He glanced over at Soap, who was blissfully asleep despite his own noisy snoring. With a sigh, Ghost swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, quietly padding to the window.

He stared out into the night, the moonlight reflecting off the base in waves. His mind wandered back to you, to that moment when your hands had carefully tended to his shoulder. He could almost feel the warmth of your touch, the tenderness that had taken him by surprise.

Unable to shake the thought of you, Ghost decided to take a walk to clear his mind. He grabbed his jacket and slipped out of the room, moving silently through the base. The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside, offering a brief respite from the turmoil in his mind.

He made his way to the training grounds, hoping that some physical exertion might help him regain control over his thoughts. But as he began his routine, his movements were distracted, his mind constantly drifting back to you. Every punch, every kick, felt like a futile attempt to expel the image of your face, the sound of your voice.

Finally, he stopped, breathing heavily and leaning against the punching bag. His eyes closed, he allowed himself to remember you fully, to acknowledge the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface.

The sound of laughter reaches his ears—your laugh.

Simon's eyes shoot open as he looks around for you until he sees it—the light on in your office, your silhouette hidden behind the blinds, leaning against your desk as you cheerfully laugh at something another figure in the room has said. His heart tightens.

Who?

Who is that?

A sharp pang of jealousy pierces through him, and before he knows it, Simon's feet are rushing forward. He sprints back inside, his pulse pounding in his ears. The empty halls blur around him as he races towards your office, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Reaching your office door, he hesitates for a split second, hand hovering above the handle. His breath is heavy, his thoughts a chaotic swirl. The need to see you overwhelms every other instinct. The sound of movement inside brings him back to his senses. He hangs back, deciding to hide around the corner and wait.

Soon, you step outside your office, your doctor's coat missing, allowing him to see the woman underneath. Your figure is eye-catching—a shame it has to be hidden, and an even bigger shame that the bloody moron inside your office stops Simon from admiring the view.

“Thanks for letting me come in and talk, Doc.”

Simon recognizes that voice, and it already has him grinding his teeth as he watches Sergeant Rodney Collins walk out. The man is a notorious man-whore, trying to fuck any woman who walks.

Don't you know that? Someone like you shouldn't be anywhere near trash like Collins.

Simon watches you smile, and his heart nearly tears in two.

Don't. Don't smile at him like that. Don't purse those pretty lips at Collins. He doesn't deserve it.

“Anytime, Collins. My door's always open, but next time, come at more reasonable hours. If any of your superiors saw you out here, they'd have your head,” you respond kindly.

How right you were.

After that night, Ghost ensures every single soldier is in bed by curfew. No late-night sneaking out and absolutely no bothering the doctor. It’s after-hours, meaning you're off the clock.

But that's not all he does.

Ghost changes his entire schedule just to hang around the medical ward, scaring off anyone lingering around. He makes it known that unless a soldier is critically injured, they should not be visiting you at all. He doesn't care that some lackey cadet needs a band-aid or another has a headache. "Go walk it off. You'll live."

The thing is, Simon is a fucking hypocrite.

Deep down, he knows it too. He can't stop thinking about you. Every chance he gets, he finds himself in your office with some excuse. A "random" check-up, a minor bruise, even a paper cut. Anything to feel your gentle hands on his skin again. He'd walk in with his usual stoic demeanor, but the moment you touched him to treat his so-called injuries, he'd feel that same surge of warmth. Your hands, your soothing voice—it was addictive.

His mates notice the change in his behavior—how he’s become more protective, more possessive over your time. Soap, knowing Simon all too well, raises an eyebrow when Ghost rearranges his patrols to coincide with your rounds.

"Seriously, man," Soap comments one day as they walk through the base, "you’re acting like you’ve got a crush on the doc."

Ghost scoffs, trying to play it cool, but the subtle twitch of his fingers give him away. "It’s just protocol, Soap. Someone’s gotta make sure she’s not being bothered."

Soap chuckles knowingly. "Uh-huh, sure. Just don’t forget to practice what you preach, Lieutenant. Hypocrisy doesn’t look good on anyone.”

Ghost’s jaw tightens, knowing Soap is right. He spends his days enforcing rules he himself can’t seem to follow. Every time he catches himself lingering, he reminds himself of his duty—but as soon as he sees that smile on your face, all his resolve crumbles like sand between his fingers.

Your office feels strangely quiet, devoid of the usual bustle of soldiers seeking medical attention. Sherry, your colleague, seems to have a growing list of patients, some of whom used to come to you. It's left you with an unusual amount of free time, enough to rearrange your office multiple times out of sheer boredom.

Every now and then, he catches a glimpse of you through the window of your office. You're always so focused, so dedicated. It's mesmerizing to watch you work, even from afar. Simon needs to get a grip and let Ghost do his job. He's a lieutenant, not some boy with a crush. But when he hears your laugh echo down the hallway, his heart skips a beat, and he can't help but wonder who's there with you, making you laugh like that.

When the door finally creaks open, it's him again.

Lieutenant Riley.

His presence is becoming a regular occurrence, and his excuses for visiting are increasingly flimsy—a minor papercut, a bruised knuckle that he insists needs a bandage. You've told him countless times that he doesn't need medical attention for such minor issues, but he always finds a reason to linger near the medical supplies just to exchange a few words with you.

Could he be the reason why your patient visits have dwindled?

During lunch, you sit beside Sherry, who exudes enthusiasm about her growing patient list. She chats animatedly about how the soldiers have been seeking her help more frequently lately.

“It's strange, though, isn't it?” you interject, stirring your soup thoughtfully. “Everyone in the ward seems to be busy except for me. Have you noticed anything?”

Sherry pauses, her brow furrowing slightly. “Come to think of it, when I walked by the training grounds today, I heard a recruit sayin' his arm was hurting him but Lieutenant Riley told him unless he was bleeding he couldn't come to you."

The next time Ghost entered your office, you decided to break from your usual routine. Instead of standing up to tend to him, you remained seated behind your desk, observing him with a raised eyebrow as he walked in with his usual "injury"—a minor scratch on his arm that barely broke the skin.

"Another 'injury,' Lieutenant?" you asked, your tone tinged with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

Ghost nodded silently, his eyes piercing through the holes of his balaclava, fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He sat down across from you, expecting your usual care without a word spoken.

You leaned forward, hands clasped together, a sweet smile spreading across your lips. "Lieutenant, unless you're bleeding, I can't tend to you. Go walk it off."

His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your change in demeanor. For a moment, he seemed dumbfounded, perhaps slightly embarrassed, but his determination remained palpable. With a quick nod and a muttered "Okay," he left your office.

Ghost's return catches you off guard. His presence, intense as ever, fills the room with an unspoken tension. He doesn't say a word as he sits back down, the scratch on his arm now a more serious wound, oozing blood.

You meet his piercing gaze with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Lieutenant, what happened?" Your tone softens, genuine worry creeping into your voice despite your attempt to maintain professionalism.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding your eyes. "Accident," he mutters, his voice barely audible.

You sigh inwardly, realizing he's not here for idle conversation or a Band-Aid. There's something more beneath the surface, something he's not willing to disclose. Ghost's silence is palpable, his unyielding demeanor a stark contrast to the vulnerability seeping through his actions.

Without another word, you retrieve the necessary supplies and begin cleaning and dressing his wound. The atmosphere hangs heavy with unspoken questions, each touch and movement laden with unspoken tension.

As you work, Ghost remains unusually still, his gaze fixed on a distant point. The silence between you stretches, filled only by the soft rustling of medical supplies and the rhythmic hum of the air conditioning.

Finally, when the last bandage is secured, Ghost speaks, his voice low and gravelly. "Thank you."

You nod in acknowledgment, sensing there's more he wants to say but isn't ready to voice. The encounter leaves you unsettled, your thoughts swirling with unanswered questions about Ghost and his enigmatic presence in your life.

Why was he acting this way?

You reach out, delicately taking his gloved hands in yours. "If I take you out to dinner, will you stop scaring off the soldiers from my office?" the question was both a playful challenge and a genuine inquiry into his motives. It was a way to confront his behavior while also acknowledging the unspoken tension between you.

Ghost blinked, caught off guard by your directness. His gloved hands tensed slightly in yours, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty flickering in his eyes visible through the balaclava. He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his response carefully. Dinner.

Dinner with you.

He was a lucky man; his love was such a keen birdie.

Finally, he let out a faint, almost imperceptible chuckle, his voice low and gravelly. "You think dinner will make me stop?"

There was a hint of amusement in his tone, a rare glimpse of a lighter side beneath his usual seriousness. He looked down at your intertwined hands, his fingers subtly adjusting to hold yours more comfortably.

"I can't promise that," he admitted quietly, his gaze lifting to meet yours. "But I'd love to have dinner with you."

You shake your head in disbelief, chuckling at his words. What kind of man was he? Why did he scare everyone off and most importantly why did he want your attention so badly? "Fine. We'll have dinner, but can you at least stop injuring yourself to come see me?"

Ghost's expression softened slightly at your playful response, a hint of relief flickering in his eyes behind the balaclava. He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Deal," he replied, his voice a touch lighter than usual. "No more injuries just to visit you." There was a warmth in his voice, a subtle reassurance that he understood your concern and was willing to make an effort to change his approach.

