#He can probably last way way longer than the average human without that one unfortunately basic need!

[pocketramblr]

Idk if you've talked about this before, but how closely tied do you think the stockpiling nature of OfA is to the "passing down" nature of it? I was thinking about how Midoriya has access to the quirks of the previous holders, and I was wondering how much of that is due to the stockpiling quirk vs First's quirk. Like, if AFO had given and taken the stockpiling quirk multiple times to people with different quirks, would it have "collected" those quirks too, since it's a stockpiler? Or was it purely First's quirk that allowed the other holders' quirks to be passed on as well? Because if it's the latter, then what exactly is the original quirk stockpiling? Before realizing Midoriya could access the previous holders' quirks, All Might said OFA gets stronger each time it's passed on. Would that mean it only accumulates the holders' physical abilities unrelated to their quirks? But that can't be right because OFA has supposedly made all the quirks it contains stronger. So if it's the former, then since AfO held the stockpiling quirk at one point, did it also "collect" a copy of AFO and Midoriya will be able to access it eventually?

i did once answer an ask with a mathematical breakdown of OfA multiplying x amount of average human strength as an example to show the difference between periodic compound interest and continuous compound interest. um, because i teach economics and i always thought that making it entertaining was the best way to get it to stick. that one had showed that izuku should have a truly ridiculous amount of strength, though i dont remember the exact numbers rn. you can try to find it on this blog... good luck.

anyway, thats not really the question you're asking, so lets get into ofa and try to science a quirk that probably is just magic.

I have answered the question below the cut in three parts, plus a lightning round to try and make sure i answered all the parts of your question.

1- stockpiling quirk vs First's quirk: For this, i am going to say that i quite like the theory that First was actually quirkless, and the stockpile quirk just took a little bit of AfOQuirk with it and thats why it could be passed on afterwards. In this situation, i think what OfA does is that the Stockpile Quirk makes a copy of everything in it's holder- their memories, their dna, their energy and vitality. It does not boost any of those until it's passed on- the Stockpile was very small and could only copy AfO's genes that had the AfOQuirk, but at tenth generation would probably copy more than that if passed to someone with AfO and with a hoard of other quirks. On being passed, it then adds to the new holders strength, while working to copy their base traits. So, First got a little stronger with a boost from AfO, and his quirk though he didn't know it, while OfA ran him through a copy machine to make a vestige to paste into the next body. Second has the strength and dna of first and afo, plus some ghosts, and could use his own while it was being copied. And so on. But that's just the "First was actually quirkless theory", so lets work on the assumption that First did have a pass-along quirk

2- First's original quirk. Which doesn't even get a name, thanks guys. We know it should have something to do with passing on quirks, and on relying on consent of the giver and dna transfer, which makes it different than AfOQuirk. AfO can steal and give, but doesn't require dna. There are even some panels in the manga that imply AfO doesn't even need physical touch to take a quirk, as it appears he steals many quirks at once by jumping over a crowd of people. unfortunately, Bones decided to just cut that scene out of season five for some reason, so it's still a mystery and maybe he's using some other method. thanks, bones. hope those last two movies you had to shove painfully into quasi-canon were worth it. Anyway, different activation methods. Now, given that ofa requires on consent of the given, it does make me wonder: if someone knew about ofa, and wanted to give an ofa holder their quirk, and provided dna for it, would it stick? Can ofa both take and give, but only based on willingness? Seems like a possibility that would have never been tested. BUT i am getting super off topic bc i am writing this answer late at night, sorry. Right, so how much of this is First's quirk? Given that it's described as the ability to "Pass on his quirk(s)", i think all of the quirk-stockpiling, including the vestiges, are from First's quirk. On his own, his quirk would collect dna, which includes quirks, and quirks are just straight up haunted. On his own, without the stockpile, he could have passed on his quirk to second, and started the line like normally, but the holders would not have gotten any boost of strength, just possibly the ability to use previous quirks. Maybe only access them if they were originally quirkless? maybe not, without the 'stress' of the stockpiled they'd all be fine with multiple quirks? Who knows. Point is, thats what i think the options are. Either 1, the quirk-vestige stuff comes from afo, first was actually quirkless, and the strength is stockpile, or 2- the quirk-vestige stuff comes from first, and the strength is stockpile.

3- So what is the stockpile doing? Ok so the stockpile is like soup. bear with me. the longer you keep your ingredients in to flavor a broth or stock, the stronger the flavor will be, right? A chicken bone and some carrots in some stock for ten minutes wont' be as flavorful as a chicken bone and some carrots that have been cooking in a stock for an hour. Basically, the stock liquid is the stockpile, and the ingredients are the user's quirks. because of this, i think that it makes sense that Second's Quirk, whatever it is, has received a larger boost from OfA than, say, Black Whip has. It's been in the soup longer. That doesn't mean it's necessarily going to be stronger than black whip when izuku accesses it, because BW probably got to start off stronger, but it will have gotten more of a boost. You can also think of it as a loan- OfA took a quirk loan out from Second way before it took a quirk loan out from Banjo, so Second will have accrued more interest than Banjo, but the total sums also depend on how much was there to start with. Man i hope these metaphors make sense. BUT, but, but, but. The stockpile only has access to these quirks to boost them because of First's original quirk (or the copy of afoquirk it took) On its own, it would have just stockpiled up strength and energy- i think of it more like interest on a checking account with a bank (you get a boost just by having money in there, and it slowly grows over time.) than like a feruchy metalmind (where you would store 'strength' to use later, at the cost of being physically weaker now). While the metalmind concept does technically fit the definition of 'stockpile' to me, i don't think thats how it worked bc it doesn't sound like what AfO meant when he talked about giving it to First. and i mean, AfO has been wrong about quirks before, but still. Interest from a bank is probably how it works. On its own, the only thing the stockpile has in its bank account is physical strength. the AfOquirk copy or First's original quirk let it open up its bank account to more, including the quirks.

lightning round-

Before realizing Midoriya could access the previous holders' quirks, All Might said OFA gets stronger each time it's passed on.

Yes but AM doesn't know a lot of things about OfA. I do think it gets stronger as its passed on, either though Option One of the past user's being pasted onto the next one when it's passed, or through Option Two of it getting stronger as its used, and more passes means more holders means more use.

Would that mean it only accumulates the holders' physical abilities unrelated to their quirks? But that can't be right because OFA has supposedly made all the quirks it contains stronger.

While OFA does make the quirks stronger, i'm not sure if it did much in a user's lifespan or only after it was passed on- Banjo talks about Black Whip being much stronger for Izuku than it was in his time, but i don't remember him mentioning anything about it being enhanced significantly during his time holding ofa.

So if it's the former, then since AfO held the stockpiling quirk at one point, did it also "collect" a copy of AFO and Midoriya will be able to access it eventually?

IMO, possible- but only in Option One where First was originally quirkless. there, he'd have both a vestige and an afoquirk to deal with. In Option Two, he would have neither- except whenever tomura stops by his headspace with an afoquirk and vestige sticking out of his shoulder.

#personally i think the more likely option is the: #first was quirkless and ofa only gives a boost as its passed down between holders not during a hold tho it does amass strength #as it is making a copy of the quirk and vestige and memories and power and everything else #its just that that extra oomph is saved for the next holder #but the other option of continous growth and no afoquirk in the ofaspace and quirked first is also super possible yeah #woo it is super late and i have other asks to answer but might wait till the morning #anyway thanks for the ask i love nerding out about these stupid superpowers #they're absolute bs BUT ofa is a fun one at least not like hawkss which is. infuriating lowkey #tho i think i did go on a bit of an angry tanget here too #bones my beloathed how could you betray me so constantly after s3 #soulmate scene? cut. ofa memory scene? huge chunks ripped out #horrible. horrible #didn't even have the guts to do an anime-only girls episode with the rykyuu team fighting like they did for tsu's workweek and momo's exam #ummmm back to quirks now sorry #yeah good luck finding the econ lesson with ofa as an example it had so many numbers #i spent so long on that one kjhjkkj #anon #pocket talks to people #quirk science #quirk meta #which tag do i use for these #probably both im a disorganinced mess

[imaginationofacrazyfangirl]

Imagine You are All Might’s Personal Assistant

All Might truly is the fastest man on Earth.

“What do you mean he just left? Where could he have gone?” you shout.

  The police officer shrugs giving you a pitying look. It makes you want to smack it off his young baby looking face. Unfortunately, that would be assault and you are pretty sure you’d get arrested…All Might’s personal assistant or not. Besides you don’t want to deal with the added stress of bad publicity, even if you get some joy out of it.

  “Well, we just got a call about a robbery not too far from here. Maybe he went –“baby officer barely got the words out, before you sped off shouting a loud, “Thank you!”

  Ask any personal assistant of a major superhero, what the most important ability needed for their job was, and they all answer: being able to always find your superhero. It may seem like a simple ability seeing how superheroes almost always made themselves known to the public (minus a few underground heroes like Eraserhead, who hated the spotlight), but, it isn’t so simple. Sure, you know how to easily find All Might, for that you just check online. After all, the All Might Watch Forum tends to keep a better update on the hero than the police did. No, the real trouble comes in figuring out how to get to where your hero is.

               For almost all personal assistants this is the first pain of their job.  Superhero’s often have their own means of transportation and vice versa for their sidekicks; personal assistants though generally consisted of people with average quirk abilities.  Meaning while their bosses took to the skies, teleported, or ran at breakneck pace, they themselves took taxis-or in your case ran. Luckily for you, All Might’s next heroic save happened to be only a few blocks away. An annoyance still but manageable.  You only pray now that he stays there. The hero has a horrible habit of leaving without a word.

    Thankfully luck is on your side for the first time today. All Might is still there when you arrive. His loud boisterous laughter reminding those around him that everything is alright. Besides him, a bloody villain slumps over, tied in what looks like clothed nappies?  Apparently, the robbery took places at a daycare of all places, or at least it did, if any of the cooing babies and swooning mothers had anything to say

   Pushing your way through the crowds of excited reporters and citizens, you hear All Might’s too familiar boom of , “Fear not. Because I am here!”

  You can’t help the bitter irritation rising in you. Fear not? Oh, someone is going to have something to fear. Boss or not, he’s totally going to hear it from you. However, the lecture gets put on pause as you finally make it to the front. All Might’s still there standing proudly in front of a disturbingly bland daycare front. Its simplistic lettering of ‘KIDZ LEARN ABC’S” contrasts against his glowing persona. Around him, toddlers and mothers alike drool trying for his attention, to which he spares a grin and handshake to each one.

   The sight screams All Might. It is so pure, so kind, so friendly-you must take a picture for social medial! Sliding the portable camera out of your bag, you quickly snap a couple of pics. Job number three of being a hero’s personal assistant: run their social media accounts. Most heroes with personal assistants fall into one of two categories: they are either high in ranking or up and coming. Either way, they all need someone to manage their publicity stuff.

  Despite the flash of the camera, All Might takes no notice of you. Probably due to all the ongoing flashes of media cameras around him. The attention comes with every save so he’s more than used to someone somewhere taking his picture. No, it’s not until some brown-haired reporter asks, “All Might, a word please?”

That you intervene letting your presence be known. “All Might is unfortunately needed elsewhere. So, any questions or requests for an interview about today’s current rescues can be forward to his agency.”

  The blond-haired hero stiffens besides the reporter. Sweat begins to form on his face at the sight of you. As horrible as it sounds you take great pleasure in the panic on his face. Not many people scare the great Symbol of Peace. In fact, you can only really say two other people not including yourself, have the power to make the hero squirm.

“(Y/N)- I didn’t see you there.” The hero stutters uncharacteristically.

     You shoot him your best glare, causing him to shrink back. No one will ever understand just why someone so comparably tiny and non-life threatening could have so much control over the hero. Villains came and went without him so much as breaking a sweat. Yet you with neither the power nor quirk to stop him, scare All Might.

“I saved a pre-school!” he babbled, picking up a random toddler. “See? Aren’t they the most precious thing you ever seen? Wouldn’t it be horrible if something happened to them?”

   He is milking it, and he knows it. Not only does he sound like a bumbling idiot on camera, but the toddler he chose, smells something awful. Still All Might refuses to give up. Children are your weakness. Their gummy gooey smiles make you coo every time. In fact, if you weren’t his assistant, the hero is sure you’d be a teacher.

   “All Might, we agreed on letting other heroes do the rescuing sometimes? Remember? Keeping the market open for others?” you press voice low.

  ‘ Keeping the market open for others,’ a code for ‘you’re going to run out of time.’ A hard to swallow truth, but the truth nonetheless. Not many people knew about his injury, his time limit, but you knew everything-almost everything. For your safety, he kept the truth behind his quirk a secret. His return to Japan/ his decision to take on teaching all hidden under the guise of searching for a successor.  

“Yes, well-look at these chubby cheeks!” he replied, pushing the kid towards you. Again shameless, but did he really care? No. Last time All Might angered you, he sported a pink suit for two months. And while the hero didn’t discriminate against any color, the hearts and frills were too much. “Could I really risk the chance of another hero arriving on time?”

  “All Might-“ you started only for the kid to cry, “All Might!” as well.

   You glanced over at the toddler, eyes softening. Said hero couldn’t help but feel like the cat who ate the canary. Silently he cheered for the kid to continue. If they did a really good job, All Might would send them some signed memorabilia.

  Shaking your head, you fought the doubt creeping within you. As preferable as it would be to just let the man off, you knew you couldn’t do it. Rescuing kids may take priority to most things, however not when there are other heroes perfectly capable of doing the job for him. “Don’t try and get out of this one. I’ve chased you to not two or three, but five different incidents.” You pressed. “Without flight, teleportation, or transportation! Do you know how hard it is for someone without a quirk or car to follow you?!”

All Might slumped slightly under the pressure of your lecture. Each escaping your mouth seemed to hit him worse than any supervillain could. “Not to mention you’re overdoing it again.” You lectured, ignoring the exasperated looks on his and everyone else’s face.

  You knew how people viewed. Most PA’s tended to be shy docile beings pushed around by their heroes or ignored. In fact, the average years for a PA to work under a hero ranged from two to three years, before they either quit or got fired. Those who lasted longer tended to be outliers such as yourself; people not easily cowed by the awe of their employers. As for All Might’s view of you…he knew how much you truly cared about him. It was why he kept you around despite your lecturing and harsh tactics.

  Having someone worry for him felt nice, especially given how he cared more about others than himself. A natural feeling obviously for heroes, but All Might ignored his health beyond that of usual heroes in your opinion. “You worry too much, (Y/N). I’m built to last.” He grinned, thumping his chest. “See?”

     His words did nothing to quell your fear. From day one-even before the tragic accident you worried over him; almost as if he wasn’t the world’s greatest hero just another human being. It was strange considering how used to being worshipped by even his own friends, All Might was.  Everyone saw only the smile and hero versus the man behind it. Yet you never did. To you, All Might was just a man with an extraordinary job and that…that felt nice.

    “Come on (Y/N), let’s go home. I promise to leave the rest of the saving to the other heroes for today.” All Might grinned, patting your head.

  You blinked cut off mid-rant. A warmth spread through your cheeks at the gesture, but you pushed it back. Falling in love with your hero was a big no-no in the world of PA’s. However could anyone really blame you when it came to such a selfless man like All Might?

#all might x reader #all might imagine #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #bhna x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero acadamia oc #bnha imagine #mha imagine

[fourfucksake]

online meeting

pairing: chris evans x black!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, stripping, masturbation

word count: 4.2k

p.s this workpiece is set in an alternative reality. this is a professor!chris one shot + i imagined y/n as a black girl, but i hope every single one of you lovely people will read!

Heaps of new policies bombarded universities since the spread of the virus. The amount of preparation and paperwork that had to be completed due to the newest conditions in the teaching system made everyone stressed to the maximum level. Perhaps, that’s why teachers communicated more during those challenging times; only those who work in the same environment can relate to your work frustrations. Individuals whom before appeared almost invisible where now your online buddies. It was quite incredible though.

Chris enjoyed the feeling of this community being available for him whenever he feels like expressing his irritations and or simply desires to moan about his dislikes. Before, he has never considered himself to be a whiner, but since everyone has been constantly moaning and pouting, he thought this is the right time to join the club.

Taking into consideration the current state of the world he was assured that everyone is a complainer right about now. He was okay with that though. No doubt, he didn’t know much about psychology, however, it seemed only logical to allow people to talk about how they feel. Also, it appeared plausible people felt scared, confused, or worried. Hey, these were very surreal times. There was no reason to make others feel bad about having emotions.

Of course, there was some resentment towards certain members of University since all the teaching went online. Sometimes, Chris felt like most of his colleagues gave rats ass about regulations and procedures that were now put in place. Instead of trying to provide the best learning experience possible, they restricted themselves to slamming all the work materials online for students to figure everything out on their own.

Personally, he found online teaching unbearable and exhausting. He hated it; there were no words to describe how much he despised it. At first it was alright; it was tolerable and doable. In a way, it was nice. Being at home, able to wake up later than early morning hours. Being with his dog and going on long walks wherever he wished. Being able to take his time with cooking, exercising, reading. All of those mentioned were exceedingly pleasant.

However, Chris chose to be a teacher. He loved spreading his knowledge around. Since an early age he would teach his younger brother; he was much help when it came to revising, essay or exam tips. This was his passion, he loved it. This pandemic undeniably took this away from him. However, there was still room to provide students with knowledge this way, and he tried extremely hard to do so in most effective ways.

For example, he did not have to orchestrate his own online meetings to be this long. Half an hour, that was a long time slot. This was planned completely on purpose. Ultimately, his desire was to provide students with the time to talk to him, express their concerns, and ask questions. Maybe he took this job way too seriously, he thought, and it wasn't needed. However, there’s always this teacher everyone likes, and Chris wanted to be precisely that guy. It wasn't some stupid ego thing, not at all. He genuinely wanted people to feel like he is there for them and wants them to succeed. Every single individual had an ability to be successful, some just needed an extra push too keep them on track. Although his own schooling experiences where genuinely pleasant, he knew he would benefit more from University experience if he had a teacher like him. Not to lick his own ass, he thought, of course.

After years of working in the schooling system no errors have ever occurred. Until last year, when the last class prior to pandemic began their college journey. Back then and there a problem has arisen – you. It was no one else than little Miss Perfect, the girl who made him look twice when she entered the room. Oh, how tiring and fatiguing crushing on you really was. Chris was always collected and focused while working, but with you in his classes he found himself distracted. Often losing his train of thought, his mind shifted to dark places when your class sat in front of him. Chris was a perfectionist, so this was, in fact, greatly infuriating for him.

He did not feel this way since high school. Back in the day he was not the coolest kid you could walk past in the corridor. Thankfully, he has never had his head shoved in the toilet, but not being bullied did not necessarily mean there’s a successful high school experience behind an average American. In his own opinion, he was just a normal kid that had nothing to show for back then.

Precisely that, being average, was now the reason behind this familiar feeling. A pretty girl, a popular girl causing vivid emotions to flush down himself. Looking at her while she does the most ordinary things was the reason behind the uncomfortable state in his pants. His hormones went ill around her, reminding him of how tough being a teenage boy with no control over his erections was. It felt so familiar, craving her this badly, almost as if he’s done it before. Maybe, in a way, he compared you to someone he crushed on for the whole duration of high school. A beautiful skin complexion, addictive smile and those big, shiny eyes staring at his soul; those qualities of yours highly reminded him of her.

Chris remembered that girl very well. He recalled being fascinated by her presence, by her strong personality, and hypnotic prettiness. Her name did not pop up in his mind for years. Until he met you. Chris had Pearl, Pearl Bennett, tattooed on his brain back then. Needless to say, it was embarrassing how annoyingly beautiful she was. Just like you. Now, he didn’t even know if she was alive, he hasn’t seen her for years. It never really bugged him then, it didn’t bug him now. It was just a pleasant memory that he was able to recollect because of you.

He wasn’t sure about your feelings towards him. Mr. Novak, his colleague, often commented on the way some students would look at him. Chris regularly heard Novak claiming that Evans could get any of “that young pussy” if he only snapped his fingers. Whether it was true or not, he had no idea. Maybe, he was just humble. Or stupid, possibly very stupid.  

The house was practically unoccupied now; his wife was dropping groceries off at her mum’s house and Dodger was nowhere to be found, most likely sleeping someplace in the house. Chris did not mind. In fact, he was relieved to have no other human being here. Since pandemic began his marriage decreased in its quality drastically. For quite some time existing relationship brought more annoyance than joy. He was not sure if it went both ways but noticing how regularly his wife exited their house in recent times it was healthy to assume the feeling was mutual.

How did he feel about his failed marriage? Weirdly, he was awfully okay with it. There was not a single part of him that cared enough to fight for this marriage any longer. Right now, all his thoughts were concentrated around another female. How she managed to look delicious without trying. How she smiled or laughed. How her faced twisted with grumpy expressions once she didn’t understand a certain concept of a lecture. Chris could go on, and on, and on.

It was not possible he could describe you in any other word than perfect. It was quite pathetic, he thought, it shouldn't be like that. Yes, you are a pretty girl and yes, no man can probably say no to you. There was just something about you, something so extraordinary that it took his breath away. What was this fascination? He wasn't sure. However, what he was positive about was that he enjoys looking at you. He enjoys listening to you. He enjoys thinking about you. He enjoys all those things way too much; he was aware of that. He was not ready to stop thinking about you just yet.

Now, sitting in front of his Mac, his eyes were focused on the screen. He wasn’t too up to date when it came to the modern technology, but he also wasn’t clueless to how to work a computer. Setting everything up, he glanced over at the previously printed list of names with time slots besides them. The list was not in alphabetical order, students had their half an hour available for the next eight hours of his life.

It would be a lie to say he was not thinking about you. He was looking forward to seeing your face, even if it’s only on the computer display. Your surname and student ID were somewhere halfway through the list. Naturally, he searched for your name straight away after the programme generated the list.

The ticking of the clock hanged on the nearby wall sounded out so clearly. Almost like a racing heart whenever one feels more strain than usual. He could feel the nervousness growing within him as the time passed. He almost felt bad for the kid who had his scheduled meeting right before you. Chris kept on stuttering, disconnecting, and asking for questions to be repeated. Unfortunately, there was no strength in him to think about the failed one-to-one since his brain was too concentrated on you. His favourite, little student.

His thought process was disrupted as a green dot appeared next to your surname, suggesting your online availability. Licking his lips and fixing his hair, his fingers position themselves on the mouse. One click and the signal began. Beep one, beep two, beep three.

“Hi, Mr. Evans!” Her bubbly voice caused Chris to smile. She waved and in response so did he. She seemed happy, her face expression indicated nothing but joy, he enjoyed it greatly. “Hi! How are you? How’s everything?” He asked with an honest curiosity, still smiling at his student. It’s been months since the last time they spoke without anyone else around. Of course, this was the first instance of them conversating in those settings, but he did not mind. Any type of physical interaction seemed impossible now and anytime soon. This was the best he could receive for a significant period for now.

Their faces didn’t shut for the first couple of minutes. Talking about the past months, Chris was quickly reminded of how smart and funny this girl infatuating really is. They seemed to be getting on well right from the first meeting. Weirdly, she had similar likes and dislikes as well as sense of humour. It was like talking to a long-term friend whom you haven’t seen in the longest time. He noticed her hair change, spotting the long knotless braids; in his opinion she looked completely stunning in this hairstyle. He was quick to comment on it and as a reply he was given a complement on his newest buzzcut.

Sadly, but still, he ended the chit chat to focus on discussing work material. Chris tried to stay on topic and somehow it was going well. For the next couple of minutes, he chatted about work. His hand travelled to the left side of his desk to glance at a list of things he wanted to mention, however, he got cut off by the voice emanating from the screen.

“Are those meetings being recorded, Mr. Evans?” She raised her eyebrows with interest spread across her face. Her back bent forward, causing her face to enlarge on his screen. “I mean like,” She continued and coughed. “Is anyone going to watch this later? Does anyone have access to this after we finish talking?” Her question expanded or rather multiplied, sounding out in Chris’ air pads. There was no denying he was conflicted about why she was asking this question. This was not his first online meeting and not a single individual showed any concern in this matter.

“Well, no, not really. If any of us wanted to report our meeting for any reason then I guess, um, I guess it is possible to reopen the video chat,” Slow nod was all he could do at this very moment. No doubt, he still was not able to understand the nature of her question. “If any of us found the other person’s behaviour concerning, rude or inappropriate then the IT services could recover this video chat.” He added in a robotic tone almost as if he were reading from the script.

“Would you want this meeting to get inappropriate, Sir?”

He chocked a little as his eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself across the face in response to his pathetic reaction. Shouldn’t the age gap mean something? Why was he behaving like he’s on her leash? Why was he this…nervous? Excited?

Assuredly, she should be the one who is intimidated, meanwhile it’s her making the first move. He wasn’t sure whether this simply comes from his politeness and gentles; obviously, momma Evans raised him to be a respectful man. It’s apparent, the fear of scaring you was blocking all his possible moves. Risk of being reported for improper behaviour in the workplace was also a worry of his, but it came nowhere near the terrifying theory of frightening you.

But here you were. Being indecent with him. And oh, how he loved it. How he enjoyed this single sentence leaving your pretty lips. Your remarks were more enjoyable and exciting than everything he has completed with the woman he married in the past year, if not longer.

Was he being delirious? Did your comment indicated what he thought it did? Possibility of his mind playing games on him was high. It’s so easy to assume things happened when you wish for them to happen.

