#Space Station: Key to the Future

[science70]

Life sciences biological laboratory concept pictured in Space Station: Key to the Future (NASA, 1971).

#science #life sciences #medicine #technology #space exploration #space station #concept art #NASA #Space Station: Key to the Future #USA #1971

[callmelyc]

Twitter loves hockey Keith soooo

Au where Lance is dating the captain of Keiths hockey team so he's around a lot

He'll bring snacks, be at any hangouts, help host cookouts and celebrations when they win games. He's the teams biggest fan with the biggest heart and most fiery passion.

Lance has been around for years now, he's a team staple. Even the press knows who Lance is, their fans, their families.

So it's only fair that the entire team loves having Lance around even if Keith was initially reluctant....

Here's the thing. Keith likes lance alot actually, probably too much. He isn't blind to Lances beauty or how kind the man is or how smart, funny, ever so slightly annoying he is.

But he also isn't blind to the annoyed sighs their captain gives when lance texts him sometimes. He isn't blind to how little free time Lance has because the captain always wants lance around as a little trophy bf.

So when lance excitedly announced to everyone he's going on a half year, once in a lifetime, research trip stationed at sea? The first person Keith looks at is their captain.

The man has his press face on. It's thoroughly painted with fake joy for Lance and the news he'd be out of his sight for a long period.

It irks Keith enough that he asks Lance genuine questions about his trip he was clearly so excited for. The other team members follow suit best they can since most don't fully understand what exactly it is Lance does.

And look, Keith knows Lance isn't stupid. He knows Lance can see his long-term boyfriends distaste at the idea. He still finds himself worrying about the man when he sees them leave together, a clearly purposeful space between them as they go.

On the day Lance leaves he finds out the couple had had an argument about the entire thing that day Lance told them about it. Against his wishes Keith feels his blood boil on Lances behalf. It's that moment Keith decides. When Lance gets back he could use a genuine friend on his side of the ice and Keith is gonna make sure that's him.

So when Lance returns a week early after many long months away Keith jumps at the opportunity to help him.

Lance,like the sweet saint he is, said he'd wanted to surprise his bf so he hadn't told the captain he was back yet. Though Keith is bitter at the thought of the two reuniting he tells Lance they have a big team party tonight to celebrate their path into finals. He also tells Lance he can help sneak him right up to the captain.

Lance is understandably excited. The entire way there he's telling Keith how thrilled the captain will be since he'd never wanted Lance to go to begin with.

Despite it all Keith can't help but smile at Lances excitement. They're close to the back halls by then so Keith tells Lance to stick close and follow his lead.

Which he does.

Which he also regrets.

There's no romantic welcome home or happy surprise waiting for Lance. Instead, Keith leads him right up to the captain that's actively cheating on him with a woman in public.

Keith sneaks Lance right back out after he takes photos for evidence in what Keith can only assume is for a future fight. He takes a horribly silent Lance right back to the couples shared apartment. He guards the door as Lance packs and goes through their security system only finding more evidence of & confirmation of the cheating.

Keith escorts Lance to a trusted friends place and listens as Lance breaks down into sobs behind the front door as he leaves.

Their team doesn't see Lance again for a long time after that.

Their press team fought to keep the cheating scandal under wraps, claimed the breakup was due to mutual decisions. But Keith knows, the team knows.

They no longer trust their captain.

And as things continue through a rough patch of plays it turns out the cheating wasn't the only thing the man had lied about. Gambling, things that could be considered sabotage, outright lying to all their faces. Word was kept under lock and key least they be disqualified and have all their reputations destroyed. They had one final game to play.

So they do.

Winning doesn't feel the same without Lance watching the ice they skate on. It doesn't feel the same without his loud cheers and insistence on celebrating afterwards.

The only one happy with it is their captain who sits gleefully at the bar with his newest girl.

The rest of the team doesn't know how to feel. It doesn't feel like a win at all.

~•~

The next time Keith sees Lance is during his standard practice between seasons. He's alone on the ice today and is surprised to see those blue eyes looking at him through the glass.

Keith comes to a stop right Infront of him.

"Can I talk to you?" Lance blurts before Keith can even say a word.

Lance doesn't know this yet, but Keith could never deny him anything "yeah sure, I was done anyways"

He finds Lance waiting patiently in the locker room once he's done putting everything away.

"What's up?" He asks, watching lance look at him in question "You haven't been around. So I guess you have a good reason to be here now."

"I was looking for you actually."

"Me?"

"Yeah, I never got to thank you with all that happened....it-" Lance pauses looking down at his hands "it meant a lot to have a friend like you in the moment. I'm sorry for cutting contact."

Keith sits next to him bumping his shoulder playfully "you don't have to apologize for that, I get it. We all do."

"All....?"

"Yeah. The rest of the team, we all miss you but we get it."

Lance looks at Keith like he's surprised to hear such a thing "really?"

"of course? Lance- you do realize how often we hung out right? We all consider you a close friend and we were all furious with the captain for what he did to you."

"I-" Lance finally smiles, small but none the less genuine "and here I thought I'd be unwelcome."

Keith stands, holding out his hand to pull him up "your never unwelcomed Lance, not here, not around me. Why don't we grab some lunch and you can tell me about that trip you went on."

He pretends he doesn't see the tears filling Lances eyes as the man takes his hand and instead Keith focused on the joy radiating off him in waves

For the first time in almost a year Keith finally feels like he's feeling the sun again.

~•~

Keith sits through days and multiple lunch and dinner tales of Lances incredible research trip. It's thrilling to watch the man's eyes glitter in genuine happiness as he does so.

Keith realizes he's the first to genuinely ask after these details since everyone else simply wanted him distracted from the cheating fiasco. So Keith soaks up every detail, every stray insignificant video and piece of data lance is willing to give.

He's so greedy with it Lance laughs, thrilled someone was willing to finally listen. He actually sends Keith the initial drafts for the research (the non nda ones) along with the short writings that followed.

Keith is blown away by how hard Lance had worked. He's so incredibly proud of him, so thoroughly impressed by his intelligence and made Lance promise he'd send the published pieces once they're publicly available.

In return Lance starts attending Keith's hockey practices.

It starts with any that the ex isn't there and eventually spirals to any at all as the season grows nearer.

Lance diligently sits in the stands watching and critiquing the plays just how he used to if with a little more care.

The guys are thrilled to see Lance around again even if he's still reluctant to hang in the locker rooms and after.

Their captain ignores him in full and Lance does the same in return.

Once the games pick back up Lance slowly becomes Keith's personal cheerleader from the stands. It never fails to send a sharp spike of adrenaline through Keiths spine when he hears lance scream his name in support.

He roots for the entire team, minus one man, of course. But the team notes with amusement how Keith seems to be his favorite now.

And, well....Keith can't help but smile at that.

Lance is seen around almost all the time again with his focus mostly on Keith and Keith is smug the more it infuriates their captain as time passes.

He's enraged his ex is around again, he's enraged Lance had taken interest in someone else, he's enraged that that someone isn't him.

What the man doesn't know is Lance and Keith see way more of eachother that anyone knows.

Their captain doesn't know how Lance sometimes spends the night as his place and vice versa. How Lance text him everyday now and how Keith doesn't find it one bit annoying like he had.

He doesn't know how hard they'd fallen for eachother.

And when Keith wins their final game of the season he publicly dedicated it to Lance in their interviews afterwards.

Everyone but their captain follows in his steps saying that Lances support has been monumental to their moral as a team.

And Keith knows he's truly won when Lance pushes through the crowd and gives him a big kiss the moment he reaches him.

Lance smiles into that kiss with all the joy a ray of sunshine can provide and Keith makes sure to smile back just as big.

They go on their very first date the next day.

#voltron #lance vld #vld #vld lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #klance #keith x lance #keith voltron

[solitude4chiron]

White Ferrari

Miles 42 x black fem reader

Warnings/about: Angst/fluff, Drunk characters, slightly drunk driving, you get attacked by one of Miles’s rivals he feels guilty, frank ocean & skateboarding, caring miles

Slight trigger warning: You get followed and attacked by a rival of your boyfriends, you own a gun and pull it out

& yes this is pt.2 to fashion killa 🫶🏾 thank y’all for the support on my first piece of writing 🥹🥹

Miles took your advice from your last heartfelt conversation, leading his uncle Aaron to take more of the prowler role while he rebuilt your relationship, but after a few weeks off he sadly had to stay out again

During the weeks he had off you felt closer to your villain boyfriend than you ever had before. Him opening up his eyes to your world and you feeling every emotion he expressed he was raised in as a child.

You both went to concerts seeing ASAP Rocky (both of y’all’s fav) JID,  Brent faiyaz (Miles’s favorite he sends you lyrics all the time) and kendrick Lamar. You standing in the pit made miles tense up so he would always end up being right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist while dancing to whatever artist was playing, the tight space pressing your butt onto him which made him go feral, but not purposely of course 🙄 so he always ended up whispering in your ear 

“Espera a que lleguemos a casa, you want to tease huh?” (Wait till we get home)

After his disappearance, and reappearance you communicated your feelings to him a lot, as he understood that his weight was slightly your weight too, and it stressed you out. Even though his identity was safe and your relationship with him wasn’t too public, you felt someone had a hit out on your head.

“8:35 pm not too late…” and while miles was gone you dragged on your baggy evisu jeans while also pulling on a tight cropped shirt, finishing it off with a hoodie zipping it just far up enough so you could still let others see your bellybutton was pierced. Then you left, skating down the street with bktherula blasting in your left ear (miles always told you to keep one ear open when he wasn’t with you)

After a minute you stopped at a gas station for a drink and while walking to the back for your soda, you spotted a man dressed in all black. Shiesty mask pulled down, his dark eyes glared at you screaming disrespectful things

“Why the fuck do I live in nyc..” you muttered

At that moment you snatched the money out your pocket and slammed it on the counter whilst walking out, hoping the fast payment would put some space between you two. You also text miles. A lot..

“Hey miles baby, you free?” 8:49

“Some dude keeps following me miles” 8:49

“Miles please look at my location, I’ll try to stay in the area please come get me” 8:50

“Baby please answer me” 8:50

“Babe” 8:50

“Babe” 8:53

“Miles” 8:53

Miles POV:

“Aye pass that shi bru we celebrating tonight” I said through intoxicated lips while taking another swig of the hennessy bottle, and for a minute my worries went away, and that minute was actually 30 minutes

“Aye y’all imma head home ! My wife waiting on me” I said with a smug look on my face snatching the keys to my motorcycle off the counter, but my unc ain’t goin for that shi

“Gimme the keys miles, airdrop me your address” 

“Alright then dad..” I said sarcastically, but slightly pondered on that sentence because my dad, yeah 

While opening my phone to airdrop the address my heart sank to my crotch

Future wife: 7 new messages

Future wife: 16 missed calls 

Future wife: 1 voicemail 

And immediately I became sober. Hopping on my motorcycle and riding through the oddly warm night climate, leaving my worried uncle behind while tracking y/n’s location 

“Sabes que lo siento, I keep fucking letting you down.” (You know I’m sorry baby)

Y/n’s pov:

Although you tried not to acknowledge the man but something about him was familiar? You’re sure you’ve never seen him before but maybe you’ve heard of him

“Come here ma, won’t be long trust”

“Come on you know you want to turn around and look at me” 

And in that moment you knew who he was, Sidat. (Sigh - dot) Miles’s little “enemy”. Miles told you about him, but the way he was described to you. Made you feel like he wasn’t a threat. Now you realize he wasn’t a threat to miles, but definitely is a threat to you

“Move nigga, I got a man” you snapped

“I know that already love, fuc him” 

And something in you jerked to pull out the gun you tucked in your pants earlier. The gun that had MM (Miles morales) engraved in it, the gun you never realized could swiftly take someone off the earth, the gun that had purple wrapped around it. Personalized for your boyfriends touch 

“I said move nigga, damn.” You said, turning around swiftly while pulling the gun out your waist

And you tilted your head, peering down the top of the gun hoping this would be enough to scare sidat away 

“You ain’t pullin that shi girl” he said whilst jumping on you pinning you to the floor, you kept the barrel of the gun to his chest but he knew you wouldn’t pull it. You knew you wouldn’t too 

He lifted your chin off your chest with his own weapon 

“You so fine, miles don’t deserve yo pretty ass”

And in that moment you heard a motorcycle almost a minute away

So he left, and in the snap of a finger sidat was gone

And you shivered on the floor preparing your words for when miles found you. Tears ruining your pretty mascara 

“Lo siento, cariño, lo siento, salí y me emborraché y pensé que si bebía no tendría que pensar en nada y..” (I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry I went out and got drunk and I thought if I drank I wouldn’t have to think about anything and I..)

“Come on hermosa, I’m so sorry” you saw a tear forming a the bottom of his eyes and you knew if he wasn’t slightly drunk he probably wouldn’t be crying right now 

He picked you up and sat you on his motorcycle. Going straight home

Timeskip: At home

“And yeah, that’s what happened. He vanished as soon as you pulled up.” You said through tears and hiccups 

Miles tried his hardest to comfort you. He took your clothes off slowly trying not to trigger anything inside of you and wrapped you in the satin robe he got you for valentines. He took you into the bathroom and ran you a bath while rubbing a soapy rag along your body. His eyebrows indicating his regret. He made you hot camomile tea just like how his mom taught him, and he slid your bonnet on your braids freshly oiled for bed while he played your favorite, frank ocean

“It’s my fault” you heard him sigh

“No baby it wasn’t your fault, It wasn’t any of ours I’m not too shaken anyways I promise”

“But I should have been checking your texts, just like you always tell me too…” and he buried his head into your breasts trying to hold back drunk tears, and sooner or later you were being showered with kisses. His breath smelled like liquor but you didn’t care. He made sure that night while you both slept he was directly behind you. Never letting go of your hip 

“Care for you still and I will, forever” miles sleepily sang the lyrics of white Ferrari, and you’d wonder if he knew what he sang, or the impact it made in your head. It almost felt like he could only love you this deeply when he was drunk. Maybe he just felt this way the whole time

And through every kiss he apologized, because sober or not it pained him so much someone besides him had hurt you, purposely. The music filled your room and leaked out your shared window freezing time, and all you could do was stare at the boy you loved in awe

Because you never thought he could love someone so deeply 

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown x reader #prowler miles #miles morales prowler #y2k aesthetic #fashion #frank ocean #miguel o'hara #Spotify

[spacenutspod]

The China National Space Administration (CNSA) has put out a call for international and industry partners to contribute science payloads to its Chang’e-8 lunar lander, set for launch to the Moon in 2028. The mission, which will involve a lander, a rover, and a utility robot, will be China’s first attempt at in-situ resource utilization on the Moon, using lunar regolith to produce brick-like building materials. Just like NASA’s Artemis plans, the CNSA’s plans for the Moon are targeted at the Lunar south pole, which is expected to be rich in useable resources, especially water. The presence of these resources will be vital for long-term human activity on the lunar surface. Possible landing sites for Chang’e-8 include Leibnitz Beta, Amundsen crater, Cabeus crater, and the ridge connecting the Shackleton and de Gerlache craters, according to a presentation by Chang’e-8 chief deputy designer in October 2023. Chang’e-8 will be the last CNSA robotic mission to be launched before construction begins on the International Lunar Research Station, China’s crewed moonbase being planned in collaboration with Russia’s Roscosmos. That makes Chang’e-8’s attempt to create building materials out of regolith a vital proof-of-concept for their lunar aspirations. In order to make moon-bricks, the lander will carry an instrument that uses solar energy to melt lunar soil and turn it into useable parts at a speed of 40 cubic cm per hour. Alongside the regolith processing equipment, the lander will be equipped with an array of science instruments, including cameras, a seismometer to detect moonquakes, and an x-ray telescope. Part of the mission will focus on moon-based Earth observation, with several instruments designed to monitor Earth’s atmosphere and magnetosphere. The rover, meanwhile, will carry ground penetrating radar, cameras, a mineral analyzer, and tools for collecting and storing samples (leaving open the possibility of future missions to retrieve the samples). The utility robot is a key piece of the mission, but CNSA isn’t developing it in-house. Instead, the space agency is seeking proposals from partners interested in developing it as a piggyback payload to ride alongside the rest of Chang’e-8. According to the call for proposals, the 100kg, battery-powered robot will need to be able to “capture, carry and place items, shovel, and transfer lunar soil.” It will also need to be able to travel at 400m per hour. There is room for an additional 100kg of piggyback payloads besides the robot, for which full proposals are expected to be submitted later this year. While planning for Chang’e 8 is ongoing, the CNSA has two additional robotic moon missions in the works for the near future. The first, Chang’e-6, will launch this spring, and aims to return a regolith sample from the lunar far side (a never before accomplished feat). The next mission is planned for 2026, when Chang’e-7 will carry out a geological examination of the permanently shadowed craters scattered around the Moon’s south pole. The post China's Chang'e-8 Mission Will Try to Make Bricks on the Moon appeared first on Universe Today.

#space #astronomy #news #science

[morallyinept]

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You're getting this a day early this week. For reasons. Mentions and descriptions of panic attacks. Mentions of self-harm/attempted suicide. Heavy angst - I promise, it will pep up soon! 😅

☝🏻Some of the tags aren't working, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

The sun is on the other side of the sky when you eventually arrive at outpost three.

The pink edges of an early dusk will soon make their way in, dip-dyeing the clouds rolling in puffy plumes above.

Summer evenings have always been beautiful, even before the world turned to shit.

You enjoy the colours; the golds fading into pinks, and then purples as the night would settle in. A pastel kaleidiscope, and you're thankful the sky has remained free of the horrors that taint the ground below it.

It's the only reprieve you have left these days, when you take a moment to gaze up at the stars, enthralled by the infinite beauty of space.

A renegade memory cuts in; Joel's body warming you on the air mattress he'd dragged out into the garden so you could both watch the meteor shower you'd been haranguing him about for weeks.

I don't want to miss it! You'd said, endlessly. There were only a few glimpses of the white, glittery streaks across the sky that night. Mostly because you and Joel were too busy looking at one another instead and talking excitely about the future. Your future, together.

Even though you never actually had one.

You smile with a deep sigh, throwing your head up to the sky as you trot on and Joel catches your wistful eyes.

"What's that look for? " He queries, curiously.

You shake your head smiling. "Nothing."

The day feels like it's dragged on deliberately to torment you, and tiredness weighs heavy on your back and under your eyes.

You follow Joel on his stud up the grassy knolls towards a small looking shack, tucked and nestled out the way that's not so obvious it's there, but gives a good view down into the valley which you’ve spent the last couple of hours riding up languidly. 

Once off your horse, you guide the mare into a side stable hidden by the trees and are surprised to find ample hay bales stacked in there.

Joel shuts the paddock fence, “grab that bucket there,” he instructs and you do, following him as he takes the heavy knapsacks from off your horse. You offer to take them, but he shakes his head as he loads himself up and it makes you smile that he's never lost his gentlemanly chilvary.

Even if he's lost everything else.

Joel reaches behind a piece of wood and pulls out a key, unlocking the door and you instantly marvel at the inside. 

“This is not what I expected from an outpost,” you say as you look about the place in bewilderment. 

There’s a small, ashy stove in the corner with a basket of chopped logs next to it. A singular camper’s cot is along the far wall, with sheets folded on top of it and a threadbare pillow.

A couple of beaten wicker chairs face a large window; most of it is boarded up, save for a small square cut out where the light pools in softly and illuminates the floor by your feet. Dust motes dance in the white beams and you wander over to the view of the valley that’s squashed inside the tiny frame like a grainy Polaroid.

You traipse over to the side room, which is an alcove cut into the wood, to find a hose pipe attached to a slow rusting tap. A crude shower with a curtain hanging up. There's a couple of rough feeling towels on a hook, and a large bowl on the floor, presumably the toilet.

"S'no hot water." He says with a thin line for a mouth.

You turn to Joel shrugging, surprised. “Are all your outposts this fancy?” You quip with a wry grin.

You were expecting a hole in the dirt to squat in for the next five days and not much else. This is a palace in comparison.

A rickety shelving unit houses a few dogeared books, a few battered boxes that you see are old board games on closer inspection. There’s also an array of metal tins, some in various states of peeling and rusting. 

“We work in rotations when on the lookout. The guys who were here last would’ve left yesterday, maybe the day before. Gotta leave the place smart n’ tidy for the next shift. Those are the rules.”

“Noted,” you say as Joel takes the metal bucket from you. He's careful not to touch you, you notice. “You’ve been on the lookout before?” Your fingers run over the sniper stand set up by the window. 

The floorboards beneath you creak and jostle as you move, and you look down to see one board is loose as you step on it with your boot. You can hear running water from the tap in the alcove as the bucket starts to fill.

“A few times. I mostly get picked for scoutin’ runs.” Joel explains, his head peering out from the alcove at you. “S’what I used to do in the QZ, so guess m’good for it.” 

"Are you good at finding things?"

He doesn't answer that.