Ghost withdrew his hands from yours, the gloved fingers brushing against your palms briefly before he straightened up in his seat. His demeanor remained composed, yet there was a newfound ease in his presence, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

♡! It's been ten days, my beauties! I'm sorry for my constant disappearing act. The new Final Fantasy expansion recently came out, and I've been playing nonstop, but I have other fics dropping this week, along with request!!

"This weekend?" he asked, his tone now tinged with a hint of curiosity and a touch of anticipation.

P.S not proofread; I wrote this at 3 am 💞

[holylulusworld]

Every Breath You Take (2)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Bucky x Alpine (platonic)

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, bitchy boss, secret admirer trope, voyeurism, violence, threats

A/N: We start slowly to get to know them and their backstory. In this part, we will get to know Y/N better.

A/N2: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every Breath You take (1)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Bucky smirks when the man raises his hands in surrender. He tried to be a good man, but he couldn’t let anyone hurt you. This man threatened to fire you and called you a dumb bimbo.

“What have I done to you?” Your boss begs while facing a beyond angry super-soldier. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Bucky tilts his head and smirks behind his stocking mask. “You know what you did.” He growls and points the tip of his knife at the man’s chest. “The question is, do you regret your sins?”

“Sins?” He nervously shifts from one foot to the other. Your boss glances around his office, wondering if he can make it past his attacker and through the door. “I don’t know what you are talking about! Do you want money? I can pay you.”

“Money?” Bucky snorts. “People like you believe they get away with everything only because they are wealthy. I won’t let you get away with your sins. If you ever hurt her again, I’ll cut you open.”

Your boss is shaking in fear. His legs are about to give when Bucky wraps his metal hand around your boss’s throat. 

Bucky slams him into the wall and leans closer to inhale the fear waving off your boss’s body deeply. He presses the tip of his favorite knife into your boss’s chest, a warning to not mess with him. 

“If you ever even look at her the wrong way, I’ll come back and finish what I started today,” Bucky whispers in your boss’s ear. “Y/N Y/L/N is off limits. You hurt her, I hurt you. You yell at her; I’ll make your ears bleed. You touch her…well you don’t want to know what happens if you ever put your hands on my girl.”

“Y/N?” Your boss splutters. “She … I didn’t … it was …a misunderstanding. I was stressed and maybe I lost my countenance…I’m sorry. It will never happen again.”

“Good.”

Bucky drops his hand from your boss’s throat. He steps away and looks at the man messing with you up and down. “Don’t make me come back.”

“I won’t,” your boss sniffs. He tugs at his now wet pants, ashamed that Bucky scared him so much that he wet himself. 

“If you tell her about tonight, you will die. Y/N can never know,” Bucky points his knife at your boss. “This is your first and final warning.”

Before your boss can reply, Bucky is gone. Like a shadow, or a nightmare you wake from. Your boss sinks to his knees and starts to cry. 

“Morning,” you chirp as you walk inside the building. You greet the receptionist and smile as they wave back. “How are you today, Rodney?”

Rodney and you fall into an easy conversation. You giggle at something he said but freeze when your boss walks toward you and Rodney. He looks a little pale this morning and you wonder if he’s sick. 

“Good morning,” your boss nods at you and forces a smile on his face. He clears his throat and drops his gaze. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior over the last weeks. I was stressed, but this is no excuse for what I said.”

“Oh, I—” You’re taken aback by your boss's sudden change in demeanor. What has gotten into him? This is so unlike him, and you wonder what caused his behavioral changes. “I…I should head to my desk. Have a good day.”

“You accept my apologies, right?” He wrings his hands and pleadingly looks at you. Maybe someone reported him to HR, and he is trying to make amends now. “Please, I need to hear it.”

“We all make mistakes sometimes,” you hastily reply. “I accept your apologies, Sir. It was very nice of you to admit your mistake. Again, have a good day.”

You walk away to start the day. There is no time to analyze your boss’s behavior. Whatever made him change, it must’ve been traumatic. He looked scared when he looked at you.

Bucky smiles. “She looks happier today, Alpine,” he explains to his cat. “I think her boss got the message and apologized. Good for him. I’d hate to pay him another visit and to bring more knives.”

Alpine looks up at his owner and meows loudly. “I know,” Bucky sighs and pats the cat’s head. “I didn’t like hurting that man. Though, it had to be done. He would’ve hurt our girl again. I had to stop him.”

While you snuggle into your favorite blanket and switch the TV on, Bucky leans back in his armchair and sighs happily. The cameras he installed in your home make things so much easier for him.

He can watch you in every room via the monitors hanging on his walls. Well, in almost every room. James Buchanan Barnes is not a creep. He didn’t install a camera in your bathroom. 

“Do you think we should send her some flowers?” He wonders. “Or is it too soon?” Bucky rubs his chin. “No. Flowers are nice. She’ll be over the moon knowing that there is someone out there, admiring her beauty and grace.”

Alpine stretches and purrs. He presses his paws into Bucky’s thighs before lying back down. “Food was good, huh?” Bucky looks down at his cat. The white furball purrs loudly. “Your belly is full, and now we can watch our girl.”

You yawn. It’s getting late, but you are too tired to get up from the sofa. Rolling to your side you decide to sleep on your couch.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you snuggle into your favorite pillow. Sleep consumes you soon after, and you dream of a more interesting life than the one you are living at the moment.

The annoying sound of your alarm wakes you from your dream. You blink your eyes open and sigh. Just one more day and then it’s weekend.

As you sit up on your bed you frown. Last night you fell asleep on your couch. You’re sure you didn’t get up and walk inside your bedroom. 

But here you are, tugged in bed and there is even a glass of water on your nightstand. You usually forget to put a glass on the nightstand, and you didn’t set the alarm last night either.

How can this be? Did you sleepwalk? Maybe you were so tired you forgot that you went to bed last night.

You shrug. It’s time to get up and start a new day. There is no time to waste to find out how you got into your bed last night…

Part 3  

Tags in reblog.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Wally hadn't been able to make sense of what you'd said. How had it been possible that he and the others had been trapped for so long without knowing it? With that truth out for him to examine, Wally hadn't been sure he'd wanted to look any closer. He'd felt violated. Betrayed. Lost. What other lies had he been unwittingly a part of?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.14

The world fell away as your words penetrated. Wally stilled, didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't make a sound. As if he could delay the impact of that truth if he shut down critical functions.

Weakly, "What do you...mean?" Wally croaked, but something deep within himself had always known.

Known it like common sense; the feeling like looking at a green sky and knowing it was supposed to be blue. Like being sick since birth yet knowing that that wasn't what healthy felt like. He'd known and yet never questioned it because he and the others had had no way to be sure their situation was terribly, tragically wrong.

In the earliest days succeeding his untimely demise, Wally had tried to leave the school.

Not to follow his mother home after she'd donated his trophies, helmet, and jacket to display in the stadium entrance. Not to join his friends in Rodney's basement to get stoned after his memorial service. Not to break his own heart by stalking Jenny to the motel where she and her second choice prom date, Gary fucking Reid, lost their virginities together.

Rather, to go for a walk for the sake of getting some air. Despite having been flung back to the field multiple times by then—a lesson that had drilled into him the habit of remaining perpetually vigilant of his surroundings—Wally had had this intrinsic understanding that he could roam beyond what the barrier permitted.

So much so that, one evening, he hadn't kept track of where he'd been going (partly because he'd trusted himself to veer away from the perimeter, but mostly because he'd been relaxed. Not actively chasing down a loved one). It'd been an unconscious series of actions; one foot in front of the other, listening to Eddie Money's Can't Hold Back on a Lost & Found walkman, strolling into the thin smattering of trees on the edge of the grounds, and then wham—

Back to Start.

It had happened a few times after that, too. Rhonda would cackle around her lollipop du jour, roll her eyes, and tell him to, "Get smart, Jockstrap."

When Charley had come along, he'd experienced the same thing. And then Ajay and Katelynn. Learning the lesson after the lesson had been learned. Mr. Martin had calmly and wisely informed them that it was merely the result of not having internalized being dead yet.

But that hadn't sat right with Wally, similar to having been given the excuse of roughhousing when he'd caught his parents in a compromising position one innocuous summer-break afternoon before he'd aged into double digits.

"Babe..." Wally croaked, just above a whisper, the weight of what you'd unveiled slamming into his chest and leaving him winded, "What are you saying?"

Your eyes, marbled and bright—though not outright glowing like they had in the theater—stared right into him for a moment. You were obviously calculating what it meant that Wally couldn't leave the high school, all the hows and whys flittering like dust motes between you and him.

"Unless you're a residual haunter, like Mina or Yuri, you should be able to go wherever you want. How long have you been stuck?"

Wally's throat clicked when he swallowed, "Since I died."

You pressed your forehead to his, hands slotting under his jaw, and, voice laced with grief, said, "That's not possible."

"I mean, maybe it is?" Wally tried to reason, slumping back in his seat and staring at the 5-yard line as he stitched together his own theories based on what he'd learned as an actual dead person. "It's not like ghosts wrote those books you read. Maybe whoever wrote them got it wrong."

Shaking your head, "Actually, they did. Not the physical copies, obviously, but those authors collaborated with ghosts to write those books."

Wally didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if he could answer a lot of things anymore. Did he even know what it meant to be dead?

You seemed willing wait him out as he turned everything over in his head, one hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the one he'd had on your calf so you could string his arm through your legs and cradle his hand on your belly, your thumb rubbing soothing patterns between the bones.