“Do you want to make it inappropriate? Do you want me to be inappropriate with you, Sir?” A deep breath left his mouth and a shiver travelling down his spine followed. He was now sure; he did not misunderstand. This was not his imagination playing him, tricking him into believing there’s something here that does not exist. All of this was very real.

“Whatever you wanna be on this call — I’m happy with,” He managed to speak out loud, fixing himself on the chair. This was a bad idea, he thought once again, a horrible idea that could quite literally ruin his career. Was he going to stop? Prevent this from happening? No fucking way.

“Huh, you sure about that, Mr. Evans? I can get really filthy when I want. I am a naughty girl,” Your words hit him like a truck, and he couldn’t help the blood rush in his trousers. He licked his lips slowly and pressed his back onto the chair. He could say something, but he chose not to. Whatever you planned on doing suited him and there was not an ounce of interest in preventing you from doing so.

No further words were spoken. There was a moment of short silence that felt like forever. A moment for someone to back up, break this madness off. No one expressed a need nor a want to stop. She played with her nipples through her shirt before they journeyed up. The straps of her pale pink top slowly moved down her arm, his eyes patiently followed. To him, you were mesmerising. At this moment you had his whole attention.

Looking straight at him, her hands removed the top and carelessly dropped it on the floor. His eyes glued onto her as the soft material left her body completely. He tensed as his length twitched, reacting to her breasts and hard nipples. Her skin was complemented by the colour of a previously worn top but seeing her without it sent shivers down his spine.

Chris could feel the discomfort in his pants becoming unbearable, needing to expose himself immediately. With shame, but still, he slowly undid his zipper. For a while now the feeling downstairs was insufferable, pleading and begging to be uncovered by his hand. Chris gulped back the lump in his throat as he completely freed his member. The view on the screen made his dick ache, his length twitched, jumping again his tense stomach.

“Liking this?” She teased, firmly grabbing her breasts. His eyes darken when he took in all her naked presence. The way she touched herself, he wanted that too. He wanted to feel her nipples between his fingers. He ached to be close to her.

“I wanna see all of you,” His words escaped his mouth, hand firmly grabbing his cock. Without shame nor hesitation his member was stroked, slowly and decisively, as his back leaned on the chair comfortably.

She was quick to listen. So submissive, he though, hand still firmly hugging his man part. He observed as she stood up, taking a few steps back. Still looking at Chris, her body turned around in a circle. Her moves were slow, very captivating, making Chris feel like every single movement was in slow motion. He already adored her body.

Her hands roamed around her own body before she slipped her hand inside her shorts and panties. Subtle movements of her hands indicated she’s pleasuring herself right in front of him. By her expressions, he was able to conclude that she’s enjoying herself. She didn’t play with herself for too long. Pulling the defiant material down as her eyes travelled to his, she exposed herself completely. He felt his mouth dry at a sigh of her bare body. She gave him a sultry look, realising the power she now held over him.

“Is this how you like me, Mr. Evans?” She broke of the silence, still exposing her hot flesh. It took Chris a couple of second to even register the question, his imagination run too wild to focus now. “Do I like you naked? It’s certainly a more thought-provoking image than how I usually view you,” He teased, slightly raising the corner of his lips in a smug smile.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I love imagining it’s your cock fucking me instead of my dildo,” She said completely unprovoked, making Chris widen his eyes. They did something naughty, something filthy, yet this comment really threw him off. “I’m gonna show you how I play with myself when I think of you,” She added and waisted no time before sitting on the bed. Chris had to admit, he spotted the bed straight away when the call started. Picturing himself laying there, you next to him, he took some time imagining the wicked scene you two could create on that mattress.

“I will show you how much, how much I love picturing us together,” Her seductive voice reached Chris’ ears, his interest growing with every single second. There was this unexplainable fear within him at this very moment, fearing she is going to stop. He was helpless now, he needed her to entertain him long enough for him to reach satisfaction.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid, her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I want you to watch,” His student said firmly, staring right at him. The sound of a dildo followed. Chris’ breath was caught in his throat straight from the anticipation of the next step she’s going to undertake. With hunger, Chris watched as she teased herself, rubbing her clit. The toy fondly slid inside of her, resulting in her lewd sounds and Chris’ silent moan.

Her nipples were hard, her unoccupied hand coming up to fondle them both whilst her bottom lip was taken hostage by her teeth. She was really enjoying herself; Chris could tell. The bed made a squeaky noise every time she moved. The call was so clear, thank God, he was able to enjoy every motion of hers. The moans, whimpers and groans escaping her pretty lips as she fucked herself with a toy. The quality of the video chat was good, but not great. He wanted to see her in full HD, he wanted to see the details. For now, though, viewing this was enough. This was damn good, so good. Those desperate hand movements, stuffing the length as deep as she could, it drove him insane. Oh, how he wanted to stretch her out like no one did before.

“Just like that, baby,” He groaned, squeezing his hard cock. He was conversating with you through moans, examining you as the vibrations caused tingles in your lower department. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew her pussy was throbbing and pulsing, desperate for more length to enter. His body parts were no different; his balls felt heavy and his dick was hard as a rock, begging for a dream release.

The heat began to grow within his body with each and every movements of hers. She kept him going, moaning his name, calling him daddy, reminding him who she’s pulling this show for. If only she had any idea what it did to him. A shaky hand wrapped around his length made rapid movements, fighting for his orgasm to arrive. Watching her, listening to her, it was magical. This craze he had within him, this fixation she caused – it was obsessive. A loud scream, her thighs closing on the pink toy and her eyes shut while she orgasmed was enough, it was everything.

The feeling of euphoria intensely swept through him as a creamy load exploded in his hand. She could not see it, but he knew she felt it. All that left his mouth was a silent “fuck” as he collected his breathe. Chris was in pieces, still processing previous events. It was now clear to him how he pleaded for that orgasm to happen, how he needed it. He was embarrassed to admit how strong, how intense, the load bursting onto his hand really was. Lucky for him, no one knew anything about it but him and himself.  

„You liked this little show of mine, daddy?” Her voice awakened his senses, causing his mouth to water once again. She caught him looking at his crotch, now surely convinced what happened. She removed the toy from her body, a silent whimper followed. She threw it away on the bed like it was nothing, like it did not help them both cum just minutes ago.

“So much baby, so much. Can you show me s’more? One more time,” He breathed, looking at her with lust. She obeyed, without hesitation; her body rose from the bed and did a slow, full 360 to demonstrate her delectable features. Maybe, he was delusional, but he was sure her juices travelled down her leg. If he were right next to her, his tongue would have taken care of that.

“See you in a seminar, right, Mr. Evans?” Her sweet voice rang in his ears followed by his quick nodding. He had a chance to see her collecting the missing wardrobe that she then put on right before him. Chris could not help but notice her shaky legs. She sat down in the exact same position as before. She reached for a cup, drinking, and sipping the liquid through a straw. Now, she was back to her regular self, looking innocent once again. It slightly woke him up, brought half of him to reality.

“Yes, Miss. I will see you there. Be good, huh?” Chris said casually or at least he tried to do so. He was caught by surprise, convinced that he’s going to slur over his words more. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, forming as much of an eye contact as possible through the processor. Her current thoughts seemed impenetrable to him, although he always thought he’s amazing at reading facial cues.

“Me and you both know - I won’t.”

The last words of his current interest sounded from his Mac. Sending him a flirty wink before pressing the right button, she terminated the call. The intense orgasm left his hand still somewhat shaking. Eyes focused on the screen, he looked like he was awaiting another glimpse of her to come back.

Chris’ ecstatic state wasn’t quick to falter. It took another couple of minutes for him to do anything. Literally, anything. He was already late for the next meeting, which he felt absolutely no remorse for. His eyes lowered to look at the mess he produced; his mind displeased as he had realised, he needs to move to clean it.

Once again, it was just him and his usual surroundings. The call was over, just like that, almost as if it never happened. Despite his deepest longing, he could not go back to what just happened, he could not relive it. Your moans and whimpers performed in his head like a favourite song one would put on replay without a hesitation. He was craving more, his fingers curled into fists as he felt his cock hardening again. He was not sure what his next moves in this matter will be, but he was more than sure he needed to be inside this beautiful body.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans blurb #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #chris evans #professor!chris #imagine

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Jessica!

Title: Twinsane

A/N: Jessie, You already know Burns and I are big fans of your characters and stories, in particular your Leo and Drake. The three of us made our big writing debuts at the same time in the Summer of 2019 and became fast friends that have continued through every high and low we’ve each experienced in our lives. You’ve always been a great and supportive friend with a big heart and a bit of a funny bone. We both hope you have an amazing birthday and we wish you all the best in the coming year.

This story takes place in a universe created by @jessiembruno​.

Palace -- Throne Room

Liam paced the ancient throne room, site of their infant daughter’s upcoming anointing and baptism. Everything seemed to be in place; Regina had made sure of it despite the cast on her arm from her latest sex injury. 

Still, he worried. 

Not because of terrorist threats, not because of Lilyana possibly blowing out her diaper and ruining a $2,000 christening gown. No, he had two concerns: 

His brother and his brother-in-law. 

His wife tried to console him about it, but every time she did, the new father threw his hands up in the air and said, “I don’t want to talk about that stupid pendejo. I just can’t with him --” and the fights they had afterward weren’t worth it.

Leo had passed two kidney stones on the day Lilyana was born. Liam felt bad for him; he really did. Everything he’d heard about passing kidney stones was that it was a truly painful ordeal. 

But Leo, as always, had taken things too far. 

First of all, he’d named them: Rocky and Peter. He referred to them as “the twins,” and everywhere he went, that goddamn jar went with him. It was embarrassing to be somewhere with him in public and then to hear the telltale rattling as he adjusted change in his pocket. 

That was nothing, though, compared to when he’d bought “the twins” a Silver Cross Balmoral pram at the eye-popping price tag of seven grand. It was both nicer and more expensive than Jessica and Liam’s $2,700 Bugaboo by Diesel stroller; Liam had thrown a fit. And not just because Leo had charged them both to Liam’s credit card. 

“We are carting around a royal baby! You spent seven thousand dollars on a grocery cart for your goddamn kidney stones?” 

Leo, puffing out his chest, had merely clutched the jar of medical waste to his heart. “My children are royal adjacent, thank you very much.”  

At least Drake understood that the elder Rys brother was off his rocker, but since Drake flew all the way off the handle every time the subject was mentioned, Liam tried to avoid the inevitable blowups. Just last week, there had been an … incident at a formal dinner.

“Drake, will you watch the boys while I take a piss?” Leo had extended the jar toward the surly dark-haired man. 

“Get those fucken things away from me, Leo! Those were in your fucken dick! What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Liam had tried to calm Drake down -- Princess Lesedi looked absolutely horrified at the outburst -- but as usual, Leo just made things worse. 

Huffing loudly, he proclaimed, “Lilyana was in Jessica’s bacon hole, and I don’t hear you complaining about that, Drake. You hold her all the time, but you never take the twins when I ask! I am through with this open favoritism!”

Only Alyssa, quietly intervening and taking the jar, had prevented a full-on brawl from breaking out. But since she started to cry when Drake refused to hold her hand afterward even following a thorough handwashing, the crisis hadn’t really been averted in the end. 

Thinking of Drake only led Liam to ruminate on Mateo, his brother-in-law. Nearly a year before, when the four friends had attended a Yankees game with Jessica’s brothers, Mateo had made a sloppy pass at Alyssa without knowing she was in a relationship. 

Well, to be more precise, he’d actually talked about Alyssa in front of her face, not realizing she spoke Spanish, and told his brother “Alyssa can sit on my face.” 

The only thing that had saved the weekend from devolving into complete anarchy was that Drake didn’t know enough Spanish to translate. But someone -- probably shit-starting Leo -- had explained Mateo’s words to Drake, and now Alyssa’s new husband was out for blood. 

If any of them ruin my little princess’ day, Liam swore to himself, I will murder them. I’m king. I can pardon myself. 

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

Palace -- Ballroom

Lilyana was properly anointed and baptized. At the head table, overlooking the large gathering as he cradled his daughter in his arms, Liam looked over the party with a sigh of relief and scooped up another forkful of chicken tagine. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and now they just needed to feed all these people, hand the princess off to Regina or one of her doting aunts or uncles, and he could spirit his wife away to take his “royal scepter” anywhere she wanted it. 

His eyes tracked to Leo, who was in rapt conversation with Penelope across the room. When Leo pulled the jar out of his pocket, Liam threw back his entire scotch in disgust. 

Jessica, resplendent in a new Ana de Luca original, came back to the table. “God, these fucken people are intolerable, Liam. How much longer --” Her words were cut off when Liam wrapped his hand around her wrist. 

“My love, give our daughter to her grandmother. Te necesito. Ahora,” he added, eyes locked on hers. (I need you. Now.)

She took the baby from his arms and brought Lilyana to Alyssa. “The princess needs some time with her Auntie Lyss.” 

Alyssa smirked as she kissed the infant’s sweet-smelling head. “And the queen needs to get her back blown out?” 

Jessica tossed her hair. “Fuck yeah.” 

Alyssa high-fived her before she walked away. 

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

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

“You’re so gorgeous, love,” Liam grunted, gripping a fistful of Jessica’s hair and tugging her head back, exposing her throat to his lips and teeth. 

She shuddered at the feeling, reaching for his thick length. “We don’t have a lot of time …” 

“We have as much time as it takes.” He unzipped the dress and slid it down her body, admiring the curves that had only become lusher with motherhood. Lowering her to the bed, Liam’s lips moved over Jessica’s breasts and stomach. He toyed with the waistband of her underwear. 

“Liam, please --”

The panties dropped to the ground, and her plea melted into a throaty groan at the first swipe of his tongue. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” 

“Yes, love,” he said against her, working her with his hands and mouth. “Dámelo.” (Give it to me.)

She was still shaking with her release when Liam crawled over her, his rigid cock probing between her thighs. “Now, muñeca.” 

Something crashed against the door. 

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

Palace -- Ballroom 

To his delight, Leo had reunited with Miss Willoughby, his fourth-grade teacher. Though she was no longer as perky as he remembered and had grown an unfortunate goiter, she listened attentively to Leo’s stories about his children. 

She had had a lot of champagne. 

“Do you have a picture?” she asked at last, after Leo had regaled her with the tale of taking Peter and Rocky grocery shopping for the first time. 

“Even better than that.” Leo proudly reached into his jacket pocket. “Boys, I’d like you to meet Miss Willoughby.” 

The teacher shrank back with concern. “Leo … what -- what is that?” 

“They are Rocky and Peter.” He pointed to each stone as he introduced them. “Their birth was excruciating, but it was worth every moment of pain.” 

Miss Willoughby rubbed her misshapen throat lump. “Are those --” 

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Technically they are kidney stones. But the word ‘kid’ is right in there! Love makes a family, Miss Willoughby. Not your status as ‘human.’” He punctuated the last word with finger quotes of disgust.

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

On the other side of the room, Drake’s gaze narrowed on a familiar face. “Devereaux!” he hissed. 

Alyssa looked up from where she had been singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to Lilyana. “What?” 

“Is that Jess’ fucken brother?” 

She bit her lip. It was Mateo, but no way was she letting Drake get involved in a brawl at the princess’ anointing, for Christ’s sake. “I don’t remember.” 

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t remember’?” 

Waving a breezy hand, Alyssa hastily tried to defuse the situation. “Oh, I was drinking a lot that day.” 

“A lot for you. Not for your average 15-year-old,” he snickered, agreeing. 

To Alyssa’s relief, the man had slipped out of sight. “Well, be that as it may, you should let that Mateo thing go. Everything’s cool.” 

He scowled. “It is not. I know he’s here today! I’m going to find him and kick the shit out of him.” 

-----------

“You should call me Roberta.” 

Leo raised his eyebrows. “Miss Willoughby -- Roberta. I would be delighted to.” 

She set down her flute. “You certainly grew up handsome …” 

Smoothing his blond locks back into place, Leo gave her a rakish grin. “Why, Roberta. How forward of you.” 

“Is there somewhere we can get away?” She reached out and gripped his ass with surprising strength. 

“I guess that depends on how much you’ve had to drink.” 

“The perfect amount.” Her hand slid around to the front, grappling with the front of his pants. 

“Whoooooooa. Well, in that case, yes. We can get away.” 

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

Alyssa handed Lilyana to Drake in another attempt at distraction, nervous about the way he was pacing the room. “Uh, I have to use the bathroom. Can you take the baby?”

He was already cooing at Lilyana, assuaging Alyssa’s nerves until she made out the words. “And Uncle Drake’s gonna beat the fuck out of your Uncle Mateo ... yes, he is! Yes, he is!”

“Drake!” she gritted. 

“Because nofuckingone talks about your Auntie Lyssa like that; no, they do not!” he continued in a singsong voice, ignoring Alyssa completely. 

She rolled her eyes and headed out of the ballroom, content that he at least wouldn’t start any physical fights with a baby in his arms. 

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

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Jessica sat up with a start, unfortunately bending Liam’s manhood at an awkward angle. He screamed. 

“Who the fuck is at the door?” Her shrewd eyes, trained to find danger, scanned the room. She threw Liam’s jacket on -- their size difference meant it fit her like a gigantic robe -- and grabbed her taser. 

“Love, wait!” Liam struggled up from the bed, wincing at the pain in his dick. 

“Goddammit, Leo!” Jessica screeched upon throwing the door open. 

Her brother-in-law’s bare ass, driving rhythmically toward a faceless someone who was pressed against the opposite wall, greeted her. 

“Jess! Fuck!” Leo slowed. “Sorry, Roberta, hang on.” Continuing to hold her against him as a shield, he craned his head around to look at her. “I’m a little busy right now. What?” 

She slammed the door closed. “Liam, get dressed.” 

“What the fuck is going on?” The king complied, his good mood completely dissipated. 

“Your fucken brother is banging someone outside our door. I’m pretty sure his ass is the crashing sound we heard. His naked ass touched the door. I’m having maintenance replace it tomorrow!” 

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

Palace -- Hallway Outside Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Leo struggled back into his pants, grateful that his partner had kept her dress on. “Miss W -- Roberta, I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to cut this short. Er, not that anything about me is short, obviously. But I’m pretty sure my brother’s about to come out here --” 

The door flew open. “LEO, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Liam raged. 

“Run!” Leo grabbed Roberta’s hand and took off running down the corridor, jacket in his other hand. 

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

Palace -- Ballroom 

Alyssa hadn’t come back, but the more Drake stared at the man he had noticed earlier, the more he was convinced it was Mateo Garcia. 

That fucker. 

Lilyana had fallen asleep against his chest. He wasn’t going to disturb her or put her in danger, but … 

Drake looked at the abandoned plates of cake on their table. Steadying the baby with his left arm, he picked up a handful of cake and squeezed it experimentally in his fist. Maybe he hadn’t played ball with Liam and Maxwell in a few years, but he still had a decent arm. 

He rose, stalking closer to his target but staying close to the exit for a quick getaway. 

Drake raised his arm and fired. 

The handful of cake exploded against the man’s face. Spluttering, Mateo whipped his head around and roared, “What the fuck was that?” 

Drake and Lilyana slipped out the nearest door, almost colliding with a sweaty Leo, panic in his eyes. 

Leo grabbed Drake’s shoulders, careful to avoid Lilyana’s head. “Drake! We have a crisis on our hands!” 

He listened to Leo with only half his attention; his other ear focused uneasily on the new commotion of screaming and -- was that breaking glass? -- inside the ballroom. 

“So I need you to come on the search mission with me,” Leo finished. 

Drake shook his head to clear it, registering an older woman with a prominent goiter slinking back into the ballroom. “The fuck are you talking about? Did you just finish having sex with that woman?” He jerked a thumb toward Roberta.

The blond man scowled. “I didn’t get to finish, and neither did she, thanks to Jess and Liam’s drama.” 

“But the --” Drake gestured to his neck. 

Leo waved it off. “I hit it from behind. No distracting visuals that way.” 

“You, dickhead!” Drake grimaced. “Thanks for the mental image.” 

“My pleasure. Now, we need to go. Find someone to take the baby. I need you completely focused.” 

“On what? Where the fuck are we going?” 

“Have you not been listening to me? Jesus, Drake! I need you to help me find the twins!” Leo raked his hand through his hair, making it stand on end as his blue eyes burned with obsessive fire. “I took my jacket off when I was nailing Miss Willoughby -- er, Roberta -- and the jar must have fallen out. My children are missing, Drake!” 

Drake nestled Lilyana against his chest and covered one of her ears. “You -- you have lost the fucken plot, Leo. I am not searching for your -- your -- dick rocks!” 

“You were there at their birth, Drake. It hurts me that you take no interest in your godstones.” 

“Stop calling them my ‘godstones’! That is not even a goddamn word --” Drake broke off his rant as Alyssa appeared in the hallway, covered in red. “Jesus Christ! Baby!” He thrust Lilyana into Leo’s waiting arms; the baby woke up and began to cry. “What happened?” 

“Huh? You made the baby cry!” Alyssa went to take Lilyana, but Drake grabbed her.

“Look at you, Devereaux! Where are you bleeding from?” Frantic, he tugged the neckline of her dress aside, exposing her bra. She slapped his hand away. 

“Stop! I’m not bleeding!” 

“But --” He gestured to the bright stain marring her light blue dress. 

She looked down. “Oh, that. Someone dumped gazpacho on me when I was walking through the ballroom.” 

“What?” 

Alyssa pointed. “It’s anarchy in there; didn’t you notice?” 

The men peered into the room. Roughly 40 people, most screaming, flung food at each other, ducking to avoid flying lunch items and using plates and -- in several concerning cases -- overturned tables as shields. 

“What happened?” Leo looked concerned. 

Alyssa noted the guilty look on Drake’s face as she rocked and tried to shush Lilyana. “I think this baby needs to eat. Have you seen Liam or Jess?” 

The question seemed to snap Leo back to reality. “You should look for them, Lyss. Head them off --”

“What do you mean ‘head them off’?” 

But Leo continued, “And in the meantime, Drake and I need to find the twins!” He grabbed a loudly-protesting Drake by the arm and dragged him down the hall. 

A moment after they turned the corner, Alyssa, still rocking the baby, was startled by her voice from behind her. She turned her head to see Liam and Jessica stalking rapidly toward her. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back!” 

Jessica took Lilyana, cuddling her. “Let’s go eat.” Stepping into the ballroom, she shrieked, “What the fuck?” 

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

“I need you to help me file a missing persons report,” Leo said 15 minutes later, after they had repeatedly combed the hallways looking for the jar of kidney stones. “My children are in danger!” 

“Stop calling them your fucken children!” 

Leo pressed his lips together with frustration. “I went through two hours of labor and five minutes of pushing, all for your GODSTONES! The least you can do is help report the twins’ disappearance and bring them back to their Papi Chulo.” 

He was saved from Drake’s wrathful retort by a notification on Drake’s phone. “Oh, no you don’t,” Drake muttered, typing furiously on his keyboard. 

“What are you doing?” Leo huffed impatiently. 

“Someone outbid me for this lure I really want.” Drake finished typing and sucked in a breath. “Ohhhhh shit.” 

“What now?” 

Raking a hand through his hair, Drake extended his phone toward Leo. “Uhhhhh, I think you better look at this.” 

“HOberta69? Drake, don’t buy anything from a seller with that name -- holy shit!” he exclaimed as he looked closer. 

He clicked the link; the phone screen filled with his own image. “Yeah,” video Leo said, “it hurt like a son of a bitch when I pushed these li’l fellers out, but that’s parenthood!” He held up the jar and shook it. “The rascals.” 

Drake covered his face with his palm. “You are so fucken embarrassing.” 

“This fucken kidnapper! I give her the best two-pump-chumpin’ she’s ever had and this is how the old bag repays me? Oh, the fucken humanity! I will hunt her down! I will throw her in the dungeons! I will --”

“She’s basically holding them for ransom,” Drake said reasonably. “Maybe if you message her …” 

But Leo had already clicked the “buy it now” option. “Thank God I still have Liam’s credit card saved to my account.” 

Drake’s eyes widened. “You paid for the dick rocks? With Liam’s credit card? You know he’s gonna fucken kill you?” 

“Calm your tits, Drake.” Leo heaved a heavy sigh. “You and Alyssa haven’t created a family yet. The first lesson you’re gonna learn when the time comes, though, is that parenthood is full of bullshit sacrifice … and Liam is the lucky guy who gets to make that sacrifice.” 

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Weak ~ S.R. (part 3)(final)

A/n: Kind fo struggled to find an ending to this that I liked, so I hope you guys liked it. Side note: I was inspired by “Easy” by Camila Cabello for this part :)

Word Count: 8600+

MASTERLIST

We fall for that. Wake up, we fall again. We fall for that. Can't wait to fall again- One sip, bad for me; One hit, bad for me; One kiss, bad for me, but I give in so easily. And no thank you is how it should've gone, I should stay strong- But I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? 

It took almost an entire month before Y/n really came to terms with having actual feelings for Spencer. With a lot of help from Michael and some stern words from Hotch when she'd begun to give Spencer the cold shoulder, she'd finally sat down and really thought about it.

I mean, who wouldn't fall head over heels for Spencer Reid, am I right? He was a total dork and had the prettiest smile she'd ever seen. He also had a huge heart and when he looked at her from across the room with the look of some kicked puppy, she still couldn't help but notice how beautiful he was with even that look on his face. Not to mention how kind and considerate he was. He even tried to save people everyone else rightfully hated, because every life that kept living was a victory to him. He shut himself down and kept himself in check as not to annoy others. Y/n was the only one who willingly listened to him, and he'd been slipping recently because he didn't have her to talk to anymore. He was just a really great person... and also really, really attractive like fucking hell dial it back just a TAD for the sake of a single woman with a weak heart.