You bend down and pull the floorboard up and find boxes of bullets and shotgun cartridges in there and baulk. There’s a small radio walkie-talkie too.

“Get ‘em all out,” Joel instructs you, resting the full bucket by the door. “We might be needin’ ‘em. Best have ‘em ready.” 

You do and Joel attaches his rifle on the stand, peering through the periscope and places the boxes, you hand up to him, on the small table in between the wicker chairs.

“We switch the radio on once, just before midday, each day. If nothin’ comes through by quarter-past, then all is well.” Joel explains.

He throws his thumb over his shoulder to three small clocks on a wonky wooden shelf that tick quietly out of sync. They all read at the same time, differing by a minute or two. A stack of batteries are beside them. “In case one stops,” Joel remarks as he sees you inspecting. 

“Industrious.” You nod understanding, and place the radio on the table next to the bullets. “Are all the outposts equipped like this?”

“Pretty much. Each time ya have a shift, ya bring supplies with ya from the commune to top up.” 

You nod again as he points at the knapsacks realising that you’ll have less to go back with.

“You want me to take the first watch?” You offer. 

Joel shakes his head. “No. I will. But we’ll eat first. Once it’s dark, we can’t use any light. Don’t want no-one or no infected knowin’ we’re here, okay? We keep quiet, keep our heads down. We just wait n’ watch.”

“Yes, sir.” You remark with a salute and Joel grits his teeth. 

“You wanna get the stove goin’?” He frowns. 

“You’re not gonna cook for me?” You remark with your tongue in your teeth, and he rolls his eyes. “I remember you being a great cook.” 

“I ‘member you bein' full of shit.” Joel remarks as he steps over and rifles through the knapsacks, pulling out several cans and handing them to you. 

You chuckle, recalling the time when Joel burnt the only dinner he’d ever attempted to cook for you on Valentine’s Day once. Instead, he’d ordered in pizza and then fucked you on his parent’s sofa whilst they were out on a romantic date night of their own.

It was a close call, barely getting your damp panties back on before they came home to two red faces with messy hair trying to look innocent. It was the same night he told you he loved you.

The thought warms your belly momentarily before the snakes strike with their venom again. 

You look down at the cans, some dented, some without labels, one is blown and you tell Joel you can't eat it and he nods. You get to preparing some food. It’s a lucky dip as to what it’ll be, but you remain optimistic. 

Joel pulls out a tupperware box with some baked bread in it and you groan in surprise.

“Courtesy of Jake.” He says with a little pride blooming in his cheeks.

“Jake?”

“He runs The Tispy Bison. He sees me right.” He tries not to smirk smugly.

“Is that because you’re his dealer or something?” You titter.

Joel baulks. “I might do him some favours when I’m on a run.”

“Mmhm. Is this focaccia?” You gasp, taking the tupperware box, opening it and inhaling the freshly baked scent of flour, rosemary and oils.

“Dunno, s’different each time.”

“Well. Jake might just be my new favourite person.” You say, grinning as the scent of the bread makes your mouth salivate. 

“Hm. Next time you can spend five days gettin’ cosy with Jake then.” Joel gruffs, the frown returning, but his mirth still remains.

You watch Joel take the bucket and open the shack door. “Gonna give the horses a drink.”

He closes the door, but not before you catch his dark, chocolate eyes glancing back at you. 

Out in the stable, Joel strokes down the mare gently whilst she drinks from the bucket hanging on a tough metal peg. 

He loses himself in the feel of her coat for a while, focusing in on that silky smoothness over his rough fingertips and he runs them up and down.

The stallion eats from the corner, chewing as he tugs hay from the bale with big, glassy black eyes. 

Joel’s mind wanders from the stable to inside the shack where you are. If he listens real carefully, and presses himself up against the far wall closest to the shack, he could probably hear you clanking about with the pans. 

He could probably hear you mutter obscenities at the stove as you struggle to get the wood to catch light. He’d probably rest his large palm against the coarse wood, reaching out as though he was touching you.

God, he wants to touch you so badly. Convince himself that you're real.

He wonders if you would feel it; sense him here, listening to the music of you as it pollutes his head and stuffs up his senses, only but a mere few steps away.

So close, yet so fucking far from his reach.

Joel takes his hand off the wood and steps back; shaking his head and muttering curses of his own to himself for being so damn foolish.

He steps back to the mare who snuffles at him and he gets back to stroking her down. Her large head knocks against his arm and Joel wonders for a moment if it’s her way of telling him to grow a pair and get back in there.

Get back to you.

He calms her with a soothing shush and strokes over her ears, winding the velvet of them gently through his thick fingers as she snuffles again. 

“You’re just as sweet as May, aren’t ya, darlin’?” He coos to her and the horse puts her mouth back in the bucket leaving Joel to contemplate and to just think some more. 

Thinking has always been his worst enemy, deducing that he probably does it far too much for his own good. Often, the thinking is what talks him out of things, calms the recklessness that used to run in his blood during his wily youth.

Thinking is what stops him from unleashing the ire on a daily basis now. And he’s not sure anymore if that’s a good or bad thing. 

He scratches at his temple and his fingers run the familiar pattern of the scar there. It stops all thinking for a moment as his tips notch over the puckered skin.

Just leaves him that stabbing feeling that starts at the bottom of his heart until it eventually takes over his beating muscle and renders him frozen, incapacitated for a few short moments as he remembers raising the gun to his temple in his darkest moment.

Joel wonders why it is that he never died; why it is that he flinched when he pulled the trigger. He should have died a long time ago, should be with Sarah now holding her close and smelling the coconut shampoo in her hair that he misses more than anything in this fucking cruel world.

Joel deduces that thinking probably talked him out of that too. That, somewhere, in the back of his foggy brain that could often chatter insidiously at him for hours - so much so that he had to resort to numbing out the noise with booze and pills just to get some simple shut eye sometimes - a small voice talked him down off that ledge.

But he wonders why it has, every day since. What was the point if not to taunt him with his losses? 

He’d said to Ellie that he was glad he hadn’t. And he’d meant it. But Ellie was gone, her time between visits getting longer and he knows it’s because he tried to do right by her, even if it backfired in his face later when she discovered his dishonesty. 

That voice that told him to fight for her as he gunned everyone down in that hospital selfishly. Point, shoot. Point, shoot.

The thinking had quelled then, a calm just leaving him to go stoically postal as he pointed and shot at targets; a quiet white noise filling his ears until Ellie was back in his arms and he could hear again. 

And now she’s not.

Joel Miller is a loser; he's continually losing the people that matter the most to him. That has to be it, he thinks.

He looks down at his hands; two large paws that are weathered and worn, calloused and rough. Index fingers with split skin and a liver spot here or there that never used to be. Prominent veins that ridge and thumbs that always annoy him with their stubbiness, getting in the way of practicality at times. 

Working hands that were once strong and built things, but now tremble and shake uncontrollably at times. Strong hands that fail to be able to hold onto anyone that he cares for anymore. He’d let go of Sarah, he’d let go of Tess. He’d let go of Ellie. 

And he had let go of you.

Joel squeezes his fists shut, breathing in through a choke that rasps out at the back of his throat. That shit makes his chest burn and he can’t breathe anymore. It takes his breath from him as he tries to suck in oxygen that he can’t quite catch in the air. 

He can feel his blood beginning to boil rapidly with the heat rising within him. Clarity is being lost to him and emotion - savage, raw emotion - is beginning to take hold as it creeps up his spine.

Please, stop.

He puffs in deeply a few times, sinking to his knees and breathing his way through it. Refusing to relent, refusing to let it take him. 

But it always does. It’s stronger than him. 

He feels it then, as it mutates from anger into sheer blinding panic crippling him in seconds; that all too familiar freezing grip tightening around his ventricles and muscles as he tries to regain his composure that’s stripped from him. He’s reduced to naked, quivering flesh in a matter of seconds.

He tries to remember to breathe as it ices his teeth shut. But all rational thought is swallowed up like it always is. All he can hear is his blood pumping -thump-thump-thump-thump- and then that tiny little voice -thump-thump-thump-thump- that slithers out from the dark again.

You’re dying, the voice says. This is what death feels like, and you’re going to die alone, Joel.

-Thump-thump-thump-thump-

He grabs at his chest, closing his eyes; hearing nothing but steam rolling through his ears. And for a few moments, he relives his personal Hell over and over.

He’s dizzy, falling forward on all fours as he rides it out; the horses are the only witnesses to his sinking, to his drowning right before them. They can’t save him, no-one can. 

The mare brays, calling out to him to come back, but it's swallowed up in the panic as he sinks and flows away.

Once he does come back, when the ice eventually melts and his heart relaxes, he realises he’s still in it. Trapped in a living Hell that relents on and on. 

He didn’t die, no - he’s still fucking here. 

Joel breathes tightly, feeling the raw scrape in the back of his throat as he sits back on his ankles.

His hands run through his hair that feels matted with sweat, dripping damp around the back of his collar, and he's past the stage where he wants to yank it all out in agony. 

It takes him two attempts to stand, cursing at his fucking knee that still pulls tight just to spite him, and once he's upright, he pats the mare on the side assuringly. Her silk anchors him back to reality as he convinces himself that he’s here.

As he turns, Joel sees your shadow moving forward in the doorway; your voice echoing in, and he stops dead, wide eyed. 

“...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food anyway these days…” you say, and you eye him carefully noting how paler he looks. “You alright?” 

Joel stares at you, wondering if you just witnessed him falling apart, wonders what you’d make of it and searching your eyes frantically for any pity.

He can take you hating him - he wonders if you do, and wouldn't hold it against you, because he hates himself - but he can’t take your pity. That would be the final death of him.

“M’fine.” Joel replies through a swallowed wheeze, and passes you, heading back into the shack.

Nine Years Ago...

It feels soft and it’s a sensation that pulls your attention for a moment. Diverts you out and away from the suffocating void.

It shouldn’t feel like that, surely? Not after all this time. Coarse, hardened, maybe. But not soft. 

You watch as he winds the long, soft layers of the clean bandage around your wrist. It hurts less now, the sting. But you’ve been numb for a while. 

He tucks it in place, his hands applying light pressure around it as he fires off gentle commands around you. Your mouth is lead, your head is empty. A couple of pairs of eyes hover behind him, their silence deafening.

He instructs them to fetch some more water and he instructs you to drink it, but you don’t. Or at least you can't remember if you do. You look down at your wrist. It feels so soft.

He doesn’t question you. He doesn't look at you to make you feel even more shitty than you already do. He doesn’t feel sorry for you. 

He’s just... patient.

He stays with you, night and day. Doesn’t leave your side, which is equal parts infuriating as well as terrifyingly comforting. You loathe him, with every fibre of your being for what he did. For what he does.

For how he keeps you alive and fighting. 

He assists you, when you need it most. When you need it intimately, without disgust, without hesitation. Taking a shit is difficult with only one working hand.

You fucked up, cut too deep.

Your wrist aches from the damage to the tendons. Years later you’ll still feel that ache, when it gets cold. When you overexert yourself. A constant reminder of your epic failure. A single finger blessed permanently numb and tingly forever. You envy it.

It'll get better. Give it time, he says. Give it patience. But you have none of those things anymore. Not even pain.

It's all numbed out, washed away.

He holds you whilst you cry, when you try to push him away, when you let out all of that anger, all of that fury onto him in short bursts.

He takes it. He absorbs it. He’ll bruise under his eye, but he takes it from you. 

Until you have nothing more to give. 

And then you sleep. For days. You wake up in his arms, it’s hot. Stifling. You haven’t showered, maybe in weeks. But he still holds you close, unperturbed by your foul smells.

You’re not even sure when the last time it was that you ate. You’re not even sure where you are anymore. Who you are anymore.

There's more of you, new faces you haven't met yet. Names you can't remember. He tells you them, introduces you as something you're not. You think you smile, agree with him. Reassure them like he does that they're safe now. That you'll protect them.

Days turn into weeks at an incomprehensible blur. Weeks into months, and it’s not until you’re both out with a small group hunting, laying snares for wild rabbits, that you finally talk about it. 

“I didn't want to be here, just for this.” You murmur. Anything but this.

Kelper stops and looks at you. “Too late. This is all we have now.”

You walk on, your gun lowered as you trample over dead branches, leaves. Everything is dead now. It's been a harsh winter. Freezing. And you're just so fucking tired of not feeling any of it.

“I can't sanction your inherent stupidity. I can empathise with it.” He says, following behind. “But you don’t get to do that. Not on my watch.”

“You had no right.” You scoff. "It was my choice, not yours."

“Fuck you.”

You stop and turn to him. His eyes are focused, a frown crushes them. Kelper's face is unrecognisable. You've not met this Kelper before.

“Fuck you.” he says again, a growl to his voice. “Don’t be so selfish.”

 You shake your head. 

“You don’t get to check out. Not when…” He wipes at his face with his palm quickly. “You owe it to yourself to fight. To keep fucking going.”

“There’s nothing left to keep going for. Your delusion is misplaced, Kelper. It always has been.” You murmur. 

He steps closer to you. His voice is a soft, muted sigh, expressing a gentle annoyance now for this new found situation. He never gets fully angry and you wonder what it would take to see him implode like a sun. His devastation would be glorious.

“You know that’s not true. That’s the fear talking.” Kelper says and shakes his head. “We endure and we fucking survive. For each other. This world isn’t done with us. It’s chaotic. It fucking hurts, I know it does. It's rotten, right down to the core. But it has more to offer. It's has to..." He sighs.

His eyes water, but he blinks it away quickly. "They need you."

"No they don't." You say.

"I need you, Goose. I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you.” Kelper says.

You gulp. Then your lips crash into his. He kisses you back, if but for a weak, selfish moment as a sob escapes you and into his mouth.

It's been so long since you've felt anything warm. And his lips are warm, his tongue. And like a moth to a flame, you want him to burn you alive. Immolate your entire being to ash and dust.

Kelper pushes you back gently as you gasp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, clutching back onto him. Feeling foolish, feeling relieved that you finally feel something again, even if it is embarrassment. 

He smiles and shakes his head. “It’s a shame you don’t have a cock, otherwise I’d be all over that.”

Kelper sighs, pulling you into his chest. He wears a ring around his neck. The most delicate, fragile thing about him, with a tiny, blue sapphire embedded into the metal. A symbol of his own fragility and losses.

It pushes against your clavicle and leaves an indent in your skin, long after he pulls away. 

You smile, and then a snuffle of laughter escapes your mouth. He laughs too. 

“I’m never leaving you. And you’re not ever leaving me, okay?” His eyes bore into yours, hollowing you out from the inside. "I fucking love you, you got that?" He jabs his finger gently onto the side of your skull.

You know its futile to fight it anymore. To resist. His belief is a parasite worming its way in to your gullet and feeding, getting fatter. He's right, this world isn't done. It can't be. Every day that you're alive is a day to make it better. A day to find a purpose, to find hope.

You know these words, the mantras, as you try to pick through and unjumble them again. To see the clarity in them that you know is there. You felt it once before, you can again, right?

To endure and survive, long after this world has changed.

He saved you. Three years later you'd return the favour. And you'd have this conversation again. Only then, you'll believe the conviction behind these words, these ideals, as you tell him, yell at him, what he's just told you, as you keep his lifeforce inside of his skin to fight another day with you.

They need you! I need you, Maverick!

This is how you'll save him. This is how he saves you. This is why you endure and survive.

You nod at Kelper and you both clutch on to one another. “Okay." You breathe.

You run your finger up and down the raised, smooth track of the scar; your sleeve rolled up as you stop stirring the pot of the savoury, and somewhat overbearingly salty, smelling canned meat that’s simmering slowly on the stove. 

The skin feels different, it’s healed over, physically. Thicker. Thicker skin. Impenetrable.

It pulls you out of your reverie back to the present day. He’ll be alright. You chant internally. He’ll be fine. It’s five days, get a grip. 

Your attention is diverted by the sound of one of the horses braying gently outside, and you stir the contents again, pulling down your sleeve.

You serve up the bread on some chipped plates, breaking some off the loaf between you. You inhale the scents and it takes you back to another life; a life that was simplistic in its mundane joy.

A time when a broken heart was the only thing to fear in the dark.

You realise Joel has been gone for a little while as the stew bubbles sticky in the pan.

“Joel?” You call out gently.

You wander out towards the stable when you get no response, and he hasn’t returned.

You call out to him again en route. “...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food these days…” you say, with a slight mirth clacking around your teeth.

The scents of the stew can be smelt in your hair, your clothes. That and the firewood. Your stomach rumbles, but you’re not sure if it’s from hunger or the fact that it’s been tossed around on an emotional rollercoaster all day.

You stop as you round into the stable and see Joel staring at you, a little wide-eyed and sweaty in his hairline.

“You alright?” You query, eyeing him carefully.

He stares back at you with a peculiar look; some furtive panic swelling around his eyeballs. He seems heavier somehow, like he’s being crushed.

He snaps out of it; the frown returning in its rightful place and then his eyes drop away from yours. He wipes his hands down on the back of his jeans listlessly and steps forward, past you, leaving a cold prickle blooming on your skin.

“M’fine.” Joel replies. 

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part Six

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Eddie hasn't spoken a word since they found him in the boat house. Chief Powell told Nancy this on the phone, calling on Eddie's behalf, and another officer tells them again when they say they're here to pick him up.

Steve has a vague memory of this. He didn't go with to pick up Eddie last time, it was... Wayne? Maybe? The ache in Steve's head, the sign he's come to realize means he's changed something, is the indicator that's true. It means Wayne didn't go pick up El and the others last time, the original time?

Whatever. Steve can't be worried about that; it doesn't matter anymore how it went last time. Last timeline ended with him dead, dying?, so he's fine with forgetting it.

"Hey Eddie," Nancy greets as she stands in front of Eddie. He's just sat in a chair in the lobby area, staring straight ahead but not looking at anything. His eyes are vacant in a way that brings a sense of déjà vu to Steve. "Wayne asked us to pick you up."

Eddie doesn't even acknowledge that she's there.

"Eddie?" Nancy asks, leaning down just a little to put her face in Eddie's view. "Come on. Let's go."

"Nance," Steve says, digging the keys from his pocket, "can you get the car and park closer to the front door? I'll get Eddie."

Nancy turns to look at him, eyes flitting about his face before she nods, reaching out to take the keys.

Steve steps into the place she vacated in front of Eddie and squats. Gets eye level even if Eddie isn't looking back. "Hey, Eddie. It's Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington. Wayne couldn't come get you, he has something else he had to do, but I'm here to take you home."

It's barely there, but Eddie flinches at 'home.' It looks more like a twitch of his shoulder, and it could have been, but Steve thinks it's more than that.

"We don't have to go in. There's- across the road from you is Max Mayfield's house. You ever meet her?" Steve just talks, tries to keep his voice calm, conversational. "We can wait at Max's place for your uncle to get home. Just. We gotta go, man. Can't sit here in the police station all day." Steve reaches for Eddie's hand, to grab and try to coax him into standing. Except, as soon as Steve's fingers make contact, Eddie jerks back and Eddie finally looks at him, eyes snapping to Steve's face. He's not present, not really; he still kind of looks like he's looking beyond Steve rather than at him.

"Sorry, sorry," Steve says, just as softly. "I won't touch. But your uncle asked us to get you, so, please. We gotta go."

"Harrington?"

Oh. Oh no. It's only now that he's faced with looking directly at Eddie, faced with having Eddie looking directly at him that he thinks he might not be ready. He's not it turns out. He's not ready to face Eddie, not when he has memories of- of-

"And Buckley," Robin is suddenly here, pushing into Steve's space. Getting in Eddie's face. "And we are going to be heading to Forest Hills. So, unless you, like, want to spend the day the lovely police force of Hawkins, I suggest getting out of that chair and following us."

How can she have ever been worried about not being able to read his mind anymore?

"Right," Eddie says, more to himself than to Robin. He does go to stand, though, so Steve does, too. Puts some distance between himself and Eddie.

Steve leads the way to the car as Eddie follows behind like a ghost.

Except, it's Steve that's the ghost, isn't it? Does- does the future continue to go even without Steve there? Even as he changes how things went, or are going?

If it keeps going how long was Eddie trapped in his hold? Held by a selfish dead man who wasn't kind enough to not tell Eddie how he feels. Felt?

He looks to Eddie from the corner of his eye before he climbs into the passenger seat. Definitely how he still feels.

"I used your radio to get a hold of Dustin," Nancy says as they pull away from the curb. "He's on his way back to Max's from Cerebro. He got through to the walkie we sent with Wayne. We should all be together in an hour."

"Where'd you send my uncle? Why did he agree to go?" Eddie asks from the backseat.

"That's a loaded question, Munson," Robin answers, "but we'll explain it. Just, uh, just know that we believe you, and we know you didn't do anything to Chrissy."

"I didn't!"

"We know!" Robin placates, and Steve twists in his seat to he can see her. She's behind the driver's seat so he can see her without looking at Eddie. "We know. I swear we'll explain everything. Just when your uncle gets back, okay?"