"What does it mean?" He asked, distant.

Wally could feel himself slipping away, the revelation frosting him from the inside and making him numb. He'd had a similar experience when he'd been fourteen and had broken his collarbone. The pain so intense that his brain had immediately severed its connection to the feeling.

Shock.

"It means that something doesn't want you to leave." You answered once he'd returned his eyes to yours. Your features creased, "Or someone."

Wally felt that statement like a nail through the chest. "How?"

You stared at him helplessly, caressing his cheek and then tilting forward to press your foreheads together again. The action worked to ground Wally, reeled him back from the edge of an existential crisis he wasn't ready to have.

Regretfully, "I don't know, Wally. But we'll figure it out, okay?"

He nodded against you. Closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth of your nearness, the solidity of your touch. Allowed those things to calm him.

"At least we can rule out Mr. A having anything to do with that, right?" Wally snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You pulled back, smiled gently, and nodded, "Right. But he could've used it to his advantage. With her soul stuck here, Maddie wouldn't be able to get back into her body and then go to the police. It also means that he could've safely stashed her body anywhere, so long as he has access to life support."

"You think he dropped her at the hospital?"

"Not here." You said, "Split River isn't big enough to pull that off. He could've driven her to another state? Dropped her off at a big city hospital as a Jane Doe?"

Wally grimaced, shaking his head at the depravity, "That's messed up."

"God, her body could be in Detroit for all we know and it wouldn't get back here until someone in the hospital there made the connection. Unless Sheriff Baxter decides to widen the search."

"Couldn't you ask him? It's like you said, Xavier's your brother from another mother. Wouldn't the sheriff listen to you?"

You didn't seem convinced, reciting in a satire of an upbeat tone, "Hey Sheriff, I think my teacher knocked Maddie out of her body and took it to another state all so she wouldn't tell you about the money he's hiding in his classroom. We should totally look into that."

Wally responded in a responsible manner, "That sounds like an awful idea, let's not do that."

Curling against the back of your seat, voice slightly strangled, you uttered, "So, Maddie's stuck in an In Between 'til I can find her body and bring it back to her."

Wally sensed the granite mass of the pressure you were already putting on yourself. Choosing to steer you out from under it, he diverted the conversation, "Still haven't told me what an In Between is, by the way."

It did the trick, at least for the time being. Your lips quirked up at the corners and the wrinkle between your brows vanished as you informed him, "It's exactly what it sounds like. A plain between plains."

"Yeah, pretty thing, you're going to have to dumb it down more." Wally said, willing to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of making you smile.

Grinning, you set the stage, "Think of plains like different worlds. I'm in the living world, you're in the dead world, right?"

"Got it."

"Now, pretend there are doorways into those worlds. In Betweens are the spaces between the doors." You nibbled your bottom lip and Wally's attention immediately slipped, the urge to lick into your mouth making him twitch. Sweetly unaware, you back-tracked and tried a different avenue, "Not doors...maybe glass walls?"

"The door thing made sense. I mean, I think I get it. In Betweens are those places that anyone can access, whereas the living world is just for the living and the dead world is just for the dead. Am I close?"

"Yeah, you got it." You praised and Wally had to stifle the desire to puff out his chest and preen. "Well, not anyone can access In Betweens, but if your soul can Travel, that's where you go."

"So, when you project, you're in an In Between." Wally stated, though he was hedging for clarification.

"Exactly."

"And you said Maddie's stuck in an In Between, too, right?"

Wally saw the moment you clocked where he was going with that train of thought.

With a lamenting sigh, you said, "Unfortunately, In Betweens are complex. They're unique to all kinds of things like bloodlines and soul-ties—" Wally opened his mouth to ask, but you got there first, "—incredibly deep bonds you make in life with another person." He closed his mouth and listened as you elaborated. "So, me and my great-aunt enter the same In Between and can see each other. But Maddie..."

"Isn't blood?"

"And she and I weren't close enough to form the type of bond you'd need to Travel the same In Between. Either she'd have had to invite me into hers or I'd have had to invite her into mine. It's extremely intimate. Not something you do with someone you only hang out with in a group." You perked up and finally gave Wally a full, supernova smile. "I actually wrote you some notes."

The implication conjured an image of you scribbling notes for him under light cast from a laptop screen, kicking your feet as you lay on your bed like a schoolgirl. All so that he could understand the twisty, twiddly secrets of the universe...

He swooned, barely holding back a wistful exhale.

And then his brain ticked back a few frames to you on an unmade bed. The collar of the oversized t-shirt Wally hoped you owned bearing one shoulder, and the smooth skin of your legs on display.

He couldn't care less about the state of his deadness now, and what it meant that he couldn't leave the school grounds. Instead, he let a slow, devilish smirk slant across his mouth, emboldened by hormones and how receptive you were as he leaned into your space.

He slid his hand from yours and placed it on your thigh, "Gonna let me copy your homework, baby?"

"Gotta get those grades up before the big game." You played along, "Don't want you kicked off the team."

Without hesitation, Wally struck, halfway out of his seat, hand gripping the armrest behind you to hold himself up. He loomed over you, little thing that you were, squished into your seat and completely caged in by him. He hovered, heard your breath hitch, and watched your gaze go hazy.

"Lucky to have a girl like you on my side, then, huh?" Wally said, voice rough, tightly controlled, closing the distance between your lips in increments.

You reached up, wrapped your arms around his neck, "Damn right, big shot," and dipped in.

A throat cleared somewhere over Wally's shoulder, from behind and moderately above, and drove him back into his seat at Mach speed, his hold on you resituating to a socially acceptable place on your ankle. The interruption was accompanied by that arcing of gravity that emitted from a living body which meant Wally was once more on the outside looking in.

"Okay there, hot shot, time to get moving. Students aren't s'posed to be up here outside'a game time." The maintenance worker said, illicit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Wally noticed the man wasn't quite looking at you, and, for the first time, he had to wonder what the hell people saw when you and he were together while you were still in your body.

You pulled yourself up as fast as the angle allowed you to without injury, foot still tucked in Wally's lap. As soon as your head peeked above the back of your seat, the maintenance worker clutched a hand to his heart and plucked the cigarette from his lips.

"Jesus, girl, you can't do that to folks." He scolded you, southern accent thickening, "Lookin' like a zombie comin' out the grave or what."

"Sorry," You said and sounded as puzzled as Wally was by the man's overreaction.

"Just hurry up and get goin'." His eyes swept in a strange pattern, away from you then back then away, fixing on a point that would have been Wally's nose if he weren't invisible. "You kids these days thinking you can be wherever you wanna be, huh? Ignoring the rules, like they don't apply to you..."

God, this guy. "Can it, asshole. Give her a minute to get up." Wally snapped, bolstered by the fact that the man couldn't hear him. "Bet you're bent outta shape because all that nicotine makes your dick about as useful as a wet napkin."

He heard you choke on a laugh that you quickly masked under a cough.

The man squinted, lips pursed in aggravation. Surprisingly, he departed with no more than a gruff, "Get gone!" and stuck his half-burned cigarette back into his mouth.

Wally glared after him as the man marched up the stairs toward a ladder open beneath a curtain of cables and metal that spilled from the ceiling. Clearly, the man had been in the middle of fixing something when he'd seen you.

"Fucker." Wally grumbled. He patted your leg, pressed a kiss to your knee before he released you.

"I appreciated the support," You giggled, "Even if it doesn't do much on my side of things, it's nice to know you have my back."

"I've always got you, baby." Wally vowed as he unfolded himself and rose to his feet. He couldn't help tacking on, "Every bit of you," with a wink that made you pink up so prettily.

You wetted your lips, ducked your face into your shoulder; shy after you'd been caught in what might’ve been a very awkward position. "I'm starting to get that."

Wally let you take the lead, enjoyed how you brushed up against him as you shuffled out of the row and onto the stairs. He shot the man one last angry look as he grabbed his jacket and then turned to trail you across the field and out of the stadium.

At the top of the grandstand, feet from the ladder, the man examined his cigarette through a profoundly glum expression.

With a grunt, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it under the thick sole of his work boot, simultaneously pulling the crumpled, two-from-empty pack out of his breast pocket and whipping it into a nearby trashcan.

💀___________________________

PART THIRTEEN - PART FIFTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

2x12

spencer reid x morgan!reader

note: i got carried away with this one...

warnings: Sarah calls Spencer 'freaky' (lovingly), murder, eating/food

wordcount: 2388

Spencer was showing the girl’s his ‘physics magic’ when he got a little too comfortable and almost hit Hotch on his way into the bullpen. The girl’s pretended to not be involved as Hotch picked up the ‘rocket’ and looked at Spencer, “Physics magic?” “Yes, sir.” “Reid, we talked about this.” “I’m sorry, sir.”

The tense air in the room dissipated when Hotch placed the ‘rocket’ on the young man’s desk and said, “You’re starting to get some distance on those.”

The girls gathered back around the desk seemingly to have forgotten whatever they were doing that made them innocent to the physics magic happening.

“So he does have a sense of humour?” “Sometimes.” Spencer replied back to Emily, him and Y/n always seemed to be able to get him out of his usual stoic nature.

“So hey. Where’s the Morgans?” The brunette woman asked, Spencer once again had the answer, “Chicago. They go every year for their mother’s birthday.”