When she could finally think about it without freaking out because of her past, she approached him again. "Hey." Her voice was soft, heavy with guilt.

He was surprised when he looked up and saw her. He stood, then stepped back to try and play it off like he hadn't been incredibly eager. "H-hi." His eyebrows came together as if in the world's smallest cringe and Y/n couldn't help but smile at the adorable awkwardness.

"I, uh." Her smile wavered as she remembered why she was here. "I'm really sorry, Reid." He frowned deeply at her use of his last name so she gave in a little. "Spencer." His shoulders lifted a little. "I've kind of had a lot of thoughts up in this little noggin of mine and unfortunately my brain works slower than average so it took me some time to figure it out." She shook her head. "I'm sorry it's made it so weird between us. I hope we can still be friends?" That's not what she really wanted, but she knew that what she REALLY wanted would be forever out of her reach. Spencer would never return her feelings. She didn't deserve it. Maybe her feelings now were healthy, but back then... no. What she had said and done and thought all those years ago was inexcusable. She couldn't have a relationship like wanted to with him with a such a secret between them, and she would NEVER tell anyone about it. It was in the past, it didn't matter. Just like her real feelings for the boy wonder in front of her now.

"Of course." He seemed relieved by her words. "Did I... do something to upset you?"

She smiled. Of course he'd think it was his fault. "Never," she reassured. "I... upset myself." That was as close to the truth as she could get.

It only confused him more though. "Are you okay?"

"Please," she begged softly. "I- it won't happen again. Can we please just forget about it?" Her eyes were wide and earnest. "I promise none of us were in any danger. You just-" She sighed. She hated the thought that he might worry enough to go digging, because with his resources he might find out. "You remind me of someone in my past," she worded carefully. "Someone I hurt. And- he didn't know I hurt him, but I did. And sometimes when I look at you, I remember that version of myself and it's... difficult. But I've come to terms with it for real now, and accepted that I'm a different person now. It was years ago and I'm better, you know? So it's really happy news and nothing you need to worry about. I promise."

He seemed to calm down for real at my reassurance. "Okay," he promised. "But if you need anything-"

"I'll come to you first," Y/n declared. "Well." She got a coy smile on her face. "Second. I have an old friend who was there during the whole thing. Who helped me through it. So he might be a tad better at helping, but with his experience and your incredible mind, I'm absolutely sure that if anything comes up it won't even be an issue."

He looked a little sad. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you." He hesitated, so Y/n didn't say something in case he wanted to share something personal as she had. Now that she was sure that her old habits were long dead, she no longer felt worried about getting close to him. It was incredibly refreshing. As she'd thought, he did speak again, pulling out her thoughts so she could focus on him. "I feel like I should be able to do more for my friends. I'm trained to do this as a career, but when it comes to people I care about rather than some murderous psycho, I end up being pretty useless."

She's taken aback by his bluntness. "Are you serious?" He shrugged and she reached up to grab either side of his ace with both of her hands. He seemed surprised by the contact, but didn't pull away. He seemed even more shocked by the fact SHE hadn't pulled away from HIM. "Pen, you're like literally the smartest person I've ever met. Everyone considers you a genius, and you've earned that title time and time again- so much that it drives people crazy sometimes." They both chuckled. "Just because you're smart doesn't mean you're a mind reader though. Be nicer to yourself. Please. You deserve it."

He relaxed at her words and only then did he realize her thumb was grazing his jaw tenderly. She slowly removed her hands. He seemed like he wanted to stop her but he didn't, and she felt her stomach light on fire. "Thank you." The words were soft and warmed Y/n to her core.

Y/n shrugged. "Besides, 'The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.' You're gonna miss things you don't want to be there. I've been the type of person people ignore when I'm upset since I'm usually pretty upbeat and get over things quickly anyway."

Spencer seemed to glitch. "What did you say?"

A blush swallowed Y/n's face as she winced back in shame. "I don't mean to blame you, I just mean that it's okay, because I'm used to handling it on my own and-"

"No," he dismissed. "The thing about observing obvious things."

It was then that she became cautious. "It's a quote from a book I read a few years ago. One of the few things I made myself remember and internalize. It made me feel better about how I... got into some tricky situations, before I learned and taught myself better and stuff."

His expression brightened. "You've read The Narrative of John Smith?"

She tried not to think about how she'd read it because she'd watched him carry around the book for months. How it had rested on the dashboard of his car and it had made her curious since he blew through books so quickly and never held onto one for long. She tried not to think about how she had gotten it to feel closer to him, reading it slowly and writing down things that she thought were neat. How Michael used those exact words she'd cherished to help counsel her in a way that got through to her in the beginning when she was drowning in guilt. "Yeah," was all she said, even as so many more thoughts raced through her mind.

"That's so wild." He seemed to catch his breath. "I've been meaning to get a copy of my own. I keep borrowing it from the library and returning it too late. It's one of my favorite books."

"No way." She laughed, trying to make it sound casual. "I still have my copy, if you want it."

The idea of reading it again seemed to excite him, making Y/n relax. "I'd love to borrow it. I have to say, I can be a little... hard on books. I have a lot of love to give them."

The joke made her relax completely, her worries rolling off her shoulder. She was a new person, living a new life that was so much better than she'd ever dreamed. "You can actually have it," she told him. "Honestly, it's kind of a reminder of some things that I don't want to remember, and I haven't read it in a long time and probably won't ever again."

"Really?"

"Really," she promised enthusiastically.

He thought for a second then that glimmer in his eyes shone, just like it always did when he got an idea. "What if I read it to you? We could make new memories. Unless you don't like the book."

Y/n laughed. "It was a little hard for me to swallow, but with someone like you to help me if I ask some questions here and there..."

"Oh absolutely," he agreed.

"Then sure." He cheered and she laughed and then Hotch called their names because they had a new case. Both of them went into the meeting beaming.

-

"Did you bring it today?" It had been six whole cases where every day Spencer would ask her the same thing, and every time she had to disappoint him because she came to work very early in the morning and returned very late at night and she always forgot it.

Not today though.

Her parted, upturned lips gave her away and Spencer jerked in excitement. "First," she began, holding up a finger as she reached into her bag. "To make up for taking ages to finally get it to you." She extended a small bag of Sour Skittles. He seemed to do that physical stutter like he always did when he was so surprised by something it was like a human glitch, eyes on the Skittles like they were going to jump out and bite his hand. "Since it took me over two months to get it to you," she said quietly. Why did he look like she was holding out a dead dog rather than a bag of candy? Then she thought about how the very first gift she'd ever given him was this exact treat. She panicked for a second. Did he know that it was a stalker after all that had given him the gift? Did he expect it to be her? Had he stopped liking this candy because of her selfish recklessness all those years ago? Oh god. "I didn't know what you liked, but they're my favorite," she rushed awkwardly, pulling her hand away. "I' sorry I didn't mean to upset you."

He caught her wrist and she looked into his eyes, ready to see accusation and anger when she did. Instead, she saw guilt. Guilt? What did he have to be sorry for? "No, I love it. Very thoughtful. I'm so sorry, I just-" He swallowed. "I haven't liked them for a while. But," and he snatched them from her hand, pointing back to her bag. She slowly took out the book and he grabbed that too. "Like I said. Here's to new beginnings. New memories with things that were once ruined but didn't deserve it." Right there he opened the bag and popped a few in his mouth. His eyes watched her as he chewed and his body seemed to relax. He then rolled up the bag so none would spill. "Maybe after work today we can meet at my place and I can read to you and we can share them together?"

His place. "I... What about my place?" He made an odd expression and she returned a sheepish one. "I'm weird about other people's places." This was absolutely true. After she'd developed her obsession with Spencer, she got nervous being too intimate with other people, in case it shifted to them instead. "Until I'm super comfortable with them. It's kind of weird, I'm sorry."

"No, I get it." And he seemed to, though it was obvious he understood the feeling rather than the context. "Your place."

Y/n went to confirm, but then Hotch came out, the look on his face that meant they had a case. "As much as I'd hate to interrupt your date," he told Reid and Y/n - both who went beet red, making the rest of the team smirk - before holding up the case file. "We have a case. You guys can do it on the plane though, or in the hotel once we get there." At our surprise, he explained further. "We're headed to Alaska, and the storms are going to be very bad this time of year. There won't be much time to call each other, so Garcia will be coming with us as well. Because of the constantly bad weather, the electronics aren't very advanced so we'll need Y/n as well to help Garcia sift through footage and get information as much as possible. Getting information on this case might need more people talking than we have time for, so Y/n will be needed in quite a few places."

Suddenly Y/n was very excited.

She was going out into the field.

Boy, oh boy I love it when I fall for that. I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that. I'm weak- Go! But I'm weak, and what's wrong with that?

Y/n was relieved that after all the hard to swallow cases, the team was finally getting reprieve from a case that was unwinding pretty quickly. Not quickly enough. Never quickly enough, as two more women turned up dead before they had a suspect who seemed to have a third lined up for her grave the next day if they didn’t do something about it.

So, they did something about it. They were working with a team, who had split up to do different things. The woman cleaned the mess left from the torture, and the man finished off the victim in her grave before leaving her body there to be found later by police. Morgan and Prentiss were going after the man, and Spencer and Y/n were supposed to infiltrate the house and hack the computer for information on where the woman was keeping the victims, since it obviously wasn’t at home. Once they did, they’d send word to Hotch and Rossi and they’d take care of the rest.

It all went wrong pretty quickly.

First of all, Spencer hadn’t the book they’d been reading together on the dashboard. It shouldn’t have been a problem, since they’d reading it together every night to unwind before bed. To distract themselves so they could actually get some sleep. Or, Spencer had been reading it to Y/n. The memory was a good one, and had been getting increasingly better. Now that Y/n had come to terms with her feelings, she felt herself easily falling into a closeness with Spencer that left them growing very close. Physically even. They were very touchy and hovered around each other. Even with Spencer’s hesitance to touch people because of his germaphobia, or Y/n’s hesitance to share bits of herself that might reveal her past. The little goodness between them amidst all the bad things was a breath of fresh air for everyone. Not even Hotch had the heart to break them apart - especially when they both deserved to be happy, and why not together?

Even now they were smiling at each other, taking comfort in each other’s presence. Y/n was nervous to be on the field, wearing a bullet proof vest just in case even though no one should have been there. With the skills she’d picked up from Garcia even in the short time she’d had and Spencer’s never failing intelligence, it was going to be an easy in and out mission. No worry.

The book shattered everything.

Or, at least, what was inside of it.

It dropped on the ground of the car and Spencer reached inside to grab it really fast and put it back on the dash. As he did so, something fell out of the later pages much further into the book. Further than where they’d gotten with Y/n’s constant questions and wanting to understand. Something that Spencer had though adorable then, but was now tainted by the thing he held in his hand.

When he didn’t move, Y/n moved over to him. “Pen? What’s wrong?” She’d begun to use the name naturally instead of his title or even first name like everyone else. Usually it made him smile, but now it made him flinch. She reached out for him and he jerked away. “Spencer?” It wasn’t how she’d referred to him in a while. It seemed to upset him even more.

The thin thing spun around in Spencer’s thin fingers so that Y/n could see the other side. When she did, her heart stopped dead in her chest. “What’s this?” Spencer demanded.

In that moment, Y/n was that same scared girl she’d been when Spencer had walked into her precinct with his team for the very first time and all she could think about was how much she didn’t want her past to come back and eat her alive and ruin her life. Because now, staring at her, was Spencer. Or, a picture of him. An extremely old picture of him. A picture that was now six years old, of a Spencer with slicked back hair and vests and glasses, looking at JJ with a huge smile on his face. It was one of the intimate photos Y/n had taken when-

“I burned all of those.” She took a step back, but the movement might as well have been a slap across Spencer’s face for how he flinched.

“You had more?” This time he looked less shocked and more angry.

Y/n tried to find some words. “Had,” she stressed, trying to come up with something. “I- not anymore, not for a long time.”

She could see the gears in his brain turning, but it didn’t seem to be much work to put the puzzle that he was trying to solve together. She thought of all the things that gave her away. The book that was one of his favorites that she just happened to have. The candy she had given him. The shame she’d been carrying with her so long, that had driven them apart even when they shared the same working space. The picture in his hand now that was from a time Y/n was not in his life. A time she should have no record of. And yet she did, and he was holding it out to her as proof.

“It was you?” His words sounded sharp and accusing. She had never heard Spencer y’all like that before.

She tried to explain. Explain how much she’d gotten better and how far she’d come since then. But the words got stuck in her throat. She deserved this. She couldn’t get that thought out of her head. She deserved this. “Spencer-“

“My name is Dr. Reid and I’m a federal agent so you better answer my fucking question.”

Her vision blurred with tears. “Yes,” she whispered. The word held so much pain and regret that Reid stepped away, looking to where there was no trace of her. It hit her then. Slipping the picture in the book as a bookmark all those years ago. It was the only time she’d ever taken a picture out of the box. She’d used it as inspiration to get through the book. Every time she set a goal, she’d save it with the picture and her prize was seeing his smile again. After she’d finished the book, she’d forgotten she’d left the picture in it.

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HER?!

“You let me become your friend.”

A bubbling sob broke from the back of her throat. “I tried not to,” she begged him to understand. “I tried everything, but it was one thing after another and suddenly I have all these REAL feelings for you and-“ She hissed when his eyes shot back to her, hitting her like he’d hit her with his car. “Reid that was YEARS ago. I’m a totally different person now-“

“This isn’t years ago for me,” Reid snapped, his eyes wide as his mind began to reel.

Y/n looked away. She closed her eyes, feeling her heart drop into her toes. “We have to find out where the next victim is or she’s going to die. Can we talk about this later?”

“I can’t LOOK at you right now let alone with you.” He seemed panicked and Y/n flinched, recoiling. “Are you stalking everyone then?”

“I’m not stalking anyone,” Y/n defended weakly. “Stalked. Past tense.”

“Was it only me?” Spencer demanded.

The question seemed odd. “Yes?” That seemed to trouble him more. She couldn’t take it anymore though. She grabbed her pants to ground herself, turning away from him. “Let’s split up then. I’m not letting work drama cost this girl her life.” She steeled herself, wiped her tears, and then began moving inside from the back door, leaving the front door for Reid. “Just stay here.” He didn’t say anything, just stayed still and letting her go.

She slipped inside, making her way to the computer. She called Garcia as she’d been told to. “Hey G.” She frowned at the name. Did she have to leave the BAU now? If he couldn’t look at her or function, how could she stay? This might be her dream job but this was and had been his life for ages. She couldn’t take that away. No, she’d leave.

But that was later.

This was now.

She had this case to finish before anything else happened.

Garcia asked Y/n about the sniffling but Y/n brushed it off- no reason to get into why she’d been crying. And the case was more important now. Between hiding her own pain and trying to focus on hacking and finding this woman who was waiting to be saved, Y/n didn’t see the woman creep into the woman. The woman, who was one half of the unsub team, who was hefting a metal skillet in one hand and a knife in the other.

“Where’s Spencer?” Garcia asked suddenly. “He should be helping you with this.”

“Outside,” Y/n asked casually.

“What?” Garcia snapped.

Y/n didn’t get the chance to throw a response back though. A knife plunged into her gut and her mind went blank as pain erupted through her like she’d never experienced before. By some luck she knocked the skillet out of the woman’s hand, the chair falling back and the knife slipping out of her gut as she fell.

The unsub sat on Y/n’s chest, hefting the knife over her head, a grin on her face. The woman grabbed Y/n’s phone, leaving close to it. “Any last words?” She purred.

Garcia gasped. “DON’T-!”

The woman closed the phone. “Begging,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “What a fucking waste of time.” Then she stabbed Y/n again, cutting off a scream that escaped her by some serious luck.

The thought that she was going to die here passed through Y/n’s mind as the knife left her again and she groaned, blinking as her vision began to swim. The pain was all consuming and suddenly she was fading out as the knife buried itself higher in her stomach for a third time. Only one thing left her lips. “I deserve this.”

The woman grinned even wider. “Do yourself a favor and pass out, Dearie. After you I’ll be done. That completes the cycle.”

Y/n didn’t know what the woman meant, but she gave in to the pain anyway. The last thing was her blood on the knife and the woman’s hand as she hefted it over her head to bring it down on Y/n a fourth time. The last thought she had was that she was going to die worse than alone. She was going to die at the hands of a psycho with a knife, in pain and on the floor. Her story would be told by Spencer, who didn’t understand her struggle or how far she had come. It was all over and she’d be remembered as the creepy bitch who’d stalked Spencer Reid years ago and then been unlucky enough to end up actually falling in love with him.

Splendid.

-

It was quiet in the room outside of where Y/b was still unconscious in the hospital bed. When Garcia had called Reid in a panic he had run inside, because stalker or not Y/n was part of his team and he wasn’t going to let her die just because he felt a little disturbed.

The truth was that he was actually torn in a lot of directions at the moment. Knowing that there had been two stalkers, or maybe one after the other, was an unsettling thought. If Y/n had just been watching Spencer, there was still a stalker out there watching all of them, and no way would they not be jealous of how Y/n had been successful in getting close, if they knew about it at all.

There was also the fact that Spencer had fallen really hard for Y/n. He had some very strong feelings for her, but low every memory and feeling seemed to be tainted by the image of Y/n sitting in her car outside his house, or looking over him as he slept. How long ago had she stopped? Why had she stopped? How far had she gotten with stalking him? How long had she been doing it before she stopped? He thought of the day he walked out to those Skittles on his car and his heart had completely stopped as all the stalker cases filled his head in one go, as they did now. So many more cases now though, and much more fear.

What did she know that he didn’t know she knew? That she’d learned from watching him without him knowing?

When he apprehended to woman unsub and called an ambulance for Y/n, they’d all ended up in the hospital as they too often did with cases that went just a little wrong. Hotch had wrung the story out of him and now everyone was here and had heard the full story, especially his explanation of why he let Y/n go in alone.

Eyes slowly moved to Spencer, but he couldn’t handle it. He left, making up some reason about wrapping up the case and telling the local police they’d succeeded and such to get back to the precinct and to a computer.

It took him an hour to find Michael Bills. He was Y/n’s therapist. Spencer had dug deep into Y/n to get answers to his questions. Answers he couldn’t wait to get when she woke up, because he needed them right now. She had done everything to keep Michael and her past buried, but with help from Garcia he’d been able to dig it all up.

He called Michael the second he found the connection. “This is Dr. Bills speaking, how can I-“

“Tell me what you know about Y/n,” Spencer demanded. “Please,” he added shortly as an afterthought. This man had known. He had KNOWN and he just, what, didn’t say anything? Let Y/n keep going? Let her work with Spencer?! He was in town, how did he not stop her, knowing what she did?

There was a soft sigh. “Is this Dr. Spencer Reid then?”

He didn’t seem surprised. It agitated Spencer. How much did this man know about him to be able to read the situation and put it all together so quickly? “Yes,” he finally answered.

Michael hesitated. “What do you want to know?”

“You’re just going to tell me?” Spencer asked, eyebrows knitting together. “What about Doctor-Patient confidentiality?”

A pause. “Y/n would want me to tell you. I’d rather it be me anyway. If she did it she’d be too hard on herself and no one else was there.”

“Too hard on herself?” Spencer snapped.

Another pause. “Dr. Reid, talking as a professional, Y/n was a very strange case. She came in tears, begging me to make sense of her mental state and help her get better. Told me first session that she was stalking an FBI agent and that she felt terrible for doing it but she was in too deep to stop herself. She cane to me for help, a total mess, and did every single thing I told her to do. Worked with me and was open and honest when something didn’t work. She worked two whole years to shake you from her mind and make a better life for herself. I was there when she burned the pictures. I was there when she threw away her camera and emptied her apartment of everything she could find that reminded her of you.”

“Not everything.” He was trying to find something she was still guilty of. It seemed it had been over ages ago. “She still had my favorite book. One of her pictures inside it.”

Michael hummed, considering that. “She probably missed it. Dismissed it later, as it was just a book. I... look, Dr. Reid, I can only speculate as far as that but I can tell you from first hand experience she did a 180. Coming from someone who wanted to turn her in because I didn’t want to get involved with a federal agent and his stalker, I tell you now with full confidence that Y/n is absolutely everything. Her job. Her friends. Her time. Her sanity and peace of mind. Her self respect. Coming to terms with being a creep was hard for her to do, and she still holds herself accountable for that.”

“Why did she become friends with me?” He had to know. He was desperate. He needed something to be angry at her about. How could he hold something that had ended SIX YEARS AGO over her head now? She’d saved Spencer’s life more times than she’d put it in danger. “And- and how far did she get? Does she know where I live? Did she come into my house?”

“No,” Michael rushed. “It- well this won’t be funny to you, but we used to joke that even when she was crazy she still had enough sense to draw a line. She... never followed you home. It was something she was proud of.” S long silence between the two men. “Honestly Dr. Reid, I’m going to tell you what I told her. Years ago she had an obsession with a boy she had a crush on. A fantasy where you were the center. But she broke that herself and cleaned herself up, allowing a space for you two to genuinely form a relationship. I think whatever she’s feeling now? The relationship you guys have? I think it’s genuine, and totally safe and real. I think she is as far from crazy as one can get. She pulled HERSELF away from stalking. She’d been done a year before we even started working together. Have you ever seen anyone do that?”

Spencer had to admit, he hadn’t. He also had to admit that... he had nothing to be mad at her about. I mean he did, but he was six years too late to lord this over her. She didn’t deserve to have all her hard work ignored and years erased. She didn’t deserve to have the lowest she’d ever been - the worst thing she’d ever done - shoved in her face and down her throat. She was kind and good and caring. She deserved someone who gave her the time of day and respected the shit she went through to make a real life for herself. Who recognized all she’d done to leave behind a destructive path and end up working for the FBI in the BAU, practicing to be an agent and save lives and stop people like who she’d almost become.

Spencer rubbed their bridge of his nose, sighing. “Thank you.”

He could hear the smile in Michael’s voice when the man spoke again. “My pleasure.”

Spencer ended the call, standing up from his desk. He had even lore to explain to his team, and when Y/n woke up... they had even more to talk about.

Boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that.

Y/n didn't know what people usually dreamed about when they went into a coma, but she really hoped it wasn't anything like this. She had no idea how long she'd been out, but in her little mind palace it seemed she'd been here for eons. She remembered a time before here but it was almost like a dream, or at best a story she read when she was a child. She HAD been a child after all, even though she couldn't remember it. All she could remember was here and now, sitting in the dark of nighttime in this field, fingers every so often wrapping around the grass to feel it before letting it go and going completely still before doing it again after a while. It was silent here. No wind or night animals. Just the moon and stars and the dark, tall blobs in the corners of her vision that she assumed were trees. Or some monster that was waiting to kill her. Either way she didn't have any fear for it. Monsters weren't real after all, right? She'd been sure of that once. Now she wasn't so sure though. Monsters didn't have horns and claws and fangs like she thought, but they were just as real. She saw one every time she looked in the mirror.

Is that why she was here? Was it a punishment for everything she'd done? Had it been so wrong that she had been trapped here in this eternal nighttime, unable to move as she looked at the stars and wondered when something would happen? Nothing did happen though. She just sat there in the dark, alone. At least the air wasn't too cold and the ground was comfortable.

Hold on that wasn't right. She wasn't a monster. She'd seen monsters. She'd seen the blood on their hands, and the hunger for more of it in their eyes. She had seen the pile of bodies and the tension in bodies that would never truly leave, even if they did survive. She'd seen people get murdered live and watched as people other than just the monster with its fingers around her neck got off on it like it was some kind of porn. She'd seen a monster have sex with its girlfriend in the places it killed other women. She'd seen people murder those they loved most because they thought it would help increase their luck. She'd seen fantasies so thick and twisted that it didn't even make sense to those with normal minds. Those like her who knew when a line had been crossed.

She wasn't like those people. She had been headed down that path, changing into one of them, but she had stopped herself. She'd never be able to cover all the scars from the healing it had taken to e herself again, but she was herself as much as she could be after flipping everything on its head and making it out for the better. Well, as herself as she could be without going back to old habits. Better than her original self, even.

She was a good person. She'd made mistakes, but she'd also made up for them god damnit. She'd sacrificed everything to make herself a person who made life better for others. She didn't deserve to be alone in a field, surrounded by maybe trees maybe monsters with no grasp on the past and therefore no acknowledgement of the future. She didn't deserve to sit in the dark with no good company, trying to make sense of the here-and-now foggy place her mind had been wedged.

It was that thought that pulled her out of it. Pulled away from the dark forest with the stars that began to disappear as shadowy figures stepped int he way of her seeing them. Pulled away from the sleep, jerking her awake, eyes shooting wide as her body spasmmed, hands wrapped tightly around her sheets. Tears were already streaming down her face and something was beeping sporadically. A burning pain ripped through her body and all she could see was the last thing that had been there before she'd been taken to that place that was nowhere and everywhere all at once. A hand gripped her arm and she screamed, her vision blurred by her tears.

"Y/n." That voice. She knew that voice. It cut through her panic, such a familiar sound with so much care and concern in it. A voice she never thought she'd hear again, let alone with those emotions in it. Her eyes focused as her gaze sought out the face she was so hoping to see. To her relief, her eyes locked with another pair, brown and large with concern and warm.

"Spencer?" She croaked out, leaning away in surprise.