Eddie doesn't verbally respond but Steve sees Robin nodding back to him so that's that.

There isn't any more talking the rest of the drive. Nancy parks next to her mom's car in front of Max's place and hands Steve's keys back to him before she climbs out. Eddie and Robin are next. Steve remains seated, listens as Robin says something about 'going home later' before he sees Eddie head towards Max's front door. He doesn't even pause to look in at Steve as he walks by.

Why would he? This Eddie doesn't know him. They're not bonded by five years of surviving hell together. This Eddie doesn't know anything about him, and Steve knows his whole life.

Robin startles him by pulling open his door to say, "you coming in?"

He looks from Robin to where Nancy and Eddie have disappeared into the trailer. "I don't- I can't. Robin, I can't."

"Hey, it's okay," Robin assures him, "it's okay. We can stay out here until you're ready."

Steve swallows thickly before nodding. She's squat beside the door, hand on the roof for support and the other on Steve. Also for support, but of the emotional kind. "I think I'm in love with him, and he barely tolerates me. It took a couple months for him to warm up to me, and that was with the help of an apocalypse. Will he even-" like me without it? He doesn't finish but the frown that comes to Robin's face lets him know he doesn't need to.

"Of course, he will. He did once before."

Steve turns from Robin to look out the front windshield. "Yeah. Maybe."

"I'll go in and let them know you need some time. Come in when you're ready," she squeezes his knee and then she's gone.

This time will be different. Vecna has to die today, because tomorrow he goes after Max and that's not acceptable. He won't let that happen. He's going to stop the end of the world before it begins. And then he doesn't know what will happen.

Will life just go on? Will he still remember a future that never was?

If he doesn't remember, will his feelings for Eddie go with the memories? That thought hurts, but if it's true, the pain is only temporary.

Steve doesn't know how long he just sits in the passenger seat of his car, staring off into space, just knows it was long enough that Wayne and the Cali crew arrive. It's the slamming of the van doors that brings him back to himself.

He twists to look over his shoulder and the first person he sees is Mike, who is, Steve thinks, not glaring at him for the first time in his life. Jonathan is standing next to him. He and Mike have a short conversation before Mike walks across the street, coming to a stop about 5 feet from Steve.

"Why are you just sitting in the passenger seat of your car with the door open?" Mike asks, voice full of his usual judgement. "Are you buckled in?"

Steve looks down and frowns. Yes, he is still buckled in. He unbuckles and climbs from his car. Mike eyes Steve warily the whole time.

"He not out yet?" Wayne's voice carries across the way and Steve looks to the Munson's home. Wayne is on the front step, the door behind him open.

"Over here! We're at Max's," Steve throws a thumb over his shoulder and it brings Wayne quickly. He's not running, but it's damn close. "Just let yourself in."

Wayne speed walks passed. Steve stays and watches as Will and El round the van and join Jonathan. Will looks like he wants to barf. Steve's not surprised by that; he's still got some sort of connection to the Upside Down. It's El who looks different.

Her entire demeanor is unlike Steve's ever known her. For the first time ever, she just looks like a scared little girl.

She takes the first step towards Steve and her brothers follow.

She stops in front of Steve, cocking her head at him. Steve looks down at her and mimics the motion. Her hair is the longest he's seen it and her face has turned serious. "You're different."

Steve nods. "So are you."

El lifts a hand up and touches it to Steve's temple. She looks confused for having done it, about as confused as Steve feels, but her confusion turns into a surprised gasp and a trickle of blood slides out her nose.

"El," Mike rushes in, shoving at Steve to make him take a step back and break their contact.

"I am fine," El says, though she looks like whole new person. Her shoulders square and she stands taller. Her eyes look as haunted as Steve remembers.

"Oh shit. You're my El," Steve says, which gets all the boys to give him odd looks.

"I am sorry for what I have done to you," she says, as no-nonsense and militant as he remembers her. "I could not go back myself, but I could piggyback on someone."

"Why me?"

"You were in Hawkins, and I knew you would do what needed to be done."

"What is happening?" Jonathan asks.

El turns to Jonathan and says, "we are going to stop the end of the world."

-

@skepsiss @i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @a-little-unsteddie @steviesummer @queenie-ofthe-void @lololol-1234 @synonym-for-strange @tchackdaw @blackpanzy @goodolefashionedloverboi

#steddie #my fic #apocalypse au #time travel au #butterfly effect au #morally grey steve harrington

[jamminlocks]

Birthday Night {Akaashi x Reader}

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Tags: F/M, post time-skip, established relationship, birthday fic, soft Akaashi, afab reader, soft reader, Fluff, tooth aching fluff, Domestic Fluff, kissing, sfw, no smut, slightly suggestive in the end Word count: 1,135 Summary: though it's his birthday, a wonderful and acceptable reason to drink with friends, Akaashi made the active choice to just go home to simply get some rest and spend the night with you. A/N: a little something with the birthday boy :) [ao3]

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~

Exiting the station greets Keiji with early December weather. He makes his way to his apartment alone on his birthday. It's nothing to be sad about. His co-workers invited him to head out drinking, the drinks being on them. Bokuto invited hangout as well though there was no date for it. But, given that it's so early in the week and he still has Udai-sensei's chapter for the following weeks to be concerned about, with a lot of convincing, His gift of free drinks will be given on Saturday instead. While Bokuto's offer, on the other hand, had to be postponed for some time in the near future to at least before the year ends.

He left work and went his way home early, a rare occasion. Much like anyone else exhausted mentally and physically, Keiji tries to hurry home. Hurrying home not only to finally relax, but he has actual plans for tonight.

From the opposite direction of the street, he sees someone in a white coat and scarf, carrying a box by the ribbon on one hand and two big bags on the other. Their walk is familiar to him. The closer they got it he recognizes who it was and it warmed his cheeks.

Its you.

The moment you see him, you smile and the stiffness on your face is gone in an instant. Keiji gets to the edge of the street first and watches you speedily, yet carefully walk to him.

"Good Evening," you said with the energy of a sunny morning.

"Good Evening," he returned. Although not matching your energy, your gladness is contagious to him. "Aren't you early from what you said?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise that I was early," you said, the smile not leaving your face. It seems to radiate even more with the different make up you have today, You show off the box. "See, I bought cake! Happy birthday!"

He smiles softly. "and the other bags?"

"your gift and food. I'll cook us dinner. I've got dishes in mind." You nodded to the street In front of you, a sign to start heading to his apartment. Before he started walking, Keiji took one bag from your hand.

"here, let me. Give me the other one too."

"you'll open the door, though."

"fare enough. Then hand me the heavier bag." And so you did.

Walking together on the way to his apartment, you both talk about how the day was. Keiji speaking of work and his co-workers, comparing Kuroo's enthusiastic birthday greeting from Kenma's normal one, and Bokuto's invite to hangout yet not having a scheduled date for it. The weight of exhaustion leaves him as he listens to your day, how exciting it was to choose the cake, how lucky you were to finally get the scarf you wanted. The distance between you two never grows wider, even while walking up the stairs in the case of his apartment.

Keiji digs through the pocket of his pants for his keys. "Why don't you go in first and set everything down?" He said.

You hum in agreement. After a click in the knob, Keiji swings the door and keeps it open for you then enters himself. Once inside, the tension in his head and back he didn't know he had disappeared. The comfort of his space is a relief. All he hears of you as he strips his scarf, coat and shoes are your foot steps and the crackling of the bag being opened. Keiji takes in the atmosphere you give his home, hoping that it will be the beginning of a peaceful evening with you.

He fixes his coat onto the wrack, or he tries. The change of temperature in the air left his glasses misty. As he tries to find his cloth for his lenses in one of his coat pockets. The weight of a body presses on to his back and a pair of arms wraps around his torso.

"Keiji~" you said in that low and playful tone you do when wanting his attention. You were patient with him, keeping your grim on him loose as he fixed his glasses.

One he was done and Keiji placed them back on his face, he turned and you adjusted with him, placing yourselves chest to chest with each other. Your coat and scarf were already gone.

"yes?" He asked. It's rhetorical, really. In that he knows you aren't really asking for anything that can't be answered with his affection. wrapping he own arms around, he brings you in tighter. A kiss to your forehead was his 'thank you' for the hug. But before he could pull away, you lean in to peck on his cheeks. It's gentle and teasing, making Keiji hum, a bit tickled.

Then, you kiss him on his lips, light and fleeting. He thought you were done but one kiss led to another. From the way your arms are firmly on him, it was clear you had no intentions on letting him go just yet. Basically trapping him. So he mirrors your affection, kissing you back with the same gentleness, maybe a little more, but nothing too much.

The sensation of your lipstick is slightly sticky, but it doesn't take away from the warmth and softness of your lips with each little kiss. Slowly, his hand reaches to trace up your back. You, in turn, finally let go of him from your embrace, only to slither your hand up and cup his face.

Its warm, intoxicating. His cheeks being caressed by your finger as kiss and nip on and on the side of his lips. relaxing to his tired nerves. So relaxing in fact that he didn't even realize he was falling a little bit backwards until his back is against the door. Nice as this is, if this keeps up, he knows the rest of the night won't go as he and you planned. The food will be neglected as well.

He takes over a little, nipping and sucking on your bottom lip before firmly placing his hands on your hips and politely pushing you off him. With the way you look at him with a half-lidded gaze, it was clear you don't want it to be over, neither did he.

"don't get too carried away. We just got here," he reminds you.

"I know," you said. Despite saying this, you lean on him again, wrapping his waist once more and kissing his cheek, moving slowly down his neck. It heats Keiji up all over. "I missed you. Happy birthday, Keiji," you said, not entirely sultry, your earnestness showing more. He'd almost laugh, given he last saw you a few days ago. Still he understands your sentiment. It's hard for him to ask you stop, especially when your kisses feel so nice. But, really, the two of you won't leave each other's touch all night if this keeps going.

Keiji takes your arms and pushes them away. You are quick to understand that he is serious, so you pull back. He cups your cheek for you to face him. Seeing that your lipstick smudged to the side, he tries to wipe it with his thumb. The attempt makes you smile.

He smiles too. "Thank you, really," he said kissing you one last time before he is done for now. "We should get dinner ready."

"okay," you head off first, returning to the kitchen.

"I'll help you," he calls

"okay, I'll season the meat first!"

Keiji walks in front of the mirror close to the main door, about to fix his shirt to some capacity, though he doesn't think you did too much to wrinkle it more. What he first sees is his lipstick stains you left, from his neck, cheeks, and especially his lips, practically tinted its shade. He wipes the ones on his neck and it comes off quite easily, to his surprise and disappointment. His laugh is mixed in with a blissful sigh. He considers if he'll leave marks of his own on you later.

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~

a/n: it's bad enough that I don't post fics anymore. But here is something for you all since it's akaashi's bday. I won't be able to complete a whole fic again in a while because I have a thesis to write!! Please pray for me and my thesis everyone!! It will help in the quality of my fics, I promise

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n #akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi fluff #fluff #hq fluff #sfw #akaashi keiji #hq fanfic #haikyuu fanfic

[lonestarflight]

Cancelled Missions: Apollo AS-204 (aka Apollo 1)

Planned Launched: February 21, 1967

Commander Pilot:CDP Virgil I. Grissom

CM Pilot:CMP Edward H.White.II

LM Pilot:LMP Roger B. Chaffee

The tragic fire that claimed the lives of Gus Grissom, Ed White and Roger Chaffe and postponed the debut manned flight of the Apollo Spacecraft. The Apollo AS-204 was cancelled as NASA officials investigated the cause of the fire and came up with changes to the block II Command Module, set to debut now on Apollo 7. Set back Apollo program by 18 months. This deserves its own post

Here is what was originally planned for the first manned mission (C-type) of the Apollo Command and Service Module:

"Originally planned for the last quarter of 1966. Numerous problems with the Apollo Block I spacecraft resulted in a flight delay to February 1967. The designation AS-204 was used by NASA for the flight at the time; the designation Apollo 1 was applied retroactively at the request of Grissom's widow.

Apollo 205, a second solo flight test of the Block I Apollo CSM, was planned but cancelled on December 22, 1966. The Schirra, Cunningham, Eisele crew from that flight became the backup crew to Apollo 204 (replacing the original backup crew of McDivitt, Scott, Schweickart)."

-Information from Astronautix.com: link

One proposal was to launch Gemini 11 (or 12 or both) and Apollo 1 at the same time and rendezvous in orbit. If the first two Apollo missions (AS-201 and AS-202) were a failure, then AS-204 (AS-203 did not carry a CSM) would be flown unmanned and a Gemini astronaut would EVA transfer to and enter the CSM-012, check out its systems, and return to the Gemini. However, with the delays with getting CSM-012 ready, having to reconfigure the Gemini capsule to work with Apollo and the eagerness to finish Gemini to focus on Apollo, this proposal was cancelled.

"The Apollo 1 prime crewmembers for the first manned Apollo Mission (204) prepare to enter their spacecraft inside the altitude chamber at the Kennedy Space Center (KSC). Entering the hatch is astronaut Virgil I. Grissom, commander; behind him is astronaut Roger B. Chaffee, lunar module pilot; standing at the left with chamber technicians is astronaut Edward H. White II, command module pilot."

"For the first two and a half hours in orbit, CSM-012 would remain attached to the S-IVB stage much as a Moon-bound Apollo would do prior to trans-lunar injection. After separation of the CSM, Grissom would perform a station keeping exercise with the spent S-IVB stage so that White and Chaffee could photograph the stage as it vented its residual propellants. This would provide vital observations on the behavior of the S-IVB stage to aid in planning future mission activities.

At this point, Apollo 1 would perform an open-ended mission which could last for as little as six orbits in order to meet at least the highest priority mission objectives or as long as two weeks, provided that CSM-012 continued to function adequately. The primary objectives of the mission basically centered on testing all the systems of the Block I Apollo spacecraft during ascent, in orbit and during descent. The first pair of firings of the SM’s SPS would take place the day after launch to raise and circularize the orbit of Apollo 1. No attempts would be made to perform a rendezvous with the spent S-IVB stage. Afterwards, burns of the SPS were planned to be performed every other day during the course of the mission with each astronaut taking turns in the left-side commander’s seat – three burns each by Grissom and White as well as two burns by Chaffee. Apollo 1 would carry a television camera which would allow live broadcasts from inside the CM cabin during the mission. The camera would also allow ground controllers to monitor the CM’s control panel during key parts of the flight.

In addition to the laundry list of systems checks, Apollo 1 also carried an array of hardware to perform a total of nine medical, scientific and technological experiments during its long orbital mission. These consisted of the following:

The storage locations of some of the hardware for flight experiments inside the Apollo 1 cabin.

M-3A In-Flight Exerciser: This was simply a pair of bungee cords that would loop around the astronaut’s feet and grasped by the hand via a handle. Each astronaut would spend three ten-minute sessions each day exercising with this device to determine the utility of in-flight exercise to stave off the effects of prolonged weightlessness. A similar M-3 experiment was flown on the Gemini 4, 5 and 7 long-duration missions during 1965.

Diagram showing the M-3A exercise experiment that would have been carried by Apollo 1.

M-4A In-Flight Phonocardiogram: The purpose of this experiment was to produce in-flight recordings of the crew’s heartbeat to determine the effects of weightlessness on heart function. Grissom and Chaffee would be the subjects of these tests. This was similar to the M-4 experiment flown on the long-duration Gemini missions.

M-6A Bone Demineralization: The goal of this experiment was to determine the effects of weightlessness on the demineralization of certain bones in the body. This experiment required no special in-flight equipment and would rely on measurements derived from X-rays taken before and after the flight from all three crew members. Once again, this was similar to the M-6 experiment performed during the long-duration Gemini missions.

M-9A Human Otolith Function: The objective of this experiment was to determine the effect of prolonged weightlessness on an astronauts sense of orientation. Each crew member would spend 15 minutes each day in orbit wearing a set of test goggles with their responses recorded by a 16 mm movie camera. A similar experiment was conducted during the Gemini 5 and 7 missions.

M-11 Cytogenetic Blood Studies: This experiment sought to determine if the space environment produced cellular changes in the blood of the crew. No in-flight equipment was required with the necessary data coming from blood samples taken from all three crewmen at set intervals before and after the mission.

M-48 Cardiovascular Reflex Conditioning: In this experiment, one of the astronauts would don a set of vascular support tights one or two hours before the end of the mission to determine if such a garment helps prevent physical fatigue blood pooling in the lower body following return to Earth.

S-5A Synoptic Terrain Photography: This was similar to the S-5 experiment flown on most of the earlier Gemini missions. The crew would use a 70 mm Hasselblad camera to perform near nadir-viewing photography of the Earth during 9 AM to 3 PM local time. Two color film packs with a total of 110 exposures were to be carried on the Apollo 1 mission.

Diagram showing the in-flight stowage of the camera and film packs for the S-5A and S-6A experiments on the inside CM crew hatch.

S-6A Synoptic Weather Photography: Similar to the S-6 experiment conducted on most of the Gemini missions, the purpose of this investigation was to provide orbital photographs of weather phenomena at a much higher resolution than was possible with contemporary weather satellites like NASA’s TIROS or Nimbus satellites. One color and one color-shifted infrared film packet along with an ultraviolet filter for the camera would be carried to support this experiment.

T-3 In-Flight Nephelometer: This experiment used a device to measure the size, concentration and distribution of particles present inside the CM cabin. Measurements would be made every six hours starting two days into the mission."

-Information from DrewExMachina: link

The mission was scheduled to last about 2 weeks and would have been recovered by USS ESSEX (CV-9) in the Pacific Ocean on March 7, 1967.

- Apollo 1 mission patch

NASA ID: S66-30236, S66-58038, S66-36742

source, source

#Apollo 1 #AS-204 #Apollo CSM Block I #CSM-012 #SLA-5 #Saturn IB #SA-204 #Rocket #NASA #Apollo Program #C-type Mission #February #1967 #Cancelled #Cancelled Mission #my post

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Growing plants in space

As NASA plans missions to the moon and Mars, a key factor is figuring out how to feed crew members during their weeks, months, and even years in space.

Astronauts on the International Space Station primarily eat prepackaged food, which requires regular resupply and can degrade in quality and nutrition. Researchers are exploring the idea of crews growing some of their food during a mission, testing various crops and equipment to figure out how to do this without a lot of extra hardware or power.

Picking the right plants

The first step in this research is identifying which plants to test. NASA started a project in 2015 with the Fairchild Botanical Garden in Miami called "Growing Beyond Earth." The program has recruited hundreds of middle and high school science classes across the U.S. to grow different seeds in a habitat similar to one on the space station. Seeds that grow well in the classrooms are then tested in a chamber at NASA's Kennedy Space Center. Ones that do well there are sent to the station to test how they grow in microgravity.

Gardens in space

NASA also has tested facilities to host future microgravity gardens. One is the Vegetable Production System, or Veggie, a simple, low-power chamber that can hold six plants. Seeds are grown in small fabric "pillows" that crew members look after and water by hand, similar to caring for a window garden on Earth.

Another system, the Passive Orbital Nutrient Delivery System, or Veggie PONDS, works with the Veggie platform but replaces seed pillows with a holder that automatically feeds and waters the plants. The Advanced Plant Habitat is a fully automated device designed to study growing plants in ways that require only minimal crew attention.

The right light and food

A series of experiments aboard the space station known as Veg-04A, Veg-04B, and Veg-05 grew Mizuna mustard, a leafy green crop, under different light conditions and compared plant yield, nutritional composition, and microbial levels. The investigation also compared the space-grown plants to ones grown on Earth, and had crew members rate the flavor, texture, and other characteristics of the produce.

Plant Habitat-04 analyzed plant-microbe interactions and assessed the flavor and texture of chile peppers. The first crop, harvested on Oct. 29, 2021, was eaten by the crew and 12 peppers from the second harvest were returned to Earth for analysis. This experiment demonstrated that research about space crop production is on the right path and researchers plan to apply lessons learned to testing other plants.

The influence of gravity

An early experiment, PESTO, found that microgravity alters leaf development, plant cells, and the chloroplasts used in photosynthesis, but did not harm the plants overall. In fact, wheat plants grew 10% taller compared to those on Earth.

The Seedling Growth investigations showed that seedlings can acclimate to microgravity by modulating expression of some genes related to the stressors of space, a discovery that adds to knowledge about how microgravity affects plant physiology.

One way that plants sense gravity is via changes to calcium within their cells. Plant Gravity Sensing, a JAXA (Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency) investigation, measured how microgravity affects calcium levels, which could help scientists design better ways to grow food in space.

ADVASC, an investigation that grew two generations of mustard plants using the Advanced Astroculture chamber, showed that seeds were smaller but germination rates near normal in microgravity.

Water delivery

One significant challenge for growing plants in microgravity is providing enough water to keep them healthy without drowning them in too much water. Plant Water Management demonstrated a hydroponic (water-based) method for providing water and air to plant roots. The XROOTS study tested using both hydroponic and aeroponic (air-based) techniques to grow plants rather than traditional soil. These techniques could enable large-scale crop production for future space exploration.