-

Derek and Y/n were walking out of the corner store and they got a couple things for their older sister, Sarah, before heading back home.

“You really think she’s got enough butter?” “Hey, y’know Sarah, if she doesn’t put it on the list, she doesn’t need it. She doesn’t make mistakes.” The younger girl said sarcastically, before they turned the corner to see Rodney and his guys.

“Y/n! Lookin’ good. I mean, damn, you’ve filled out in all the right places since you left.” “Step off, Rodney. Y/n/n get in the car.” “C’mon, D.” “I said get in the car.” Y/n accepted the defeat, whenever they got back to Chicago it was back to when they were kids, Y/n was a young helpless girl until big brother Derek came to the rescue.

“That’s okay, baby, I’ll get with you a little later, huh?” “In your dreams, Rodney.” “Most definitely. All night long, baby girl.”

Big brother Derek made his presence known, “You better step off before I make you wish you never walked up on me.” “Oh what? You two some bad-asses now ‘cause they pay you to wear that gun, Mr and Miss F.B.I?” “Rodney, he’s proved before he doesn’t need a gun to take you out.” “Past history? That’s a dangerous thing for you to count on, baby.” “Rodney. Walk away.”

Rodney laughs in Derek’s face, “Y/n/n, I’ll get at you a little later.” “Go to hell.” Rodney and his guys left around the corner, Derek motioned with his arm to get in the car, “C’mon, I’ll take you home. Then there’s something I gotta do.”

-

The five of them sat around the dinner table as Desi brought the cake in from the kitchen and Derek counted them in. “One, two, three” And they all sang happy birthday to their mom.

Their mom, of course, couldn’t have a moment just about her, even after Derek said ‘Go ahead, momma’ she didn’t blow out the candles before praising her second youngest’s effort.

“Did you make this yourself?” Desi replied, “Oh, Sarah and Y/n helped me.” “Momma, they wouldn’t let me help so I don’t know how good it’s gonna taste.” Derek said, teasing his sisters. But Sarah always made sure to put D in his place, “Oh, no, no, you remember that Christmas fiasco of 1994?”

“I remember that.” “The fire!” “Oh, that was bad.”

“Whatever, that was 12 years ago! Let it go!” “No, no, no, we still get cards from the fire department.” “Serious?” Y/n asked from her spot next to her older sister.

“Mama, you see how they treat your baby boy?” “You be good to your brother.” “Uh-huh, what she said!” “You got the ‘baby’ part right at least.” Y/n mumbled, intended for Sarah to hear but she spoke a little loud.

“Okay you know what?” “Hey!" “You better watch out!” The siblings fought over the table. “What? What?” “All right!”

Their fighting could only be put to rest by their mom. And when she did, they got back to her blowing out her candles, “Okay, wish, a wish..”

And cheering began as their mom finally blew out her candles.

-

“What is it?” The siblings laughed from their scattered places on the couch, watching their mom open her gifts. It was Derek’s turn and he explained to their mom what he got her and how she can use it. After some teasing Sarah and Desi started cleaning up a little so Y/n and Derek could catch up more with their mom since they don’t get to see her as much.

“We miss you two around here.” “I know.” Y/n leant her head on the older woman’s shoulder as she was holding Derek’s hand. Derek usually covered this for them, he knew Y/n felt guilty for not being around more so he was always the one to explain it to their mom.

“You’re careful right? I lost your dad. I can’t lose you two.” “You won’t.” “And watch after this one she was always the trouble maker.” “I do.”

She patted her son’s hand before she got back to the teasing, something the Morgan’s were very good at, “Good, cause you owe me some grandbabies.” “Look at her, she’s got the genius wrapped around her finger.” “D, give that up!”

This was not the first time their mom had heard about Spencer. Derek loved bringing it up to deflect questions off of him.

"That Doctor you work with? Are you two together now? Why didn't you mention it, baby?"

But suddenly a loud and persistent knocking on the door broke the family from their chatter. “Saved by the bell! Get it, D, you’re closest.” Detek swatted at his little sister before getting the door. And it was Sheriff Gordinski.

“Gordinski?” “You armed?” “Excuse me?” “Are you wearing a gun?” “No, not right now.” “Then turn around.” Derek laughed, he’s an FBI agent who does Gordinski think he is? Was all Y/n could think.

“You’re under arrest, Derek.”

-

“C’mon Wally, you got to tell me something, my team is on the case!” “I don’t answer to you, Morgan.” “You called in FBI? I’m FBI.”

The woman was standing, towering over Wally as he sat on his desk not giving her a second glance, he never respected her and he wasn’t gonna start now.

“Special Agent Hotchner, FBI, I’m looking for-” He brilliant and stoic voice of her boss, Hotch, cut through the background chatter of the station.

Y/n quickly discarded Wally after seeing the team making her way over to them and interrupting an officer at his desk that Hotch originally asked, “Oh, Hotch- Chuck, I got this.” She liked Chuck. He was one the alright guys, he’d helped her get out of a lot back in the day.

“How’re you guys doing? I’m Wally Dennison, CPD.” “Unimportant. The only reason he’s left hand man is ‘cause he does whatever Gordi tells him to.” Hotch seemingly moved right past the comment, “Where’s Agent Morgan?” “Detective Gordinski’s in with the suspect now.” “I need to see him.” And for the millionth time, Wally gets in over his head and has no idea what and where his place is. As he walked away the girl mumbled, “I don’t like them calling D a ‘suspect’” into JJ’s shoulder as the older woman gave her a side hug.

-

Gordinski finally came out from wherever he was, letting Hotch go in to talk to Derek. Gordi went on to tell Gideon how helpful his profile was in arresting Derek. Worst part was he never cared to hide his distaste for the man, calling Derek a ‘son of a bitch’. That racist bastard! Was all Y/b could think.

Spencer could see the signs of anger in Y/n the way she was scratching her skin, he always hated it when she did it. Luckily she only did when she was mad, which was not a lot, but right now she was really mad. Spencer cut her off when he saw she was going to say something that definitely shouldn’t come out of an FBI agent’s mouth.

“Detective, a profile’s just a guide.” “This one guided me to him.” “They’re really more useful in the elimination of suspects-” “Not the inclusion. Gordi, you got the wrong guy.” She mumbled, not quietly.

Gordinski walked the team through his flawed work, he showed them the coincidences he’s found and the circumstantial evidence he’s collected.

Spencer reached down and grabbed Y/n’s hand from where it was scratching her skin and brought it towards him to hold, biether thought too much of the gesture, but JJ did and made sure she’d tell Garcia about it when this was all cleared up.

“There are key pieces of the profile that don’t fit, Detective. The age, 25-35, Morgan was 15 or so at the time.” “Also says that age is the hardest to predict.” He had a point there, “-And I should never exclude someone simply because of a discrepancy with the age.”

“What about the speculation that since he didn’t manage to leave any evidence at the scene of the crime that he most likely has a criminal record or previous law enforcement knowledge? Derek wasn’t even in the bureau yet when the first body was found.”

She knew Gordi was gonna break the news so Y/n did it for him, maybe that in some way will she Gordinski that Derek wasn’t hiding that, “Derek, had a criminal record.”

-

Gordinski was back at his desk now, the team had a quiet discussion without his input. Finally.

“Y/n, you bring Prentiss and Reid to talk to your family. Learn all about him, especially at the time of the first murder.”

“I don’t have a car, one of the cops brought me down.”

“I can take you.” Wally seemed to cut in out of nowhere, and with how much he annoys Y/n she was quick to jump on him for it, “Wally, we don’t need-” “No, actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Gideon said. “Right. Lead the way, Walls.”

-

“Is Derek alright?” “He wouldn’t let us go down there, Y/n luckily convinced him to let her go.” Y/n’s mom added on to her older sister's initial question “He’s fine. Our boss is with him.” “He’s okay, momma.” Y/n reassured further after Emily.

“Did they he and Y/n tell you Gordinski’s been harassing him since he was a kid?” “Whys that?” Spencer asked, innocently, not realising he was asking Sarah, “You’d have to ask the bastard.” Y/n was sat in the chair in front of him, reaching her hand back and patted Spencer’s arm in sympathy, as their mom shared her disappointment with Sarah’s harsh words.

Wally had some things to say that only made Sarah more riled up, “What are you even doing in my mother’s house?!” “They asked me.” “Not really.” Spencer mumbled, eating the piece of cake.

“I don’t understand how they could think he did this.” “Someone may be trying to make it look like he hurt those kids.” “And the police believe it?” “But he’s an FBI agent.” Desi cut, Y/n was about to gently tell her sister that in an investigation that doesn’t really matter, but of course Spencer cut in with his ever present knowledge.

“Actually, law enforcement officials are just as probable statistically to commit a crime as anyone else.” Y/n placed her head in her hands, she loved hearing Spencer talk about what he knows but sometimes- he just can’t read a room “Look at the cross-section of a society, there’s a general population and a small fraction of this percentage is-” “Momma, he’s not saying they believe D is involved in this.” “Oh, no, no! Yeah, not at all! I’m merely speaking theoretically.”

Sarah almost looks at him like he’s crazy, and Desi speaks up from where she’s standing behind their mom, seemingly only talking to embarrass her little sister. “You're Dr. Reid?” “Mhmm.” “Derek and Y/n have talked about you.” And her head falls back onto her hands. “Really?” Spencer says, smugly from his spot above his best friend.