The room grew still and quiet until Y/n's head cleared and slowly everything came back piece by piece. The room was full of who she guessed was now her ex-coworkers. People she saw once as family, but now knew probably hated her. No one could make eye contact with her except Spencer. They were too busy looking at him as he looked at her. Y/n felt her head fall as she looked at her lap in shame. She wanted to apologize. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She wanted none of them to be there. Why didn't she just wake up alone?

When she went to pull her knees to her chest to hide her face, she winced, her hand shooting to her stomach. "Careful," a nearby doctor warned her. "You'll pull your stitches.

Then her mind cleared more, and she remembered the woman above her. The sick smile that twisted her face as the knife went in and out of Y/n again and again. Y/n closed her eyes, leaning back into bed and pulling the blanket over her head, groaning softly. Now that it seemed her freak out had passed, everyone was filing out of the room. Had they been outside waiting for her to wake up? Maybe they felt obligated since they had a relationship with her, even though they probably didn't want to anymore. Maybe they were just waiting to say goodbye and fire her.

Her mind began racing, filling with thoughts that made her chest hurt much more than her stomach did. When it went quiet outside and she thought she was alone, she began crying. She moved her hand against her mouth to muffle it, but allowed herself to let go and release the little sobs she'd been locking within. Her worst fear had come true. Her past mistakes had unearthed and were ruining her life once again. All the friendships she'd made. The job she so loved and was looking forward to becoming a bigger part in was being taken from her before she could even really start.

A hand skimmed her shoulder and she squeaked and jumped, moving her blanket down in surprise. To her horror, none other than Dr. Reid himself was sitting in the chair next to her bed, looking rather upset. He probably was listening to her self pity and loathing it. Loathing that she could feel bad for herself when he probably felt she deserved every injury she'd gotten. Did he hate her that much? Was everything so far ruined in such a short time? If she could go back in time she'd go back to the first day she saw him in that stupid coffee shop and strangle herself. How could she have been so stupid?

Self loathing like she'd not felt since she'd first realized how messed up she was began to rise up in her chest and consume her. Her chest restricted and her heart began to burn. Her throat closed and she found she couldn't breathe. "I-" She cut off, her eyebrows coming together as her face tensed as she struggled to breathe.

Spencer's concern grew. "Are you okay?"

Her hand rose to her chest, trying to massage it as if it was a tight muscle rather than a panic attack. She knew herself well enough to know that's what it was. She used to get these all the time, and still did occasionally. It started when she'd had a breakdown over her actions against Spencer and hadn't left her fully since. "I'm- fine," she managed, her face contorting further at the pain it caused her. "I-" She sucked in a breath and felt it get lodged in her throat.

"Panic attack," Spencer realized quietly.

"I'm-" But again it was cut off as she winced, shaking her head. She covered her face.

Spencer reached over, grabbing a pen off a nearby desk. It looked to be some sort of table, with food on top of it. It must have had wheels, because he pulled on it and it moved closer. He moved the food off, putting the desk in between them and setting the pen on top. "Can I show you something?" She looked over, feeling the urge to snap at him but holding it back because he didn't deserve that. Why didn't he just leave? "I can move this pen with my mind," he told her confidently. "Do you want to see?"

That caught her attention. "Uh-" But then she winced again.

He took that as a yes and stood up. He picked up the pen, holding it out for her to see. "Give me a second as I..." He rubbed it on his pants. "I have to charge it with static electricity. It makes the pen move better and connects it to my mind so I can move it better."

"So you move it with static electricity?" She asks quietly. Her words were a little breathless but came nonetheless.

He tried to hide a smile and failed. "No. I move it with my mind." She rolled her eyes and he chuckled. He placed it back on the table when he finished "charging" it and then pointed at it, sitting back down. "Now, watch this." She did just that, her eyes on the pen on the table and his finger as he pointed to it. His finger began to move forward and to her shock and wonder, the pen began to roll along with it. It went on and on until it fell off the end of the other side of the table, his hand dropping to catch it at the last second.

"Okay that was not some static electricity bullshit," Y/n accused, pointing her own finger but at him rather than at a pen on a table. "How did you do that?"

The grin on Spencer's face was contagious, pulling up Y/n's own lips. "A magician never reveals his secrets, you know that." She rolled her eyes and laughed and he relaxed. "You feel better?"

His words made her stop short. "You... Yeah." Her chest had loosened and her body had relaxed. There's wasn't any pain. She could breathe just fine. "How did you do that?"

"Distraction." That was an answer he could give her. "I took your focus away from what you were thinking and feeling and it allowed your body to move on more quickly."

Y/n was quiet for a few seconds. Long enough that the silence was noticeable and Spencer felt the urge to reach out and comfort Y/n when she looked away from him. "Why did you help me?"

He knew what the real questions behind that was and he sighed. "I talked to Michael." She looked up at him sharply. He was already looking back and their eyes locked. There was no judgement in his gaze and it surprised her. "I was... a little freaked out at first. The BAU has a stalker. One that's been following all of us and has been killing people to show that he knows our cases. Sending us gifts to let us know he's there. I thought you were..."

Y/n shook her head. "God no. I could never kill anyone, Spencer."

"I know." He offered a small smile. "Six years ago huh?"

A small groan came from Y/n. "I hate thinking about it." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And I don't expect you to forgive me, Spenc-" He cut off, shaking her head. "Dr. Reid. I don't expect you to trust me again either. And I especially don't expect you to work me considering you don't trust me, so I'm quitting."

Spencer jerked. "Y/n, this is your dream job. What you've always wanted."

She nodded. "I know that, but there are other things that people do. I don't expect people will hire me as an officer of any kind once this goes on my record, so I'll just have to do..." She shrugged, her face set as she glared at her hands. "Something else."

"You're an idiot." She looked over, confused, to see him smiling. "I know why you're doing this, and you're a total idiot." She didn't know what to say to that, so Spencer simply continued. "Did you know that a few years ago I was kidnapped during a case? I was drugged really badly. So much so that I got addicted while on it. Or maybe it was before when I found more of it once I was home and continued to use it. Either way, it got bad pretty fast. Hotch found out and told me that he would have to let me go if this continued. You can't give someone who's drugged a gun. I even... came to work once." He winced and Y/n felt her heart shatter in her chest. She knew what he was talking about. She remembered that span of time he seemed off. Distant and faded. She'd thought it had been the job getting to him. Maybe depression. Shed never imagined something like this. "If we were all judged by the worst things we'd ever done. Held accountable for mistakes we made years ago. If we were all judged based on the lowest points in our life, I wouldn't be here either." He reached forward, taking one of her hands between two of his. "I'd like you to stay. You add a very important piece to our team, and... I'd miss you. You're my friend, Y/n. No matter what you did over half a decade ago, YOU stopped it and got better. You didn't have to be stopped by someone else. You changed it made a better life for yourself and now we have a relationship that is very real and I don't have many of those." He looked at her and suddenly 'friendship' sounded different when he said it. "I'd like you to stay."

Well, how could she say no to that?

-

"So what's going on with you two?"

Y/n was half asleep, her head on Spencer's shoulder. After she'd gotten out of the hospital and returned to work her and Spencer had been inseparable. Now that the air was clear they could be honest with each other. They still weren't doing anything about the feelings they both seemed to have. Y/n was nervous to cross that line and Spencer wanted her to feel free to take things as slow as needed. He'd be lying if he didn't admit that he also needed time to come to terms with her past himself. They'd had a long talk about it, with Y/n telling him what she knew and how far she'd gone in stalking him. It had been a hard thing to hear, but most of the information was fuzzy for her to recall or outdated, so it didn't matter. Even more had been overlapped by what she'd learned naturally through their current friendship, so that helped. In return of his forgiveness, she'd gone on a rant of all the stupid things she did in high school - not something he'd asked her to do, but something she'd insisted on anyway. He'd been laughing so hard at the end of her most embarrassing high school moments that all had been forgiven and it didn't seem as weird anymore. Maybe he just had a higher tolerance than he should.

Now they were here, much closer and familiar with each other as well as much more open and honest. Y/n never pressured Spencer to tell her anything, sensing the line he'd silently drawn of her getting too much into his business. She chose to be quite open herself though. To the whole team, not just Spencer. The team thought there would have been more hesitance, but before Spencer knew about all of this and it had put a little chip into their relationships, he'd been pretty sure of much stronger feelings than friendship so it had progressed pretty quickly.

It didn't matter what either of them had done in the past. They were much more concerned with what they were doing it now, and making sure that they did as much of it as possible together.

Spencer chose to hum rather than shrug, in favor of not waking Y/n. "I like her. She likes me."

"And everything else?" It was Morgan asking. The man was always protective of Spencer, but Y/n had been his friend too and he felt the need to have her back as well. Of this whole thing went south it might end up REALLY ugly.

"It doesn't matter," Spencer decided. And then he let it go. And Y/n felt her own chest release, finally really setting all those old fears free. It just didn't matter anymore.

Morgan nodded though Y/n couldn't see that. "Cool."

And that was the end of it.

-

"I can't believe it's real," Y/n whispered softly. She had gone through school. She was graduated. She was a REAL member of the BAU now. Badge and gun and all. She thought of her younger self looking at that TV screen as she watched the news as a child, and how proud that little girl would be to see who she had grown up to be. Her eyes turned to her friends. "I did it."

Spencer moved forward first. "And now there's something I have to do." They hadn't been as close since Y/n had gone to school, but they still talked all they could and hung out around their schedules. The most they'd seen each other was between calls at work - but then it was mostly dead bodies talk and asking her to research people who might be killers, or at least connected to them. Now was one of the few times they'd been in person, and would be the first of many as she'd be following them on cases rather than staying behind with Garcia.

He took the pause of a moment to grab her face, pulling their lips together, and she let him. They'd made a deal to wait until she was graduated so that neither of them were distracted amidst all the very important things that required their attention more. Now they didn't have to wait anymore.

The rest of the team cheered and hooted and hollered but the kiss didn't last long. It wasn't a surprise, but it had been long awaited and even the chaste exchange was something to be celebrated.

"To the future?" Y/n offered quietly.

"To the future," Spencer agreed.

"As long as you guys aren't idiots on the field," Emily groaned. Her smile let them know she was joking though.

"No promises," Y/n responded easily, the two separating so she could sass her friends that had become family so quickly. "Especially to you." She smirked and the room erupted in laughter and acknowledgement of Y/n's jab at Emily.

Yeah, they were going to be just fine.

-

Tag List: @ajwantsapancake @urie-bowie-mercury

Spencer Readers: @realimbo

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #x reader #imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Hi! Sorry this is a day late, but I tried my best. Chapter 4 might take a little longer to post since I haven’t started it yet, but I’m feeling super inspired so I’ll probably write some (if not most) of it this weekend. :)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of bullying/making fun of. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,639

okay, here’s chapter 3!

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

CHAPTER THREE

The rest of the day, Virgil did his best to avoid Roman. He didn’t know if he could face him after the spectacle that morning, not to mention how much he had been thinking about his soft hair and tan skin and beautiful eyes.

Since when have Roman’s eyes been beautiful? Dammit, Virgil, get yourself together. He made fun of you all throughout middle school, nevermind what happened freshman year. People don’t change, you idiot. 

That afternoon, he walks, head down, to a nearby coffee shop to meet Logan to study, although Logan usually reads. He already knows everything; it’s Virgil who needs to study, but Logan has told Virgil dozens of times already that it doesn’t bother him.

That day, Virgil opens the door and scans the room for Logan. To his surprise, Logan is sitting at a booth nestled in the corner. Once he gets there, he slides into the seat, back into the curve of the corner.

“Why’d you get this table?” Virgil asks, pulling his folders, notebooks, and pencil out of his bag. “Do we really need all this space?” Logan looks up from his book.

“Uh…well, you see,” Logan stutters. Virgil is more sure than ever that something strange is going on with his friend. Logan takes a deep breath and starts over, “Well, I figured we’d need more space since I also have to do some work.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil tries to keep his voice light, but he’s still skeptical. Logan likes having a schedule, and part of his weekly routine was every Thursday after school, without many exceptions, he got a small table by the window to study. Currently, there’s no one sitting at it, so there’s no reason for Logan to have picked this booth instead. 

Virgil forcefully drops the subject from his mind, knowing he needs to get to work. He has an English paper he needs to finish for tomorrow, and he’s barely a paragraph into it. Devoting most of his time to his art projects has made him behind for his other subjects. 

Flipping to the page in his notebook with his evidence and reasons, he opens a Google Doc on his computer and gets to work. The quiet is nice; there’s just the sounds of Virgil typing and Logan flipping pages, along with the background noise of the cafe. After working for about 20 minutes, Logan starts acting weird again.

Every few minutes, he’ll pick up his phone, checking the screen. For what, Virgil can’t tell, but he suspects Logan is checking to see if he’s gotten any texts. What Virgil is really wondering is who could possibly be so important or urgent that Logan would stop reading to check his phone, especially so often. It isn’t until a little later that it occurs to Virgil that Logan said he had work to do, but all he’d done up to that point was read. What is going on?

A few minutes later, Virgil gets his answer when the bell above the door chimes. He glances up instinctively. He looks back towards his essay before he can comprehend who just walked in, but when his brain catches up to his eyes, his head shoots up to find that the high schoolers who just walked in are now standing next to Logan and his booth.

“Heya, Logan and Virgil!” Patton says in his usual cheery voice. Virgil gives him a half smile back, although he’s still puzzled as to why he’s here. It could’ve been a coincidence, of course, but with Logan’s strangeness, he doesn’t think it is. It only makes Virgil more sure when he looks over to see Logan smiling from ear to ear. 

If Logan really did invite Patton, why is he here too? Virgil wonders. 

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil says. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Logan invited me!” comes the reply, and Patton smiles back at Logan, filled with his usual unabashed joy. Logan blushes, and Virgil puts a finger to his mouth and pretends to gag. Unfortunately, Logan sees and rolls his eyes, mouthing, “Don’t be a child.”

“You decided to bring a friend, I see,” Virgil states, looking at the boy standing next to Patton. 

“Yeah, when I heard it was to study, I figured I’d come along. I haven’t had much of a chance to, with the play and all,” says Roman almost bashfully. His hand rubs the back of his next as he looks at the floor. Virgil nods and turns back to his essay. 

“Sit down,” says Logan, gesturing to the booth. “Roman, you can sit next to Virgil, since Patton and I have to work on our chemistry lab.” Virgil snaps his gaze to Logan and glares at him. When the other boy doesn’t react — or even notice — Virgil takes a deep breath and continues working, considerably more stressed than before.

Roman plops down next to him and smartly decides to stay quiet. They all get to work, Patton and Logan chattering about some reaction of some sort from across the table while Roman and Virgil sit in silence, each working on their own homework or projects. Virgil doesn’t mind it; he’s got his headphones in and is therefore pretty much dead to the world, but not quite dead enough for him to miss the fact that anxiety has begun rolling off of Roman. 

Attempting to ignore it, Virgil turns up his music, but nothing can block out the awkward tension between the two boys. 

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Roman blurts out. Logan and Patton remain oblivious on the other side of the table. Hesitantly, Virgil pulls down his headphones. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he figures whatever Roman needs to say is important. “I should’ve looked before I threw my arm out like that. Could you ever forgive me?” He seems so sincere, yet Virgil can’t find it in him to trust him. But those eyes. 

“I forgive you,” mumbles Virgil, cursing Roman’s chocolate eyes. He’s like a goddamn wounded puppy. Before Virgil can pull up his headphones again, Roman speaks.

“So, what are you working on?” His smile is bright and friendly. Why does he want to be my friend all of a sudden? He’s never been nice to me before. For a while, he was downright rude, and then he just started pretending I didn’t exist. Not that I minded.

“Just an essay for English,” Virgil replies, forcing himself to stay neutral. Socializing has never been his strong suit, but after a while, he’d learned how to fake it. “Uh...what are you doing?” 

Roman frowns before responding, “This stupid algebra homework. I just don’t understand math.” He appears angry for a second before smiling again, almost as if he felt he had to pretend everything was okay. Virgil knew quite a bit about pretending. He did it for years before realizing people did, indeed, give a shit about him. Like Logan, for example.

Virgil glanced over at him, but he was still in deep, animated conversation with Patton. From what Virgil could hear, they had gone quite off task from chemistry. Something’s definitely off. Logan was the most responsible person he knew, and always made an effort to study and work when needed. Virgil had never seen Logan get off task when there was something that had to be done.

But that’s a matter for a different time. Right now, there is a boy sitting next to him that he had to talk to. 

“Do you, uh, need any help? I took that class last year, so I should be able to help you.” 

“Really?” Roman asks, his face lighting up. Virgil nods, hands dropping from his headphones. “Thanks, Virgil!” 

Now, Virgil had never thought of his name much before. He’d always liked it, but he didn’t think much of it. But when Roman said it, so full of happiness and spirit, Virgil realized how cool it was. The sharpness of the ‘v,’ the slow, drawn out sound of the ‘l’ at the end. Quickly, Virgil bent over Roman’s paper to see what exactly he was working on, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the blush seeping across his cheeks. 

What the hell is going on with me? This is Roman Princeford. He’s arrogant and rude and selfish. He doesn’t think about anyone but himself.

Yet, after Virgil helped him with his algebra, Roman offered to help out with his paper. When he found out it was about Shakespeare, he insisted upon reading it. Surprisingly, the comments he made after reviewing it were pretty helpful. Virgil discovered after a while of small talk about school and typical human topics that he didn’t completely despise Roman’s presence. Sure, his over dramatizing of things was a little annoying, but everyone has their flaws, right?

Virgil didn’t know if he could ever forgive Roman for what happened in middle school or freshman year, but maybe they were on their way to some sort of understanding. 

And, although Virgil will never admit it out loud, he can acknowledge that Roman Princeford is a very handsome guy. 

Once he gets home, feeling confident that his English paper is the best it’s going to get, and finishes everything else he needs to do, he lies down on his bed. He tries to listen to music, but all he can think about was how much Roman had thrown him off today. He’d seemed to want to help Virgil. There wasn’t a single rude comment or excessive bragging session. 

When Virgil realizes he’s smiling while thinking about earlier, he quickly banishes all those thoughts from his mind and rolls over onto his side. Pulling a blanket up to his chin, he burrows under the covers. You are not going to start enjoying hanging out with Roman Princeford. No way. And you most definitely don’t have a crush on him. He starts to think about winter break coming up in a month and a half and wonders what he’ll get his cousins for Christmas. Quicker than usual, he falls to sleep.

The dream Virgil has that night about kissing Roman doesn’t mean anything. Does it?

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

[janiedean]

Cracktastic here. #30, JB. 😉

30. I am the hero and you are the villain. I am out of options so I came to you for help but there is literally a 90% chance you will let me bleed out AU

(AAAND WITH A TWIST PROBABLY) (also it’s long SORRY NOT SORRY)

He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t his very last choice.

Except that Jaime really has no other fucking option right now so it’s either the thrice-damned Beauty of Tarth or nothing, a moniker that the papers gave her a long time ago and that has pissed her off since because she’s anything but, and he’s only seen her a couple of times but they were enough to grasp why it stuck.

Privately, he always thought it was kind of cruel, but the only time he tried voicing that opinion Cersei was nearby, so he didn’t really finish voicing it and left it there. Anyway, it’s not like their paths usually cross - she’s usually there to be a nuisance to Cersei, not to him, and he and Cersei have extremely different areas of expertise when it comes to protecting people - being born with superpowers never quite left them a chance to do anything but, but Jaime always enjoyed it, he likes helping others.

Except that right now he’s in a fucking mess because he had bitten more than he could chew and disrupting a whole drug ring that he had been trailing for a while with some help by Inspector Tully from KLPD, who has been feeding him classified information for months, on his own... ended up not being a good idea. He’s faster than the average human, very much, and he can bend fire to his will, but he’s also not invincible and he miscalculated, which means that now he’s been shot one time too many by one person too many and either someone patches him up or he’s going to bleed out in a ditch -

And the only option he has right now is her lair, which everyone knows is right next to where they left him to bleed out but everyone avoids at the same time because who even wants to have contact with her?

Still.

It’s either that or nothing. Maybe he’ll see if he can convince her in exchange for a favor or something.

He drags himself as far as the door, then crashes on his knees before he can knock -

And the door opens, and he sees blue eyes looking down into his, and they’re not as cold as he had imagined they’d be, and he faints.

That was definitely not dignified.

--

He opens his eyes.

He’s lying on a bed - a nice bed. Nothing opulent or covered in silken sheets, like the one at the manor, but nonetheless comfortable, with freshly cleaned cotton sheets embroidered in tiny blue flowers. Now that he looks at them, the embroidery is clearly uneven, but still... somehow charming. He groans as he sits up, and then -

“Don’t,” a voice says, a female voice, “you’ll pull your stitches and it took me a while to patch you up.”

He falls back against the pillow and turns towards his right -

Oh.

There she is.

She’s standing next to the right side of the bed, and woah, she’s tall, he thinks, has to be taller than him even if not by much. She’s wearing her usual dark blue uniform, but no mask over her face now, not that she wears it that often - it doesn’t cover her broken nose and the spots of freckles over her pale face or her too-large lips. Her straw blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun and she’s looking down at him with those large, clear blue eyes, and she looks... sad.

Then she shakes her head and helps him sit up, gently, carefully, and now he can see that he’s in a nice room with blue walls, books on the shelves, a wardrobe and a window staring on the road where he had been dumped.

“You - you patched me up?” He asks, aware that he sounds completely dumbfounded. She snorts.

“You were bleeding out on my damned doorstep, Goldenhand.” She spits the name like it was venom. “And I don’t suppose you crawled over it to die, except that it’s only me and a few others here and no one else can actually patch a wound, so it was either me or nothing. You’re welcome.”

"I just asked,” he says defensively. “I didn’t think -”

“What,” she snorts, and he doesn’t like how that tone makes her sound, she has a nice voice, “that I, the unfortunate Beauty of Tarth, would do something nice for a man in need? Of course you didn’t think.” She sighs, falling down on the chair. “Don’t flatter yourself. Doesn’t make you an exception.”

Ouch. The way she says it, it sounds so sad, it makes him feel like shit. But -

“Sorry,” he says, meaning it. “I just - I guess I didn’t assume -”

“You didn’t assume,” she laughs again, “of course you did not. Again. Listen, please, if you can’t say anything that’s not I thought you would leave me there to die because that’s what everyone would assume considering what this entire city thinks of you just keep your mouth shut and leave it.”

He should.

He should, after all it’s not like he had any other reason to assume that, not when Cersei has told him over and over again of the countless times she and the Beauty fought these last few years, but the way she says it -

“Listen, we started with the wrong foot,” he says, deciding that he’s not letting this go. “But you helped me and I obviously am not working with all of the information you have, so how about you help me out and explain what this is about?”

“Oh,” she says, “let’s see. Why did you assume I was going to let you die? Because everyone thinks that I’m spending my time here and only coming out to protect bank robbers or cash in money from supposed minions I have spread all over the city or frighten young children or disrupt your sister’s work while she rescues them? Because I was involved in that incident at that beauty pageant where your sister was supposed to attend but didn’t because she had superhero duties to attend, the entire place exploded and all of those girls forgot ever entering into another pageant again? Because I was the only person in her class who didn’t come to the graduation ceremony and everyone decided I was a sore arse with zero socialization skills and that I’m as ugly inside as I look and so I can only be the bad guy of the situation? Don’t bother answering me, I can see it in your face.”

Jaime closes his mouth. Damn. She sounded really resentful. And he’s about to ask her what it’s it about except that then she reaches up and wipes a tear from her eyes and for a moment her fingers tremble, going transparent -

Right.

She has water powers. She can actually turn into water, if she wants to. She might not be controlling it so much right now, and for a moment he shudders thinking of the months his father tormented both him and Cersei in order to properly control their fire - or well, him, because it took Cersei nothing to learn and it took him longer, but still -

“Well,” he says, “I see there’s another side to your story, so how about you share it?”

“I don’t think you would want to hear it,” she replies.

“Try me,” he retorts back, wishing she would give him a chance, and then she sighs and sits down next to him, staring straight at him.

“Okay,” she says, “let’s see if you do. Starting from the last point... yes, I did miss that graduation. You know why? Because your sister and all her friends hated me. They hated me from the second I walked inside that class when we were eleven, and back then they just made fun of the fact that - well, my father was a regular human, she and the others come from families where everyone in each generation has some kind of mutation, and so I controlled it worse than them because no one taught me. Then, well. Back then I was plain, then I became like this, so then I was too ugly for them to consider, which means that I graduated with a higher score than all of them without a single person who’d talk to me for seven years because oh, right, meanwhile my father died and if I wasn’t at school I’d be at his bedside. But never mind that.” She sighs. “When I left, I meant to - do good. I really wanted to. This - the house was the only valuable thing my father left me, so I sold my own apartment and took residence here, except that all of my former classmates including your sister trash-talked me for a while to anyone they’d know, even contacts, which meant that most children who were in contact with them were fucking afraid of me because they were told I was as mean as ugly, which meant that all their friends thought the same and so on.” She stops, looks down at her hands.

“It also meant that no one in the police wanted to be my contact and the only people who agreed to help me out with anything were criminals wanting to get out without involving the police, which is why I have helped smuggle enough of them to the North with no one being the wiser, but what people knew... became that I helped criminals. Not that I helped take down rings with former criminals having informed me and without the police wanting to help me. Then oh, the pageant. This one you won’t want to hear.”

Jaime, who has felt all of his blood rush from his face, shakes his head. “What about the pageant?”