Transplanting veggies

During a series of investigations called VEG-03, which cultivated Extra Dwarf Pak Choi, Amara Mustard, and Red Romaine Lettuce, NASA astronaut Mike Hopkins noticed some of the plants were struggling. Hopkins conducted the first plant transplant in space, moving extra sprouts from thriving plant pillows into two of the struggling pillows in Veggie. The transplants survived and grew, opening new possibilities for future plant growth.

Plant genetics

Plants exposed to spaceflight undergo changes that involve the addition of extra information to their DNA, affecting how genes turn on or off without changing the sequence of the DNA itself. This process is known as epigenetic change. Plant Habitat-03 assesses whether such adaptations in one generation of plants grown in space can transfer to the next generation.

The long-term goal is to understand how epigenetics contribute to adaptive strategies that plants use in space and, ultimately, develop plants better suited for providing food and other services on future missions. Results also could support the development of strategies for adapting crops and other economically important plants for growth in marginal and reclaimed habitats on Earth.

The human effect

Gardens need tending, of course. The Veg-04A, Veg-04B, and Veg-05 investigations also looked at how tending plants contributed to the well-being of astronauts. Many astronauts reported they found caring for plants an enjoyable and relaxing activity—another important contribution to future long-duration missions.

TOP IMAGE....Thale cress plants from the Plant Habitat-03 investigation just before a harvest. Credit: NASA

CENTRE IMAGE....Mark Vande Hei harvests for the Veggie PONDS investigation. Credit: NASA

LOWER IMAGE....Close-up view of Apogee Wheat Plants grown as part of the PESTO experiment during Expedition 4. Credit: NASA

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #astrophysics

[star-wars-writing]

Stellar Serendipity

Another story for Codywan bingo for @codywanbingo I hope you'll like it. @swfandomevents

The prompt for this story was Blind date, it's a bit different, but I still think it could be considered blind datish.

In the vast expanse of the cosmos, where stars whispered ancient secrets and galaxies danced in silent harmony, there existed a marvel of human ambition and architectural wonder: the Celestial Haven. This space station, a gleaming jewel set against the velvet backdrop of space, was a testament to the ingenuity and spirit of cooperation that thrived among the planets of the Galactic Alliance.

Orbiting a mesmerizing nebula, with its swirls of color painting a celestial canvas, the Celestial Haven was more than a mere outpost; it was a symbol of peace and prosperity, a meeting point for the diverse cultures that dotted the star-studded expanse of the universe. Its structure, a harmonious blend of elegance and functionality, featured domes and spires that mirrored the distant stars, while its interiors were adorned with the finest materials from countless worlds – luminescent stones from the caves of Glimmera, rare woods from the forests of Verdantia, and woven silks spun by the artisans of Serica.

On this particular galactic cycle, the Celestial Haven was abuzz with anticipation for an event of unparalleled significance – a grand gala to raise funds for the restoration of war-torn planets. This noble cause had drawn dignitaries, philanthropists, and heroes from across the galaxies, each contributing to a future where the scars of war could be healed and harmony restored. The gala was to feature an auction, an event not merely for the exchange of rare and valuable items but also an opportunity for the influential attendees to display their generosity and commitment to the galactic community.

In the heart of the station, the grand ballroom awaited its esteemed guests. Vast and opulent, with high ceilings that simulated the night sky of a thousand worlds, it was an arena of splendor. Holographic projectors cast soft, ambient light, creating an ethereal atmosphere that was both inviting and awe-inspiring. Tables adorned with exotic centerpieces and the finest culinary delights from across the stars were arranged with meticulous care, ensuring that the evening would be both a feast for the senses and a testament to the cause that had brought them all together.

At the center of the ballroom, a raised dais served as the focal point for the auction. Here, the most prized offerings would be presented, each carrying the promise of significant contributions to the reconstruction efforts. Among these, unbeknownst to one of the key figures of the night, was a lot that would serve as the catalyst for an unexpected and profound connection.

In this setting, where the wonders of the universe converged and the hopes of many rested, the stage was set for an evening that would be remembered not just for its grandeur and philanthropy, but for the serendipitous moments and unforeseen encounters that would unfold under the watchful eyes of a billion stars.

Under the ethereal glow of the Celestial Haven's grand ballroom, where the universe's elite gathered in a symphony of lights and whispers, the Stewjoni envoy navigated the gala with a demeanor as serene as the tranquil hills of his homeworld. Clad in robes that whispered of distant stars and deep oceans, he was a portrait of poise, his every gesture an echo of the calm that reigned in the lush landscapes of Stewjon.

As he conversed with diplomats and scholars, his keen eyes observed the room, taking in the myriad stories each guest carried. It was then that his gaze fell upon a figure he recognized, not from personal acquaintance but from the holo-news that often featured tales of valor and heroism from across the galaxies. This man, standing with the easy confidence of one who had commanded legions, was the celebrated Commander known as Cody. The Stewjoni envoy had heard of his exploits, tales of courage and strategic brilliance that had turned the tide of battles in the Galactic Armed Forces' favor.

There was something about the commander that intrigued the envoy from Stewjon. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition of the commander's battle-hardened exterior with the warmth he exuded, or perhaps it was the subtle hints of depth and introspection that seemed to flicker in his eyes – a suggestion that there was more to this man than medals and accolades. The envoy felt a pull of curiosity, a desire to understand the story behind those eyes that had seen so much.

As the night progressed, the Stewjoni envoy found himself increasingly drawn to the idea of meeting the commander. When whispers of the evening's charity auction began to ripple through the crowd, mentioning that a dinner with Commander Cody was to be auctioned to support the war-torn planets' rebuilding, a plan began to form in the envoy's mind. Here was an opportunity, not just to contribute to a noble cause but also to satiate his curiosity about the man who had become a legend in the annals of the Galactic Armed Forces.

This notion, initially a mere flicker of interest, grew into a resolve. The Stewjoni envoy, known for his diplomacy and wisdom, saw in this potential meeting a chance for a unique exchange of perspectives – a dialogue that could transcend the ordinary and venture into realms of understanding and camaraderie rarely explored in the usual circles of galactic diplomacy. The thought of bidding for the dinner became less about the act of winning and more about the promise of a conversation that could bridge worlds and experiences, a rare opportunity in the often-scripted dances of interstellar politics.

Thus, as the auction drew near, the envoy from Stewjon readied himself, not as a bidder in a charity event, but as a seeker of stories, eager to unravel the layers of a man known to many but understood by few. In the cosmic waltz of the gala, amidst the swirling nebulas and distant stars that adorned the Celestial Haven, a new chapter was waiting to be written, one that would weave the tales of a diplomat and a commander into a narrative spun from starlight and shared destinies.

As the evening unfurled its tapestry of starlit conversations and laughter, the Stewjoni envoy, accompanied by a close confidant, navigated the intricate social labyrinth of the gala. His friend, Quinlan, a man of sharp wit and insightful observations, provided a contrasting but complementary presence to the envoy's calm demeanor.

They moved through the room, a pair of celestial drifters weaving through constellations of diplomats, merchants, and scholars. The envoy, with a mind as vast as the cosmos, engaged in exchanges that were more than mere pleasantries. Each conversation was a subtle dance of intellect and empathy, revealing the layers beneath the glittering facades of the gala's attendees.

As they conversed, Quinlan, ever the astute observer, noted the way others gravitated towards his friend. It wasn't just the Stewjoni's diplomatic acumen that drew them in; it was the genuine interest and depth he brought to every interaction. In a universe where words were often currency, the envoy's conversations were a rare commodity – sincere, thoughtful, and enlightening.

Amidst a discussion on interstellar trade dynamics with a merchant from the Core Worlds, the envoy's attention subtly shifted. Across the room, the commander, unaware of the silent regard, engaged in his own sphere of influence. His laughter, unburdened and sincere, cut through the hum of the room, a testament to a spirit unchained from the weight of command, if only for a night.

Quinlan, noticing the envoy's diverted attention, leaned in. "He's quite the figure, isn't he?" he remarked, a playful nudge in his tone. "The commander, I mean. I've heard the stories, but seeing him here, he's... different than I expected."

The envoy nodded, his eyes reflecting a galaxy of thought. "Indeed," he replied, his voice a soft echo of distant stars. "There's a depth to him, layers that the tales of heroism don't reveal. It's intriguing."

As they continued their stroll, the envoy engaged with various attendees, each interaction a brushstroke in the canvas of his diplomatic artistry. He spoke of peace and progress, of art and culture, his words weaving a tapestry that encompassed the myriad aspects of galactic society. And in each conversation, whether it was with a junior diplomat in awe of his presence or a seasoned politician seeking his counsel, the envoy's essence shone through – a beacon of wisdom and integrity.

As the night waned and the moment of the auction drew near, Quinlan remarked, "You're considering bidding, aren't you? For the dinner with the commander?"

The envoy's response was a contemplative silence, a serene sea amidst the swirling gala. "It's an opportunity for a unique dialogue, Quinlan," he finally said. "A meeting of minds and experiences that could be quite enlightening."

Quinlan smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Just remember, my friend, the galaxy is full of surprises. This dinner might just be one of them."

**** 

The commander, immersed in the vibrant tapestry of the gala, found his attention invariably drawn to the enigmatic figure of the red-headed Stewjoni envoy. Among a sea of galactic diversity, there was something about the man that stood out - perhaps it was the way his blue eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies within them, or the serene confidence that emanated from his every gesture.

Rex, the commander's brother, a man of keen perception and unshakable loyalty, leaned in closer, his voice low but tinged with amusement. "You seem quite taken with our distinguished diplomat over there," he observed, his gaze flicking towards the envoy.

The commander, usually a fortress of composure, felt a rare flush of warmth at the comment. "He's an interesting figure," he admitted, his gaze lingering on the Stewjoni. "There's a depth to him, something... compelling."

Rex chuckled softly, "Well, the night is young, and the gala is full of opportunities. Who knows, you might get a chance to discover what lies beneath that diplomatic exterior."

The commander nodded, a thoughtful expression etching his features. The idea of a conversation with the envoy was unexpectedly appealing - a chance to step away from the usual military discourse and delve into a realm of thought and reflection he seldom explored.

As the evening progressed, the commander found himself inadvertently seeking glimpses of the Stewjoni amidst the crowd. There was an effortless grace about him, a tranquility that seemed almost out of place in the bustling gala. It was as if he carried a piece of his serene homeworld with him, a calm eye in the storm of galactic politics.

Meanwhile, the Stewjoni envoy, in his gentle orbit around the room, shared moments of connection and insight with various guests. His discussions were more than mere small talk; they were gateways into understanding, bridges built between worlds and cultures. Yet, even as he conversed, his awareness was acutely tuned to the commander's presence in the room, an unspoken acknowledgment of the silent thread that seemed to connect them across the distance.

As the time for the auction approached, a ripple of excitement coursed through the guests. The commander, usually indifferent to such events, felt an unusual sense of anticipation. Glancing once more at the Stewjoni, he wondered, not for the first time that evening, what a conversation with him would reveal.

*** 

As the gala transitioned into its next phase, the grandeur of the Celestial Haven's ballroom was elevated by the anticipation of the upcoming auction. The guests, having indulged in a sumptuous dinner that was a melange of interstellar cuisines, now directed their attention to the dais. The auction, a centerpiece of the evening's proceedings, promised both excitement and charitable generosity.

The commander, still in a mix of contemplation and inadvertent observation of the Stewjoni envoy, was abruptly jolted from his thoughts by the mention of the next item for auction. His brother, Rex, wearing a mischievous grin that was all too familiar, leaned in and whispered, "You can thank me later for this."

Before the commander could react, the auctioneer's voice boomed across the room, announcing the next lot: "A dinner with the renowned Commander Cody, hero of the Galactic Armed Forces!" The commander's eyes widened in disbelief, and he turned to his brother, his expression a blend of surprise and mild irritation.

"Rex, what have you done?" he hissed, his usual composure slipping momentarily.

Rex chuckled, unfazed by the commander's reaction. "Consider it a contribution to the cause, brother. Besides, it's just dinner. Who knows, you might enjoy it."

The commander shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite his annoyance. He resigned himself to his fate, his gaze inadvertently seeking the Stewjoni envoy across the room. What would he think of this spectacle?

Meanwhile, the envoy, having enjoyed the diverse flavors of the gala's dinner, found his attention captured by the auction. When the dinner with Commander Cody was announced, a ripple of intrigue passed through him. The commander, a subject of his earlier musings, was now the centerpiece of this charitable endeavor. He felt a tug of curiosity, an unspoken desire to know more about the man behind the legend.

The bidding began, a playful yet earnest war of numbers. The envoy, with a calm resolve, joined the fray. Each bid he made was thoughtful, a reflection of his genuine interest in meeting the commander, not just as a famed military figure, but as a person with his own tales and perspectives.

The guests watched in fascination as the numbers climbed, the atmosphere charged with a blend of excitement and curiosity. The commander, meanwhile, stood somewhat bemused, a reluctant participant turned focal point in a bidding battle he never expected to be part of.

As the bids reached their zenith, the Stewjoni envoy cast a final bid, a decisive number that echoed through the ballroom. A hush fell over the crowd as the auctioneer called once, twice, and then declared, "Sold to the distinguished envoy from Stewjon!"

The commander, now committed to a dinner with the red-haired diplomat, felt an unexpected surge of anticipation. The prospect of an evening in the company of the Stewjoni, a man who had intrigued him from across the room, suddenly seemed less daunting and more like an opportunity for a unique exchange.

Across the room, the envoy allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The auction had been a means to an end - a chance to delve into the depths of a man who had captured his interest in a way few had. As the crowd applauded and the auction moved on to its next lot, both men looked forward to the dinner that would bring them together, each contemplating the possibilities that lay in the shared meal under the stars.

The Stewjoni envoy, his heart echoing the pulsating rhythm of the gala, watched the final moments of the auction with a sense of fulfillment mingled with a faint undercurrent of apprehension. His final bid, assertive yet unassuming, had sealed the fate of the evening, propelling him towards a future encounter that seemed to promise more than just a charitable dinner.

As the auctioneer's voice declared his victory, a hush of satisfaction washed over him, mingling with the soft clapping of the guests. He stood there, a solitary figure amidst the sea of faces, his gaze momentarily lost in the cosmic tapestry above. The weight of the moment was not lost on him – he had not just secured a dinner with the commander, but also stepped into the realm of the unknown, a narrative yet to unfold.

Quinlan, standing beside him, offered a gentle nudge, pulling him back from his reverie. "Well played," he said, his voice a mix of admiration and curiosity. "I sense there's more to this than meets the eye."

The envoy turned to his friend, the corners of his mouth lifting in a soft smile. "Perhaps," he replied, his voice a quiet reflection of his thoughts. "There's a depth to Commander Cody that intrigues me. This dinner... it's a chance to explore that, to understand the man beyond the legend."

As the crowd dispersed, moving on to the next item, the envoy felt a gaze upon him. Glancing across the room, his eyes met those of the commander. In that brief exchange, a silent conversation seemed to pass between them – an acknowledgment of the journey they were about to embark upon.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations and laughter, but the envoy's thoughts remained anchored to the upcoming dinner. He found himself anticipating the exchange of stories and perspectives, the unveiling of the layers that made up the commander's persona.

As the gala drew to a close, the envoy excused himself from the dwindling clusters of guests, his mind adrift in a sea of possibilities. The night sky above Celestial Haven, a canvas of distant suns and swirling galaxies, seemed to mirror the whirlwind of thoughts that filled his mind.

Walking through the quiet corridors of the station, the envoy pondered the commander's reaction to the auction. Was there a hint of surprise in his eyes? A flicker of curiosity? The thought brought a subtle warmth to the envoy's heart, a sense of connection to someone who, until a few hours ago, had been just another face in the galaxy.

In the solitude of his quarters, the Stewjoni envoy gazed out at the vast expanse of space, a witness to the eternal dance of stars and planets. Tonight, he mused, the universe had spun a new thread in the tapestry of his life – one that was intertwined with that of Commander Cody. And as the stars twinkled in silent harmony, he found himself eagerly awaiting the unfolding of this new chapter, under the watchful eyes of the cosmos.

*** 

The following evening, under the soft glow of Celestial Haven’s artificial stars, the grand space station's renowned restaurant, Nebula's Embrace, prepared to host a unique dinner. The establishment, known for its exquisite cuisine and breathtaking views of the cosmos, was a symphony of elegance and tranquility, a fitting backdrop for the anticipated meeting between the Stewjoni envoy and Commander Cody.

As the envoy made his way to the restaurant, his mind was a calm sea with undercurrents of anticipation. The quiet hum of the station seemed to resonate with his thoughts, each step bringing him closer to the enigmatic figure who had occupied his musings since the auction. He entered Nebula's Embrace, the soft lighting and gentle music wrapping around him like a warm, cosmic breeze.

Commander Cody, already seated at a private table with a panoramic view of the twinkling nebula outside, felt a subtle shift in the air as the envoy approached. Clad in a less formal, yet equally dignified attire than the night before, the Stewjoni's presence brought a sense of serene confidence to the room.

Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the vastness of space seemed to converge into the shared space between them. The commander rose, a gesture of respect mingling with a slight unease that was uncharacteristic of his usually composed demeanor.

"Envoy," he greeted, his voice a grounded echo in the high-ceilinged room.

"Commander Cody," the envoy replied, extending his hand. The handshake was firm, a physical manifestation of their mutual respect.

As they took their seats, the initial exchange of pleasantries was a dance of diplomacy and politeness, each man acutely aware of the other's reputation and stature. The waiter's arrival to take their order provided a brief respite from the burgeoning intensity of their conversation.

The commander, typically at ease in the throes of battle or the camaraderie of his troops, found himself navigating unfamiliar territory. "I must admit," he began, his words tinged with a hint of wry humor, "this isn't exactly my usual field of operation."

The envoy's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I find that the most interesting conversations often happen outside our comfort zones," he replied, his voice smooth like the flow of a gentle river.

As they delved into their meal, the initial awkwardness gradually gave way to a more relaxed exchange. The conversation ebbed and flowed, touching upon topics of galactic politics, the beauty of unexplored planets, and the intricacies of interstellar diplomacy.

The commander, intrigued by the envoy's perspectives, found himself sharing anecdotes from his own experiences – moments of triumph, reflections on leadership, and the quieter, more introspective thoughts that rarely saw the light of day.

The envoy listened, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding and an empathy that transcended words. He shared his own journey, the stories of Stewjon, and the delicate art of balancing personal beliefs with the demands of diplomacy.

As the evening progressed, the barrier of titles and roles seemed to dissolve, replaced by a genuine connection between two individuals with rich, yet vastly different, tapestries of life. Laughter and thoughtful contemplation filled the gaps, weaving a bond that was both unexpected and profound.

Outside, the nebula continued its silent waltz across the cosmos, a backdrop to the unfolding story within Nebula's Embrace. The dinner, initially an obligation for a charitable cause, had transformed into a meeting of minds and souls, a testament to the unpredictable nature of the universe.

In the quiet corners of the restaurant, away from the prying eyes of the galaxy, the Stewjoni envoy and Commander Cody discovered a shared curiosity and respect, the seeds of a friendship that promised to grow in the fertile ground of understanding and mutual admiration. As they parted ways for the night, there was a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold, a starlit path unwinding before them in the grand expanse of space.

As the Stewjoni envoy, Obi-Wan, and Commander Cody settled into the serene ambiance of Nebula's Embrace, their conversation began to weave through the layers of their initial acquaintance.

"Commander, I must admit, this is a departure from the usual diplomatic dinners I'm accustomed to," Obi-Wan said, initiating their dialogue with a tone of gentle curiosity.

Cody, with a lightness in his demeanor, responded, "I can see that, Obi-Wan. And for me, this is miles away from the strategy rooms and battlefields. But it's a welcome change."

A soft chuckle escaped Obi-Wan. "Perhaps tonight is an opportunity for us both to step outside our comfort zones. Tell me, Cody, when you're not on the battlefield, what occupies your thoughts?"

Pausing to reflect, Cody replied, "Peace, mostly. On the field, it feels like a distant dream. But evenings like this... they make it seem within reach."

Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully. "Peace is indeed a complex goal. It's an intricate balance of many factors, some known and many hidden."

"That's true," Cody agreed. "Your life must be quite the balancing act too, Obi-Wan. Diplomacy is an art in itself."

"It is a journey of continuous learning," Obi-Wan mused. "The universe is a mosaic of perspectives. Harmonizing them is both challenging and rewarding."

Their conversation meandered, touching upon personal philosophies, experiences, and even humorous anecdotes. Cody shared a story from his early military days, drawing a hearty laugh from Obi-Wan.

"And what about you, Obi-Wan?" Cody asked, a smile playing on his lips. "Any memorable moments in the world of diplomacy?"