“Derek loves kids. Every time he’s here he goes to the youth centre.” “Youth Centre?” “The Upward Youth Centre.” “Does that have some sort of significance for him?” Spencer cut into Emily and Mrs.Morgan’s conversation to ask, “What are you saying? There’s something in it for him, other than giving back to poor kids of your neighbourhood?” “Sarah, these are me and D’s friends. They’re only here to help. When they ask a question, it isn’t to denigrate or demean anything Derek’s done.” “We just have to know everything so we can figure out where to look next. Does The Youth Centre hold any special significance to him?”

“The Youth Centre saved his life.”

Sarah and their mom explained to Emily and Spencer and maybe even Y/n, since she was too young at the time, the history between Derek and the law and Gordinski.

After hearing about Carl, Emily decided she was headed there next, leaving Y/n and Spencer with her family.

-

Spencer and Y/n were left at her mom’s house till the case eventually closed, and Derek got closure and justice for the boys. But until then,

Y/n knew what the team was doing with this, Y/n was too connected to the case and Spencer stayed with her because he could keep her at a level head.

They continued looking through old stuff of Detek’s and some of all the siblings, Spencer loved seeing the pictures of when Y/n was a child. At this point their job was more so to keep Sarah from freaking and keeping her mom from worrying too much about Derek.

“What’s this one?” “Aww, that was Y/n the week after Derek left for college.” The photo was of a young Y/n with a pout on her lips, it was Spencer’s favourite, she still made that same face from time to time. It was cute.

The women slowly left the dining table and made their way to the living room, watching how the two at the table didn’t even notice. Spencer was too busy looking for more adorable photos and Y/n trying to gather the incriminating ones.

“I thought Derek was just teasing her, but she really does like that freaky genius boy that much.”

~taglist ~

@chrissyclg @pillsbury-doughgirl @the-holy-trinity-l @theillestvillain3 @random000000sblog @flow33didontsmoke

[drconstellation]

The Assistant Book Seller

Edit 1 Dec 2023 - added missing information on the "ribbon pattern."

Edit: 3 Dec 2023 - correct information about middle pattern from creator

GABRIEL: Greetings! I'm Jim! It's short for James, but I don't need to keep telling everyone that. I'm an assistant book seller.

I'm sorry. Before I do anything else, I need to apologize for something I need to write further in. I didn't plan to write it, I just kind of bumped into it and, well, I can't ignore it. So...sorry. It's said. Forgive me for what needs to be done.

Although he arrived with nothing but a cardboard box and Rodney the Stunt Fly, Aziraphale made sure Jim was clothed in appropriate raiment while under his protection. We'll forgive him that he took a step back about, oh, fifty years or so to the 1970's, as Jim's overall look is a nod to the famous old sitcom "Open All Hours." So if he looks a little bit out of place, or, a little bit familiar, even, that's why.

While we are used to seeing angels in overcoats, it's Jim's vest that is the particular feature here. But I will take a moment to comment on the overcoat - not just the colour but its lapels. Aziraphale has obviously given him a colour with an earthly connection and one that indicate that he has bought Jim under his protection, but the lapels look quite neutral, with one up and one down. (Muriel is the same in their Inspector uniform, btw) This is the first indication they are between two things at the moment.

Onto the vest.

There is so, so much work and thought put into this vest! It was a one-off commission for the show, and the creator, Sandy Higgins, has said she is not allowed to give away the final design pattern. I have tried to contact her, and I'm waiting for a reply, so in the mean time I thought I would ask my keen knitter of a sister-in-law about one of the patterns I'm not sure about. "Well, that's Fair Isle knitting," she said, but she knew nothing about the individual line pattern I was interested in. Hmm, I kind of know that already, its in the notes that are guiding me for this meta, but hey, why not do a broader search and see what comes up?

So once I got back home I did. "Fair Isle knitting patterns" hmm...Wikipedia page for starters...what on *earth* is that at the bottom of the page...? YOU ARE. FRIKKING. KIDDING ME!!!!!!!

"See also: Gumbys"

oh ffs

I am so sorry that needs must make me mention Monty Python yet again, but here we are. And we must mention them, because this link is just too...unbelievably, deliciously good.

If you aren't familiar with the Monty Python catalogue, and don't recognize the mention of Gumbys, they were a set of characters that dressed and spoke in a certain way but the main points to take away were they wore woolen vests in the Fair Isle knitted style and their catch-phrase was - wait for it - "My brain hurts!"

I think we've heard that somewhere before?

CROWLEY: When you first arrived, you said you were here because they were planning to do 'Something Terrible' to you. So you remembered it then. Remember it now. GABRIEL: It hurts to remember. My head isn't built for that.

Right. Now we've got that out of the way...back to the serious stuff.

The colours used in the vest are not your typical angel colours. There is a base of angelic off-white and there are some bits of purple for his royalty around the shoulder area - sometimes you need to look carefully for it. Otherwise it is dominated by vintage shades of red and green. Well. Who's an agent of change driven by love, then?

The horizontal stripe pattern is partly to remind us of the classic biblical robes with stripes that ran along them, much like the style of Crowley's black and red robe in the Job minisode, but is also part of the traditional Fair Isles pattern work. And each row only has two colours, but up around the shoulder area we do see purple start to sneak in as a third colour.

On to the incorporated symbols! I'm going to go from bottom to top.

On the lowest two we feature Crowley and Aziraphale. We have Crowley's demon satyr tail from the Good Omens logo on the lowest stripe - the double-headed arrow.

The next stripe is Aziraphale, with a variation of the classic OXO pattern ("hugs and kisses.") The X is meant to represent his angel wings, and the O is modified to mimic the "o" with a halo in the Good Omens logo. I've highlighted all three in the image on the right.

The third row up is a Sumerian Star pattern that represents one of the flowers associated with Gabriel, the lily. They are supposed to represent the purity of Mary, mother of Jesus, as he had one in his hand when he visited her during the Annunciation.

The row above that is what I believe to be a Byzantium pattern, and is included to show "an Angel's ability to be timeless."

The next three rows are still under a bit of a question mark as I write this. I plan to come back and edit it in if I find the answer.

The bottom of the three is the Duke of Buccleuch pattern, "to celebrate the long and necessary contribution that the cottage industry of hand knitted items."

The middle one - ? (perhaps you, the reader, know? It looks like a spiralling ribbon if I stand back, but that isn't sparking any connections, either.)

Edit: @noneorother tells me in a reblog (below) that this pattern represents the shoelace from the magic incantation Aziraphale uses "Banana Fish Gorilla Shoelace." So it is ribbon-like! This then points to the Second Coming, as it the shoelace references the end of the book, and the last paragraph of the book references Yeats poem "The Second Coming" as well as the novel 1984. To me it is then also telling us there is a cycle occurring, or a cycle that needs to be renewed. This fits in with some other clues other meta-writers have been picking up.

Edit 2: Turns out none of that was correct - I heard back from the creator herself and it's actually the double-ended satyr tail pattern again! It just seems to make a bit of an illusion of a ribbon or shoelace.

The pattern below is a modified OXO pattern.

The top one looks like two rams horns facing each other. A hollowed out rams horn can be used as a trumpet, and is known as a shofar in Jewish religion. Gabriel was traditionally known to carry a trumpet.

The ancient meander pattern would be recognized by most people, included as another classic timeless pattern found all over the world. For some it symbolizes eternity and endless flow.

The wheels here appear to be Michael's ophanim wheels, that would have eyes around the rims.

The hourglass is to remind us that time is running out. Memento mori - "Remember that you die." It is a major theme in both series.

Right up high, just before we lose the rest of the vest inside the overcoat, we get a glimpse of a large diamond-shaped icon. I wonder if this is another stylized set of angel wings, like we saw in the Job minisode on Aziraphale's golden collar.

To finish off the outfit, he is wearing dark gray trousers with sneakers! I'm sure that's so he could keep sneaking up on Aziraphale in the shop, haha. His shirt seems a little too large for him and the tie is knotted too high and is not settled along his centerline. It's all at odds with his previous neat and sharp appearance as Supreme Archangel Gabriel.

I'd like to say a big thank you to @aduckwithears for helping me with information on the vest and finding the creator's other social media sites. You can see their two posts about it here and here.

[agentlizardofowca]

Perryshmirtz / …in secrecy / I know you love your forbiddeen love trops so 👀👀👀

I mixed two asks! Anon asked for 9. In public and @inators asked for 8. in secrecy. Enjoy~

"Agents," Monogram announced seriously as the last chair in the room was filled by Agent Serpent. "We've discovered the location of the dangerous-machine-with-evil-intent convention." He looked around the room. Perry was joined by four other serious looking agents.

"Oh no, DMWEI-con?" Agent Iggy gasped, and he checked the other grave-faced agents for a reaction. "That's bad news."

"It is indeed," Monogram grumbled in agreement. "And all your nemeses have been spotted on the floor. We need you to infiltrate, dismantle the convention and arrest those evil-doers. By being in the building, we have reason to detain them for now. Evidence of their ill intent should be easy enough to find," Monograms eyed his agents, who all nodded seriously. "Good luck agents." As one, the group rose from their chairs.