“Your sister was supposed to run in it but your father told her that Wildfire had to be attend the opening of that group home they named after her.”

“Yeah, I remember that. And so?”

“So, I remember having had a run-in with her the previous day while she was trying to kill one of my informers, and she wasn’t exactly putting her heart in it, and for your information, I have some basic... telepathy skills.”

“You can read minds?”

“Not really, but if someone is thinking very loudly and we’re both running on adrenaline, I can. And she was definitely thinking that if it can’t be me then it can’t be anyone else, so the next day I dropped by the pageant just to make sure nothing was amiss except that the moment I showed up they about kicked me out and I told them that they might need me after, because you know... water powers, but they didn’t want to hear it, and oh, wait, it exploded in wildfire, didn’t it? Except that then I came back and put it out but they decided I started it in the first place. Because of course I was jealous, as if I would even care by now.”

Jaime’s first instinct is defending Cersei, because of course she wouldn’t -

Except that she was pissed off that she missed the pageant.

And she had seemed strangely not sad when she heard the news.

He says nothing.

“All right. And?”

“Huh. You went farther than I thought you would. Well, that’s about fucking it. I mean, each single time I tried to do anything good she had made sure everyone would assume I had bad intentions, most criminals she ends up going after as strangely my own informers so of course I have to fight her, she made sure everyone would hate me while we were in school and I don’t know what she says about this place... actually, what does she say about it?”

“Uhm,” he says, “that... you invite criminals here all the time and you live with a bunch of them?”

She snorts. “I live,” she says, “with five cats, the only single orphan in King’s Landing who isn’t afraid of me -”

“Wait, what’s that about?”

She shrugs, her cheeks flushing darker. “I was going around Flea Bottom at some point because it’s the only place where I can actually help people without people assuming I want to rob them, Pod was sitting outside his door in the middle of winter, I asked him what was wrong, he said his parents locked him out because they couldn’t feed him anymore and he was useless, I tried to have a word with them and they said they didn’t even want him and so I brought him here, what was I going to do? Let him starve? At least someone thinks I don’t want to sell them on the black market. So, I was saying - right, Pod, then there’s my former mentor in school who also was kicked out of her university position a few years later because your father needed it for a friend -”

“Wait, Catelyn Tully lives with you?”

“When she’s not with her family in Winterfell, yes. She helps me with tech and a few other things and she found me a contact to help smuggle people out of the city. And that’s about it, no one else is living here. I run my empire of crime all on my own, Goldenhand, and you’re free to believe me or not but that’s the truth of it. And since you never were a problem and I know you actually are in this because you like it and not because you want the publicity, I had no moral issues with patching you up. And if your sister had been in your place I’d have patched her up too, because as much as I hate her, I wouldn’t let anyone die on my fucking doorstep. There you go,” she says. “That’s the whole truth. Feel free to believe me or not, but if I were you I’d avoid moving for the next couple of days. That was a bad wound.”

She stops, her eyes falling down to her joined hands.

Jaime wants to say something, but he spends five minutes without finding a word, because what do you even say to this, and then she makes a wounded noise in the back of her throat.

“Well, I guess it was good enough you heard me out.”

“Oh, for - can you give me a second?” He blurts. “I lost I don’t know how much blood and you proceeded on informing me of things that I had no idea of until yesterday and which about might be a tad shocking to hear, I never said I didn’t believe you!”

“... Oh.” She shakes her head. “Right. I’m sorry, I just - I got caught up feeling sorry for myself, I guess. You’re right. I’ll - get you something to drink.”

She stands and leaves the room, long legs clad in blue jeans disappearing beyond the door.

Jaime takes a ragged breath and thinks about it.

The moment she comes back and he’s drunk the glass of water she handed him, he clears his throat.

“It adds up,” he says.

“What?”

“Your story. It adds up. With... everything. And with a lot of things concerning my sister I always overlooked because it was convenient. And - I’m sorry about it. You don’t sound at all like the person people make you to be.”

“Thanks, I guess,” she says, not quite looking at him. “I, uh, I - appreciate it. And - I mean, I know who cut you open like that.”

“... You do?”

She nods, wearily. “The Boltons,” she sighs. “Been trying to nail them for a while. I helped some five informers get out while i was doing it. But they’re too much for me on my own and they’re too well-connected. The father tried to hire me once.”

“He did?”

“I told him to fuck off and that didn’t help, so. I haven’t managed yet.”

Jaime nods, thinking on it.

Hm.

They were too much for him and his police connections, but maybe -

“Say,” he says, slowly, “you have informers in their midst?”

“Yes,” she nods. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“I wasn’t asking. But I was thinking - I have contacts in the police. My sister doesn’t care to help me out with this one job and my father can’t care less as long as I honor the family name. You have them from the inside and you live close to their headquarters. And, uh, we are... kinda complimentary. With powers, I mean. Maybe... we could join forces?”

She looks up at him, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“Why not? I mean, you obviously want to dismantle them, I want to dismantle them, we could help each other out, you’re definitely not a horrible person and you didn’t let me die on your doorstep, and if you want a better reputation you’re going to have to start somewhere, right?”

She stares at him as if she can’t believe he just said that and as if he’s considering it, and after a long while he’s hoping he hasn’t overstepped, but then -

Then she tentatively holds a hand out.

“Brienne,” she says.

“Wait, sorry?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s my damned name, Goldenhand. I’m pretty sure that if I have to work with you maybe it’d be good if we introduced ourselves properly?”

Oh. Oh.

He immediately holds out his right, the one that’s always slightly burned because that’s where he sprouts flames, shaking hers. She has long, strong, warm fingers. Her hold is very careful, very gentle, same as before.

He thinks he won’t mind camping in her house as long as it takes for him to get back on his feet and for the two of them to plan their raid.

“Jaime,” he says, letting himself smile, “my name is Jaime.”

She smiles back, her eyes wide and warm, and they’re so, so very pretty, he thinks.

He’s glad that he dragged himself on her doorstep.

He really is.

#jaime x brienne #braime #whump meme #my fic #otp: i dreamed of you #is this a pseudo megamind au? maybe it is #IDEK WHAT THIS IS HAVE FUN #Anonymous #ask post

[terramythos]

TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 27 of 26

Title: How Long ‘Til Black Future Month? (2018)

Author: N. K. Jemisin

Genre/Tags: Short Story Collection, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Horror, Dystopia, Magical Realism, Steampunk, Cyberpunk, Post-Apocalyptic, Female Protagonist(s), LGBT Protagonist(s).

Rating: 8/10 (Note: This is an average of all the stories -- see below the cut for individual story blurbs/ratings).

Date Began: 9/27/2020

Date Finished: 10/4/2020

I really liked this collection! Jemisin wrote my favorite fanstasy/scifi series ever with The Broken Earth trilogy, and I really enjoyed her recent novel The City We Became. I was in the mindset for shorter fiction so decided to read this collection of short stories. Of these 22 stories, my absolute favorites (9/10 or higher) were:

The City Born Great - 10/10

The Effluent Engine - 9/10

Cloud Dragon Skies - 9/10

The Trojan Girl -10/10

Valedictorian - 9/10

The Evaluators - 10/10

Stone Hunger - 9/10

The Narcomancer - 9/10

Too Many Yesterdays, Not Enough Tomorrows - 9/10

Sinners, Saints, Dragons, and Haints, in the City Beneath the Still Waters - 9/10

A more detailed summary/reaction to each story under the cut. WARNING: IT’S LONG.

1. Those Who Stay and Fight - 8/10  

Describes a utopia called Um-Helat that exists solely because no one is seen as superior or inferior to anyone else. Over time we learn it's a future, or potential future, of America. But America today is pure anathema to it due to rampant structural inequality. In order to achieve its utopian ideal, Um-Helatians have to root out and destroy people corrupted by the past.

This story was apparently written as a tribute/response to the Ursula K. Le Guin story “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”. I first read this without context, then went and read the Le Guin story. I definitely see the parallels. Both feature a narrator describing a wonderful utopia in the midst of festival, trying to convince the reader of the place's existence, before introducing something dark that is the price of the utopia. In the Le Guin story, the utopia exists at the price of the horrible misery and suffering of one child, and everyone is aware of it. Most live with it, but a few leave for the unknown rather than continue to live there (hence the title). In Jemisin's story, the price is instead the annihilation of those tainted by exposure to the evils of the past. The choice, instead of leaving, is for those tainted yet capable to become protectors of the new world, or die.

The thesis is pretty clear: that only by abandoning horrible ideologies and refusing to give them any ground or quarter can a utopian society truly exist. I will say that rings clear, especially when one considers Naziism and fascism. Not all ideologies deserve the light of day or debate, and even entertaining them as valid allows it to take hold. I liked this story, though it comes off as a social justice essay more than a story in and of itself.

2. The City Born Great - 10/10

This one is told from the perspective of a homeless young black man who feels a strange resonance with New York City. He meets a mysterious figure named Paulo, who tells him the city is about to be born as a full-fledged entity, and the man has been chosen to assist with its birth. However, there’s an eldritch force known simply as The Enemy that seeks to prevent this from happening.

I've read this one before since it's the prologue to The City We Became. And honestly it was one of my favorite parts of that book. New York City is a phenomenal character. I love that the proto-avatar of NYC is a young homeless black man, one of the most denigrated groups out there. Cops being the harbingers of eldritch destruction is... yeah. It was fun to reread this. The ending is a little different, because in the novel, something goes terribly wrong that doesn't happen in this short story. There is also a flash forward where he is, apparently, about to awaken the avatar of Los Angeles. Makes me wonder if that is ultimately the endgame of the series. But otherwise it's the same thing with absolutely phenomenal character voice and creativity regarding cities as living creatures. I'm glad Jemisin expanded this idea into a full series.

3. Red Dirt Witch - 7/10

Takes place before the (1960s) Civil Rights Movement in Pratt City, AL. The main character is Emmaline, a witch with three kids. A creepy figure called The White Lady comes to visit and steal one of her children.

I love the little twist that The White Lady is a faerie. And the different take on rowan/ash/thorn instead being rosemary/sage/sycamore fig. There is a lot of touching bits about the horrible trials and human rights abuses during the Civil Rights marches (which are unfortunately all too relevant still), but ultimately a hopeful glimpse of the future of black people in America, though hard-won.

4. L'Alchimista - 6/10

Stars a Milanese master chef named Franca, who fell from glory for Reasons, who now works as head chef at a run-down inn. She feeds a mysterious stranger, who then challenges her to fix a seemingly impossible recipe.

This one was fun and charming. I thought the food (and magical food) descriptions were very vibrant and interesting, especially the last meal. I can tell this is an earlier story and it's pretty light hearted, but I enjoyed it. It felt like it needed a little more of.. something.  

5. The Effluent Engine - 9/10

In an interesting steampunk take, Haitian spy Jessaline comes to the city of New Orleans to meet one of its foremost scientists. Her goal is to find a viable, unique energy source to strengthen Haiti in a world that wants to see her nation dead.

I really liked this; it's one of the longer stories so there's more time for character development and worldbuilding. And it's gay. I'm not hugely into pure steampunk because a lot of it comes off as very... samey (hyper Eurocentric/Victorian, etc) but I thought this take was fresh.

Like much of Jemisin's work, there is a lot of racial under and overtones; this one specifically goes into the terrible atrocities committed against the Haitians during their Revolution, and the varied social classes of black/Creole people in New Orleans at the time. A lot of this is stuff I was unaware of or knew very little about. I thought it was interesting to bring all of these to the forefront in a steampunk story in addition to the dirigibles, clockwork, action, and subterfuge. Also, everything tries together in a very satisfying way by the end (the rum bottle!), which I love in short fiction.

6. Cloud Dragon Skies - 9/10

Takes place in a post-apoc future where some humans evacuated to space while others stayed behind and took on more indigenous traditions to heal the Earth. The sky has suddenly turned red on Earth, and some representatives from the "sky-people" come to study it and figure out why.

I really enjoyed this little story; fantasy/scifi fusions are my jam, but science fiction specifically told through a fantasy lens is just so cool to me. The cloud dragons were very interesting and imaginative. Also, I love how the opening statement's meaning isn't particularly clear until you read the whole thing.

7. The Trojan Girl - 10/10

This one is about sentient computer programs/viruses that struggle to survive in something called the Amorph, which is basically a more advanced, omnipresent version of the Internet.

Holy fucking shit was this a cool story. Probably the coolest take on cyberpunk I've ever read. The main character Moroe has formed a messed up little family of creatures like him who live and hunt in Amorph's code, but can upload to "the Static" (real life) if needed by hijacking human hosts. The way this is described is so damn creepy and unsettling. I love that while they're anthropomorphized, the characters are mostly feral and compared to a pack of wolves. Soooo much wolf pack imagery. And the ending is so fucking good and imaginative.

This was apparently a proof of concept story that Jemisin decided not to adapt to a longer series, which I'm kind of sad about, but it was REALLY cool nevertheless. The next story is apparently in the same universe and serves as the "conclusion".

8. Valedictorian - 9/10

This one is about a girl who is, well, top of her class in high school, and the stresses that mount as graduation approaches. But while it seems like a familiar setup, there is something decidedly Off about everything, which is revealed gradually over the course of the story.

I originally gave this an 8, but honestly I couldn't stop thinking about it so I boosted it to a 9. It doesn’t become clear how this connects to the previous story until the midpoint. I liked this one because it functions as a nice dystopian science fiction story but also biting social commentary on the modern American education system. I'm not going go say more on it because spoilers. While I personally like the first story more I think this is an interesting followup/conclusion with a more cerebral approach.  

9. The Storyteller's Replacement - 6/10

This one's presented as a traditional "once upon a time" fable told by a storyteller narrator, about a shitty despotic king named Paramenter. Desperate to prove his virility, he eats the heart of a dragon, which is said to be a cure-all for impotence. It's successful, but the six strange daughters that result seem to have plans of their own.

Not really my cup of tea-- it's pretty fucked up. But it's definitely cathartic by the end, which I appreciate, and I do like how creepy the daughters are.

10. The Brides of Heaven - 5/10

Framed as an interrogation in an offworld colony called Illiyin, in which a terrible accident occurred on the way that left all the adult men dead. Dihya, who lost her only son to an alien parasite, is caught trying to sabotage the colony's water supply for reasons unknown.

I like some things in this story. I love the trope of alien biology affecting human biology in unexpected ways. I'm not terribly familiar with Islam but thought it added an interesting faith vs practicality vs tradition element to the science fiction. However I found the sexual body horror REALLY squicky which turned me off the story as a whole.

11. The Evaluators - 10/10

Stylized as a collection of logs and excerpts from a First Contact team of humans visiting and studying a sapient alien species to potentially set up trade relations. There's a focus on one team member named Aihua and her conversations with one of the aliens, but there's miscellaneous important hints/excerpts from the survey that hint Something Creepy Is Going On.

This one was BIZARRE and took me two reads to fully appreciate, but it’s a great work of nontraditional science fiction horror. Just... the epitome of "*nervous laughter* 'what the fuck'". I can't say more without spoiling but dear lord. That whole Jesus bit hits different on a second read. Fucking hell.

12. Walking Awake - 7/10

Takes place in a dystopian society in which parasitic creatures known as Masters keep a small number of humans alive to be flesh suits for them, which they take over and trade around at will. The main character Sadie is a human "caretaker" responsible for propagandizing and raising well-bred human children that eventually become the Masters' hosts. She starts to have disturbing dreams when one takes over the body of a teenage boy she was particularly attached to.

This is apparently a response to Robert Heinlein's The Puppet Masters, which I have never read. It's a full damn novel so I probably won't. Google tells me it's about parasitic aliens, but was obviously also Red Scare paranoia about communist Russia. The argument in the Jemisin story is that the parasites are a result of human folly in an attempt to punish/control people their creators didn't like. This went poorly and resulted in the whole world being taken over.

The story itself is disturbing since the victims are innocent children, but it's ultimately about standing up and taking the first step toward revolution. I felt pretty neutral about the story itself; perhaps I would have liked it more if it was longer and I had more time with the world and protagonist. I wanted to connect to Sadie and her maternal relationship the boy who got killed more. Or maybe it's more impactful if you're familiar with the Heinlein novel and can see the nods/digs.

13. The Elevator Dancer - 7/10

A very short story that takes place in a Christian fundamentalist surveillance state. The protagonist is an unnamed security guard who occasionally sees a woman dancing alone in the elevator and obsesses over her.

I like this one but I'm not sure if I really get it. It's heavily implied the dancer is a hallucination, and the narrator gets "re-educated" but it's all a little ambiguous. I think it's about the struggle to find meaning and inspiration in an oppressive world.  

14. Cuisine des Mémoires - 8/10

This one's about a man named Harold who visits a strange restaurant that claims it can replicate any meal from any point in history. He orders a meal which his ex-wife, whom he still loves very much, fixed for him years ago.

This one was certainly different, but I really like the idea of food-as-memory, especially because that's an actual thing. This story just takes it to an extra level. Honestly this story made me feel things... the longing of memory and missed connections/opportunities. Jemisin did a great job with emotion on this one.

15. Stone Hunger - 9/10

Stars a girl in with the ability to manipulate the earth who's tracking down a man she senses in an unfamiliar city. It's heavily implied the world is in a perpetual post-apocalyptic state. When she's caught damaging the outer wall of the city to break in and injured/imprisoned, she's aided by a mysterious, humanoid statue creature with motives of its own.

I have to say it's really interesting to see an early beta concept of The Broken Earth. Orogeny is a little different (and not named)-- there's some kind of taste component to it? Though that's possibly unique to the main character? While hatred of orogenes exists I don't think it's a structural exploitation allegory at this point. Ykka + proto-Castrima existing this early is pretty funny to me. People also use metal, which is VERY funny if you’ve read the series. But I was thrilled to see stone eaters were Very Much A Thing this early and almost exactly how they appear in the series (a little more sinister I guess. At least the one in this story is. I think he basically gets integrated into the Steel/Gray character in the final version).

Anyway as a huge fan of The Broken Earth it's inspiring to see these early ideas and just how much got changed. It's hard for me to look at this as an independent story without the context of the series. I think I'd like it due to the creative setting and strange concepts, but I appreciate the final changes to narrative style and worldbuilding, which really made the series for me.

16. On The Banks of the River Lex - 8/10

Death explores a decaying, post-human version of New York City. He and various deities/ideas created by humans are all that survives in the future and they struggle to exist in the crumbling infrastructure of the city. But Death gradually observes new and different creatures developing amid the wreckage.

I liked this! Despite a typically bleak premise the story is very optimistic and hopeful for the future of the world post-humanity. I like anthropomorphized concepts/deities/etc in general. I thought the imagery of decay and life was gorgeous. Also octopuses are cool.

17. The Narcomancer - 9/10

Told from the perspective of Cet, a priest known as a Gatherer, who can take the life of someone through their dreams in order to bring them peace. When a village petitions his order to investigate a series of raids conducted by brigands using forbidden magic, Cet joins the party. However, he is troubled by his growing attraction to a strong-willed woman of the village.

This apparently takes place in the Dreamblood universe, which I have not read and know nothing about. However, I really enjoyed this story. It's the longest in the collection so I felt I really got to know the characters. The dream-based religion and fantasy was captivating to learn about. It was also romantic as hell, but not in the typical way you’d expect. I thought the central conflict of a priest struggling between an oath of celibacy and his duty to do the right thing (bring peace to someone who needs it) was fascinating.

18. Henosis - 4/10

A short piece, told anachronistically, about a lauded, award winning author on the way to an award ceremony. He gets kidnapped, but there's Something Else going on.

Honestly I get the sense this one is personal, lol. I will say I like the disturbing play on expectations, but I didn't connect much with it otherwise.  

19. Too Many Yesterdays, Not Enough Tomorrows - 9/10

Follows a group of bloggers who have found themselves caught in isolated quantum loops. Their only human contact is through tenuous online conversations with each other. Styled as various chat logs and emails interspersed with the thoughts and perspectives of Helen, a young black woman who before the loop was teaching English in Japan.

This one is real depressing and definitely Social Commentary (TM). The central thesis about loneliness and disconnect at the end made me pretty dang sad. Good stuff in an ouch kind of way and made me think.

20. The You Train - 6/10

Told from the perspective of an unnamed narrator talking (presumably on the phone) to a friend about her struggles adjusting to life in New York City. She regularly mentions seeing train lines that either don't exist or retired a long time ago.

This is the kind of story I'd normally really like. I think trains are interesting and like vaguely supernatural, inexplicable shit. The one-sided phone call is also an interesting narrative device. But I'm not sure I really got this one. It comes off as vaguely horror-y but also optimistic? I couldn't really figure this one out, and it was too short to feel much investment on top of that.

21. Non-Zero Probabilities - 7/10

Luck has gone completely out of whack in New York City. Highly improbable events suddenly become way more likely, both good and bad. This story follows a woman named Adele and coming to grips with the new ways of life this brings.

I liked this one well enough but I don't have a lot to say about it. I liked how the story looks at how people would adapt to a life where probability doesn't mean anything anymore.  

22. Sinners, Saints, Dragons, and Haints, in the City Beneath the Still Waters - 9/10

A magical realism story about a man named Tookie struggling to survive in New Orleans in the immediate aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. He meets a talking, winged lizard and the two help each other out. But it soon becomes clear there is something sinister lurking in the flooded ruins of the city.

This story was very imaginative and a great cap to the collection. I thought it was an intriguing time period to set a magical realism story in. I love the little details, especially those of omission -- the "lizard" is never called a dragon, for example. I can see echoes of this story in The City We Became, especially the themes of cities as powerful entities, vague eldritch fuckery centered around hatred, and certain people being guardians of the city.  

#2020 reading challenge #BONUS ROUND #taylor reads #8/10 #i am posting this Late but i was basically writing this review as i read so it's like. all done lol

[cozycryptidcorner]

Chapter Six

You miss the party, which is no big deal. Really.

Nothing to worry about at all.

You were just going to go poking around to find all that juicy gossip to bring back home if you ever end up getting off this hellish planet. The glimmering black metal that holds your bathroom mirror is a little too well wielded for you to pull off for a makeshift weapon, you discover, as you try your damndest to wriggle one of the sharper points back and forth to snap off. Curse this excellent example of Lolth craftsmanship.

“Breakfast is ready, ma’am!”

“I’ll be out in a minute!” You stare at yourself in the mirror, trying to ignore the dark crescents beneath your eyes, despite however long you had managed to sleep. Given that the last thing you remember before waking up in your bed was being on the train with the prince, it probably means that you had been picked up by someone and brought to your room delicately enough to not be roused. You don’t know how you feel about that quite yet. Not disgusted, no, you don’t feel repulsed by the idea of his hands on you…. Which, in itself, is a new thought that you aren’t sure how to process.

When you leave your room, a familiar breakfast is laid out on the table. Human food, you think, looking over the spread as a pinch of hunger finally squeezes your stomach. You barely manage to thank the maid before you inhale it all, a dull throb in the front of your head reminiscent of a hangover. Whatever that demon doctor gave you yesterday left you feeling like you are starving.

“Blessings, ma’am,” the maid says, handing you a mug of something piping hot. “The keias’ assistant asked me to inform you that your servant is being put under surveillance and repairs.”

“Oh,” you say, a small ripple of relief running through your body. Also apprehension, that’s there, too, because you aren’t sure if what you have been doing is Starward Matchmaker’s Approved™. Issues might arise. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course, my lady.”

You bite down, ignoring the shiver running down your spine at the maid’s words. My lady, she said like you were almost royalty. It feels strange, yes, but this time you think that the maid really believes what she says, rather than spitting out empty promises on the prince’s behalf. “I… I think after breakfast, I’ll just go back to my room and rest.”

“A wise choice, ma’am,” the maid responds, beginning the tedious process of washing dishes.

“I don’t want to be disturbed,” you add, shoveling something else into your mouth.

“Of course, ma’am.”

You finish the food, placing the dishes in the sink and rinsing them because you aren’t a fucking animal, and head back to your room. The lock is thick, you can hear it click as you turn the nob, but you don’t trust it. It’s an illusion of privacy, if someone wanted in your room, all they would have to do is either get one of those old fashioned keys or electronically request permission from someone with access. Easy. But still, you think that the drow maid respects your privacy enough not to come barging in when you’re worming your way through the ducts.

Because, you think, pushing the bookshelf back underneath the metal grate, any control freak would at the very least have some kind of way to monitor all entrances and exits, these bad boys included. Besides the sensor, you mean, quickly disabling it with a flick of your finger against the tablet. Anyone with common sense wouldn’t immediately assume that their charge has somehow hacked their way into their boss’ primary system.

It’s not that tight of a space for you, probably because drows are just a tad bit larger than the average humans, so it makes sense that you’re able to get around without feeling the oppressive feeling of being trapped by metal on all sides. For today, you think that you’re going to investigate that room with that matching serial number, the one on the lower floor, and for that, you will need to find a kind of maintenance tube, preferably one with a ladder. Despite all your other adventures in the atmo ducts from before, the metal in this one is warm. It isn’t distressing or anything; it’s just an odd, so you march on, pausing every so often to look over the map on your tablet. After a little while of floundering around in the breezy tunnel, you find a four-way junction, well, six-way, technically, since up and down are also options.

You wriggle your body around, sliding down feet first, going as slow as you can manage until your foot hits an indent in the metal. It probably isn’t smart to rush downward, but you do, hand over hand, moving downwards as quickly as you would risk. Falling and breaking something is going to be the least of your worries, honestly, because being found in an area where you aren’t supposed to be is high on that getting in trouble list that will not end nicely for you, shattered limbs or not.