"With pleasure," Obi-Wan replied, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "There was an incident on Tiberia that involved some delicate negotiations and rather... spirited local fauna."

The evening progressed with an ease and depth that surprised them both. The formality of their initial meeting dissolved into a genuine and engaging exchange.

Leaning back, Cody looked at Obi-Wan and remarked, "I didn't expect this evening to be anything more than a formal obligation. But talking with you, Obi-Wan, has been a real pleasure."

"I feel the same, Cody," Obi-Wan replied, his expression reflecting the genuine connection they had forged. "This evening has been unexpectedly enlightening."

As they concluded their dinner, the shared experience of the evening hung between them, rich with the promise of future conversations. "I hope this isn't our last discussion, Cody," Obi-Wan said, extending his hand.

Cody grasped it firmly, warmth evident in his grip. "I'd like that, Obi-Wan. There's a lot more we could talk about."

As Obi-Wan and Cody stood to leave, the restaurant's soft lighting casting long, gentle shadows across the floor, there was a shared reluctance to end what had been an unexpectedly fulfilling evening. The nebula outside the window continued its silent, majestic dance, mirroring the swirling thoughts and emotions that filled the space between them.

Obi-Wan, walking alongside Cody towards the exit, was lost in a sea of contemplation. He had attended countless dinners and met numerous individuals throughout his diplomatic career, but none had struck a chord within him quite like this. 'There's a depth to Cody that's both intriguing and refreshing,' he thought. 'And the ease of our conversation... it's not something I encounter often.'

Cody, similarly, found himself reflecting on the evening with a sense of newfound discovery. The straightforward, battle-hardened commander was unaccustomed to the subtleties of emotional introspection, but something about Obi-Wan had ignited a spark of introspection. 'He's not just a skilled diplomat; there's a genuine warmth to him,' he mused. 'And the way we connected... it's rare to find someone you can just talk to, really talk to.'

As they reached the entrance of the restaurant, a brief pause in their steps marked an unspoken acknowledgment of the connection they had formed. Obi-Wan turned to Cody, his blue eyes reflecting the starlight. "I must say, Cody, this evening was more than I expected. It's been a pleasure."

Cody met his gaze, a sincere smile forming on his lips. "I couldn't agree more, Obi-Wan. It's been... eye-opening, to say the least."

In the quiet of the station's corridor, a moment of silence hung between them, charged with the unspoken recognition of a mutual attraction. Both men, each typically reserved in expressing personal sentiments, found themselves at the edge of a revelation.

Obi-Wan, taking a deep breath, allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. "Cody, I hope you don't mind my saying, but I find myself quite... drawn to you. It's not often that I meet someone who I can connect with on such a level."

Cody's expression softened, a hint of surprise mingling with a sense of understanding. "Obi-Wan, I feel the same. Tonight was more than just a pleasant dinner. There's something about you... it's compelling."

In the quiet corridor, the admission hung in the air, a testament to the rare connection they had discovered. They stood there for a moment, each processing the significance of their exchange, the possibilities that lay ahead.

As they parted ways, there was a shared look of anticipation, a silent promise of future encounters. Obi-Wan walked back to his quarters, his thoughts a blend of excitement and introspection. 'Could this be the start of something more?' he wondered, the question lingering in his mind like a distant star waiting to be explored.

Cody, heading in the opposite direction, felt a similar stirring of possibilities. The commander, so used to certainty and decisiveness, found himself embracing the uncertainty of what lay ahead with Obi-Wan. 'There's potential here,' he thought, a sense of hopeful anticipation lighting his path.

In their separate quarters, as they gazed out at the vast expanse of space, both men found themselves contemplating the same starlit horizon, each pondering the newfound connection that had blossomed in the celestial embrace of the galaxy.

The morning after their dinner, the space station Celestial Haven awoke to the hum of activity, its corridors alive with the bustle of departing guests and the rhythmic pulse of machinery. The nebula outside cast a soft, diffused light through the windows, painting the station in hues of dawn.

Obi-Wan, having spent a restless night mulling over the possibilities that the evening with Cody had unveiled, prepared to leave with a mind full of thoughts and a heart subtly alight with anticipation. As he packed his belongings, his thoughts kept drifting back to their conversation, to the genuine connection they had forged. 'There's something there worth exploring,' he thought, a rare sense of excitement bubbling within him.

Meanwhile, Cody, in his own quarters, was similarly reflective. The commander, usually so sure-footed and decisive, found himself in a rare state of contemplation. The previous evening had opened a door to something new, something uncharted yet undeniably intriguing. 'Obi-Wan is different,' he mused, a sense of curiosity and hope weaving through his thoughts. 'This could be the start of something meaningful.'

Their paths crossed unexpectedly in one of the station's grand corridors, a serendipitous encounter that seemed almost fated. Obi-Wan, carrying his travel bag, stopped in his tracks as he saw Cody approaching from the opposite direction.

"Commander, good morning," he greeted, his voice carrying a warmth that had been absent before their dinner.

Cody, seeing Obi-Wan, felt a smile naturally form on his lips. "Obi-Wan, morning. Heading out?"

"Yes, my duties call me back," Obi-Wan replied. "But I must say, I'm glad we ran into each other."

Cody nodded, a sense of agreement evident in his gaze. "I was thinking the same. About last night, I..." He paused, searching for the right words. "I'd like to stay in touch, if that's alright with you."

Obi-Wan's eyes lit up with a quiet joy. "I'd like that very much, Cody. There's a lot more we could talk about."

They exchanged a look, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Cody reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, sleek device. "Here's my contact. I'm not always easy to reach, but I'll make sure to respond."

Obi-Wan took the offered device, keying in his own information. "And here's mine. I travel quite a bit, but I'll make sure we find time to continue our conversation."

As they exchanged their contact details, there was a sense of promise in the air, a tacit agreement that this was not the end but the beginning of something new and exciting.

With a final exchange of understanding smiles, they parted ways, each heading towards their respective ships. As Obi-Wan walked towards his vessel, he felt a sense of lightness, a feeling of having stumbled upon a rare and precious find in the vastness of the galaxy.

Cody, making his way to his own ship, felt a similar sentiment. The commander, a man who had always found solace in the certainty of his military life, found himself embracing the uncertainty of what lay ahead with Obi-Wan, a journey of discovery that promised to be as vast and profound as the universe itself.

In their separate journeys across the stars, both men carried with them the memory of their encounter and the anticipation of future conversations. The universe, in its infinite expanse, had brought them together, two souls adrift in the cosmic dance, now connected by a shared orbit of possibility and hope.

#codywanbingo #codywan #obi wan kenobi x commander cody #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #captain rex #quinlan vos #auction #star wars fanfiction #obi wan fanfiction #commander cody fanfiction

[theunbearableweightofpedropascal]

Be my Baby chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the wait babes. The good news is chapter 6 is already mapped out.

Warnings: (18+, oral sex, implied penetrative sex, cursing)

Word Count: 2.7k

“You want red or white?” You and Frankie were getting ingredients for your dinner date, and you were looking for the perfect drink to pair it with. 

“I want beer.” Frankie was a man with simple taste he either went with beer or whiskey, neither of which you happen to like. 

“I agree with red too.” You place the white blend back before carrying on to the refrigerated dairy items. 

Today at work there were few walk-ins so both of you scoured the internet for cooking recipes. Benny and Will partook in the festivities pointing out you should add a salad. Benny showed you some excellent stuff that he makes to bulk up for his fights. Ultimately you chose a Caesar salad from scratch with broccoli cheddar soup.

After work, you two headed straight for the store to gather your ingredients. Since you would be focusing on the soup and Frankie on the salad you guys split up. You found him in the pastry section looking at apple turnovers before you hit the wine aisle. As he went to grab one from the top you intercepted and took the one under it. 

The heavy whipping cream and some creamer were the last two things you needed to get before checkout. Like always Frankie pulled out his wallet before you could blink. 

“Gotta be quicker than that.” He taunts you while waiting for the payment to go through. 

“You two are such a beautiful couple.” The older lady checking you two out has a fond smile looking at you. 

“Thank you,” Suddenly it’s like you’re back in middle school and someone told you how good you and your crush looked together. During your small exchange, Frankie had already grabbed the bags from the bagging area. 

“You ready baby?” Nodding, you smile once more at the cashier before following after the man responsible for your flustered state. 

Out in the parking lot you fish through his pockets for the truck keys. With the groceries safely packed away, you make your way to your home. The drive is silent but comfortable and you take the opportunity to drift off to sleep. When Frankie wakes you, you find he’s already put the bags in your apartment. He even set up his salad station. 

“May the best chef win.” You tilt your head with squinted eyes in an effort to intimidate him further. 

“I think we both know who’s coming out on top hm?” Before he skirts past you he kisses your forehead. 

It seems you need to get used to cooking with another person in the kitchen since you both constantly bump into each other while making your dishes. Instead of ire the kitchen is filled with laughter at the chaotic mess you’ve created. While your soup is simmering you decide to bother Frankie by wrapping your arms around his waist and becoming dead weight. 

As horrible as it may make him sound Frankie can’t help but revel in the peace you provide him. He feels comfortable taking up space around you whereas in his home he feels like he’s on eggshells. This whole open marriage was supposed to give him and Maria time to recoup but he finds himself thinking of what a future could look like with you. Considering the relationship he had now was merely co-parenting anyway. 

“I hope you know if you’re trying to annoy me it’s doing the exact opposite.” His words, like always, send a fluttering in your lower stomach. 

“You say that now,” You let your sentence hang in the air while he finishes chopping the lettuce for the salad. 

The way that Frankie carefully crafts his ingredients shows how much he likes cooking, and you’ve never been more attracted to him. His salad looks better than what they serve at Panera Bread. 

“All I have to do is add the croutons, how’s the soup coming?” He turns his head to the side to look down at you. 

“It’s done, I’ll go set everything up in the living room.” Reluctantly you release Frankie and make your way towards the living room with the wine in tow. After your TV loads, you queue up Love Island with two glasses of wine left on the table.

Back in the kitchen, Frankie turns off the stove and waits for you. When you make it back the both of you divvy up the food to take to the living room. The Caesar salad is probably the best you’ve ever tasted and you are sure to let Frankie know. Following your lead he tries your soup and groans in delight at the simple but filling dish. 

“What’s this?” His head nods in the direction of the paused TV. 

“Love Island, you’ll grow to love it I promise.” Although reluctant to agree with your words he sits back and enjoys his meal. 

By the time his spoon hits the bowl, he’s fully invested despite his doubt. He’s even picked his favorite couple and animatedly talks about how much he loves their colloquialisms. Even though he was adamant that he only drank beer or whiskey he sure was downing the wine like it was about to expire. 

“Who knew British people were so trashy?” Frankie’s eyes are glued to the screen in fascination.

With the both of you comfortable on the couch you turn and tuck your feet underneath you. His whole body was slumped against your couch. The TV was just background noise as you let your thoughts wander to this predicament. 

“So this open marriage thing, am I the only woman you’re seeing.” They say curiosity killed the cat but you would rather have your answer than wonder. 

“Yes, honestly I wasn't particularly looking but Benny had brought you up and I was interested.”  Somehow you aren’t the least bit offended by his words.

“So you wanted to work more on your marriage?” Frankie fully turns his body to face you after your question.

“Yeah like I said I fucked up and it was on me to do the work to fix it but I think it was too late.” You nod along understanding his position.

“What about now are you two working it out?” As you wait for his answer your heart thunders in your chest. 

“No, I wanted to try but respected her wish for space. And now I’m starting to think we’re nothing more than co-parents.” The drop in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed and you wrap your arms around him hoping it’ll bring some comfort. “I don’t mean to dump all this on you.” 

“I asked Fransisco and I’m glad you’re being honest with me.” He doesn’t answer you and instead dips his head in the crook of your neck. “Considering how long you two were together it makes sense that you feel so deeply about it. I’d be alarmed if you didn’t.”

“What about you? I’m sure you have no shortage of suitors.” Frankie pulls back enough to kiss around your neck, the wine has him feeling friskier. 

“I don’t but only one caught my eye.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Lucky me then.” His gravelly voice gives your lower stomach that familiar feeling. But Frankie doesn’t stop there, he lets his hands roam over your sides before he comfortably plants them on your hips. After he gives them a squeeze he pulls you into his lap with ease and you can’t help the giggles that follow.

Frankie’s eyes are glazed over when he looks up to admire you. He had you sitting on his groin and you could feel him getting heavier by the second. The intense eye contact coupled with him not saying anything caused you to look away feeling warmth spread through your body. 

“Don’t do that.” He spreads his hands around your hips to squeeze your ass. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You look at him as if he were the crazy one before placing your hands on his chest. 

“Why?” Frankie then closes the small distance between you two, slanting his lips on yours. 

His lips are soft and pilant compared to his scratchy mustache but that’s the least of your worries. The hands planted on his chest slide underneath his shirt, lightly scratching the expanse of his chest. Your hips lightly rock against his hardened member attempting to release the pressure you’ve built up. 

A low groan vibrates against your lips and you deepen the motion of your hips. Frankie’s hands squeeze you harder to keep you in place while his lips suck on your bottom lip. Your panties become uncomfortably wet when his tongue enters your mouth and you tilt your head to the side giving him greater access. 

Nothing prepared you for the dazed look in Frankie’s eyes when you pulled back, you almost forgot you wanted to take his shirt off. Since you were taking too long Frankie did it himself by grabbing the back of his shirt and lifting it. He then maneuvered you off his lap so he could lay you down on the couch.

Warmth spread through your cheeks and body at the way his eyes bore into yours. His hands hooked both your yoga pants and panties in one before pulling both down. The large wet spot on your panties stuck to your core before Frankie fully pulled them down. He laid down on his stomach and positioned himself right between your legs. 

A trail of soft kisses leads from your upper thigh to your clit and your back arches in anticipation. Frankie lays his arm across your stomach in preparation while his other grips your thigh. When he licks a stripe up your pussy you can’t help the sign of relief that leaves your lips. He slowly circles his tongue around your clit reveling in the way he can feel your stomach moving rapidly. 

“Frank,” The long draw of his name lets him know you’re tired of his teasing. 

For tonight he obliges your request and wraps his lips around you before suckling. He feels your hands cradle his head as your hips buck into his mouth. The small tugs at his curls have him diving further into your pussy. Heavy breathing and low moans from you drown out the TV in the background and Frankie makes it his job to ensure it stays that way.

Your head is thrown back against your sofa when he starts flicking his tongue while sucking. 

“Just like that,” The way the words tumble out of your mouth you’re unsure if he understands but there’s no change. His name is like a prayer on your lips, and you can’t stop calling out to him. 

Loud moans replaced the heavy breathing that was once filling the room. Frankie's eyes connect with yours when you steal a glance at him, and your hand tightens in his hair bringing him impossibly closer to your cunt. Flutters in your lower stomach let you know you’re close as you clench around nothing. 

Neither of you breaks eye contact as your hip movements become erratic. His chocolate eyes pull at the invisible string holding you together. The moment it snaps your vision is bathed in white and your head falls against the armrest while you ride your high out on Frankie’s face. All of the energy is seemingly sucked out of your body. 

Frankie gently coaxes you back into his lap and lets your body draped over his. His hands drag down your sides and find themselves in their rightful place on your hips. Given that you were barely mobile he pulled his member out before sitting you on top. 

“Let me do all the work baby.” The two of you are nowhere near done for the night, but you have no complaints.

………….

Today it seemed like everyone needed work on cars Frankie was in the garage with Benny and Will. All hands on deck were needed, and when you thought about it this was the first time you had to do some strenuous work. Not to say the garage was empty. After filing the remaining paperwork for your latest customer you head to the refreshment area to make more coffee.

Although your break should be coming up in the next hour you don’t see yourself or the guys leaving. In the garage 50 Cent is blasting and you know it must’ve been Benny’s doing. His phone is easy to spot and you pause it only to hear him rapping underneath the car before popping his head out to complain. You simply ignore him before addressing the group. 

“Since none of us can leave what do y’all want from Papa John’s? My treat.” Benjamin’s body is the first to roll out from under his car wasting no time telling you his usual order, a meat lovers with spinach on half. William’s head comes out from under a hood three cars away stating he wanted pepperoni. Frankie came to you while wiping his hands and insisting he wanted pepperoni and jalapenos on one. 

When all their orders are stored in your notes app you turn to Frankie for the first conversation you’ve had all day.

“Any updates on the cars?” You don’t hide how you’re eyeing his veiny forearms.

“Is that really what you came back here for?” His eyes are already trained on you when you finally look in his eyes.

The smile that graces your face tells him all he needs to know. Unbeknownst to either of you William and Benny sneakily peep their heads out from their respective workplaces to watch the two of you. 

“Well I gotta get back anyway, they probably drank all the coffee by now.” Your hands find their way to your hair while Frankie stares unabashedly.

“I don’t get a kiss?” His low voice doesn’t stop you from checking to see if either Miller brother was paying attention to you. 

Since they looked deep into their work you quickly got on your tiptoes to peck his cheek, only for his arm to circle your waist before he turned his head slightly to meet your lips. When he pulls away you can’t even chastise him so you turn to walk out of the garage without another word. A chorus of thank you’s follow you out the door but you can’t return the sentiment. 

……..

By the time the pizzas arrive, the lobby is halfway cleared out so you grab a few paper plates from the break room before heading into the garage again. Although you know they won’t be able to eat much they still need something to hold them over. 

Being the only one with clean hands they take turns coming over while you hold their respective slices. After 30 minutes of this spinning rotation, they assure you that they’ll be fine until they finish. You take all the food leave it in the break room and fill up the coffee machine one more time before sitting back down. 

Steadily the boys come out from the garage to converse with the customers about their remaining work or the final price. As the last person leaves you lock the front door and hot tail it to the breakroom where the guys have a plate already laid out for you. 

“Dammit, I should have gotten soda.” The realization hits you now that there are three large pizzas without a drink in sight. 

“We got beer in the fridge sweets don’t worry about it.” Will’s statement causes laughter to bubble out of Frankie’s mouth. 

“She hates beer.” Frankie takes the beer you were offered. 

“Why?” Based on Benny’s face he couldn't fathom why you wouldn’t. 

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that it tastes like carbonated cat piss.” Since you were given the platform you would rave about how much you didn’t like beer. The room roared with laughter from all the guys at your barely-contained hatred for their favorite drink. 

“This can’t be coming from the same lady who said Pete Davidson was hot.” Benny’s quip takes you by surprise.

“I told you that in confidence.” You whisper-yell at him in faux anger. 

“Respectfully, you should’ve taken that to the grave.” Will comes out of nowhere to share his opinion and you can’t help the laughter tumbling out of you. 

The night carries on with all of you tearing down each box of pizza until there’s nothing left. All the beer in the fridge lays on the table opened and empty. None of you had bothered to check the time or you would have realized it was nearing one o'clock in the morning. All that mattered was that none of you could catch your breath because someone else would chime in with a joke. 

@harriedandharassed, @emilianamason

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x you

[melancholysway]

Hi there! I just found your account today and think your work is amazing! If requests are open, could I possibly request headcanons for the 2012 Turtles for when their S/O is severely stressed out and needs a break? Thank you so so much and keep up the amazing work! :)

TMNT Headcanons: Stressed out S/O! (2012)

OFC! This is my first request so I'm excited! My ask box and submission box will be closed after this weekend so I can work on finishing Serendipity, so request if you like up until then!

For future reference, if my account grows, I'll most likely take 1 or two requests at a time. I like to take time to write what I write, and turn a simple headcanon into something more complex in nature. That being said, you can request a longshot (where there's headcanons + one shot for each turtle,) or a shortshot (where there's just bullet points as headcanons) to make it easier. Some people love a long read, but others prefer a short read that's to the point of strictly headcanons! I respect both! <3

OKAY I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT LEO'S & DONNIE'S WERE MY FAVORITES TO WRITE WTF.

some tunes while you read:

Key: ~ = time skip/scene change ============ Leonardo

Out of all the brothers, Leo gets it.

He gets the most stressed out of all his brothers, but Donnie is a VERY close runner-up.

Leo holds the most stressful burden on his shoulders, so, trust me, he'll be there for you.

He cares about your well-being, so when he notices you've been stressed, he takes matters into his own hands.

Because, in the relationship, Leonardo makes sure you're in a good headspace all the time. He knows the downfall of a broken mind.

So when he texts you suddenly after yet another breakdown of the week and tells you he has a surprise in the lair, you take it.

Because good God, you needed a distraction, and Leo's text was so sweet that you couldn't resist.

"Hana, are you busy? I have something for you and I think it'll help with how you've been feeling lately :)"

Putting on your coat to counter the January air in Manhattan, you quickly make your way downstairs to the lobby of your apartment building. You didn't even bother to doll yourself up, Leo always said you looked better when you were natural.

Now, it's not uncommon for your boyfriend to surprise you. If anything, it was Leo's favorite thing to do. He loves the art of surprise, and how you always have the most beautiful smile upon your lips as he reveals what he has in store for you. But, you were unsure of what he may have. You couldn't think of what he could be up to.