The evil convention was held in one of the large rooms in the Googleplex Mall, and the easiest way to infiltrate was through the air duct, which was large enough to hold 5 agents. On the way there, Perry had sneakily grabbed his phone and texted an unknown number: 'Don't let me arrest you.' As the agents parked their unmarked vans he received only a 👍in response.

It was tight in the air vent. Agent P was at the front, guiding the other agents through the dusty tunnel. Behind him was Agent Earwig, followed by Agent Narwal, Iguana, and special Agent Slug in the back.

Noises from the convention floor floated up into the vent, when all of a sudden a raspy, accented voice rose above all other sounds.

"Rodney! This is absurd!" Heinz Doofenshmirtz shouted with enough volume to be heard clearly in the air vent. "These machines are going to kill people, I refuse to take part. I am leaving!"

Rodney wrestled himself out of a gaggle of villains, stomped up to him, crossed his arms and huffed. "You had no complaints before."

"That was before I saw your murder-inator!" Only Perry saw how Heinz glanced at the ceiling. "I have to leave right now!"

"Oh no you don't" Rodney replied with obvious frustration. "I did not spend fifteen minutes helping you lug that big-ass machine in here, for you to just leave!"

"What are you going to do, stop me?" Heinz asked in his most annoying and grating tone, which Perry recognized as him trying to frustrate Rodney even more, but to the other agents it just sounded like Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

"You're here till 5PM, you hear?" Rodney hissed, and he pointed at Doof threateningly. It seems that his attempt to annoy was a success.

"This is Agent Iguana, come in." Iggy mumbled into his earpiece softly. "Come in OWCA." He was trying to keep his voice down, but the stuffy airduct wasn't a great place to speak. "Dr Doofenshmirtz appear is being held at the convention against his will."

Perry could hear that there was a response, but he couldn't quite catch what it was. No matter, now that Heinz had manipulated himself into a hostage situation he was a victim.

Agent P quirked an eyebrow at Iggy, who was still actively listening. He then turned to Perry. "He appears to have a machine on the floor, take him down just in case."

Perry nodded and turned back to the vent, from there he could spy on everybody on the floor. He shot off several hand gestures, informing the other agents of their nemeses' locations, checked if everybody knew what to do, and counted down from three.

When he hit zero, all five agents burst from the vent to go fight their respective enemies. To his own frustration, Perry landed in a very cliché superhero pose. He jumped up as quickly as he could and met Doofenshmirtz's eye.

"Ah, Perry the platypus, as you know I am extremely surprised to see you here." He lied. Luckily the other agents were too distracted to pay Heinz's bad lying much mind.

Agent P adopted a fighting stance, and his nemesis mimicked the pose with some confusion. "You're still going to fight me?! I am innocent!"

Perry barely nodded before he jumped into action. He attempted to swipe his lanky nemesis off his feet, but Doof jumped to the side with a proud "Aha!"

He couldn't allow his colleagues to see him struggle in this fight, so he threw a punch, which landed a little harder than he had meant it to be. As Heinz clutched his shoulder and groaned, Perry jumped up on one of the couches.

The room was fairly large. Across the space were around twelve inators, some so large that they stood on the floor and almost reached the ceiling. He wondered how they'd been moved here. It must've been a hassle.

In the back of the room, where Perry and Heinz were fighting, were a few smaller inators, which were presented on tables. There were some handheld models and a few machines the size of microwaves or kitchen aides. Except they didn't make delicious food, they made evil.

Doofenshmirtz attempted to retaliate and jumped Perry, but from his higher vantage point, Perry could easily chuck his nemesis over his shoulder. He jumped after him to go restrain him.

"Not my hair!" Heinz bit out as he got grabbed. He kicked his legs against the floor to try and get away, but all that happened was that they ended up under a table that held some sort of raygun.

Perry almost bumped his head into the table, but he ducked under at the last moment. He didn't want to rock the table -who knew what would happen if he toppled the gun- so he pressed himself against his nemesis, grabbed his hands and forced them above his head.

Now that Doof was finally restrained, he huffed and puffed and struggled for a moment before deflating. "I thought that would work, are you arresting me?"

Perry couldn't sign because his hands were too busy holding Heinz's down by his wrists. As an answer, he just pulled a vaguely frustrated expression and hoped that he would understand.

"Well shit, it's a good thing my inator is absolutely useless." Heinz said and he attempted to shrug even though he was flat on his back with a heavy man on top of him.

Perry blinked in surprise, and when Heinz saw he smiled smugly. "What? As if I didn't expect Francis to send you guys in. That's a gumball machine." And Heinz nodded at a giant Inator that took up an entire corner of the room.

Perry turned his head to look. It really was an impressively large gumball machine. Agent Serpent was fighting Professor insatiable on top of it without any fear of falling off.

"Do you think they're almost done?" Heinz asked as he awkwardly tried to peek past Perry's bulk. "Or do we pretend to fight some more? Do you think they can see us down here?"

Perry watched his fellow agents chase their enemies around the room, vaguely mortified that they were having this much trouble. Then he turned back to Heinz, who was blinking at him. "Is it handcuff time?" He asked.

It was probably meant to be an innocent question, but Perry's mind conjured visions of Heinz in handcuffs that were not workplace-appropriate, and he felt himself blush red.

"Perry?" Heinz asked, and when his nemesis' attention snapped back to reality he squinted his eyes and smiled wickedly. "Were you thinking what I was thinking?"

Agent P was not in the mood to be bullied. This whole conversation was completely inappropriate! Then again, the other agents really couldn't see more than their legs peeking out from under this table.

"Oh you were thinking what i was thinking!" Heinz said with a deranged giggle that Perry wasn't supposed to find attractive, and yet.

"You're going to have to wait, Perry, I think you are arresting me right now. Unless we are living in a reality where things that happen in a certain type of internet video become a reali-"

Heinz couldn't keep talking because his nemesis had gotten so horrified with the things he was insinuating that he had to put a stop to it. Not because he was disgusted or embarrassed, but because he was picturing it; them being inappropriate under this table, whilst people they both knew were right there, just out of view.

If Heinz ever got a chance to ask, Perry would blame adrenaline, or insist he had gone temporairly insane. But Heinz couldn't ask, because Perry was kissing him.

Instead of clutching thin wrists, Perry moved his hands to intertwine their fingers as lips pressed against each other. Because of surprise, Heinz made one high squeaky tone, followed by a deeper, more appreciative noise. Despite the suddenty of the kiss, he didn't seem to mind, because when Perry's warm tongue pressed against his bottom lip he gladly met him in the middle.

After a moment, Perry pulled away to change the angle and dive back in. Before he did, Heinz mumbled a warm, appreciative "Perry" against his lips, and then were kissing again.

For a moment, Agent P forgot where he was, or what he was doing. The way his name had been spoken echoed through his head, only spurring him on, but then a very differeny voice also rang out.

"Perry?" Agent Slug called from across the room, and Perry sprang away from the kiss with such speed that he crashed his head and shoulders into the table they were hiding under.

He saw a worried expression in Doof's eyes for a moment, before Perry dragged him out from under the table, and his expression turned to surprise.

"Perry?!" A moment later, he was chucked against a wall.

Perry was nervous they'd been spotted all through the rest of the mission. But when all the L.O.V.E.M.I.F.F.I.N. members were loaded into the van, and still nobody had looked at Perry funny, he determined they had gotten away with it.

He went to go close the door of the car and caught Heinz's eyes for just a second. Perry shut the door with so much force that Iggy asked him if he was okay. Perry nodded stoicly. Who knew being winked at could be so upsetting.

On the way back to the office Perry determined that Heinz would definitely be free to go home by the end of the day. Now he just had to figure out an excuse to go visit.

[randomfoggytiger]

randomfoggytiger's Roundup: 2025 January drabbles

While it's usually a gentle and beautiful month for me, January can be long and cruel to others. So! I tried to pump out a couple drabbles regularly to give everyone a little cheer. :DDDDDD

Here's the roundup in case others are interested~.

INTERCONNECTED DRABBLES

“Pause to Take Stock of Each Precious Moment” (Ao3) 

“Ahhhhhhh,” he heaved, rusty and deep, creaky and contented. “Couch.”

“Couch?” Scully let him carry her-- just this once-- into the living room.

Mulder and Scully bring in the new year.

*-*-*-*-*

"How Embarrassing" (Ao3)

"Scully." The noises stopped. Temporarily. There-- something rustled, fitfully, under the covers. "Whatcha eating."

Broken New Year's goals.

*-*-*-*-*

"Betraying My Cool Exterior" (Ao3)

Mystery of all mysteries: what has his partner done differently this morning. Fortunately, he's distracted by the loose hair slithering down her shoulder. 

Mulder is supportive of his fad-chasing partner.

*-*-*-*-*

"This Isn't About the X-Files" (Ao3)

“You said something I couldn’t understand, but I knew you were going to find out who the whistler was.” She paused, exhaled. “I couldn’t stop you.” 

Scully had a nightmare. (Thanks for @baronessblixen for inspiring this one. :D)

*-*-*-*-*

"It's Misdirection" (Ao3)

Mulder’s torso is suddenly in the doorway, towering still despite the bent angle. The shower humidity saps away into the house’s chill-- neither, however, notices.

In a word, she’s caught. 

Part 2 to "Betraying My Cool Exterior": Scully can't let old habits go.