It’s difficult trying to find the room without any of the numbers painted on the inside of the walls sucks, because you have to keep careful track of how many grates you’ve passed. Plus, the fact that might not even matter because different suites might have a different number of rooms and, therefore, a wonky set air filters. Still, though, you keep looking down at the numbers on the map, and comparing it to the numbers you’ve passed, and keep going. There- there! Just up ahead, you mentally calculate everything once more, then stop to peek into the room.

At first, it’s a bit difficult to make everything out, but there is definitely someone in there. Someone large, with eight, spindly legs, leaning over a tall desk piled high with tablets, quarry-stone paperwork, and royal stamps. You fidget, trying to find a more comfortable way to spy on your number neighbor without your tablet digging into your thigh. After a moment of absolutely silent struggling, you realize that there is something very much wrong with your friend down there. Namely that they aren’t working anymore, they’re staring right through the grate, head cocked, eyes narrow, and you finally get a good look at their- his face.

Okay, there are two ways this can go about. You can scurry back through the dark like a coward, then deal with the consequences of unwanted questions and tighter security measures, or you can take this situation by the throat and throttle it. Calmly, you kick the grate open, then wriggle your body through the opening, plopping down on your feet and trying to hide the fact that your super cool landing hurt a lot more than you had initially expected it to. But no doubt, it probably looked real wicked.

“Hey, how’s it going?” You ask a very confused prince.

“What were you doing up there?”

“Having a look around the palace?” You say, trying to stick to as much truth as possible.

“You know- you could have asked Elias for a tour.”

“I could have,” you say, thinking very quickly on your feet, “but I didn’t want to bother him.”

“It’s his job to be bothered.”

“Maybe so, but I wanted to bother you directly rather than bother someone else to bother you.”

You figured that admitting- truthfully, unfortunately- that you wanted to see him would at least swing the situation in your favor, and it appears that you are correct. He no longer looks like he’s worried about whether or not you were planning on ambushing him while he was working to take his, uh, stone figurines or something, but you’re definitely not out of the woods quite yet.

“How did you find where I was?” He asks.

Ugh, truth time now. Say goodbye to a loophole that’s undoubtedly going to be fixed in no time. “Maintenance map,” you say, turning your tablet’s screen around and showing him. “I was wondering why my number didn’t match everyone else’s on my floor. Guess I know the answer now.”

He lets out a huff of breath, one that isn’t quite disappointed, but also wouldn’t be labeled as positively thrilled. “I see. And if it wasn’t me who caught you? What if it was someone less… accepting of your species?”

“If it were, I wouldn’t have made such an astounding entrance, babe,” you say, hopping on the smooth petrified wood of his desk, “I ’d’ve scurried off into the dark like a phantom.”

“And you would have been reported,” he says, less convincingly than he was a moment ago. “The whole situation would have been difficult to cover up.”

“Sorry,” you finally give in, “I didn’t know that I was risking you as well as me; otherwise, I wouldn’t have tried anything.”

He remains silent for a moment, you see him mulling over whatever you had said over in his mind, mouth slightly pursed in thought. After a hot, thunderously quiet minute while you await his verdict, your palms start to sweat from stress. You have been pushing his boundaries, you realize, that can’t end well. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone this far, you think, picking at the ends of your nails, so you don’t begin panicking.

“I have something for you,” he says suddenly, and you almost jump out of your skin.

“Oh- um, what is it?” You ask, swallowing thickly, trying to destress yourself before your entire body freezes up and you have a panic attack.

“The human protocol would be not to ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” The prince says breezily, opening one of the drawers in his desk and pulling out an ornately decorated box. “What you told me yesterday while you were, er, rather intoxicated made me realize that this whole situation is rather unfair for you, especially given the amount of trust you would have to exhibit just to cross the border into my people’s territory.”

You can barely remember anything from the night before, just a hazy jumble of colors and voices… and that creature, the one with such a death toll on their hands that there’s order for all ship captains, civilian included, to shoot them on sight. Still, you must have said something for the prince to suddenly be so gentle with you all of a sudden. You accept the gift he holds out, running your fingers over the stone of the box, admiring the golden engravings across the top. Slowly, unsurely, you open it, finding a wickedly long, devastatingly sharp blade lying in a bed of velvet-like material, the hilt intricately shaped to look like a single, golden serpent.

“It’s a thiamas,” he quickly explains, “They were only made during the territorial wars, but the last skirmishes ended centuries ago. Now they collect dust as objects of decoration… but I thought you might appreciate learning to use one.”

“Territorial wars,” you echo, wrapping your fingers around the hilt, “so… they were used against driders?”

“Yes. I would have to train you to use it, of course, and it would be no small task, but you should at least have something to protect yourself with whe- if you decide to stay.”

You look at the knife, at the imperfect curves and bumps in the blade, the gleam of the tip in the low light, how deathly black the crystal looks in your hand. Out of all the gifts you’ve ever received, you’ll be honest, the weapons have always been the best. Tools for you to use as you will, for better or for worse. You don’t expect this to be any different.

“You’re smiling,” the prince observes, “you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit quietly, giving him a little nod.

“Perhaps, since you aren’t busy, we should start training now?”

“Yeah, one sec,” you say, placing the knife back in its case and setting the tablet beside it. “Hold still.”

“Should I be nervous?”

“Depends,” you arch your eyebrows, placing your hands onto his shoulders. “Maybe you should be.”

Then you pull him down, just a bit, enough for you to brush your mouth against his while balancing on the very tips of your toes. It has the desired effect, throwing the prince off whatever rhythm he had been on, his entire body going impossibly still against your mouth. When you part from him, it’s a quick, jerking movement. A soft, huff of breath escapes your lips as you look at his reaction, your heart beating much faster than should be considered healthy.

“That was a kiss,” he says, slowly, as if running through the logic of the action in his head.

“Yes.”

“It’s a sign of affection.”

“Yup.” Is he flustered?

“And… it is often used as a gesture of attraction.” He regards you once more, running his tongue over his bottom lip almost too quickly for your eye to catch.

“So it is,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest.

The very corner of his mouth twitches upward, just slight enough to be easily mistaken for literally anything but a smile. “I have a private training room that is reserved for my use only, we won’t be interrupted.”

You pick up the knife again, feeling the weight of it against your fingertips. “Lead the way.”

It’s a large room, better lit than his office, with sturdy mats covering the unforgiving stone floor. The stone itself isn’t what you would call cold, far from it, actually, but the mats must have some kind of cooling gel or whatever because they feel significantly less hot than everything else. The space is another thing, though, because it’s basically a warehouse. The ceiling towers over you like a cathedral’s, and you’re pretty sure that you’ll hear an echo if you shout. You suppose that driders do need a ridiculous amount of space to train, especially since they can jump a good amount higher than they are tall. It’s actually not bad to train on, you think, stretching your legs out, it’s better than that hellhole Clementine had you in, anyway.

“You can’t be afraid to get close,” the prince instructs, “the one flaw about fighting with a knife is that distance will not be your friend. But since you are so short-”

“Not short,” you can’t help but interrupt.

“My apologies,” he says, “I was under the assumption you’ve looked in the mirror recently.”

It takes you a hot minute to realize that the prince… is teasing you? You look at him, aghast, and then say, “I am perfectly not short where I come from.”

“Not being the shortest person in a species full of short people does not make you tall.”

You place your hands on your hips. “Okay, Mr. Tally McTallface from Tall People Land, how am I supposed to make up for the height difference?”

“You’re going to have to climb up me, whatever means necessary. Give it a try.”

Challenge accepted. You look over his body again, all angles, barely any softness. The joints of his many legs might offer you a decent foothold, but you’re going to have to use something else to haul yourself up. After pondering for a bit, your eyes zero in on the flaps of his clothing, open, begging for a small pair of human hands to grab on. So you give it a try, jumping up, grabbing the open neckline of his robe, and settling your foot up on the flattest bit of his leg, and press the dagger up against his throat.

“A fine start,” he says, clearly unconcerned with the weapon digging into his skin, “but that’s not where you want to aim.”

You slide back down, landing rather gracefully on your feet. “Where should I, then?”

“Here,” the prince places a hand on the very center of his chest, “you’ll manage to hit something vital if you aim here. This is a spot where two bones sit, fused together with collagen. The thiamas is sharp enough and strong enough to pierce through with little effort.”

So you try again, offering no words of warning as you snap into action, repeating your climb but sticking the point right where the prince had been pointing, mere seconds before.

“Better,” he allows, “though you may want to move a bit quicker. Anyone with the bare minimum of combat skills could see your movements before you even make them. Again.”

Finish him, a voice inside you hisses as you jump back down to the ground. So close, so close. Take his heart and leave him bleeding. You try a different approach, this time, leaping as high off the ground as you can manage, bracing your foot right where his hip ends and one of his legs begin, then gripping his shoulder to keep from falling back down. The tip of the dagger slices at his clothing with barely any force, you immediately yank it away in fear of nicking him.

“Again.”

He’s a good teacher, much better than Clementine or the matchmaker rep. You don’t think either would be particularly pleased to hear your observation, but it’s definitely true. While he does believe that skill takes practice, he isn’t nearly as unbearably harsh as the seasoned army vet put in charge of your brief combat training, nor is he fond of physical punishment for your ‘outrageous’ behavior. It’s… actually kind of nice, you realize, because a few hours fly by without you even noticing where the time was going.

Your focus isn’t on avoiding any untempered wack with a cane or an ungodly shock of electricity; it’s on how the prince’s skin feels against yours when you pull yourself up to his eye level, knife in hand. It’s on how his eyes seem to glitter in the low light when you manage to throw him only marginally off guard and nick just the smallest needlepoint of skin. As though you aren’t merely meeting the lowest expectations he’s set for you to accomplish, but like he’s- like he’s proud of what you are managing to do with the time you have had so far.

The idea of someone being proud of you… god, you don’t want to think about that right now. It’s doing something to your insides, making everything all melty, and your eyes begin stinging with something. Sweat, probably.

“Lunch?” He asks, letting you drop back down onto the mat, his hand on yours to slow your fall. “You seem hungry.”

“I feel hungry.” Your body is doing that thing where it vibrates due to a drop in blood sugar, which is basically its way of telling you to shovel food into mouth now please. “But I’m trying to acclimate to the two meal per day schedule you guys have here.”

“Nonsense,” he says briskly, “you shouldn’t starve yourself. I’ll order your maid to bring up some food while you clean yourself up. Unless, of course, you would rather return to your suite for the day?”

Do… do you want to go back to your room? Not really, especially with the matchmaker rep’s shell rotting wherever his assistant sent it. You do need to talk with the prince about what’s supposed to be done with that thing, but you had forgotten entirely about her just now. Plus, food does sound super-duper at the moment, and since you don’t think you can do much until you replenish all fuel gone with the training session, it’s pretty darn easy to decide that you would very much prefer to remain in the prince’s quarters for as long as he’d have you. If someone dares question your judgment… it was all for reconnaissance.

“If your bathtub is better than mine,” you threaten, waggling your fingers, “I warn you, I will only bathe there from now on.”

He seems amused. “I’ll allow you to judge the difference, then.”

The prince’s bathtub isn’t just better than yours, it’s much better. Like, you might have been just a tad bit put off by the luxury of your own apartment, but holy motherfuck, you don’t even know what to do with yourself when you step foot into his bathroom. Maybe wash your hands? Apologize to the polished marble for even looking at it? The bathtub is precisely the size you’d thought it would be, ridiculously large, big enough to fit the prince’s towering frame and then some. To you, it’s essentially a swimming pool, maybe one big enough to do some laps in, and your immediate thought at finally gauging its size was: bubble bath + big tub = bubble mountain.

“Is it better than yours?”

You barely manage to croak out a word in affirmation.

“I’ll leave you then. There should be something in my closet you can wear temporarily, feel free to look around.”

Bubble mountain bubble mountain bubble mountain bubble mountain. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Um,” you take in a shaking breath, “if you could turn on the water while I look for something to change into, yeah. I don’t know how to work the controls.”

“Of course.”

You make your way to the closet, and that almost feels like stumbling into some kind of otherworldly dimension. It’s… large, that’s for sure, and filled from wall to wall with clothing, jewels, weapons, and even armor, but you aren’t confident what exactly you can fit into without swimming in fabric. You pull open a drawer, rifling through different robes and tunics, until you find something that you can at least tighten around your waist so it doesn’t slip off your body like a silken tube.

When you emerge from his closet, the tub is only about marginally full, despite the water from the spout gushing like a goddamn waterfall. It’s… odd, you guess, seeing water used too liberally without any thoughts of conservation, but that isn’t needed here like it is up in space. Thousands of rivers run through the stone and metal, so it’s not like the prince is just showing off how much water he can afford to waste, either. It’s just a thing that’s normal.

You show him what you picked as if you expected him to be at all particular about the clothing you borrow. He only offers a nod, letting his eyebrows arch, and then saying, “I’ll leave, then, come out whenever you feel ready.”

“Right,” you say, reaching down and feeling the water’s temperature. Perfect. Huh. “Will do.”

The water feels glorious against the muscles you hadn’t even realized are sore until this exact moment. Everything melts down into a puddle of warmth, and after scrubbing some soap over your sweaty bits, you lean back and let yourself float. It’s almost like being adrift in space, in an endless void, surrounded by a vast nothingness that makes you feel like a blip in the eternity of the universe. There isn’t anything here to worry about, the matchmaker rep, the admiral, Clementine... even the prince fades away, bleeding out into the water. You take a long, deep breath, closing your eyes for just a moment, and pretend that you’re out doing a run for a local smuggler. Something external is damaged, so you just popped out of your ship to do a quick repair. Everything is fine. Everything is safe.

But it doesn’t last. The water begins to run cold, which you usually wouldn’t mind, except now you’re reminded that you’re here, grounded, and on a mission. The crushing feeling returns, the stress resuming to rest around your body like a smothering blanket. You don’t cry, though, because tears help no one, but you do let out a single, whimpering breath just to get a portion of it out of your system. Get up, get out, you tell yourself, hauling your soaking body out of the tub and onto the slick floor. Dressing isn’t as bad as your brain psyched it up to be since your arms are a tad sore, and you manage to wrap it around yourself enough to the point where, while not particularly attractive, serves its function as a temporary outfit.

You look at yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath.

Don’t forget to smile, the matchmaker’s voice echoes in your ears.

You leave the solitary safety of the bathroom.

#drider #exophilia #monster lover #monster/reader #monster x reader

[kthstrawberryshortcake]

BTS Reaction: finding out their s/o is a mythological creature

REQUEST (from anon):  For short scenarios how about the boys reacting to you being a mythological being??

Here you go! I did my best, this was very out of the box and challenging though so I hope you guys like it.

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Namjoon | s/o is a cat shifter: 

You and Namjoon had been dating for over six months now and he still didn’t know what you were. It was a little difficult to explain to an average regular human. Not to mention that time he said he was “more of a dog person than a cat person.” That made you more nervous than it probably should’ve. Eventually he started questioning where you disappeared to for three hours or so every afternoon. You hated outright lying to him, but unless you wanted to reveal yourself, you had no other choice. The rules of being a shifter were very clear. You must spend at least 3 hours a day in your animal form or a lot of things would start to go wrong with your body. You didn’t enjoy being a small and vulnerable creature out alone at night, so you elected to spend your cat form time during the day. That was also, unfortunately, more conspicuous than night, which would’ve been easier to hide. So one day you decided to test it. How did Namjoon actually feel about cats? You started hanging out by his front door in your cat form when you knew he’d be coming or going. To your pleasant surprise he was quite taken with what he believed to be a random stray, to the point of trying to figure out whether he could adopt it. Feeling more secure after that, one night when you were sitting together watching Netflix, you paused the show you were watching and looked at him. “You know how you’ve been asking me where I run off to during the day? I know you’ve been suspicious about that for a long time…” you began, watching the color drain from your boyfriend’s face. He was clearly expecting something bad. “It’s okay, it’s not a bad thing. I just wanted to say I’m ready to tell you…. Just watch me for a minute, okay?” You said tentatively, getting up and standing in front of him a few feet away. You shifted to your cat form and his jaw dropped in shock. You watched his expression carefully, worried as to how he’d react. After the momentary shock wore off a huge grin appeared on his face. “I’d been wondering why I got so attached to that cat so quickly,” he laughed, and you shifted back to your human form before he engulfed you in a hug. “You’re the cutest kitty, love. I’m glad you told me.” He said, and you felt relieved that he finally knew and fully accepted you.

Jin | s/o is a flower fairy: 

You’d been with Jin for a year at this point, and you’d never been happier in your life. The biggest problem was the struggle to keep your secret about what you really were. You couldn’t exactly walk up to him and say “by the way babe I’m actually a fairy! Fairies are real, too, I’m not crazy or making this up!” You shuddered at the thought of how badly that’d go. You were grateful for the ability to conceal your wings, which was possible but took a lot of energy to maintain. There was one thing you couldn’t resist doing, though, that was kind of suspicious and difficult to explain, if you thought about it enough. Jin loved flowers, so he was always buying indoor plants to keep scattered around his apartment. He had a bit of a brown thumb, though, being quite talented at killing houseplants even as he tried to keep them alive. Every time a plant of his had deteriorated to the point of being almost dead, you’d wait until he wasn’t looking and would use your powers to revive it to its original blossoming glory. The flowers made him happy, after all, and it was the least you could do considering what you were hiding. One evening you were in Jin’s apartment getting it tidied up for his return from a trip. He didn’t ask you to do anything but get the mail, but you didn’t mind straightening things up while you were there. It also gave you time to work on some of his poor plants. He was supposed to be arriving home late that night. Relieved by the freedom to be your full self without hiding, you sang quietly to yourself as you hovered over the plants, wings out, using your powers to heal the wilting flowers. Little did you know that Jin was arriving home early, deciding not to tell you in order to surprise you with his early return. Imagine his surprise when he entered his apartment to find his girlfriend with wings attached to her back, magically healing his plants. You stopped, finally realizing you weren’t alone. You jumped when you saw him, startled by his sudden appearance. “……you’re early!” You said with a nervous smile on your face. Jin looked amazed. “The wings…. they’re real, aren’t they?” You nodded slowly. “Why do you have…..?” He trailed off as you replied “I’m a flower fairy.” He blinked at you, still in a bit of a shock. “Why haven’t I seen the wings?” Jin asked softly, more confused than upset. “I can hide them. It drains me, it’s hard to do… But I can hide them.” You explained. He approached you and carefully pulled you into a hug, careful not to squish your wings. “You don’t have to hide anymore, at least not with me. I can see why this is a secret overall but I love you, and I want you to be your full self with me. Okay?” He asked, and you gave a slight nod, tearing up. You’d never expected him finding you out would go so well. Your heart was warm.

Yoongi | s/o is a witch: 

After being with you for nearly a year, Yoongi had accepted the fact that sometimes things…. happened… around you. They were difficult to explain, like items appearing to move on their own and mysterious sounds being heard sometimes when you were near. You also had a lot of cooking utensils, especially pots, considering you didn’t cook. He kind of just thought you were a bit of a weird girl, though, which was fine by him. He loved you and the unexplainable things didn’t matter really. One night you’d declined having dinner with him, explaining that you had a project for work that you wanted to get ahead on and that you planned to stay home. Yoongi accepted this readily, having no reason not to. In reality, you were running low on several of your most commonly-used potions, so you needed to replenish your stash. You were in your kitchen working with one of your “pots” as Yoongi called them (it was a cauldron), standing over it as you added ingredients one by one. You said the necessary words and channeled your magic into the brewing potion. You had no idea that Yoongi had brought takeout to surprise you, thinking you were working like you’d told him. He had a key to your place so he just walked right in, finding you in the kitchen and stopping abruptly. “Are you trying to cook again?” He asked apprehensively, sniffing the air and observing the strange smell. You turned to face him, frozen in place. “Um… it’s not food….” Yoongi stepped forward and peered into the cauldron, seeing that its contents were a thick gooey grey sludge. “Well I guess it’s lucky I brought takeout,” he said, trying not to gag at the sight of it. You just stared at him, silently blinking as you debated how to proceed. “It’s not food. I’m not cooking. It’s…. a potion…. I’m a witch….” You trailed off looking down at your hands as you fidgeted nervously. “Wait what? You’re serious? Thats…. not possible…. is it?” He asked in awe, and you looked back up, but not at him. You used your magic to move a bowl from the kitchen counter into the sink. You turned the lights off and on with the wave of a hand. You opened and then shut the front door from where you stood in the kitchen, the slamming of the door audible from where you were. You’d never seen Yoongi’s eyes so wide. He grinned at you. “This is insane.” He said excitedly. “I thought you were just this cute weird girl but you’re actually a badass witch? What did I do to get a girlfriend who’s this cool?” He enthused, giving you a quick peck on the lips happily. It was official, you thought. Your boyfriend was the perfect man.

Hoseok | s/o is a vampire:

As happy as your four-month relationship with Hoseok had been, you knew it was wrapped in a massive web of lies. Your lies. But what choice did you have? You wanted to be with this man, probably forever, but wouldn’t he run if he knew you were a monster? The biggest lie was that you had a rare digestive condition that required you to consume only fruit punch plus dietary supplements to replace other nutrients. Because of it he no longer batted an eye at the fact that you never ate or drank aside from “juice pouches” of red liquid. Your fundamental lie was implicit: that you were human. No, you were a vampire in hiding, disguised, trying to live a normal life without hurting anybody. Today you were meeting Hobi at the park as you often did. You were sitting on a bench waiting for him when he walked up, flashing that beautiful smile of his. “Hi jagi! It’s lunchtime so I brought you a fruit punch.” He said, giving you a peck on the cheek before offering you the juice he was holding. Inside you were panicking, but you gave him a smile back, taking the drink with a “thank you”. He blinked at you expectantly. “You should drink it, it’s time for lunch, so that’s your equivalent of eating, right? Don’t skip meals. You make me worried about you.” He pouted. You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that you were going to have to drink the fruit punch. You lifted the straw to your lips and took a sip, trying not to make a face. You only lasted a couple of seconds before your body rejected it and you spit it up into the grass. Now Hoseok REALLY looked worried.“Are you okay? Is something wrong with your stomach?” He asked, deeply concerned. “We’re taking you to the hospital! Let’s go right now, come on.” He took your hand and pulled you along the sidewalk like he was on a mission. “Hobi stop.” You said, planting your feet and forcing him to stop walking. “I’m not sick. It’s just that what I’m drinking all the time isn’t actually fruit punch…” You chewed on your lip nervously, watching your boyfriend’s confused expression. “….it’s blood.” You admitted, and he stared at you for a long while, trying to decide if you were serious or not. When he determined that you meant what you said, his eyes grew wide and his face paled before he fainted onto the grass. When he woke up five minutes later you were kneeling beside him, looking down at him and crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just… I love you. I don’t want to lose you. Please just… don’t tell anyone. Then you can walk away and pretend we never met. I won’t hurt anyone, I promise. I never wanted to hurt anyone…” You sobbed quietly, knowing from past experiences that this revelation tended to scare people and make them want to drive you out of town because of their fear. Hobi reached up and wiped your tears from your face. “I’m not going anywhere. I know you, and I know you’re kind and gentle and wouldn’t hurt a fly. This complicates things, sure. But we’re in this together now.” He smiled as he kissed your hand. “Now let’s get back up off the ground."

Jimin | s/o is a mermaid:

Everyone is familiar with the concept that mermaids can’t be out of the water for too long. That was absolutely the case with you, and it made hiding what you were a real challenge. Your boyfriend of two years was still in the dark about it. Jimin just thought that you really enjoyed solitary trips to the beach and exceedingly long baths. You felt guilty for not telling him. You’d intended to initially, but as time went on you found yourself faller deeper and deeper in love, and now you were too afraid of losing him to say anything. You should’ve known that a secret this huge would eventually come out whether you like it or not. One day Jimin was running late for a meeting and had somehow managed to leave his keys on the bathroom counter. He thought you were in your bedroom, so he walked right in to get his keys. But he was wrong. You weren’t in your bedroom. You were taking one of your super long baths, which were needed to keep yourself from getting sick from water withdrawals. So there you were, sitting in the bathtub with your long iridescent tail hanging just slightly over the edge of the tub. You froze, not sure what to do. Jimin also froze, forgetting about his original key retrieval mission because holy crap his girlfriend has a tail…?! Not even the fact that you were naked occurred to him, nor you actually. It was just your tail. “I wanted to tell you….” You said quietly, afraid to make eye contact. “I’m so sorry, Jimin. I just love you so much that I…. I didn’t want to…. You can go, I understand that you probably don’t want to -“ You rambled, tears beginning to leak from your eyes. But Jimin cut you off. “NO. No, love, I’m not going anywhere.” He knelt beside the tub, placing a hand gently on your cheek. “Calm down. I don’t mind. I don’t care what you are, because I love WHO you are.” He said gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Your’re…. I mean are you a mermaid? Is that a thing?” He asked curiously, understandably confused. “Yes. That’s what I am. I love you too.” You confirmed, a small smile forming itself on your lips. “So can I come to the beach more with you now?” Jimin asked, smiling widely. You laughed and nodded, relieved that he was okay with all this. Suddenly his expression dropped and he looked panicked. “I forgot why I came in here, I need to grab my keys and go. I’m so late.” He jumped up, calling behind him. “Beach tonight! We’ll have a picnic before sunset! Love you!” Then he rushed out the door, leaving you excited and relieved.