Would he take you out for the nightly rooftop scream he does to get his pent-up frustrations out? (don't tell anyone about that btw.)

Force...I mean, suggest that you watch Space Heroes with him?

You're unsure.

But, you put all theories aside and walk over to the manhole cover you've familiarized yourself with for the past year.

You knew it all-too-well, that if you take a right, then walk straight for 5 minutes, then turn left, and walk again for now 10 minutes, you'll see the abandoned subway station in the distance.

Desperate for some warmth, your hands grasp the heavy black cover, it's edges frosted with light snow, causing your fingers to become numb from the cold. You push it aside and descend down the ladder and into the damp atmosphere and tangy scent that finds its way up your nose.

The walk is quick, as your strides are brisk. You watch the droplets of water land in the mixture of suspicious liquids that was the sewer water. You learned quickly to never walk in it, and you scrunch your nose up as you reminisce about the first time you came down to the sewers to see the turtles.

You see the familiar subway station you've come accustomed to visiting a few times a week- time permitting. You can hear the grunts of Raphael become louder, as you watch him (once again) massacre the poor practice dummy in the living room space.

"Hey, Y/n. I wondered when you'd be coming." Raph acknowledges your presence, but his focus stays on the dummy.

"Sup, Raph, why? am I late?" You ask, you wondered if Leo's text was sent later than he intended due to service issues, and you may actually be late to his surprise.

"Nah," Raph kicks the dummy in its stomach, the weak chains respond with clangs as if they're begging him to stop, "Leo's been in the dojo for a while, said we couldn't go in and spoil the surprise for ya."

"You have me all excited, it's the first time this week I've been giddy about something." You respond, a soft smile dancing on your lips.

"School?"

"School, work, friends, parents, everything. Truly whooping my ass."

"Hey, sorry to hear that." Raphael stops massacring the practice dummy, and he turns to you. "I'm not the best at words...but um...hope you feel better after tonight."

~

After waving goodbye to Raph, you make your way toward the dojo. It's quiet once again, but as you get closer, you can almost...feel a low vibration bubbling from within you. It's odd, but it's calming all the same. You see a piece of paper and a blue paisley bandana on the ground in front of the dojo. You bend down and take the note to read.

Put this on before you come in - Leo

Written nicely in blue ink, how could you defy this order?

As you slide what feels to be the dojo doors open while blindfolded, you can sense that something is different.

"Y/n!" You hear Leo's excited voice say the beautiful name he's gotten engrained into his brain and vocabulary. You smile sincerely, knowing that the only thing visible on your face is your lips. You can hear the sound of Leo's footsteps coming closer, and before he tells you to take off the blindfold, his lips connect to yours in a loving kiss.

The type of kiss you couldn't go one day without having. The type of kiss that makes your whole body feel like jelly. Yeah, that kind.

While you're distracted from the kiss, you feel Leo's hand go from your waist up to the back of your head, and you feel the fabric being lifted from your face.

Pulling away for air, you open your eyes- and the first thing you see is the familiar Prussian blue irises staring back at your e/c ones.

"Surprise."

Leo steps away from you, and you finally see the surprise he's talking about.

The dojo is dimly lit, only white unscented candles being the source of lighting. The normal scent of worn-out birch wood mixes in with a new smell. Its seemingly fruity, yet wooden undertones come about the more you inhale. Along with these, there's a hint of...what is it?

"Patchouli."

"Huh?" You stop smelling the air to find the mystery scent and look at the leader in blue.

"That's the smell you can't put your finger on. Patchouli. I could tell you were confused from the look on your face."

How lucky were you?

Aside from the scents, there are large copper and silver bowls sitting in the middle of the dojo, with a wooden mallet sitting on a velvet red pillow.

"Okay, it may seem too kumbaya," Leo says, his hand immediately going to the back of his neck as it usually does when he's nervous.

"No...it's...what's that sound?" You ask, walking closer to the bowls. The closer you get, the more the sound vibrates throughout your body at a low frequency.

"They're from those Tibetan singing bowls. Buddhist monks used it for meditation throughout India and later on Japan." He points to the bowls sitting together, the three different-sized bowls giving off unique vibrations from one another.

"He gave me these blue lotus incense sticks, too. I burned one not too long before you came, and it really shifts the energy in the room." Leonardo softly takes your hand in his and leads you to the front of the Tibetan bowls, and sits you both down in a kneeling position.

"I know you've been stressed...and Master Splinter let me borrow these when I started heavily meditating. It's a unique way to unwind and destress." Leonardo takes the wooden mallet in his hand, then slowly goes around the largest bowl with it.

At first, nothing happens. But as a few moments go by, you can hear that vibration you felt before you came into the dojo. It seeps into your body, as you can physically feel the negative energy leave your system. Frustration, stress, anxiety- all gone.

At this moment, you're not stressed. At this moment, you have peace and clarity.

You both sit in silence, and you close your eyes for the sound and vibration to fully go into your body. It takes about 3 minutes for the sound to completely go away, and as you open your eyes again to the world, Leo does the same. Only Leo's eyes are looking at you for a response. He hopes that he helped you.

"I...I love it." That is all you can say. It's all you truly can say because it's 1000% how you feel. You loved that Leonardo took the time to find something to destress you. He was truly a gift.

"Y-you do?" His smile stretches from cheek to cheek, and his eyes glint with hope.

"I really do, thank you, Leo; seriously." You interlock your fingers with your boyfriend and lean in to give him a well-deserved kiss. The feeling of his smooth lips upon yours, to the way they went together and danced the same dance they'd rehearsed since the very first kiss was perfect.

Everything was perfect. The kiss, the atmosphere, the surprise, Leo.

Everything was perfect.

=======================

Raphael

He's not the leader of the group, but boy does this turtle get stressed

doesn't matter about what, it could be the weather, he doesn't give a shit.

if it's something that can cause stress, chances are it's stressed him out.

Raphael knows his style of letting off steam is different from the average person, they don't have their own dojo where they can absolutely annihilate everything they see.

His alternative is breaking stuff

but, he can't exactly break everything in the lair, so he finds other things outside the sewer where it's absolutely okay to break shit

the definition of

"I know a place"

The Place:

When he finds out you're stressed after overhearing your conversation with Splinter, he's on the job.

He catches you at a good time because you're just about on the brink of a breakdown.

Since he would never go to this abandoned place in the night, he texts you in the afternoon, when the sun is still very, VERY bright and high in the air.

Babe, I have a surprise for you

Be at your window in 10 :*

You hear your phone ding again, and you pick it up already knowing who it is. Nobody double-texts you other than your boyfriend. Heck, Raph even quadruple texts when he's in the talking mood.

Were you even in the mood to see him? Not that you didn't WANT to see him, but you weren't sure if you were in the right headspace. It's been a stressful week, with finals and all. Your two good friends have gotten into a fight and wanted you to take a side, and your parents have been too caught up in their jobs to pay attention to you. It was a terrible situation that was only going to get worse if you couldn't let it all out.

Were you ready to see him? You didn't want to lash out on him or anything from all the pent-up stress.

But still, you find yourself getting ready, putting comfortable clothes on as you just got out of the shower, anticipating Raph's appearance.

As a few minutes went by, you suddenly hear the familiar rhythmic knocks at your window. You take one last look at yourself in the mirror, and you can see bags forming under your eyes from lack of sleep. Not only that, but your eyes have been slightly puffy from the crying you've been doing in the shower. Honestly, that crying session was just the pre-game warm-up. But, the grand breakdown was luckily put on pause thanks to Raphael.

You walk over to your window, and you both follow the routine you've come accustomed to.

"Hey, babe," Raph says, his voice soothing. He used it when he knew he had to be gentle when speaking to you, and it was the same one he used with Chompy.

"Hi, Raph," Your boyfriend places a chaste kiss on your lips, and you find the strength to give him the same energy back. You both share a kiss, his filled with concern, and yours with hopefulness.

"Okay," Pulling away from the kiss, he looks around your room until his eyes land on something.

"It's gonna sound weird but, put this on." You're unsure what this is until Raphael presents a midnight black Nike head tie you had sitting atop your pearl-white vanity. You comply, but your eyes narrow and look straight into his emerald green ones, trying to find the method to this head tie madness.

You find nothing, and thus, the head tie is now a blindfold.

"What now?" You asked, trying your best not to bump into anything around you as you followed Raph's receding voice.

"I forgot, you can't see." You hear a slight chuckle followed by footsteps coming close. A 3-fingered hand grabs your own, as your 5 digits wrap around them in anticipation.

"I'm gonna take you somewhere," Suddenly, Raph's hand leaves yours, and two strong arms pick you up, bridal style.

"But...it's daytime, Red." You use his nickname, to let him know that you appreciate his offer of being taken out of your tiny apartment.

"Where I'm taking ya...you'll be glad it's during the daytime."

Okay, maybe this wasn't the right thing for Raph to say to tease the surprise. It sounded terrifying, and you were left in his arms thinking up every possibility the surprise could be. As Raph slides the window close, you can feel the warm wind of springtime make its way into your hair. It separates the strands, and you could feel the warmth from the air tickle your scalp. You're relying on smell and touch for this trip to...well, you don't know where. But, you smell the usual, the freshly cut grass and the musty remnants of mass pollution from the citizens.

It's a bumpy ride, but it's expected. Whenever Raph takes you roof-hopping, he's always fast and never slow. You faintly hear his light breathing amongst the wind brushing against your face.

~

"It's...it's a..." You hold onto your blindfold, unsure of what exactly you're looking at. After you reached your destination, Raph placed you back on your feet and took off your blindfold with no warning. So, you didn't anticipate seeing what you're looking at now.

"Abandoned factory. Come, this isn't the full surprise" Suddenly, Raph takes your hand into his own, and he leads the way into the graffiti-ridden building.

Abandoned may be an understatement. Maybe demolished? Run-down? On its last limb? You cautiously step over different textures and pass different sceneries, the rays of the sun illuminating the inside of the factory. It's massive, and you can see the open ceiling above you reveal more space and floors the more you walk around at the bottom. It's truly a hidden gem because you would've never thought you could find something like this still standing in the city.

You take in the new world around you, as it feels you're now isolated and far from city life. Nothing moves here but you and Raph; not to mention the small debris falling from the outdated cream popcorn ceiling.

After minutes go by of walking, you reach a room that appears to have been the work area. You wonder what they made here, but you can't think of anything specifically until you see the worn-out sewing machines atop every wooden table.

They rest gracefully as if they're waiting to be used again.

You wonder, 'who's going to break the news and tell them that they never will be?'

"I need you to do two more things for me, babe." You turn to Raphael, who hands you a pair of safety goggles that he definitely stole from Donnie's lab.

"Put this on," You do as told. You watch as your vision gets mildly cloudy from the smudges on the lenses.

You still feel confused, as you're trying to grasp the point of all this.

"Casey let me borrow this last time I was here, so, we should put it to good use, right?" He walks over to a corner of the spacious room and picks up what looks like a baseball bat.

After handing it to you, he takes a deep breath. Raphael was never good at finding the right words in such little time, but right now, it came easy.

He may have rehearsed what he was going to say to you.

"I...I overheard you telling Splinter you've been stressed. I-I...I shouldn't have eavesdropped but...I knew something was off about you, Y/n. I just didn't know what." You watch as Raph's green eyes avoid looking into yours. He must be nervous. I know, Raph and nervous never go in the same sentence, right?

Wrong. Raph gets nervous, especially when talking to you. He's still finding his groove when it comes to talking to his girlfriend.

"I thought about ways to help, but they were all ways that I would normally deal with anger. So...I brought you here." You listen as Raph riles himself up when he was nearing the end of his speech to you. Like I said, words never came easy to Raph, but for you, he was more than willing to take a dive at it.

"It's sort of a way I would deal with being stressed, but it's in a more satisfying way for you. You take all your frustrations on the building to avoid self-destruction, as uh...Leo would say." He smiles, a small one, but you can still see it. It's rare that Raphael smiled, but since he started dating you, it's all his lips felt like doing when he saw you.

You look down at the wooden bat in your hand and then back up at Raph.

"I...you thought this through so much...this is so sweet of you, Raph. Truly. I could use an outlet to let everything out." Your lips curl into a smile, one of the few you've done this past week due to the stress you've been under.

Raphael came at the best time, you would've cried and trashed your room alone. But, you had Raph.

"It's what I'm here for, Y/n. Let it all out." He steps back, far away from you for you to use the baseball bat.

Poor factory.

You take a deep breath, before readying your bat and swinging at one of the sewing machines. It crashes on the ground, its red paint on the outside cracking and breaking off.

"Stupid...fucking...school!" You yell in between hits. Your breathing is heavy, but you don't care. You also don't care that you may look crazy in front of Raph. Honestly, he was right. You had to let it all out; no matter what.

"Stupid…fucking friends that put ME…in the middle of THEIR bullshit!" You swing again, and again, and again. You wind up hitting a sewing machine in the process, and watch as its red paint chips off once it hits the ground.

You continue like this for a while; hitting chairs, shattering glass, hell, you even ditch the bat and start throwing things with your bare hands.

It goes on for a while, and after you throw the last innocent sewing machine on the ground, you sink to the floor to catch your breath and calm down.

"You alright?" He asks.

"I see why you do that…." Raphael helps you up, and he takes the goggles off your face.

"…Why you take your anger out that way…it's…"

"Satisfying?" Raphael finishes your sentence, and you laugh in response.

"Very. Very satisfying," You place a kiss on Raph's left cheek, and you watch as it turns light pink from the feeling of your lips. "Thank you Red, really."

"Anytime. Let me know if you ever need to destress, and I'll find more places like this that you can wreck to your heart's content." With that, Raphael takes your hand once more, and leads you back to the entrance you both came from.

How lucky were you to have someone like Raphael help you out in times like this.

And better yet, how de-stressed you felt after this whole thing.

=================================

Donatello

Okay, Donnie's way of dealing with stress is pretty...weird.

The man reads academic journals for fun, so, that should tell you all you need to know about how he deals with it

Donnie thinks you're avoiding him at first. You haven't been coming to the lair as much as you usually do, but he doesn't want to pry. Donatello was never the type to confront you about something. Actually, anyone for that matter. He just wasn’t the confrontational type.

But, when April and Casey come over to the lair without you for the 5th time this week, he’s lost. 

That is, until April lets him know what’s been up with you.

“I’m not sure what exactly it is…maybe finals week? Y/n’s been studying like crazy, especially for the honors classes. 

You’re stressed! That was it. Donnie figured that much. 

He thinks about the stuff he usually does to get rid of any stress, but they’re not ideal. He can’t make you invent something or talk to Timothy, that’s his style of doing things. He had to get into your mind. 

What could he do to make you feel better?

“Are you free today?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you, but it requires me to come over. And…it’s going to need a large time slot for it to be a proper surprise :D”

You reread the text your boyfriend sent you. It was enticing, and you wondered what it could be. Lately, you’ve been staying home more cooped up in your room. Finals week was coming up, and you were swamped with studying. It was all you did. Eat, sleep, and study. So much so, that you started getting nervous about the upcoming exams. You were having so much anxiety over finals that it stressed you out severely. It wasn’t one specific kind of stress. It's an odd description, but this stress that feels like a big cloud looming over you everywhere you go. It wouldn’t go away, no matter how much you tried.

 It took a toll on your room, too. Your room became messier than the average teen's. You had a pile of clean laundry you never took the time to put away, and packets of study guides for all classes sprawled across your desk and onto the floor. Your bed was undone, and you sat in the middle of your room, reading Donnie’s text again for the third time. 

It was bad enough you haven’t been down to the Lair lately, and it would be even worse if you turned his surprise down. Donatello does things out of the kindness of his own heart. You’ve noticed this time and time again. He would do something or make something really special for you, and ask for nothing in return. Don’t get me wrong, you loved to get him different things that piqued his interest or plan out fun dates around the lair or your apartment, but Donatello was truly a special turtle. 

Your thumb hovers over the send button. You get a slight wave of excitement from the idea of seeing your boyfriend and what he might have in store for you. Pressing send, you lay and gaze at the dull white ceiling of your room. 

You start to wait for Donnie’s arrival, but then you wonder if you should tidy up. 

In all seriousness, it really wasn’t THAT bad. You’ve seen Mikey’s room before, and Lord, that boy needs help in there. It also would make time go faster and before you know it, Donnie will come knocking at your window. 

You groggily get up from your spot on the bed and begin to slowly gather all the study guides in your hand, making sure not to bend or crinkle the edges of the papers. You have about 3 packets for each subject, so, yeah, being overwhelmed is an understatement. 

You place them all in one pile on your desk and decide that it was enough tidying up after you made your bed. Your clean clothes could wait to be put away.

You were in the middle of separating past tests by the subject when you suddenly hear the knocks that were exclusive to Donatello. He always knocks quietly at first because he doesn’t want to be rude or scare you, but then he realizes you can’t hear it, so the knocks gradually get louder. 

A glint of happiness seeps into your eyes as you see Donnie’s gap-toothed smile through the window, but it doesn’t help the fact that the cloud is still hovering above you. 

Sliding open the window, you invite the sunlight into your seemingly dark room. It was still the middle of the day, and you were surprised Donnie came over when it was still daytime. But, he’s a ninja, he’s smart. He knows how to get to your place undetected. 

You completely give in as Donnie steps in and embraces you in a tight hug after setting down three large brown plastic bags he brought with him. 

“Dove, how are you? Honestly.” Donnie asks as he strikes your hair. Feeling comfort in his arms like you usually did, you couldn’t lie about how you felt anymore. Plus, from the sincere tone in Donnie’s voice, he already had an idea. 

“Not…not so good. I haven’t been this stressed out in a long time. It’s horrible, I mean, look at my room, Don.” 

“Hey,” Donatello lifts your chin with his green finger and smiles, “I've seen Mikey’s room, believe me, I’m not judging.”

You couldn’t help but softly smile, and you place a loving kiss on Donnie’s lips. Like always, Donatello melts. He's been melting since the first kiss you both shared 6 months ago. He couldn’t help it, he was finally being loved- and that’s all he wanted. 

Donatello was truly a gem, and when he tells you to close your eyes, you can’t help but think of all the things he may have to ease your mind as you comply. 

~

“Painting?” You tilt your head and look at your boyfriend. Donatello presents to you a wide smile that displays his cute gap as he begins to tell you why he chose painting to help you. 

“Precisely! I remember you talking about how much you hated the cream color and wanted something nicer, so I researched colors that are known to lift moods…” Donnie kneels down and uses a box cutter to get the first can of paint open. Once it’s fully cut, he lifts the lid, and you can see the sunflower yellow paint glisten from the seeping sunlight from the window. 

 “And I found this. Making paint from scratch is really simple. It’s pigment, binder, the actual liquid, and some additives…and…sorry, I’m going on a tangent.” You watch as Donatello stops himself from speaking about his entire process for making this paint for your room, but it makes it all the more special. Donnie MADE paint, a custom color just for you to make you feel better. How fucking sweet was that?

You look at the paint once again, and it’s so glossy, you can faintly see your reflection drowning in the yellow hue. “Now, I know it’s bright,” The ninja in purple starts, “but according to color psychology, the color of a room has a significant impact on human behavior and mood.”  He opens another plastic bag, and he’s managed to fit large paint rollers and paint trays. Not only that, he’s even gotten painter's tape to help with the fine lines and smaller paint brushes. 

You never really thought about how the color of your room has an impact on your mood. As you look around, you imagine your room the same color as the one in the can. 

  You can imagine a dramatization of white tulips and lilacs growing in your room from how bright and lively it’ll be after it’s painted. 

“Don…” Donatello truly thought of the best solution to your problem, and you couldn’t be any more grateful

“Yeah? Wait, you don’t like it? Is it too much? Is it the color? I happen to really enj-“

“No no no Donnie, it’s great.” You walk up to Donnie’s hunched form over the paint cans and wrap your arms around his neck from behind. You can feel his hands touch yours, and his deep brown-red eyes close with satisfaction. He did it again, he got something right for you. 

“I would love to spend the day with you painting my room.”

You and Donnie both take the time to quickly move all furniture up against the walls to the middle of the room. It’s fairly easy since your small room in the apartment doesn’t have much. A vanity, a dresser, a nightstand, even your bed. But, you get it done. 

You take down any posters that are up on your walls, and it’s finally bare. It’s a disgusting dull cream shade, and you couldn’t despise it more. After getting the tape to block parts that normally didn’t get painted, it was finally time!

“Are you ready?” Donnie asks as he hands you a roller. It’s not heavy, but as soon as you dip it in the large tin that your boyfriend put the yellow paint in, you can feel the weight increase as the roller soaks up all the liquid it can to saturate the wall. 

“I’m excited…I haven’t painted in a while.” You initially thought Donatello was bringing paint so you guys could just relax and paint some pretty pictures together, but honestly, this was so much better.