*-*-*-*-*

"He Looks Suspiciously Like" (Ao3)

It wasn't that he’d distrusted her decision to rifle through his past. It wasn't even that crinkled reports, sloppy entries, and scribbled artistic attempts were all he had left-- most of the photographs had long since been burned.

Scully finds something particularly adorable.

*-*-*-*-*

"This Was a Trap" (Ao3)

It was bait. She knew it was bait: three crispy ketogenic cookies-- mint crunch-- splayed on a perfectly white, perfectly porcelain decorative dish. What else could it be? 

How does one trap a health-conscious Scully?

*-*-*-*-*

"So What Was Your Final Wish, Anyway?" (Ao3)

“Scully, how do you want to die?” 

Mulder had a close call and wants to know his partner's thoughts.

*-*-*-*-*

"Well, Mulder, He's a Teenager" (Ao3)

“You’re, like, Catholic, right?” Rodney Treebank sucked his cheeks in, slapped his tongue against the roof of his palate. (“He was ‘mewing', Scully,” Mulder clucked later-- a precursor to their back-in-my-day communion, one more common with age. “What happened to latchkey rugrats?”)

Had to work in an incorrect quotes meme I saw drifting around the internet-- I had to.

*-*-*-*-*

"To Help Me Cope" (Ao3)

Today, however, he paused, tune dropping off abruptly. 

Lullabies and loss. (Shoutout to my inability to listen to music of any kind without becoming depressed.)

*-*-*-*-*

“If I Had to Settle Down, Build a Home”  (Ao3)

“Morning to you, too,” Scully mumbled, shuffling over in an approximation of the dead. “You left me alone to research Bigfoot scarecrows?” 

Part 2 to "So What Was Your Final Wish, Anyway?": Mulder's and Scully's sometimes at-odds nighttime routines.

*-*-*-*-*

"When You Were a Youngster" (Ao3)

She’d been flush with chagrin for-- Mulder checked his watch-- ten minutes now. In the grand scheme of embarrassing recollections, this one admittedly ranked rather low. But “low” had extended layers of mortification to a respectable Irish Catholic medically trained in procedures and regulations.

As @sagan-starstuff says: Scully, wear your PPE.

*-*-*-*-*

EXTRA DRABBLES

"What the Irish Call a 'Fetch'" (Ao3)

It’s not a stranger’s, it’s not an aunt’s, it’s not her sister’s. It’s her, babbling toddler balanced on a hip. Identical horror bleeds from their noses, identical fear wells in their eyes. 

Scully sees a glimpse of her future.

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic.

[fuck-customers]

There’s this one customer, old white guy, who we all HATE. He claims to be a doctor. He tells us to wash our hands before touching his items to ring him up. He refuses to unload his cart if the belt is moving, which holds up the line. Today there was no one except one other customer around. We were dead.

He saw me sweeping the floor and said he needs me to go wash my hands. I was fucking over it because he’s always a jerk to everyone when he comes in so I straight up said no. Yeah yeah asshole move but idk I was pissed.

So then we got into an argument and I was like we literally touch money and other people’s items all day. We all stock the shelves and touch every item that YOURE touching.

He said he’d wait for another cashier. I said we have none. He said he wants a manager. I said I am one.

So he finally lets me ring him up and I go into my polite voice and script, asking if he needs bags, will it be cash or card, and he says “you’ll see what I do when I do it.” And I was just like okay :)

So then he says he’s gonna call corporate and I was like okay! Then when I handed him his receipt I said thank you so much for cooperating and have a nice day :)

Then the other lady in the store joked with me after like you should go wash your hands and he turns to her and he’s like oh you think this is funny??? And TORE INTO HIM LIKE YEAH THIS IS FUNNY. SOME DOCTOR YOU ARE YOU DONT EVEN MASK. SHE HANDLES MONEY ALL DAY IDIOT WHAT, SHES SUPPOSED TO WASH HER HANDS AFTER EVERY CUSTOMER? GO SOMEWHERE ELSE!

She said she’d leave me a good review hahahahaha fuck that guy

Posted by admin Rodney

[uboat53]

All right, I see enough of it going around that I need to address this doomerism among young Americans. Call this a LONG RANT (TM) or just an old man shouting from his porch if you will.

INTRODUCTION

Young people. The United States is not "falling apart". The world is not under threat of imminent collapse. Society is not coming apart at the seams, it is not going to disappear, and we do not need to prepare to replace it. The worst that will happen is that a lot of people will lose rights that they've gained over the last century and the government will become a whole lot less representative of the country it governs.

Don't get me wrong, this is bad, but it's not "start stockpiling dried food and weapons to prepare for societal collapse bad", and thinking that it is will stop you from doing a lot of the things that could be done to stop what's actually happening.

A BIT OF HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE

The current state that we live in, particularly here in the US, is very new. Are the attacks on trans and gay people terrible? Absolutely. Is the return of white supremacy horrifying? Definitely. Are the efforts to deny rights to women deplorable? Yes. But you have to understand just how new many of the good things that are now under attack actually are.

I'm not even 40 yet and, when I graduated high school, 13 states still had "sodomy" on the books as a criminal offense. Gay people didn't even get the right to marry until I had already graduated college. The Violence Against Women Act didn't pass until I was almost out of elementary school. The Rodney King riots happened recently enough that I can actually remember watching them on the news.

And forget about me, Ruby Bridges desegregated the first previously all-white school in New Orleans in 1960. She's only turning 70 last year (as did the Brown v. Board of Education decision that banned segregation in the first place) and is very much alive. So are a lot of those people in the famous pictures screaming racist abuse at her. The US Supreme Court decision that established a right to interracial marriage (Loving v. Virginia, 1967) isn't even old enough to retire yet and Martin Luther King Jr., who often feels like a fairly distant historical figure to us, would only be 96 this year if he had lived.

All of this is to point out that, not only are the rights we're defending actually fairly new in US history, much less world history, but that many of the people who opposed these rights when they were put in place are still very much around and they're still unhappy that those rights exist.

WHAT'S REALLY HAPPENING

Here's the thing, what's really happening is not the destruction of the American political and social system, it's just a sustained effort to hijack and twist them. If the MAGA crowd have their way, the institutions of Congress, the Supreme Court, the Presidency, and the entire administrative state won't actually collapse or cease to exist, they'll just be changed such that they only represent the values and desires of white, Christian men. It'll be a disaster, to be sure, but it won't destroy the fundamental structure of how you live.

Frankly, what's the most creepy about it is how little you'll actually notice the change.

What you have to understand about government is that it's not some impartial reading of rules. There's a huge amount of discretion built into the system. And, to be clear, this is a good thing. No set of rules written in stone could ever hope to cover every situation that real people find themselves in. We allow officials at all levels to make judgement calls. They're guided by the rules, but they have a lot of room to make different decisions within those rules because we want them to consider the real-world circumstances.

Of course, given all of that, you can see how important the person in a given position can be. We've already seen a movement around the country focused on district attorney elections because, if you can replace a fire and brimstone conservative with a progressive or vice-versa, you can completely change how justice is administered in a particular jurisdiction.

MAGA conservatives have figured this out as well and they focus on it to a greater extent than just about anyone else. The death threats they send to, for example, election administrators aren't intended to destroy the apparatus of election management. They're intended to force the person out of the office for fear of their safety in the hopes that they can be replaced by a MAGA loyalist. As I said, the person is important.

This is happening now at just about every level, but many of those opposed to the MAGA movement misunderstand what's going on. They're not trying to destroy our governing institutions, they're trying to capture them.

THE HAZARDS OF DOOMERISM

The answer, of course, to what the MAGA crowd is doing is to outfight them. Polling fairly consistently shows that no more than about 30% of Americans actually believe MAGA nonsense and even less than that actively seek to put it into practice. If enough other people come out and reject their candidates, reject their ideas, and insist that authorities deal appropriately with their threats of violence, they will lose. And, let's face it, MAGA supporters are overwhelmingly older than the American population at large; if we hold them off long enough they'll die off, this isn't a group that's set to continue into the future.

By succumbing to doomerism, the idea that everything is already lost and that, rather than take over society, the MAGA crowd will destroy it, people are turning away from the one thing that could actually stop this takeover; political action. If you think that society is actively collapsing, you're not going to invest your time and energy in it, you're going to spend your time preparing for said collapse and attempting to shield yourself from the worst effects of a Mad Max world.

And, let's be clear, no amount of hoarding of dried food, guns, and seeds will do anything to protect you from a government that is committed to denying you basic rights. Doomerism, whether passively lying down and awaiting the end or actively preparing for the collapse of society, only distracts you from doing anything about what is actively happening.

CONCLUSION

Society is not about to collapse. I know it makes great disaster porn and gives people a sense of black and white certainty in a complex and often confusing world, but what's actually happening is that society and government are being captured one institution at a time by people who want to return to a time when only straight, white, Christian, cisgender men had any rights or representation in society. By embracing a narrative of societal collapse, you are disengaging from both society and government, making it easier for these people to capture them and, when society doesn't collapse, you're going to find that none of the things you've done to prepare for "the end" won't help you a bit.

This is the whole point, though, who benefits from you dooming it up? It's the people who want to do all the things that you don't like! They benefit from you giving up on society, they benefit from you failing to defend important institutions, and they benefit from you letting them get their people into important positions, so don't do that!