Taehyung | s/o is a chipmunk shifter:

Your boyfriend of nine months still didn’t know the truth about you. He was under the impression you were an ordinary human. He had noticed small clues in your features and behaviors, but thankfully he never put the puzzle pieces together. He thought nothing of the fact that you were a vegetarian. He didn’t find it odd that you ate your favorite snacks, nuts, rather often. He cooed over your cute round, chubby cheeks, finding them adorable. He didn’t even mind you disappearing for a few hours every day, attributing it to your need for quiet alone time. You were, after all, relatively introverted. The truth? The truth was that you were a shifter… one whose animal form was a chipmunk. You never strayed far when you spent the physically necessary time in your animal form, usually preferring to stay in and around the trees outside your house. That was, of course, until one day when it was thunderstorming outside and you went back into your house in animal form to get shelter from the rain. You didn’t know that practice had been cancelled for the day because of the power outage in and around the BigHit building, caused by the storm. You were shocked when your tiny furry form scurried into the living room to see Taehyung sitting on the couch. Your “son” Yeontan didn’t even blink at you, already aware of his mom’s peculiar shifting habits. Tae’s face lit up at the cute little animal in front of him. “Hi little one. Aren’t you cute? Trying to get out of the storm?” He said in a quiet, gentle tone, sitting down on the floor and holding out a hand, offering it for you to sniff. Instead you hopped into his hand, scurried up his arm, perched on his shoulder, and rubbed your tiny furry head into his neck affectionately before hopping back to the ground. You returned to the other side of the room, throwing caution to the wind and shifting back to your human form. You looked nervously at your boyfriend, who was still seated on the floor, now with his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “Are you serious?! You turn into a little chipmunk?” He asked incredulously, and you nodded slowly in reply. A big boxy grin broke out on his face. “This is SO COOL! You’re so adorable, no WONDER you get those precious chubby cheeks when you eat. OH! And now I can smuggle you on tour with me! This is the most amazing thing to ever happen!” He exclaimed, jumping up and pulling you into a tight hug, half squishing you to death in the process.“Tae… Too tight…” You choked out before he finally loosened his grip around you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. I got a little excited.” You didn’t know how, but you had ended up with possibly the only man on earth that would be excited about this discovery. You smiled to yourself at his comment about smuggling you on tour in your tiny form. The secret was out and the feeling of love and acceptance his enthusiasm gave you was priceless.

Jungkook | s/o is a sea siren:

Jungkook had wanted to hear you sing since you’d started dating many, many months ago. When you repeatedly refused, he had thought that you were just shy about your voice or that you couldn’t sing and were embarrassed about it. The truth was that your voice was dangerous. You hid the fact that you were a sea siren from him because firstly, who in their right mind would believe you if you told them, and secondly, your power could have catastrophic effects, and that was hardly an attractive concept. Instead you refused to sing around your boyfriend under any circumstances whatsoever and took regular trips to the beach with Jimin’s girlfriend, who was, coincidentally, actually a mermaid. At least she was fully harmless. While you had zero bad intentions, you feared the day you failed to control your power. You sang exclusively when you were alone in an attempt to keep those around you safe. You were apparently just very unlucky, however, because one day you were home alone and started singing quietly to yourself while you tidied up around the house. Jungkook was on a trip and wouldn’t arrive back for hours yet, so you thought it was safe. But you didn’t hear the door open when he arrived home early to surprise you. He heard you singing and decided not to make his presence known just yet, curious about your long-hidden voice. Little did he know how hazardous that was. The effects of your voice took hold gradually. First he felt a little lightheaded, things beginning to feel dreamlike. Reality became distorted and it was as if he couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of your singing. His vision shifted until it was as if he was falling deep into dark, cold water, sinking with no way to stop it. He finally yelled in fear, signaling to you that he was there, and you immediately stopped. You rushed to him where he was laying on the floor, completely under your power. You couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes, your worst nightmare coming true. Thankfully you had stopped before it was too late. You held his hand as he dreamed of drowning, tossing and turning in his sleep. Finally after several hours the effects wore off and he woke up, sweating and panicked. You calmed him down before he realized you’d been crying. “What’s wrong? Did I really worry you that much with my nightmare?” He asked in confusion. You shook your head and finally did what you’d dreaded for so long: told him the truth. After everything was fully explained, he stared at you for a minute, clearly deep in thought.“This was a freak accident. I know you, you’re a good person. You can’t blame yourself for this one instance when you’ve protected me so well all this time. We love each other and I refuse to let this get in our way.” He said firmly, pulling you into a hug.

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REQUESTS OPEN by ask or message!

I love feedback so please let me know what you think. :)

#bts #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts reactions request #bts reaction request #bts reaction requests #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts scenario request #bts scenario requests #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts drabbles

[nomadicbeard]

Hi! I saw on one of your posts you said that you used to be a stucky shipper. I actually started off as a stony shipper but then absolutely fell in love with stucky but I like both . I was just wondering what made you "jump ship" on stucky lol. Sorry if this comes across as annoying or anything im just curious!

Hey! As you can see a couple of people have asked me this over the last couple of weeks and I’m really lazy and haven’t got around to responding yet, but the people deserve an answer so here we go. Before we start a quick disclaimer: I’ll only be talking about the ships themselves, not the communities or any of the discourse surrounding them. This is not a ship-bashing of any kind and please do not take it as such, it’s just my own personal experience surrounding these characters and these relationships. 

 Buckle your seatbelts kids, this is a long one.

I first got into Marvel c. 2015. I’m European so I’d never really watched any marvel movies before that, I watched Age of Ultron on a plane and remember being vaguely aware the Steve/Tony was a thing (what is pretty interesting is that to this day I have no clue where that knowledge came from) but was mostly just excited by the superhero stuff. I then got home and watched The Winter Soldier and fell in love. I love the Winter Soldier, it’s probably still one of my favourite marvel movies (it got kicked out of its top spot by Black Panther last year unfortunately) and to me no other marvel movie could hold a torch to it at the time. So I came onto tumblr, searched up The Winter Soldier and was just inundated with Stucky stuff, as expected. I rolled with it, got invested just from constant exposure (it was also around the height of the Stucky ship) and as far as I was concerned, that was that. I was super into Stucky for almost six months and was pretty much your average shipper, I didn’t understand stevetony, loved Steve Rogers, was close to creating a Stucky sideblog wit some ridiculous pun as my username, I was gone over this ship.

Then one day, I sat down and read the man on the bridge by boopboop on ao3. You’ve almost definitely heard of it, but it was the most popular fic in the Steve/Bucky tag on ao3 at the time (for some reason I had just never got around to reading it until then, it was long and I didn’t have the stamina I have now). It was your pretty standard Stucky fic, Steve gets Bucky back, they have to deal with his trauma which results in Steve and Bucky declaring their long lost love for each other etc. etc. What was different about this fic, was that it was all told from Tony’s point of view, and since Steve and Tony were on the same team at that point, their dynamic was a huge part of the fic. And I found myself falling completely in love with Steve and Tony’s dynamic. I went back to the fic for this post (and god it is a good fic) and pulled up the first couple of chapters and instantly just found so many instances of that dynamic

(grade A stevetony arguing over each other’s safety with a side of flirting from Tony)

(Idk why but the image of Steve and Tony not going to sleep, but rather staying up and brewing coffee together was such a vivid one when I first read this fic, I still remember it to this day. )

(Tony picking Steve flowers while trying to desperately play off that he didn’t aka. Tony caring while trying desperately not to care)

(Everyone knowing that Steve would definitely come to Tony, apart from Tony himself.)

Now obviously, this is a stucky fic and I went into it knowing this, but I found when Steve and Bucky finally got together I felt honestly a bit bored, a bit cheated. I had no idea why at the time. I remember very clearly x-ing out of the fic at the end and feeling really uneasy, I came onto tumblr, went straight back into the Stucky tag and all was well.

When I next went back onto ao3, I started out with a couple of oneshots in the Stucky tag, but for some reason it wasn’t working for me anymore. I remember sitting there, a little bored, not at all invested in this relationship and just missing something. I figured I was probably missing Tony’s presence in the fic and so filtered in Tony Stark’s character tag. I read a few of those and all was well but I realised the same thing was happening as had happened in man on the bridge, the moment that Steve and Bucky got together, the fic lost something for me. Desperate at this point, and a little annoyed at myself I conducted an experiment and went into the Steve/Tony tag on Ao3 and as they say, the rest is history. If you go onto older posts on my main blog there’s a pretty drastic, almost overnight shift c. January 2016. I have to admit, I expected Civil War to be a conversion so I enjoyed stevetony without consequence for five months, while still labelling myself as a Stucky shipper because I expected to be pulled back to Stucky after civil war, the reality was that somehow I came out of civil war shipping stevetony harder than ever before. From there, I spent two years reading my way through the stevetony tag on ao3 and finally set up this blog in 2018, with a really obscure reference as my username and it’s been stevetony til I die ever since.

I just couldn’t read Stucky anymore. That’s what I mean when I say on this blog that stevetony has ruined me for every other ship, because it has. Steve and Tony’s firecracker dynamic pulled me away from what was fast on its way to becoming my favourite ship in 2015, all because they had a bit of banter on the side in a fic. It’s kind of depressing really, the sort of hold that Steve and Tony’s dynamic has over me, 

It’s strange you say you fell in love with Stucky, I fell absolutely out of love with it. I have thought a lot about how I ended up falling into stevetony and why I was so drawn to them instead of Stucky in the first place and I think it all comes down the the story itself. To me, Steve and Bucky’s relationship carries much more weight as a friendship, I still have no doubt that Bucky is one of if not the most important person in Steve’s life, but having that be a lifelong friendship is way more powerful and impactful to me, (especially since what I know I misconstrued to be Steve’s obsession with Bucky is actually Steve’s obsession over the past. I’m not saying Bucky isn’t dear to Steve and he does want to obviously rescue him, but looking back on it there’s more to Steve’s obsession with Bucky than just love, it’s a fear of change and it’s him desperately trying to hold onto a past that’s gone.)

Conversely, I feel like adding a romantic element to Steve and Tony’s relationship enriches the story being told, if you look at something like civil war (either MCU or 616 tbh) in the context of Tony being desperately in love with Steve, it makes a lot more sense, especially with things like The Confession in 616 or the stuff brought up in that strange conversation in the conference room in the MCU. There’s lines from Steve like “I’m home/you gave me a home” or even straight up “he loved you” and his tormented behaviour throughout infinity war and endgame that just really makes you wonder, not to mention lines from others like “you two still gazing into each other’s eyes/sounds like both of you got into bed with the wrong people” and they did have to share a bed at Clint’s farm after all lol. The tragedy of their story is heightened if you look at it through the context of them being absolutely in love with each other, just never having actually got around to telling it to each other’s faces. This tragedy is heavily implied in The Oath/The Confession in 616 when they confess their deepest darkest secrets to the other’s comatose/dead bodies, and apparently it’s always been that they love the other person. Actually you could easily introduce a romantic element by making relatively few changes to the MCU, but that’s a post for another time (I have a long and comprehensive list in my notes app on how little you actually need to change to make that happen, it’s literally the matter of a few lines of dialogue and one major story change at the end of IM3, an interesting thought exercise to say the least).

Finally, there’s a quote that came up on my dash the day I made that fateful venture into the ao3 stevetony tag, “your soulmate isn’t someone who comes peacefully into your life. It is someone who makes you question things, changed your reality, somebody that marks a before and after in your life. It is not the human being everyone idealized, but an ordinary person, who managed to revolutionize your world in a second” to this day, it resonates so strongly with me about stevetony. It’s everything I love about this ship just compressed into a quote. 

So yeah it was basically a bunch of happy coincidences, but thank god it happened. As a writer, stevetony has taught me so much about character and dynamic, stuff that is honestly invaluable. When you have long fics that basically detail the day by day life of Steve and Tony post-civil war in rural Italy and consists of them sleeping, crying and working through their repressed feelings (looking at you @silkspectred ), it is the characters and their unique dynamic that drive the entirety of the story. Steve and Tony, in the hands of a compelling writer, can keep me hooked over a frankly embarrassing number of words. I still have a bit of a special place for Stucky in my heart really, it did start me out in marvel after all and it was one of my first ever ships, but your first love is only so good until you meet your true love, not to get all sappy but stevetony has completely destroyed my ability to ship anything else. I might get a bit flirtatious with some other ships, like sambucky (I still love Bucky, and I love Sam!), or the riverdale ships (beronica and jarchie or bust), or even the game of thrones crack ships (daensa til the day we die), but I’ll always come back to stevetony.

So yeah this escalated into a far longer post than I intended to make but I’ve never really spelled out on this blog how or why I ended up jumping Stucky to Stony when I know it’s usually the other way around. I guess it just comes down to stevetony catching me out when I least expected it, and never having let go of me since. 

#and WORD #jesus this is a long post #stony #stony meta #stevetony #what i should be doing: maths. what i'm actually doing: crying about stevetony. it's an average day #ask #answered #anon #idk whether to tag it as stucky or anti stucky tbh #i'm going with neither and pray i don't get shouted at #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #long post

[jacklyn-flynn]

Read it here or below: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520098/chapters/55176793

When Jules came to consciousness, the immediate feeling of alarm was calmed by two very familiar sounds. The hum of the Herald and the purr of Jasoom. As her senses returned, she felt the soothing weight of the cat on her chest. It always had a way of quelling her anxiety. She opened her eyes slowly and focused on him. His topaz blue eyes stared back at her. 

He let out a small ‘mrrpp’ noise and stretched his neck to rub his jaw against her chin. This was a routine that had been familiar in her childhood. He’d been there when she woke after every surgery, every test, every illness. Calming weight. Blue eyes. Trill. Chin rub. 

She raised her hand to pet him and surprised herself. She lifted her hand a little higher and frowned when she saw the green mark on her palm. While it certainly was out of place, it was made more so by the fact that it didn’t look organic. It wasn’t an odd growth or a festering wound. The energy roiled and shifted, more at home in a newly born nebula rather than a human hand. But then, very little about her could be considered normal by humanoid standards. 

Jules still didn’t like the idea of petting Jasoom with that hand, though the mark didn’t seem to bother him. Instead, she raised her right hand and scratched gently behind his ears. His purr immediately deepened and she could feel his front paws begin to kneed at her shirt. 

She tried to focus on the room then to determine where she was. She could instinctively tell she was on the Herald. Whoever had left her in the room was kind enough to leave the lights on low. Enough for her to get up and walk around, but not enough to blind her upon waking. 

Slowly, the room started to look familiar. Personal quarters, but quite large. Not for the average crew member since there was only one bed. A window at her head showed the vast nothingness of space. 

No. Maker, please. 

Jules sat up slowly and Jasoom jumped onto the floor, padding to the door. She knew this room. She also knew that she shouldn’t be here. She didn’t want to be here. Not this room.

Throwing off the blankets, she slipped off the bed and immediately went for the door. She didn’t even register her current state of dress. The door opened for her and she headed into the corridor, Jasoom padding silently beside her. 

As she moved to the back of the ship, she passed half a dozen doors to crew quarters far smaller than the one she’d just left. Large bulkhead doors blocked her path from living quarters to engine maintenance. They were one of the few doors that didn’t open for her automatically. 

She pressed her palm to the panel by the door. Jasoom slipped through the doors as they parted in the middle and moved to the edge of the darker corridor. His body lowered slightly as if he was stalking prey. As she walked along the hallway, panels of lights above her brightened her path. The cat stayed ahead of the brightening lights and disappeared around the turn of the corridor as it widened. 

To her left and right were giant bulkhead doors with large, heavy block letters. She turned to her right and the massive door labeled “PORT ENGINE 4” rumbled as it started to slide open.

The engine compartment spanned the height of the deck she was on and half of the next one. She moved to the far side of the compartment. A small bunk, normally pushed against the wall, was overturned and resting on its side. She righted it and made the bed with perfect, crisp corners. When she set the pillow at the head of the bed, Jasoom jumped onto the cot, walked up and curled into the center of it. 

She sat down on the bed beside him and finally took stock of her situation. She was in a white short sleeve shirt and shorts, soft cotton and clearly from the medical lab. She didn’t know what had happened to her blood-stained jumpsuit but she was glad it was gone. She assumed she had been unconscious for a while as she seemed to have recently been bathed. She was far cleaner than she had been when she woke in the Chantry prison and her hair was brushed and tended. 

Examining her arms and legs she found multiple bruises, but no healing wounds. She touched her face and drew her hand back with a hiss of pain. Gingerly, she touched her left cheek. It was covered in gauze so she couldn’t determine the extent or manner of injury but the cotton pad was quite large. 

With growing alarm, she opened a cabinet beside the head of the bed and pulled out a small mirror. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw her own face. Her left eye was circled with black and yellow bruises. Several days healed, but still startling. 

The bandage covered an alarming portion of her cheek. She peeled back the tape that secured the edge under her eye and gingerly pulled off the bandage. She winced at the sight of the wound. A jagged gash started just under the outside corner of her eye. It cut into the thick flesh of the apple of her cheek and ended just beside the bottom of her nose.

She sighed softly. Certainly not the worst of her scars, but absolutely the most noticeable. Now it would be a toss-up if someone noticed her mismatched eyes first or this new scar. 

Jules carefully put the bandage back on, wondering idly how she’d gotten it. She didn’t remember being injured during the fight but then again, those memories were fuzzy. It was probably what saved her from reliving the fear and anxiety of it. She had questions about the battle but was used to not getting answers.

Resigned, she replaced the mirror and opened the cabinet below it. She pulled out a clean jumpsuit and pulled it on. Unless she could locate the boots she’d been wearing to the Temple, she only had one pair left. Unfortunately, they weren’t her good ones. They were old and worn, the right steel toe dented slightly. They would do for now, however. 

A harder loss were the tools that had been in her jumpsuit. They were the ones she used most often, many of them modified to fit her needs. Maker only knew where her toolboxes were. She guessed the shockwave from the Breach was why her bed was in disarray. The engine compartments were massive and the grated floors and catwalks only allowed access to vital parts of it. She would have to climb into the harder to reach spots to make sure nothing had fallen that would cause problems later. 

One of the benefits of her tall but slim build was that she could get to those hard to reach spots with relative ease. Years of maneuvering through the well-known compartments had made her limber and flexible. Although they weren’t designed for human passage, she could get through the small, open joints between the upper and lower engine compartments. 

Being able to do so had saved her ass once already. She’d been able to get to the lower compartment without having to run to a stairwell and go down two levels. The third engine’s auxiliary turbine had almost overheated. It wouldn’t have stopped the Herald dead in her tracks but it would have been over a week’s worth of repairs and far longer than that living under the displeasure of First Commander Hayden.. 

She left Jasoom asleep on her bed and headed back out to the lower level corridor. Just before the bulkheads to the living spaces were doors on either side. Each massive room contained parts and tools for the corresponding engine. She opened the door to the fourth engine compartment and found an old, empty toolbox to gather what she would need. 

Jules made a list in her head. Confirm the blast wave hadn’t knocked any of the engines out of alignment. Gather any unsecured debris from the four compartments. Find out what happened to her tools and boots. 

So far she wasn’t concerned about any of the other main systems of the ship. Hull, gravity, life support. She could tell immediately there were no issues there. She would have felt it. There was just a vague discomfort in her chest that suggested an issue with the engines. 

As she was gathering the last of her tools, a voice invaded her thoughts. 

“Jules? Where are you?” The Seeker, Cassandra. Naturally, the words themselves were not foreign to her, but the tone gave her pause. Concern. Was she concerned Jules wasn’t doing her job? It wasn’t something she could fault the woman for since she didn’t know Jules.

“Parts storage for engine four.” She replied. “It shouldn’t take me more than a few hours to determine what’s wrong and recalibrate.” She replied matter-of-factly. 

“You shouldn’t even be out of bed!” Cassandra said, surprised. “We’ve already had someone check the engines and determine there is nothing critical at this time. You should be recovering.” 

The Seeker was concerned for her? “I’m well enough to work,” Jules assured her. 

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” The woman countered. “If you insist on being up and about we would like to speak to you. If you would return to bed, we can meet you there.” 

“No.” She said quickly, surprising even herself. “That’s not my room. I can meet you where you are.” 

“If you insist. We’re in the-” Cassandra started. “Well, I’m not sure what this room is called. We’ve been calling it the War Room.” 

“It’s technically Logistics and Planning, but that’s much shorter,” Jules said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She advised. She didn’t expect to be there long. She would most likely get her new orders and then be on her way. 

She certainly wasn’t prepared for what she walked in on. 

“Arrest her!” A man, that she didn’t even recognize, thrust his finger in her direction the moment she walked through the door. His formal cream and maroon robes adorned in gold heraldry weren’t quite like the Chantry uniforms she remembered, but they were close enough for her to recognize. A Chancellor. A man who held power. The Chantry and the government of the system of Ferelden were nearly indistinguishable from each other. This man represented the people who made her. Owned her. 

She drew back in surprise at the venom in his voice. She glanced behind her to the guard by the door. 

“Belay that!” Cullen snapped when the man took a hesitant step forward. He immediately, and seemingly gratefully, returned to his post. 

“If you truly think that she is not involved in this disaster, you are blind! She needs to be arrested and interrogated. By professionals.” The Chancellor glared at the others collected in the room. 

“She risked her life to attempt to close the Breach.” Leliana pointed out calmly. Her eyes held fire though, contradicting her even tone. 

“And yet the Breach is not closed and she is not dead.” He pointed out. “She may have even intended things to turn out as they have!” 

“She may have made her crew and ship disappear for nearly a century, single-handedly destroyed the Chantry, Templar and Mage leadership and made herself the only key to fixing it?” Cullen asked, incredulous. 

“So you agree that it’s a suspicious coincidence?” The man asked. Cullen threw up his hands in defeat. 

“It is not a coincidence.” Cassandra cut in. “It is providence. The Maker sent her to us in our hour of need.”

“Coincidence, providence, it isn’t yours to decide.” The man said, spittle flying from his mouth. “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.” 

“My duty is to serve the principles upon which the Chantry was built. My duty is to the Divine. I heard, with my own ears, the Most Holy call out to this woman.” Cassandra looked up at Jules. “I must admit, my heart grew angry knowing that this woman survived where the Divine did not, but I truly believe that she is not behind this. She has done nothing but assist when she could have run.”

“The Breach is not our only concern.” Leliana pointed out. “We must determine who was behind the explosion at Conclave. Without leaders, the factions at war will devolve further into chaos. We must assume that the mastermind is still at large. Perhaps they are closer than we think.” She said, pointedly looking at the man.

“You consider me a suspect?” The Chancellor’s cheeks turned a blotchy red. “But not her?” He asked, thrusting his finger at Jules again. 

“Had she not risked herself in disrupting the rift, which may not have worked” Cullen pointed out. “The demon would certainly have destroyed us all.” His amber eyes turned to her. “The Breach remains, as does your mark. We won’t force you to aid us, however, you are our only hope of closing it.” 

“It is not yours to decide!” The Chancellor exploded, repeating his senior favorite phrase and making Jules winced even though she was on the other side of the room. “I demand that the Herald be returned to the Chantry and the Ferelden government. Immediately.”

“No.” Cassandra shot back hotly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“If those are my orders, I have to go,” Jules spoke up softly. “I belong to them.” 

Cullen’s fist slammed onto the table, drawing all eyes back to him. “You are not-” He took a quick breath to calm himself and looked up at her again. “You are not a piece of property. You are a person with-” He gestured all around him. “-the most amazing prosthetic in the entire galaxy of Thedas. Possibly the universe! It isn’t that we aren’t handing you over because you’re useful to us.” His tone had softened, losing all of the fire but none of the passion. He regarded her as if she was the only one in the room.

“It’s because you aren’t ours to give. You aren't anyone's to give.” Impossibly, her heart skipped a beat. His eyes were-she wasn’t sure. She’d never seen that look before. Cullen’s brows were furrowed slightly. It was as if he was willing her to believe it.

“Then I want to stay. I want to help.” She said, surprising herself. The words just fell from her lips. She did believe him. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly and he nodded. 

The man opened his mouth to speak, his cheeks growing ever more splotched. Before he could start a fresh tirade, Leliana raised a hand sharply. Amazingly, he closed his mouth again. “The official and documented stance on the Herald is that she has been lost and that Jules Trevelyan is dead.” She pointed out. 

Cassandra demanded everyone’s attention when she slammed a huge tome on the table. Contrary to her previous action, she laid her hand on the book reverently. “This,” She looked up pointedly at the Chancellor. “Is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” 

She stood upright, hands clasped behind her in full military bearing. “I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She walked toward the man. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, we will restore order.” Her voice, and accent, were growing stronger with each declaration. The Chancellor, seemingly without realizing it, was backing toward the door. 

‘With or without your approval.” The Seeker only had one or two inches on the man, but she had a way of making it feel like much more. Jules shuffled to the side quickly when the Chancellor let out a frustrated huff and tried to storm out of the room. 

It didn’t open automatically, as he’d assumed. He slammed his hand on the pad beside the door with such force Jules brows raised in surprise. Instead of opening, the panel flashed brightly and let out a dull, denying thud sound. 

Jules cleared her throat and pushed her bangs behind her ear. She didn't much care for the abuse he was doling out on the panel but it would hold. Some deep part of her was enjoying his frustration.

“Why won’t this open?” The Chancellor shouted in fury, hitting the panel over and over. It strobed with warning flashes and continued to thump at him. 

“Funny,” Leliana commented. “It’s like she doesn’t like you.”

Jules shot the woman the barest of smiles. 