You start on the wall in front of you, thinking of where you should start the roller first. Now, you wanted it to look good, so you decide to start rolling from top to bottom, applying light pressure in the beginning, before gradually placing more for the paint to transfer onto the wall. You watch as the new sunflower yellow replaces that nasty color you initially had, and comparing it after just a few strokes you can already tell the gorgeous difference. It was going to look absolutely beautiful when it was done. 

Once you start getting the hang of it, you and Donatello divide and conquer, as you learned pretty quickly that you couldn’t reach the higher parts of the wall. 

But, that’s the benefit of having a tall mutant turtle as a boyfriend, Donnie got to those hard-to-reach spots with no problem!

~

It took hours. But, those were the least stressful hours you’ve had for the past couple of weeks. Not once did the thought of finals cross your mind, as you were distracted with Donnie. He took his time, as did you, to try and drag this whole painting project longer than it probably should go. But, time didn’t matter to you right now. What mattered was that Donatello was with you, painting your room. You were nearing the end of the project, as you had less than half of the final wall to go. Donnie took it upon himself to make any conversation- and you both spoke of mundane topics. Mundane until Donatello heard something you said about a certain conspiracy theory that piqued his interest. 

“I mean, it’s science. What idiot would say the world is fl-ah! Whoops! sorry, Y/n.” You feel something cold land on your cheek, and you stop painting the wall to feel what it is. As you wipe the unknown substance off and look at your hand, you see there are remnants of yellow paint covering your fingers. 

You look at Donatello, putting up a front as if you’re shocked he just did that. As he stumbles upon his words to apologize again, you dip your finger in the tin of yellow liquid and fingerpaint his bicep.

“Whoops, sorry, Donnie!” You giggle as the purple-banded turtle turns red from your touch until he snaps out of it and dips his own finger in the paint, only to cover your nose in it. 

“Sorry!” He exclaims sarcastically. Oh sweet innocent Donnie and his sassiness. 

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now Don!” What turned from a normal room painting project amongst two people that just so happened to be a couple, shifted into an all-out paint fight between them. You haven’t felt so free in weeks. 

Stifling your laughter, you try and wiggle out of Donnie’s grip on top of you as he tickles your sides, trying to make you say “mercy.”

“Okay okay! Mercy! Mercy! Uncle!” You say in between laughs. You both stop and catch your breaths, and Donnie- covered in paint like you- dives in to kiss your lips. Despite them having paint on them, he didn’t care. It was a cute moment that he would be thinking about for the next couple of months. You both stay like this, and Donnie’s lips work yours like they usually do, and you could feel him smiling into the kiss. You give in, too, and smile as well. Kisses from Donatello were something that you craved.

“Thank you, Donnie. It means a lot to me that you did this.” You say after the slew of kisses end. He smiles and chuckles nervously, “Anytime. My sweet angel.”

~

If you were wondering, once you were done, it came out amazing. It was just like you imagined it. Once the furniture was put back in place (not touching the wall, Donatello would help move it back once the paint fully dried,) you take a moment to let it seep in. Your room was a breath of fresh air, and that’s what you needed right now. You felt this imaginary cloud that sat atop you in your room fade away, and you could almost feel your newly yellow walls smiling back at you.

===============================

Michelangelo

Mikey is always pretty laid-back and energetic.

He rarely gets stressed, unless it’s during a mission and he’s done something to fuck the team up

Then at that moment, he’s stressed.

He usually deals with it in a very “mikey” way.

He may go skateboarding in the sewers, or take a chance and try and skateboard on the rooftops. Don’t do that second one if you’re not mikey, it’s pretty dangerous. 

He’d also just sit down and eat a few slices of pizza, nothing extreme, but indulging in your favorite food in moderation is something that can make you feel better!

When you first start dating, you always found yourself wanting to be around Mikey, as he was never a negative turtle. He was always so happy, so much so that it even made you question why. Not in a bad way, but you wondered how he could stay so positive.

So when he notices something is off about you, he has something very special planned. 

He shoots you a text, hoping you’ll accept his offer and come down to the Lair today.

Heyyyy gorgeous! I know you haven’t been feeling so good, so I was wondering if you wanted to come down and see the super duper awesome surprise I have for you :D?

Now, who are you to turn down Mikey? You couldn’t allow your stress to take over your love life, as it already had taken over your academic and social life. Regents exams were coming up, and everyone knows New York students despise those- especially you- because you just so happened to get a terrible math teacher this year and were worried about failing. On top of this, your friend group had gotten terribly complicated. It seemed that drama followed your friends, and you were seriously considering finding some new ones. All of this being said, it took a toll on your mental health. Your life, as you knew it, was getting stressful. So much so, that you sat in your bed on the weekends, not really interacting with anyone but your parents if they came into your room. 

You sadly haven’t been texting Mikey as much as you usually do, and you hoped he didn’t take it the wrong way. But, as you reread his message once again, you think about how he noticed the changes in you without even asking. Raph may clown him at times, but Mikey was extremely observant.

You peeled the covers off of you and got out of your bed, wondering if you should even make it up. 

“That one navy guy said to always make your bed in that one speech...” You say out loud. It’s may seem dumb, but that one navy guy is right. If you have the willpower to do something so small as making your bed, you’ll have the willpower to overcome the hardship in your life.

You decide to make your bed. It didn’t make you less stressed, but you felt hope for how the rest of your day will go. You’re looking forward to seeing your boyfriend, as he was your break from all the mess in the world that was your life. 

You look out into the city sky through your window before leaving, and you see the many hues of orange and yellow merging as the sun sets. Orange, huh, it reminds you of Mikey. You make your way down to the stairs of your apartment building, and soon to the outside. You feel the cool air hit your face, as the nearing summertime weather was approaching. You wondered what you would do this summer IF you were to pass your mathematics regents. You thought about the farmhouse April took you and the guys to last summer.

 It was your first actual vacation with the turtles and their sensei, and it was seriously relaxing. You were far away from the city, as upstate New York was quiet- Suffolk County being one of those quiet places. You were able to have quality time with the turtles as a group, and then also have quality time with your boyfriend, Mikey. You guys did a lot together, you paired up for the volleyball game (and lost badly against Leo and Raph,) tried to fish (you landed in the lake,) and even made a fire together! (Thank you, Google.) Needless to say, you were looking forward to the next trip to April’s farmhouse. 

This thought also made you more anxious for the exam, so you distract your mind by quickly getting to the manhole cover and going down into the sewer. You had gotten used to the smell over time, and it was nearing summer- where the smell would get progressively worse as the temperature rises. But, you had been down here enough times to where the smell didn’t bother your nose as much. Plus, the Lair smelled 1000x better than the actual sewer tunnels. 

Speaking of the Lair, you made it!

“Y/n! Hey!” You’re greeted by Leonardo, who’s sitting in front of the TV. You can hear voices that belong to Captain Ryan and his crew, so you’re lucky that Leo even noticed you. He’s usually always into the show that he tunes everything out around him. Unless, you know, Raph makes a comment about how dumb the show is. 

“Hey, Leo. Another marathon?” You ask as he turns his head to you, the TV lights illuminating his face. 

“Yeah, I got dibs on the TV tonight and everything!” It was comical to see Leo out of “leader mode,” he seemed so happy today. 

“Any idea where Mikey is?” You ask, looking around the living space. You see Raph sitting on the couch behind Leo reading a comic and feeding his pet turtle a few leaves. Don’t even get me started on the irony of this picture. Anyway, there’s no sign of Donatello, but you hear faint humming coming from the kitchen far off on the opposite side of the living space. 

“He’s in the kitchen, he nearly kicked me out for trying to feed Spike. Almost malnourished the poor guy saying I would ‘mess his flow up.” Raph says as Spike chews on his leaf. He nods his head at you to say hello, and you wave in response. 

“Thanks,” After talking to the brothers in red and blue, you make your way over to the kitchen. Out of all the areas in the Lair, the kitchen was special. Why? There’s a cat in the freezer. It was comical, one day you were grabbing an ice pack for Mikey, and you were shocked to see a literal ice cream kitty hand you one and meow happily at you. Like Raph with Spike, Mikey really loved that kitty, plus he felt bad that he mutated it accidentally, but, Ice Cream Kitty seemed pretty happy. 

You turn the corner and see your boyfriend, Mikey, with a “kiss the cook” apron on. He wore it for “special meals” as he would put it. You wondered what was so special about tonight’s food.

“Hey, Mikey?” You call out, he’s getting something out of the cabinet before he sees you. But, when he does, it’s over.

“Y/n! Oh my sweet angel Y/n!” Mikey smiles and pulls you into a loving hug, and you faintly smell remnants of vanilla on him. 

“Okay, so, surprise! We’re bakin’! You know, according to Google, I read that baking is good for the mind, I knew my awesome cooking skills will come in handy!” Mikey cheered as he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. You wondered what you were going to bake with him. As you looked around the table at the different baking ingredients, you concluded it would be a cake. 

“We’re making a cake?” You ask as you walk around the table. You smiled as you saw the different colors of icing sprawled across the top. 

“Aw yeah! You have the professional uncertified chef here to help, too! I know your mood has been down, with school and stuff- and I know school causes stress…so I thought this would help.” You watch the orange-clad turtle give his puppy eyes at you, hoping that this would be the way to convince you to unwind and bake with him.

Mikey didn’t need the puppy eyes this time around, him thinking of this activity was more than enough to swoon you over. 

“I think it’ll help more than you think,” Michelangelo’s eyes get a glint of happiness in them from your response, and you place a kiss on his lips, “Thank you, for thinking of me and how to help out.” 

“Anything for my sweet sweet sweet…sweet…hold on…that’s too many sweets, sweet sweet angel Y/n!” His bright blue eyes glance into yours as he cheeses. 

~

Mikey may be an uncertified unlicensed chef with no study in culinary school, but, he surely knows a thing or two about baking. 

It makes this process stress-free, and that was his intention. He measures out everything for you so all you have to do is mix it in and watch the magic happen. This part is fun alone, as you watch the sugar be mixed in with the melted butter, creating a sand-like texture before the sugar is totally dissolved. Mikey’s careful with the eggs, as he went off the instructions when they said to add the eggs after melting the butter. 

“I don’t think you want scrambled eggs in your cake.” He says, stopping you from cracking the egg into the golden liquid. 

You feel the side of the bowl after mixing the sugar and butter, your hand feeling the bowl cool down, as the sugar lowers the temperature. You then continue mixing the liquid ingredients together, while Mikey measures out the dry ingredients in a separate bowl. You wanted to make a marble cake, so you were soon separating the liquid mixture in half while your boyfriend did the same with the dry, only adding cocoa powder to one of the halved bowls. 

After some time, you’re ready to combine the dry and wet ingredients together. Mikey hands you the orange rubber spatula, and you gently fold the ingredients together in each bowl, careful not to over-mix. You and Mikey continue joking around and for the first time this week, you’re having fun. You’re not thinking about school, or anything else negative. No, this activity has managed to clear your mind in a positive way. 

“Awww yeah! In the oven it goes!” You used a skewer to mix the chocolate part into the vanilla, creating that marble effect you were desiring. After this, you and Mikey hold it together and place it in the preheated oven at a toasty 350 degrees for 25 minutes. 

While you wait, you think about what you should decorate the cake with. Mikey hasn’t mentioned anything about it, but it’s probably because he’s losing to Ice Cream Kitty at Uno. It’s so funny to watch Mikey get beat at his own game, as he whines after the cold kitty throws down yet another draw 4. Cheating or not, it’s comical to watch a cat play cards. Uno at that. 

~

Now that the cake is out of the oven, you and Mikey agreed on waiting 15 minutes so it could cool down for decorating.

Watching the Uno match in front of you, your lips form into a smile, and you let out a giggle as Ice Cream Kitty meows in response to Mikey’s whining, as they secretly show you their last two cards. Yeah, Mikey’s toast.

Mikey gets hit with a blue skip as Ice Cream Kitty beats him to yell “Uno” first, and then places down their final card: a red skip.

“You definitely cheated!” Mikey exclaims as the Neopolitan kitty climbs off the table and shimmy’s up the fridge back into the freezer, ignoring Mikey’s antics. The timer you set on your phone goes off, and as you poke the top of the cake, the surface is completely cooled and ready to be iced.

“What were you thinking to put on it?”  You asked, opening the red icing while Mikey the orange. 

“Um...well, I was thinking of leaving that to you. You know, to do the honors. Now, I know we’re not all gifted with artistic greatness, butttttt I trust you to do it.” He jokes, earning an eye roll and a nudge on the arm from you.

You first grab the white frosting that's off to the side, realizing you had to paint the cake first before actually putting a design on it. Grabbing the silver-angled spatula, you dip it into the Pillsbury container and begin to maneuver the cake tool to fully cover the cake in white sugary goodness. With the cake cooled, it’s a breeze. 

You look around the cake at every angle, making sure you got every corner and cranny. As you grab the red icing you opened earlier, you grip it in your hand and hover on top of the cake. But, you stop. 

What should you decorate it with? Actually, what should you write? That’s what bakers did, right? They wrote nice sayings in beautiful script, right?

A thought pops into your head, and it causes Mikey to tilt his head in confusion as you get a devious look on your face. 

You apply pressure to the small icing bag, and watch as the red icing writes the words you’re thinking of in your head, letter by letter. You tell Mikey to turn around so he couldn’t see, and he complies. 

After a few more minutes, you put the half-full icing bag down, and admire your work. 

“Okay, Mikey, you can turn back around! Look!” You smile at your work, despite the letters looking absolutely atrocious. It looked like Donnie’s chicken scratch handwriting. But, it says what you were thinking, and that’s what matters. 

As Mikey turns around, he reads the cake quickly before snickering at the sight. 

“I guess there are people with artistic greatness! We have to show Raph. And hide it from Splinter, but also cut him a piece, you know?” He says, handing you the cake cutter as he screams for Raph. As Raph comes over (not before scolding Mikey for yelling,) he looks down at the cake before you stab the middle of it to cut.

“Huh. Somethin’ I would do. Nice, Y/n.” The green-eyed turtle compliments.

To: Stress

Fuck You Bitch!!!!!

Love, Y/n ❤️

After you give Leo and Raph their pieces, you cut Mikey’s, purposefully giving him the slice with the heart on it. 

“For you, because I love you. Thanks, Mikey.” Mikey’s eyes light up, and his freckled cheeks have a slight pink tint after you dive in for an overdue kiss.

Best stress reliever ever.

Masterlist

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #tmnt fanfiction #leonardo #raphael #michelangelo #donatello #tmnt headcanons #tmnt imagines #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt fanfics

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

The Rescue and The Ice Warriors tied. These are the 10 stories that were closest to making it through and so have been given a second chance

ROUND 2 MASTERPOST

synopses and propagnada under the cut

Marco Polo

Synopsis

Arriving in Central Asia in 1289, the Doctor and his companions join the caravan of the famous Venetian explorer Marco Polo as it makes its way from the snowy heights of the Pamir Plateau, across the treacherous Gobi Desert and through the heart of imperial Cathay.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Keys of Marinus

Synopsis

The TARDIS arrives on the planet Marinus on an island of glass surrounded by a sea of acid. The travellers are forced by the elderly Arbitan to retrieve four of the five operating keys to a machine called the Conscience of Marinus - a machine capable of influencing all minds on the planet - of which he is the keeper. These have been hidden in different locations around the planet to prevent them falling into the hands of the evil Yartek and his Voord warriors, who plan to seize the machine and use its originally benevolent mind-influencing power for their own sinister purposes.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Rescue

Synopsis

The Doctor, Ian and Barbara arrive on the planet Dido. They find a crashed spaceship, the only two survivors of which are terrorised by the monster Koquillion. But who is Koquillion?

Propaganda

god I love this story, its short and sweet, but the implications, the everything of vicki’s life before the doctor, the firey passion with which I hate bennet is boundless, as is my love for sandy. ITS SO GOOD! VOTE FOR IT! (@sandymybeloved )

The Space Museum

Synopsis

The TARDIS jumps a time track and the travellers arrive on the planet Xeros. There they discover their own future selves displayed as exhibits in a museum established as a monument to the galactic conquests of the warlike Morok invaders who now rule the planet. When time shifts back to normal, they realise that they must do everything they can to avert this potential future.

Vicki helps the native Xerons obtain arms and revolt against the Moroks. The revolution succeeds and the travellers go on their way, confident that the future has been changed.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Massacre

Synopsis

The TARDIS materialises in Paris in the year 1572 and the Doctor decides to visit the famous apothecary Charles Preslin. Steven, meanwhile, is befriended by a group of Huguenots from the household of the Protestant Admiral de Coligny. Having rescued a young serving girl, Anne Chaplet, from some pursuing guards, the Huguenots gain their first inkling of a heinous plan being hatched at the command of the Catholic Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The War Machines

Synopsis

The TARDIS arrives in London in 1966 and the First Doctor and Dodo visit the Post Office Tower. There they meet Professor Brett, whose revolutionary new computer WOTAN (Will Operating Thought ANalogue) can actually think for itself and is shortly to be linked up to other major computers around the world — a project overseen by civil servant Sir Charles Summer.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Moonbase

Synopsis

The TARDIS arrives in 2070 on the Moon, where a weather control station under the command of a man named Hobson is in the grip of a plague epidemic — in reality the result of an alien poison planted by the Cybermen. Jamie is knocked unconscious and lapses into a delirium, leaving the Second Doctor, Ben, and Polly to fight off a massive Cyberman attack.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Macra Terror

Synopsis

When the Second Doctor, Ben, Polly and Jamie visit a human colony that appears to be one big holiday camp, they think they have come across a truly happy place. Yet a shadowy presence soon makes them realise that the surface contentment is carefully controlled.

The colony's inhabitants have been brainwashed by giant, crab-like creatures — the Macra. Insidious propaganda, broadcast by the Controller, forces the humans to mine a gas that is essential for the Macra to survive, but fatal to them.

The colony must be saved — but how? The Doctor and his team are up against it, particularly when Ben falls under the influence of the Macra. Can he be rescued from their evil clutches? Can the gas pumping equipment be destroyed, getting rid of the Macra for good?

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Ice Warriors

Synopsis

The TARDIS arrives on Earth in a new ice age. The travellers make their way into a base where scientists, commanded by Leader Clent, are using an ioniser device to combat the advance of a glacier.

A giant humanoid creature, called an Ice Warrior by one of the scientists, has been found buried in the nearby glacier. When thawed, it revives and is revealed to be Varga, captain of a Martian spacecraft that landed on Earth centuries ago and is still in the glacier. Varga sets about freeing his comrades and formulating a plan to conquer the Earth — Mars itself is now dead.

 Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Seeds of Death

Synopsis

The TARDIS lands in a space museum on Earth in the late 21st century, where the Second Doctor, Jamie and Zoe learn that contact has been lost between Earth and the Moon. In this era, instant travel — T-Mat — has revolutionised the Earth. Its people have lost interest in space travel. The Doctor and his companions travel to the Moon in an old-style rocket and reach the Moonbase, control centre for T-Mat, only to find a squad of Ice Warriors have commandeered the base and plan to use the T-Mat network to their advantage.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

#round 2 #tiebreak

[thebirdandthebee]

Imagine Me & You

A Jake “Hangman” Seresin fic.

First time writing TGM fanfic - please be gentle.

Jake stumbles across a woman on base that seems to enjoy the finer things in life... just like the future he’d like to build - with her in it.

Chapter 2: French 75

A week had passed and now, the base had really picked up. Mia was driving past more and more cars, and seeing more bodies out and about. It was easily the busiest she’d ever seen it since moving to Fightertown nearly eight months ago.

“And what’s the word on the Randall case?” Lt. Gen. Bozek asked, popping his head into her office.

“It’s already off to the notary,” Mia replied, happy to help on the extra project as she worked through processing for several new recruits. The paperwork was tedious but simple once she figured out the reporting structure and approvals process.

“You’re the best, Mia,” He replied before returning to his desk.

Mia slid her phone out of her desk drawer, pulling up the score of her brother’s baseball game.

Indiana 4

Iowa 1

With only two innings left, she’d hold onto hope for a win.

“Hey Mia, would you mind running an errand across base?” Bozek called from his office. Lt. Gen. Bozek was not usually the type to ask for footwork favors, so she didn’t think much of it as she strode over to his office. “Rear Admiral Lorne needs a hard copy of this affidavit and refuses to learn how to fax.”

“Sure,” Mia shrugged, but spared a glance down at her four-inch heels.

“You can take the cart,” He offered.

“Deal.”

Armed with a manila envelope and the keys to the nicest golf cart she’d ever seen, she had instructions and a crudely drawn map of the base and how to get to building 16. As well as the code for an elevator she’d need to use.

Lt. Gen. Bozek had given her a starting knowledge of things around the Miramar base. Pilots were there because they were the best of the best – and while that was still true, there were so many extra bodies on base recently as the station picked up increased operations and catered to even more Navy needs.

It was evident as Mia drove her cart along the appropriate path. There were small groups of pilots going about their business, others going for a run, and the occasional, additional cart zipping by.