By giving up on society and becoming a doomer, you're letting all the things you dislike happen, but instead of society collapsing so that you don't have to deal with it, what's actually going to happen is that society will continue to exist under the control of people who want to take away all of your rights and opportunities. But here's the thing, that can only happen if you let it. Fascists (and that's exactly what the Moral Majority/Tea Party/MAGA/Whatever-they-call-themselves-next-week crowd are) make a lot of noise and threaten a lot of violence because they're trying to intimidate you into not fighting them, they're actually very weak and can't win if you stand up to them.

So fight back. Stop pretending that you're helpless and that nothing you do matters. Maybe you can't change the entire world by yourself, but every single thing you do adds up. Even just helping one person is enough, you could be the one to bring just one more person into the fight who tips the balance. More importantly, it's not a black and white, fascists win vs. fascists lose, situation; everything is in shades of gray. Every action, every good deed, every win makes the long term better than it would have been otherwise. If we lose trans rights but keep gay rights, that sucks, but it's still better than losing both and it means that we can focus our efforts on getting trans rights back instead of having to fight for both of them again.

Ultimately, though, doomerism isn't some brave position, it's the coward's way out. Giving up is exactly what the MAGA people want you to do, do you want to give them the win without even fighting for it?

[kimsle]

Yujiro x y/n

Strange reincarnation 

This is my first ever story so don’t bash me k? 🤭

___________________________________

It was like any other typical day of school. You show up, get to wherever your class is, go to lunch, go home and do it all over again the next day. You know, the good old rinse and repeat. But somehow today was different and you couldn't figure out why. You felt something... it didn't feel sinister but it didn't feel all that good either.  To put it simply, something didn't feel right. When you told your friends about this, they looked at you and around the classroom.  Rodney and Crystal questioned what you meant while the other two, Hope and Jonah laughed. " y/n what the heck are you going on about now?" Jonah asked still laughing at the feeling you told them about. " I'm not sure I just.. feel like something is about to happen"

"What?-" you cut Jonah off  " I'm being serious here, I really have this weird feeling! ". Just then you hear a loud smack in the front of the classroom. " This is not chat time this is work time! " (it was always work time..) " get back to work or I'll switch all of your seats! " we all sighed "yes ma'am.." we all reluctantly get back to work.

________________________________________________

After school

________________________________________________

(Finally it's time to go home) you get on the bus (Maybe they were right...I'm worrying for nothing) you take out your phone to find something to do, you decide to continue watching your favorite, Baki the grappler. Of course your favorite character was Yujiro Hanma, the black Air Force energy fighter himself. You couldn't help but like him, actually at times you didn't know why you liked the guy maybe it was because of that savage behavior he had at times and that desire to find his match ( someone who can match him in a fight of course) was hmm I don't know, attractive! Plus he was kinda a mood- *skrut!*

" What the hell! " the bus was out of control, crashing into one car after another. All you and the other passengers can do is scream as the bus flips over and over again, crashing into things left and right. Finally the flipping and the tumbling stopped. You cry out in pain, you have been wounded. A broken leg, it looks like you were stabbed by some glass and your head... you groaned..your pretty sure you hit your head in the wreckage. You try to pick yourself up and get out of this bus but unfortunately life had other plans for you. A train horn can be heard coming towards you " fuck.." ( I guess this is how I die ) yeah, this was the end for you. There was no getting yourself out of this one, especially since she could hardly even walk, nor crawl. The train crash's into the beaten up bus, sending the bus flying into the air. Everything fades to black. At first it was peaceful and quiet, but you started hearing gunfire and yelling going in and out. And those sounds just got even louder until- BOOM!! You jolt up, was that an explosion!? You looked all around you in utter shock and confusion, how are you alive? And how did you even end up here? You look over your whole body finding that you had no injuries to speak of. But how? You could've sworn you were badly hurt. You look around your surroundings again you were definitely not in a hospital. It was too loud for that. And the place looks like it had been neglected. Cobwebs and dust everywhere yuck. This place was unfamiliar to you. " cannon ball! " *BOOM!!* (and outside sounded like a war zone.) Were you seriously in the middle of a war? This has got to be a joke! You get to your feet and wander around the building you found yourself in. ( maybe I could find a way out? Or maybe even ask for directions to the nearest hospital? ) after wondering around you see light down a long hallway. " Finally! " you run towards the light, you finally found a way out of this creepy building you found yourself in. ( First things first I need to find help! ) you were finally outside you were overjoyed, but immediately that feeling faded into pure shock and fear. "AHHH PLEASE SPARE ME!!" "LET HIM GO YOU MONSTER!!" The soldier pleading for his life was being held by the neck of a man with red hair. The guy didn't really seem to care about his pleading, didn't even seem phased by it really. The other soldier who demanded the redheaded man to let his comrade go, was just standing there. He had a gun, why didn't he just shoot him? Surely that would've been easier than watching his comrades neck be broken? The man didn't even have a weapon how hard could have it been to just shoot him right then and there. " LET HIM GO OR ILL SHOOT!" The cowardly soldier, holds up his gun with shaky hands " I SAID LET HIM GO NOW!!" The redheaded man laughed in response, cracking his captives neck right in front of them. You gasped and hid behind a large rock while the two soldiers facing the ruthless man, stare at him in utter shock. ( Wow) you thought ( that was ruthless ) The two soldiers started shooting at the redheaded man, but the bullets couldn't even touch him. He ducked and weaved every single bullet, until finally getting a hold of them and breaking their necks like he had done the first. You watched in awe as you saw this unfold, not only could this man kill 3 trained and fully armed soldiers, He did it without a weapon!

He was monstrously amazing!- if that makes sense. But something seemed familiar about this guy. Was it his red hair? His muscles? his demeanor? Or the way he fights? Something tells you it was all of those things. But now that I mention it, he kinda does look like Yujiro-

You jolt back from peeking your head around the huge rock you hid behind. That man- no.. Yujiro had looked right in your direction, did he see you? If he did see you, you might be in danger. You sat there, hidden behind the boulder for a few seconds until deciding to take a peek again. Yujiro was gone. A sigh of relief escapes you.

And so, without confirming Yujiro had truly left, you leave your hiding place ( like an idiot ). And well what do ya know, he was right there- well he was actually behind you. You probably should have seen it coming, but it was to late to regret that now.

Yujiro had two of his fingers in your mouth while he had his free arm hold you against him, he had you in his grasp. "So.. you were the one hiding behind that pebble" his voice sent chills down your spine, but why was this situation kinda...hot? Call me crazy but I can already see the sparks between us. Wait- no that is a little crazy, but can you blame me? This is Yujiro we're talking about! He's literally the whole package- if you ignore the red flags and hazard signs, of course. And- wait I need to get my head back in the game! Like hello y/n you are currently in danger here don't just day dream! Your day dreaming was cut short due to Yujiro opening his mouth to speak once more

" I could just rip you apart right here and now "

You know what- a normal person would probably be begging for their life by now, but your delusional ass couldn't help but have your mind in the gutter.. ( I wonder if this is how people get sent to horny jail? )

Just then a group of soldiers came out of nowhere. " There he is!! " without Yujiro saying another word he threw you away and rushed at the soldiers head on, bashing one soldier's head in after another. " Ahhhh!! " the screams bloodcurdling. You wondered if you should use this opportunity to escape, but you didn't due to your simp urge to stay under the red head.

" AHH DAMN THIS BASTARD!! " The panicked soldier suddenly pulls out, what you could only assume is a grenade, and throws it at Yujiro — at full force. But of course, Yujiro was unfazed. He swiftly got out of the grenades reach and began to rip the poor soldier apart. It doesn't take him long to uhh- 'erase' the remaining soldiers, and then finally turn his attention back to you, locking eyes in the process.

Yujiro stares at you for a moment before he starts talking " I thought you would have ran off by now, you do know that was your chance right? " you give him a slightly embarrassed giggle, " well yeah I knew that but- uh I... hmmm wanna help you (?) "

Yujiro (understandably) was confused at your response, and don't mistake, you were too. You both looked at each other awkwardly as you both tried to make sense of your very own words.

But luckily the universe decided to save you from the embarrassing situation. more soldiers were coming in your direction, and Yujiro as predicted, went head first into the battle, and this time you used that little distraction to make your escape.

You don't know how far you've gone but you do know that you should be far enough away from Yujiro. You decide to wonder around a bit and see if you could find a village or a safe tent to take refuge at, and also find out how to get out of this battle zone. And after a few hours you managed to find a village. The people here had had looks of despair and fear on their faces, and you couldn't blame them. Some villages, while you were looking around for shelter, were devastated, and who knows when this village would be next.

But you quickly get back to the task at hand, you need to find shelter for the night. Walking around the maze like village for a few hours, you manage to find a homeless shelter and get a place to stay for the night and oh- "finally!"

You were over joyed by the presence of a bathtub, you couldn't remember the last time you took a bath or a shower every since you found your self out in a battle field. You quickly make yourself a hot bath and wash yourself, humming with happiness. Finally finishing up you dry your hair and body then looked at yourself in the mirror that hung over the bathroom sink. "!!" It was your face, your face had not changed at all. For some reason you thought you’d look a bit different than before. But I guess I should appreciate this. THIS is much more better than waking up in someone else's body.

You finish drying yourself and quickly put on some night clothes that you were given by the shelter workers. You slip into bed and drift off to sleep...