She was feeling rather pleased with herself as she drove along, her sunglasses allowing her the freedom to watch it all unfold in front of her. It did feel odd to be one of the few women on base, which had never felt more apparent than it did now.

“So you graduated from a pushcart to this?” Her head snapped to the left to see the Lieutenant from the commissary jogging alongside her cart. “This one you actually do have to be careful with – you could do some damage at 5 miles per hour.”

“Lieutenant Seresin,” she recalled.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he corrected. “Mia.” At least he remembered her name, which was more than she could say.

She couldn’t help but notice the way his Navy shirt stretched just right across his chest and biceps as he jogged alongside her.

“This your boat or should I put out an alert?” He asked, not even metering his breath. She missed the way his eyes lingered on her white blouse and where the short silk scarf tied around her neck teased the curve of her collarbone.

“Lt. Gen. Bozek is letting me borrow it for a special mission,” she joked.

“Where is this special mission taking you?” He asked, following her path as she made a gradual right, Building 16 coming within view.

“To visit Rear Admiral Lorne,” she replied. She really didn’t know if she should have been sharing that information, but they were on the same team, right?

“Interesting,” He commented back, joining as she pulled her cart into a designated space outside of the building. He immediately made his hand available to help her down from the cart in yet a different pair of tall, shiny heels that he admired. Her hand was small and warm in his, and his gaze lingered on her carefully manicured nails.

“Thank you,” she smiled, using the next few moments to unabashedly adjust her outfit, making sure her blouse was still dutifully tucked in all the way around her navy pencil skirt and that her ascot hadn’t blown out of disarray before running a hand through her blonde tresses.

“Perfect,” he commented, though it went unnoticed as she sifted through her envelope to retrieve her map.

“Fourth floor, left elevator,” she told herself. “8212.”

All the while, Jake was picking out the notes of her perfume. Vanilla, musk, sandalwood. Feminine but not frilly.

“It would be my duty to escort you to the Rear Admiral,” He commented, assuming parade rest. The action made her smile.

“You’re kind, but I’m a big girl,” she replied. “I can get there on my own.”

The chink in his ego was small, but there. Had he applied enough deodorant today?

“Well, then I hope the rest of your mission is successful,” He smoothly rebutted.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” She smiled, taking a few steps, the clicks from which sent a shiver up Jake’s spine.

“Please, call me Jake,” he said, holding the door for her. She smiled, grateful for the reminder, before stepping in.

The only thing he had to figure out now was who she was and what she did on base. That, and if the gold band on her finger meant anything.

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

Mia changed her mind. It did seem as if she was doing a lot of favors for Lt. Gen. Bozek recently. Tonight included.

Though, the opportunity to make a new friend was welcome and she felt like she had unlocked a new chapter in her book. New location, new characters, new plot.

The Hard Deck had a comforting vibe in the same way a bar back home in Nebraska would. Locals knew you and newcomers were welcome as long as they didn’t ruffle any feathers.

Lt. Gen. Bozek asked if she’d be willing to meet his niece for a drink – she worked ridiculous hours and was “about the same age” as Mia. Mia wondered if Lt. Gen. Bozek knew how old she was.

On a particularly warm day in May, she opted for a pair of denim jean shorts – artfully distressed – and a pink blouse that flared beneath her bust with small cap sleeves. A French braid of sun kissed blonde left a few face-framing wisps near her temples as she tucked an errant lock behind her ear.

“Mia?” She turned, setting down her Blue Moon to meet who she assumed to be Bozek’s niece.

“Bobbi, hi.” She smiled warmly, sticking out her hand.

“Hi, so sorry I’m late,” Bobbi gushed, taking the seat across from Mia and dropping her purse strap across the back of her chair. “Family court ran long today and my client was nearly a no-show.” She sighed. Bozek mentioned that Bobbi was a family and child welfare attorney and often worked late.

“No problem, if there’s anyone that understands, it’s me.” Mia reassured. That, and she was glad for a change of scenery.

“Have you been here before?” Bobbi asked, checking her phone quickly before setting it down on the tabletop between them.

“First time!” Mia said, “to be honest I don’t get out much aside from the beach.” She confessed. “I’ve been here about eight – almost nine months and work keeps me pretty busy. I fly out to Indiana when I can to visit my brother or head to Del Mar for the weekend.” She explained.

“Well I’ve been coming here since before I could walk,” Bobbi laughed. “That being said, let me grab a drink quick – I’ll be right back.”

Mia liked Bobbi – she seemed pretty normal and was certainly kind enough. She went on to explain that the bar owner was like a second mother to her – a woman named Penny -  as she grew up on base under the watchful eye of her Uncle that raised her.

“So you mentioned going to Indiana – does your brother go to school there?” Bobbi asked, now on her second beer.

“Yes, my brother Jack plays baseball for the Hoosiers,” Mia replied proudly, pulling out her phone.

“Wow, handsome!” Bobbi smiled. Mia happily swiped through a handful of photos of Jack. She really was beaming with pride. “Tall,” she added.

“He’s eight inches taller than me,” Mia laughed. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t take me seriously because of it.”

“I always wanted siblings,” Bobbi smiled. “Will you get to see him soon?” She asked.

“He’s coming out to visit in about four weeks,” Mia explained. “He has an off week from baseball and will be done with summer semester classes.”

“That’s so sweet,” Bobbi took another drink of her beer before one of the male bar hands could set down two fresh drinks at their tall top.

“Courtesy of the service khakis,” he tilted his head back to the back wall of the bar, closest to the beach. Mia and Bobbi looked back to see a small group of aviators by the pool and darts, who raised their drinks in a toast. Mia held up her fresh beer and toasted them back.

“Lord, here we go,” Bobbi laughed.

“I feel too old to be getting drinks from these guys,” Mia winced.

“First of all, you’re not.” Bobbi stared, “because I think we’re the same age and if you’re old, I’m old, and I am not old.” She took a long pull of her beer. “There’s just a lot of horny young guns on this base who have been told for the past three months they’re the best in the world at what they do – full of ego and adrenaline.”

“A simple way of putting that,” Mia laughed.

“Ma’am,” her attention was pulled over her shoulder, where a young man in service khakis appeared. Blue eyes, brown hair and a uniform you could bounce a quarter off of.

“Thank you for the drink,” Mia smiled politely.

“It’s my pleasure, Ma’am,” He replied. “I’m Gene,” he introduced.

“Mia,” She replied, placing her hand in his.

“Bobbi,” Bobbi said, sticking her hand out, “Bobbi Bozek.” She elaborated. The pilot’s eyes flickered in recognition.

“Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” he gulped. “Would either of you be interested in joining my team and I for some pool?”

“That’s really kind of you, but we’re just chatting,” Mia said softly. The young pilot was no match for her honey-golden eyes.

“I was thinking, maybe, if you were up to it – ”

“Lieutenant West,” Mia placed the voice.

“Hangman,” the brunette stiffened, eyes tracking as his superior’s arm came around the backside of Mia’s high top chair.

“Everyone having responsible fun?” He asked, a toothpick sitting carefully between his textbook perfect teeth.

“As much as we can,” Gene responded.

“Thank you for the drink,” Bobbi gave a big smile, tilting her head to the side and tapping her beer glass against his. The pilot took the hint and retreated back to his team.

“Ladies,” Jake smiled, coming around to stand aside their table.

“Hi Lieutenant Commander,” Mia replied.

“Mia, Bobbi,” he greeted. “You don’t strike me much as a beer drinker,” Jake commented. “And what do I strike you as?” Mia asked, taking a small sip of her brew.

“I’d err on the side of… a French 75.” He countered. Mia’s brow raised.

“You are astute.” She grinned.

“Some would say it’s my job,” the corner of his mouth pulled up into an attractive grin.

“Jake, can you go spray some cold water on your ducklings over there?” Bobbi asked, crossing her legs. “Are they being bothersome?” Jake asked, pulling up his own chair to the table.

“Like dogs in heat,” Bobbi replied, wiping a smear of foam from the corner of her mouth.

“You ladies just tell me if anyone steps out of line,” he commented.

“Was last week like back-to-school weekend?” Mia asked, tucking one foot behind her other ankle below the table. Another pair of heels for the blonde. Jake’s eyes took in the lines of her clothing and the simple elegance of her French braid and the diamond studs in her ears. The skin on the back of his neck prickled at the sight of the small gold ‘J’ in the hollow of her throat.

“Something like that,” Bobbi said, “it feels like they’re coming droves these days.” Her attention turned to their guest. “Jake, how do you know Mia?” She asked.

“I nearly ran him over at the grocery store.” Mia replied.

“Commissary,” Jake corrected.

“Commissary,” Mia agreed. “You two know each other?” Mia asked.

“For years,” Bobbi nodded. “Dated one his buddies for five years, actually,” She pursed her lips as she took another drink. Mia’s eyes cut to Jake, who was already looking at her.

“Buddy is putting it generously,” Jake replied. “Mia you’re not from here,” he said, turning his attention back to the blonde and watching as her eyes trailed across his features.

“Nebraska,” she replied. “Omaha specifically.”

“Flyover state.” Jake commented.

“I think to a pilot every state is flyover, no?” She asked, gently raising one brow as she sipped her beer. Jake grinned. “Jake’s a cowboy,” Bobbi commented. Mia’s eyes shifted back toward the blonde. He was wondering what her lip-gloss tasted like. If they’d have two kids or three – and what kind of wallpaper would hang in the nursery.

“Yeehaw,” Mia said, raising her glass to him before draining her drink. She took one look outside to see the darkness looming. It was coming up close to nine and she had a good twenty-five minute drive back to her apartment. “I hate to cut the night short, but I’ve got to start my hike back.”

“Let me get your number so we can do this again,” Bobbi insisted. Jake felt shafted, he had just arrived, but he did get to gather more intel, and that felt worth it.

Mia rattled off her cell, which Jake committed to memory.

“Jake, walk her out.” Bobbi insisted, “I’m going to go bother Pen.” Jake gladly offered his hand as Mia climbed down from her high top in those heels. He wanted to sink his teeth into her calves.

“Thank you,” she smiled gently, grabbing her saddle brown designer clutch from the table. Jake held the door as she walked through, sifting through her bag to grab her keys.

“Now this…” Jake whistled lowly, taking in the sight of her vintage Jag. “This is art.”

“Thank you, I quite like it myself.” She smiled, using a key to unlock the driver’s side of the red convertible.

“A woman of refined taste,” he replied, though that was evident in every other aspect of her that he had witnessed already. As a person of particular taste himself, it was stimulating to see a woman who carefully curated her presence as well.

“Thank you again for the escort, Lieutenant Commander.” She said, the engine of the convertible purring to life.

“It’s Jake.” He reminded.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fan fic #jake seresin fic #hangman fan fic #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick #hangman x ofc #jake seresin x ofc #fan fick #top gun maverick fan fic

[usafphantom2]

Czech Republic officially joins the global F-35 Lightning II team

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 01/29/2024 - 19:37in Military

The government of the Czech Republic has signed a Letter of Offer and Acceptance (LOA) formalizing its intention to acquire 24 5ª generation Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II aircraft.

Through the U.S. government's Foreign Military Sale (FMS), the Czech Air Force will receive its first aircraft in 2031, which will be in the latest advanced configuration of Block 4.

“We are pleased that the government of the Czech Republic is now officially part of the global F-35 Lightning II program,” said U.S. Air Force Lieutenant General Mike Schmidt, executive officer of the program at the F-35 Joint Program Office. "This partnership with the Czech Ministry of Defense will supply and sustain F-35 aircraft for decades, while providing the Czech Air Force with unparalleled interoperability and ensuring that it has the ability to combat current and future threats."

In addition to the aircraft, the acquisition also includes personnel training, services and logistical support, in addition to the development of other support services, ensuring successful deliveries of all 24 F-35 jets.

"With the signing of the Letter of Offer and Acceptance between the Czech Republic and the U.S. governments, the Czech Republic becomes the 18ª nation to join the global F-35 program. We are honored to partner with the Czech Air Force as their F-35s join other European nations in strengthening and increasing interoperability, significantly increasing NATO's deterrence capacity,” said Bridget Lauderdale, vice president of Lockheed Martin and general manager of the F-35 program. "The F-35 is the best solution for the future fleet of fighters in the Czech Republic, with 5ª Generation capabilities, increasing the country's effectiveness in the 21st century Security battle space."

The F-35 is the preferred European aircraft to replace old fighter fleets, offering unparalleled interoperability with NATO and other nations to provide a key discriminator for the U.S. and its allies in the coming decades. By the 2030s, more than 600 F-35 fighters will work together in more than 10 European countries, including two full U.S. F-35 squadrons stationed at the Lakenheath RAF Air Base. It is also the only hunting in production currently that will create jobs in the next 40-50 years and will allow strategic industrial partnerships with the Czech industry.

The F-35 now operate on 32 bases around the world. To date, Lockheed Martin has delivered more than 990 F-35 jets, trained more than 2,280 pilots and 15,400 maintainers, and the F-35 fleet has exceeded almost 773,000 accumulated flight hours. Lockheed Martin continues to work side by side with F-35 operators to ensure that allies stay ahead of the evolving threat.

Below is the statement published by the Ministry of Defense of the Czech Republic:

Minister of Defense, Jana Cernochová, along with U.S. Ambassador Bijan Sabet, today signed a Memorandum of Understanding between the Czech Republic and the United States on the acquisition of twenty-four fifth-generation F-35 fighters, which is the most important project in the history of the Czech Armed Forces. The ceremony brought to the fore the negotiations on the future of the Czech supersonic capacity and marked the conclusion of this contract.

The acquisition of 24 American F-35A Lightning II aircraft was authorized by the Government of the Czech Republic in September 2023. By the end of March 2024, it was necessary to complete a series of administrative steps and formally complete this phase of carrying out this strategic project through the celebration of the Memorandum of Understanding between the Czech and U.S. Government and the so-called Letter of Offer and Acceptance (LOA), the acceptance of which signs an agreement with the U.S. Government.

The Memorandum was signed today by the Minister of Defense of the Czech Republic, Jana Cernochová, with the United States Ambassador to the Czech Republic, Bijan Sabet, in the presence of the Chief of Staff General of the Czech Armed Forces, Lieutenant General Karel Rehka. The LOA, which was delivered in Prague at the end of 2023, was signed by the Director General of the Arms and Acquisitions Division of the Ministry of Defense of the Czech Republic, Lubor Koudelka, after the completion of all the administrative steps required by Czech law.

The agreement includes industrial cooperation, which was hired by the Director General of the Industrial Cooperation Division of the Ministry of Defense, Radka Konderlová, last week. There are eleven projects prepared with Lockheed Martin and three projects with Pratt & Whitney with an added value of 667 million dollars. They will have the participation of 13 Czech companies and universities involved in four areas: component manufacturing, research and development, pilot training, maintenance and services of the F-35.

The Czech Republic discussed its own signature with the United States in recent weeks, as the time and place of convenience were identified. Taking into account the health problems and the subsequent convalescence of the United States Secretary of Defense, Lloyd J. Austin, this option to sign the Memorandum of Understanding in Prague was eventually selected. "I promised that the contract for the American F-35 aircraft would be completed by the end of March and I fulfilled the promise. This agreement between governments brings our country and its armed forces to a totally new era, in which not only our military, but also modern equipment rank us in the first league of NATO's European Allies. In fact, fifth-generation aircraft are the backbone of North Atlantic Treaty Organization fighters. In addition, its acquisition will significantly increase the combat readiness of the Czech Armed Forces,” said Minister Cernochová after the signing.

“The F-35 system is the only one that fulfills the mission on future battlefields and ensures effective defense together with our Allies against external aggressions, if necessary,” said the Chief of Staff General of the Czech Armed Forces, Lieutenant General Karel Rehka.

The acquisition process is scheduled for eleven years, with the arrival of the first aircraft in 2031. Along with individual payments, the Comprehensive Implementation Plan is being developed to define the introduction of the F-35 system in the Czech Armed Forces environment. Specifically, the plan covers personnel, training, infrastructure, services and logistical support and the development of all other auxiliary services, in order to receive the progressive deliveries of all 24 units of the F-35 without problems from the beginning.

The Gripen fighters of the Czech Republic will be in operation until at least 2035, when the F-35 reach the final operational capacity. (Photo: Soos Jozsef / Shutterstock.com)

The Swedish Gripen fighters in the Czech Air Force inventory will have fulfilled their mission until 2035, when the F-35 system will reach its full operational capacity. There are intense negotiations underway with the Kingdom of Sweden on the operation of the Gripens within the specified time.

Tags: Military AviationF-35 Lightning IICzech Republic Air ForceLockheed Martin

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[pikolswonderland]

Okay so you guys seemed to enjoy my post about my Yamask!Ingo AU, so I wanted to expand upon and explain this AU in a bit more detail, so here we go. Also this is gonna be VERY long so be prepared.

Essentially this takes place sometime after Akari’s battle against Volo and Giratina, Hisui is saved and while the space-time rifts are still occurring, they’ve been getting less and less frequent. Since stakes have greatly lowered, Akari decides to use her spare time to help Ingo get his memories back. This goes on for a few months, and by that point Ingo has regained several of his key memories, such as being from future Unova, his job as the Subway Boss, and most recently: Emmet. Obviously as Ingo regains more and more of his memories, the more he begins to feel out-of-place here in Hisui, and how much he wants to return home. Akari knows this and starts trying everything in her power to send him to his original time period.

One day, as Ingo, Akari, and Lady Sneasler are investigating one of the rifts on a mountain to find out how to send him home, the distortion from the rift triggers an avalanche. Lady Sneasler manages to save Akari from the oncoming snow, but Ingo gets caught in the crossfire, and ends up being killed as a result of his injuries. Akari is devastated as a result, not just from the loss of her friend, but knowing he would die never having gotten home. This leads her to Spear Pillar, where she makes a prayer to Arceus that there must be SOME way for him to go home. Thankfully, as Arceus’s champion, they listened, and tells Akari that they can send him home alive, just not in a human form. Arceus then turns Ingo’s dormant soul into a yamask, and sends him back to present-day Unova.

Meanwhile, Emmet has been barely holding on in his brother’s absence. The rifts that connect Hisui and the present era are parallel, so as Ingo has spent a year-and-a-half in Hisui, the same amount of time has passed in Unova. Emmet had become incredibly depressed during this period, although things have improved a bit, he’s still struggling to accept his dear brother may be gone forever. One day, he has a strange dream that night, where he’s following Ingo down a dark tunnel, and when Ingo turns to face him, he’s wearing a silver mask of his face, and Emmet wakes up (Emmet doesn’t realise that this is a message from Arceus about Ingo’s whereabouts and condition).

The next day Emmet heads out to work and operate the Battle Subway for the day (The subway system runs 24/7, but the Battle Subway specifically is only open during the day). Everything goes normal for the day until right before he decides to head home, he gets in a report from the Gear Station workers about a wild Pokémon in the underground tunnels, so Emmet goes to deal with the issue. After some exploration he finds what the worker had reported about: A harmless yamask, nothing too hard or serious, right? Well what Emmet has not realised yet is that yamask is, in fact, Ingo, who has spent the last 24 hours wandering the tunnels while also trying to process realising-your-own-death-and-becoming-a-Pokémon-as-well.

So obviously in that moment Ingo realises he’s literally now facing his long-lost brother, who has not realised who the latter is quite yet, and goes NUTS. So Emmet is now confused as this yamask starts frantically pointing at its mask and at him, and he doesn’t realise what’s happening until he takes a closer look at the mask and realises what’s exactly is going on: This yamask is actually his missing brother. Emmet and Ingo start breaking down into happy tears as the two are FINALLY reunited once more, Emmet then scoops up Ingo into his arms and runs home to process everything that’s happening.

After a bit the realisation kicks into Emmet that…well…Ingo is a GHOST NOW. Que Emmet bombarding Ingo with questions about what the fuck happened to him, while Ingo can only reply by writing everything out because he can’t talk now. While Emmet isn’t quite sure of what he was expecting, he probably wasn’t ready to see Ingo explain this entire freaking SAGA involving time-travel, amnesia, isekai, actual GODS and more.

Yeah thats gonna be really fun to tell their therapist. Their conversations from then on were basically like:

Ingo, writing down on a notepad: So then as we threw the Origin Ball at them, there was this giant explosion on light…aaannnddd then Spear Pillar was destroyed, trust me, it was INSANE. It worked though and we were mostly unharmed.

Emmet: What?! You saw the destruction of Spear Pillar, this just keeps getting even crazier, go on!

Elesa, who has been here for the last 20 minutes after getting a call from a Gear Station worker asking to check in on Emmet listening to all of this shit:

That’s it for now, I’ll continue this in another post, but this is mostly the initial setup for what’s happening.

#blankshippers dni #submas #yamask!ingo au #yamask #ingo #emmet #elesa #nimbasa trio #legends arceus spoilers #akari #arceus #tw death #pik’s writing #pik’s fanfiction #pokemon #pkmn #pokemon black and white