With a disgusted noise, Cassandra batted his hand away and pressed the panel, gently. The door slid open, allowing him access back onto the main floor of Control. Cassandra looked at the guard who’d previously been ordered to arrest Jules. “Make sure he leaves the ship with no further...hysterics.” Her lips turned up in a sneer. 

Cullen pulled back a chair from the table and sat down hard with a huff. “We have no leader. No numbers. Now no Chantry support.” He looked up at the women surrounding him. 

“What are we, exactly? What’s the Inquisition?” Jules asked curiously. 

Cassandra turned toward her. "The first Inquisition predates the Chantry. It was formed after the first Blight to bring order to the chaos that it wrought. They later became the Templar order.” 

“Who have now lost their way,” Cullen commented, running a hand through his hair. 

“We can’t wait for the selection of a new Divine.” Leliana advised. “With the Templars at war with the mages, any help that we can expect from either is likely limited to one side and minimal at best.”  

Cassandra regarded her evenly. “You said you wanted to help, but we won’t hold you to that. If you stay, it will not be an easy road.”

“You need me, don’t you?” She looked down at her glowing hand. “Do I even have a choice?” 

“Of course you have a choice,” Cassandra said. Jules looked back up at her. Help, or run and let untold numbers of people die. Not much of a choice for any decent person.

“I’ll stay.” She decided. 

“We were hoping you would.” Leliana said with a friendly smile. Very different from the woman she’d met when she first woke up in the Chantry prison. She liked this one more. “If you would be amenable, we would like to use the Herald as our flagship. With you as her head.” 

“Oh no,” Jules said quickly, holding up her hands. “I can’t do that. That’s not my place. I don’t know the first thing about leading a crew. I’m happy to take care of her, but someone else will have to lead the people that live on her.” 

“Commander Cullen and I can split those duties.” Cassandra offered. 

Jules let out a relieved sigh and nodded. She walked over to the table and touched it. A screen lit up and she navigated to the personnel list. “Here’s the usual compliment. She runs well with these positions.” 

“Only a complement of 10 for military staff?” Cullen asked, surprised. 

Jules nodded. “The Herald is-” She paused for a moment. “Was, a special operations ship. There was only a knight-commander, knight-captain and 8 templars but they were all highly trained. The medical staff as well. We often offered medical aid to the larger forces we went to support. “Meatball surgery” they called it. Get them stable enough to be transferred to bigger facilities. Essentially, we went on all of the missions that didn’t exist and we were never officially there.”

“I have a contact with a Ben Hassrath Qunari who leads a group of mercenaries. Perhaps they could fill that need for us.” Leliana suggested. 

“You don’t think he would report back to his superiors about our operations?” Cullen asked. 

“He absolutely would.” Leliana said simply. “But that would be true of any outside assistance. Besides, I am confident that I can both guide the information he sends back and that he would not compromise our efforts. He is a spy, but he is also a good man. I will reach out to see if he would be willing to meet.”

“If I’m no longer needed, engine three is out of alignment.” Jules said, taking a step toward the door. 

“There is actually one more thing.” Leliana said, moving to stand in front of her. “When we found out who you were, I took the liberty of reaching out to the Trevelyan family on Ostwick in the Free Marches system. It is still the seat of the family. There is currently only one living Trevelyan, other than yourself.”

“Are you hoping they’ll help?” Jules asked, clearly misunderstanding Leliana’s reasoning. 

“It certainly couldn’t help to ask, but that is not why I reached out. I thought you might like the support of your family. Even just to know that you have some who still live. His name is Morgan and he would very much like to meet you.” She smiled gently. “Apparently you are somewhat of a family legend.”

Jules didn’t know what to say. She’d never considered that she would have living family, much less that they would want to meet her. “Morgan was my brother’s name.” She said quietly. It just popped out of her mouth. “I, uh, I just remembered that.” She admitted. “I wonder if he looks like my brother.” 

“Do you need assistance with the engine? Once it’s repaired we can leave for the Free Marches. It should only take a few days.” Cullen told her. 

“While you’re working on that, I will gather a full crew complement.” Cassandra informed her. 

“You should be able to add the crew to the system.” Jules said, slightly distracted as she mulled over the news. “I can show you how.” She looked up at Cullen. “I can manage the engine. It will only take me an hour or so.” She nodded and turned to walk away. 

“Jules.” Cullen’s voice made her turn back. “Thank you.” He said, genuinely. Cassandra and Leliana nodded in agreement. 

She nodded and left the war room. 

-----

Jules kept busy with her duties during the two day trip. She was still trying to determine how she felt about meeting Morgan. She went back and forth from excited to terrified. She was most worried that while he said he wanted to meet her, he would be disappointed when he did. The closer they got to Ostwick, the more anxiety she felt roiling in her stomach. 

Leliana had provided information on the Trevelyans since she had been “acquired”. She must have read it half a dozen times. Morgan was her brother’s great-great-grandson. She saw very little familial resemblance in the picture that she had. The only thing that they very clearly shared was eye color. 

He was trained as a warrior with two handed weapons, preferring strength over speed. It was listed in his military record that his unit had nicknamed him “One Hit Wonder”. When he hit an enemy, they didn’t get back up. Apparently he was also an exceptional sniper. What an odd combination of skills.

She was going over the dossier once more in the mess hall. It was the only place that she could look out a window into the infinity of space without drawing attention. She considered going into the Officer's Club. A handmade sign below stated "enlisted personnel welcome". Commander Hayden had made that authorization early to help bind the crew but it hadn't included her.

A voice startled her out of her thoughts. “May I sit beside you?” She looked up sharply and found Cassandra standing beside her. "Unless you would rather be alone.” She added. 

Jules nodded and gestured at the chair across the table. 

“Your feline companion isn't with you?” Cassandra questioned curiously.  

Jules sat back in the chair pointed at her lap. Cassandra rose slightly, looking over the table edge to find a circle of black fur huddled in Jules’ lap. Cassandra smiled and sat back down. 

“Tell me how you're doing.” The Seeker requested. Jules opened her mouth but Cassandra added quickly: “Honestly, tell me how you're doing.” Jules shut her mouth and looked down at the dossier. Her brows furrowed slightly and she shook her head. 

“I'd like to say that I'm fine, but I'm not.” She admitted quietly. “None of this feels real. Almost a century has gone by, but it's only been a few days for me. And I know that you and Cullen picked all of these people to be on board, but I-“ She looked up sharply. ”I'm sorry. I shouldn't be questioning you.” 

Cassandra leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, crossed in front of her. “No, please tell me the problem. I want to hear your thoughts.” 

“I didn't interact with the crew, but I knew them all. Now everywhere I look there's just unrecognizable faces. This is my home. This is all I've known. Until a few days ago I hadn’t left her in years. Now, there's all this.” She looked up at the woman and for a brief moment, looked her in the eyes. Cassandra’s heart ached at what she saw there. “Now I have to become a completely different person.”

Cassandra couldn’t relate to that in the slightest. She didn’t know what to say. Nothing would make it easier and to deny it would be a lie. Instead, she indicated the file in front of Jules. “Are you excited?” She asked. 

“Should I be?” Jules asked. It wasn’t sarcasm, she was genuinely unsure if she should be or not. 

Cassandra smiled gently. “That would depend on the situation but in this case, I would say yes. You should always air on the side of caution in case things don’t go as you think, but excitement is normal.” 

“From our limited communication, he seems like a very nice man. Your family has an excellent reputation of being kind and generous people.” She offered, hoping that it would help with some of Jules’ nervousness. 

She nodded slowly, moving through the screens until she got back to Morgan’s picture. Her brows furrowed as she studied the picture. “He shares my brother’s name. I haven’t thought of him in years.” 

“His eyes are the same color green as yours.” Cassandra commented. “You seem to share some Trevelyan features.” 

“What if he’s embarrassed of me?” Jules asked before she even realized what was coming out of her mouth. 

Cassandra wanted to reach out and take her hand, but refrained. “He won’t be.” He assured Jules. “And if, by some miracle, he is, you should not take it as a reflection on who you are. He has never met you and I can say with confidence that you are a good person.”

Jules looked up in surprise. Cassandra got the distinct impression that no one had ever said that to her before. 

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” Cassandra said with a gentle smile, rising from her seat. “Just know that if you’d ever like to talk, about anything, I’m available. I’ve taken up in the second commander’s quarters for the duration of the trip.” 

Jules nodded slowly, absently reaching down to stroke Jasoom’s soft fur. “Thank you.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said that and meant it. 

-----

Despite the fact that it was the hub of all ship activity, Jules had spent very little time in the control room. She stood in there now, off to the side as she watched the planet of Ostwick grow closer. It was beautiful in a way that made her heart ache. Blue rolling oceans, lush green land, mountain ranges dusted with white. 

“Would you like to go alone or would you like for some of us to accompany you?” Cullen asked. Cassandra was already a given as she was a much more confident pilot. 

“Someone should probably be there to represent the Inquisition.” Jules felt weird being the one to decide who would or wouldn’t leave the ship when she’d previously been the one who needed permission. Not that she’d ever asked for it. “I know Josephine made the trip just for this.”

“We have also been offered military aid. Cullen, you should attend as well.” Cassandra advised. “We can be ready to leave in half an hour.”

Good, just enough time to change. Unfortunately she didn’t have much by way of clothing selection. Undergarments and jumpsuits. She did have one more formal outfit for when higher ups of the Chantry or Ferelden government took a tour of the ship. Relatively simple compared to the formal uniforms of the crew. Simple black slacks, a stark white high neck shirt and a dark grey jacket with the Herald’s insignia on the left breast. No name or rank.

It zipped up the front, but she left it open. She was used to relatively loose jumpsuits and the confinement of the jacket was uncomfortable. She brushed her hair, struggling to decide if she should leave it down or put it up. Eventually she decided on down. She’d twisted it up into a hasty bun the night before after her shower and the result was a soft wave that fell just past her shoulders. She swept her bangs behind her ear and looked at her cheek in the mirror. 

She no longer needed a bandage, but the mark was still red and angry. There wasn’t much to be done about it now. She was just glad that it was healing nicely and wouldn’t scar too much. She looked into her mismatched eyes for a long few moments. She wondered if it was the first thing everyone saw or just her.

Jules tried to convince herself that it didn’t matter. She’d left the ship twice already of her own volition. She could do it once more. And then a fourth time, and a fifth and then however times it took until all of this was over.  

Cassandra was already working through the flight checks when she entered the hangar. Cullen was talking with the woman she assumed was Josephine. Their distraction allowed her a moment to study the three of them. She hadn’t really gotten a moment to do so in the last few days. Now that she felt critical of her own appearance, she couldn’t help but compare herself to their attire. 

The Seeker’s and the Commander both wore uniforms, but quite different from each other. The newest woman, the ambassador, appeared to be adorned in fabric entirely made from precious metals and precious gems. Gold leggings moulded against her slim legs, disappearing beneath a sapphire tunic. A gold sash around her waist struck brilliantly against the blue. The soft, silk shirt she wore beneath the tunic rose high against her collarbone, the shoulders flaring into puffs that would look impossibly ridiculous on anyone else. Her warm skin and black hair seemed to soak up the brilliant light, outshining the stunning attire.

Cassandra wore thick pants in a muted grey with diagonal strips of cream running from the outside of each hip to the inside of the knee. Her pistol holster was strapped around her waist in a matching smooth cream. Her jacket was double breasted, the right panel laid over the left. Dark silverite buttons glinted against the grey. A deep maroon capped the jacket from shoulder to shoulder, the color continuing to the top of the high collar. The symbol of the Seekers displayed proudly on the chest, unchanged from Jules’ time. Her short black hair laid down perfectly, each hair afraid to move out of place, especially the thin braid crown, which seemed to be secured by magic. 

Cullen seemed to talk so easily with Josephine. His brows raised ever so slightly in resignation and he shrugged, shaking his head. Judging by the dark golden stubble covering his jaw, he hadn’t shaved in a day or so. Yet, his hair was controlled with military precision, pushed back away from his face. She noticed the scar on his upper lip when he smiled. His amber eyes warmed at something Josephine said. 

His uniform was expertly tailored to his build. Rich brown pants tucked into well cared for tactical boots, laced tightly.  A wide leather belt held a beautiful hydrogen blade at his side. The golden guard was a work of art. It was a manifestation of the symbol that had come to represent the newly formed Inquisition. The watchful eye with it’s spires of flame in gold, the hilt and actual blade itself completing the heraldry that was showing up on more and more uniforms around the Herald. 

The thickness of the deep maroon jacket suggested some sort of projectile protection. It looked like it zipped, but he’d left it open to show a brown-black shirt beneath. Gold edging and embellishments stood out against the maroon around the wrists and waist of the coat. It seemed Ferelden fashion had not changed, judging by the fur cowl that capped the shoulders of the coat. The soft black was streaked with maroon. It seemed to make his already broad shoulders stand out more, the tapering of his waist made more prevalent by the slimming of the fur down the lapels. 

He glanced over Josephine’s shoulder and caught sight of her. Jules cleared her throat and headed toward them, nervously pulling at the bottom of her own plain jacket. The ambassador turned and smiled warmly. “Jules. I apologize that I’ve not had the chance to meet you yet. I’ve been very excited to do so.” Even her accent was silky. “You’re becoming quite infamous within our small ranks.”

Jules’ brows raised slightly. “Really?” 

The Antivan nodded. “They're saying that the name of your ship is no coincidence that you are indeed the Herald of Andraste, sent to save us.”

She immediately felt heat rise into her cheeks. 

“Rest assured, we’re trying to keep such talk to a minimum. Our soldiers should be keeping their minds on other things.” Cullen spoke up when he saw the discomfort on her face. They'd interacted a little in the last few days. Only short conversations and cordial small talk, both of which she was still getting used to. She found that she wasn’t very good at it at all, but the Commander and Seeker didn’t seem to mind. Neither of them had referred to her as a Flea in any of their conversations. 

“We’re ready to depart.” Cassandra called out from the cockpit of the shuttle. Cullen gestured for the two women to board first. She took her place in the copilot’s seat, but Cassandra didn’t seem to need her assistance. It had been years since she’d trained to fly the shuttle and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy to figure out as the ATV she’d driven. 

She got to sit back and watch as the shuttle left the Herald. Cassandra was cool and calculated, even when the turbulence of entry made Jules grip the arms of the chair with a white knuckles. She relaxed more when the shuttle evened out, flying high over the coastline. Beautiful fields of various crops seemed to roll on forever. 

She could just see the namesake city of Ostwick on the horizon when Cassandra descended toward the Trevelyan estate. It was rather modest and had aged well under the care of her family. The manor itself was older than she’d expected. As they circled it, she looked for any familiar features but, try as she might, she didn’t remember any of the landscape. 

Jules swallowed hard when she saw Morgan standing outside of the hangar waiting for them. Anxiety exploded in her stomach, making it roll more than the turbulent descent had. He was lost from sight as they landed in the hangar. She offered to help Cassandra but the Seeker assured her she would be fine and to go on ahead without her. 

As she left the shuttle and headed out of the hangar with Cullen and Josephine she felt nauseous, her stomach in knots. She was glad she hadn't eaten breakfast that day. Morgan met them just outside, extending his hand to Josephine. 

“Signorina Montilyet.” He greeted them warmly. “A pleasure to see you again. I just recently heard from your father. I’m glad to hear your family is doing well. And you with a position in the new Inquisition. That should certainly open some doors for your family.”

“Indeed It’s so wonderful to see you again Morgan..” Josephine seemed to smile so easily. “This is the leader of our army, such as it is, First Commander Cullen Rutherford.” 

The men shook hands cordially. “Good, I have much to discuss with you. Welcome to Ostwick.” 

“And just joining us is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.” She introduced. 

“Seeker,” He greeted with another hand shake. “I believe we may be distantly related.” 

“Quite likely. The Pentaghast family is quite...diverse.” Cassandra commented dryly.  

“And of course,” Josephine gestured toward her. “This is-”

Morgan stepped forward. “Jules Trevelyan.” He said with a wide smile. She had seen a picture of his face and a list of his height, weight and other physical attributes but it was far different seeing the person as a whole. She was rather tall for a woman, but Morgan was far taller. Perhaps even more so than Cullen. 

He had thick black hair that fell to his shoulders, perhaps a little bit longer than her own. The short, well-groomed beard made him look quite dashing, almost roguish. So unalike, yet when she looked into his eyes, she knew they were related. He had the same muted, moss green eyes to match her left one. There was a scar on his left eyebrow, bisecting it at an angle through the middle. It hadn’t been in the picture she’d been studying for the last couple of days. 

“The lost Trevelyan.” He said as he came to stand in front of her. He didn’t make any attempt to reach out and touch her as she was afraid that he might. “My entire childhood was filled with stories with you.”

“Some of the generations before me passively tried to find out what happened to you. I've been more active but my best hope was finding your resting place. To think that you would just drop out of the sky one day.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You look just like his drawings.” 

“Drawings?” Jules asked curiously. 

Morgan nodded. “Your brother was quite the artist. He missed a few years in the beginning, when they still thought you might be coming home, but every year on your birthday, he drew a sketch of what he thought you might look like at that age. I’ve gotten them out of storage so that you can have them and see for yourself.” 

He grew more reserved, reaching out to lay his hand on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to pull away. Not that his touch was uncomfortable, just foreign. “He never stopped looking for you.” Morgan told her. 

“I don't remember very much about him.” Jules admitted, guilty. “I didn't even really remember his name until two days ago.”

Morgan smiled reassuringly. “Some information on you arrived mysteriously yesterday. I can tell you that no one blames you for not remembering. You haven’t exactly had an easy go of things. It’s good to have you home though.” 

“Please join me inside.” He requested, addressing the group. “There’s a lot to discuss.” He crooked his elbow and offered Jules his arm. After a moment of hesitation, she slid hers through and allowed him to escort her to the estate. In the end, it was the warmth in his eyes that convinced her to do it. She didn’t really know what the emotion was behind his look, but she liked it. It made her feel warm. 

She wondered if any of the rooms that they passed through were the same as when she had been a child. None of it looked familiar. Many of the furnishings and decorations were clearly old, all of them lovingly maintained. 

“So you've committed to this Inquisition thing?” He asked, gesturing for her to take a chair in the sitting room. He sat down beside her and the others found comfortable seats as well. The arrangement allowed them all to face each other. 

“Yes.” She acknowledged, holding up her glowing green palm. “I'm the only one with this. I feel like I have a duty to.”

“As long as you're sure. You know that you always have a home here.” He offered her. 

She nodded. “Thank you, but I'm sure. It's the right thing to do.”

Morgan chuckled. “You certainly sound like a Trevelyan. I was hoping you would say that.” He turned to address the others as well. “In that case, I have a little under 8,000 men and women who are willing to support the cause. I know that the inquisition is only a half a week old so the Trevelyan estate will pay for all food, uniforms, equipment and housing for those troops.”

“Unfortunately, that is about as much of a financial burden as the Trevelyan state can bear. Jules also has funds available, but given what she is already contributing, I would hope you would not ask more of her.” He added. He could see the surprise on Jules’ face, the shock rendering her speechless. “Your brother left half of the estate to you in his will. Of course, that amount is quite a bit more now. Eighty years of interest makes for quite a tidy sum.” 

“Why wouldn’t you just use the money if you thought I was dead?” Jules asked. 

“We've always prospered so nobody has ever had to dig into it. It's kind of become a family tradition. In fact, instructions that those funds should still be kept in trust is already written into my will.” He smiled again. “I’m very happy to be changing that.” 

“I suppose the Inquisition can have it. I have no use for it.” She said softly, unsure how to process this new information. She didn’t know what to do with money. “You can have all of it.” She said, looking up at Josephine. 

Her eyes widened and she held up her hands. “No. We absolutely will not accept that. For what you are already doing to help we could not accept monetary contributions as well. We should be paying you. Please keep your funds for whatever you should need.”

“It is quite likely that you will be traveling to many places.” Cassandra pointed out. “Should you see something you like, you can use your inheritance.’

“Buy something for myself?” Jules said softly. Such a concept was quite new for her. 

“I have one other offering for the Inquisition. However, it comes with very strict conditions.” Morgan said. “I have a very accomplished military career and I would like to join the Inquisition as well."

“Your conditions?” Cullen asked. 

“I stay with Jules as her personal guardian. Where she goes, I go.” He said, his tone leaving no room for argument or negotiation. “The lost Trevelyan has been found, and I’m not about to let anything else happen to her under my watch.” 

He turned to look at her again. She snapped back to reality. Surely she wasn’t worth so much fuss. “If you’ll have me, that is.” He said with a broad smile. “I’d like to make sure nothing like this happens again.” He said, indicating her new scar.. 

She touched her cheek gently. “This was just an accident. Apparently, I hit a cornerstone when I passed out.” 

“Well, we'll have to come up with a much more interesting story than that.” Morgan chuckled. 

Cullen interjected. “To be fair, the reason she passed out was because she had just defeated a rather large demon and sealed a Breach the size of a small moon over the planet of Haven.” 

“Huh.” Morgan said simply, looking at Jules again.” I don't think it gets much more interesting than that. Maybe start off with that next time.” 

Jules nodded, not sure if he was teasing her or not. Morgan rose from his chair, offering Jules his hand. “I would like to speak with Jules privately in my office. I will send out someone to start coordinating the transport of the troops with you.” 

Hesitantly, she took his hand and stood. 

“Well be here should you need us.” Cassandra told her. “Just call.” 

“I will.” She promised, following Morgan out of the room. She felt her shoulder start to rise and drop. She tried her hardest to keep it from happening, but couldn't. If Morgan noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

He took her to a small room just a short distance down the hall. The rich mahogany walls complemented the red wine leather chairs in front of the massive desk. He pulled out her chair for her, and then sat across from her instead of behind the desk. 

“How are you?" He asked sitting forward in his chair slightly to rest his elbows against his knees. “I can't imagine how insane the last few days have been for you.”

She shrugged to cover up her shoulder tic. “I’m fine I suppose. Other than falling asleep one day and waking up almost a century later.”

“How are they treating you?” He followed up. 

“Well.” She assured him. “Nicely.” She said, suddenly deciding on the word she really wanted. “Everyone is very nice.” 

“Good.” He said with a satisfied smile. “I get the idea that makes you uncomfortable.” He commented. 

“I’m used to ignoring and being ignored. The only one who really spoke to me was First Commander Hayden. As long as I did my duties, he took very good care of me. I was lucky to have a Commander like him.” She said, looking up at him hesitantly. 

“Apparently I don’t report to anyone any more. More people have asked my opinions on things in the last few days than they have the last few years. They’re treating me like…” Her voice dropped off. 

“A person?” He prompted. She met his eyes and nodded. 

“We’ll have to get you used to that. That’s how it’s going to be from here on out. I’ll see to that.” He promised. “That was all. I just wanted to make sure you felt you could talk freely if everything wasn’t okay.”

He stood and offered his hand once more. He pulled her up gently and then released her hand. “Let’s get you home, shall we?” 

Relief blossomed and she nodded. "I think you'll like her." Jules said, giving him a brief smile. Though he didn't know how truly rare her smile was, he cherished it anyway.

The lost Trevelyan. She was standing in front of him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was still very much lost.

#Space Trash #Jules Trevelyan #Chapter 3: The Lost Trevelyan #AO3 jacklyn_flynn

[quothethemenevermore]

I think I have like one more part after this one for the nagatalia story

contains: soft, safe, unwilling vore/fearplay, and mentions of violence towards species near the end

They were back again. Lovino just so happened to be as close to the border as he could be when he sensed them. Unfortunately, he also had Feliciano with him today, the naga smaller than him and could have easily ran into them had Lovino not realized and stopped him before he could move any closer. 

"What is it?" Feliciano was confused at his brother's sudden change in demeanor. He was an average size for a naga, and therefore not able to sense things as quick as Lovino could. He could still sense things quickly, however. It hit him a few seconds after he asked, a faint scent of humans. "Humans?" "I'll deal with them." He replied, but Feli could tell he wasn't sure how to with him there too. Actually, Gilbert told him a few weeks ago that Lovino caught a couple humans, and Lovino refused to answer how he dealt with them. "You aren't going to hurt them, right?" 

The duo were back, but this time they didn't bring any of their equipment or journals. Today, their main focus was to try and develop a better relationship with the nagas of the forest so they could find a way to compromise for information. Of course, Antonio jumped at the chance to take the mission, if nothing else than to just make sure Lovino didn't cost them anymore members. He didn't have to drag Bella with him, but she was wary of returning to the forest after how angry Lovino was at Antonio for his frequent visits. Plus, the two needed to be careful. Their boss was clear on the no equipment policy for the mission, and that included their weapons. Should they run into any threats, they'd be in trouble. 

Antonio felt a little more confident in looking for the naga this time around, now that he knew what exactly to look for. Bella kept an eye out for anything else they needed to be concerned about, knowing he was on his tangent about focusing on only the naga again. 

"Your obsession is going to get you killed one of these days." She teased, ducking under some branches that were hanging low. 

Dangerously low. It raised a spark of concern, and she made a note to keep it in mind. "Maybe. But if I don't try, who will? You know everyone else at base is scared of the creatures here. Especially Lovino." 

"For good reason. Do you not remember how angry he was with you?" 

The brothers could hear them now, and before Feliciano could process what they were saying, Lovino pulled the naga closer to his face. "Hey! I'm trying to hear them!" "Go home, I'll be there as soon as I'm done." It was clear that Lovino wouldn't take no for an answer, so Feliciano nodded and started for home when he was released. After that, Lovino turned his attention back to the humans. 

Bella noticed the movement to the side, and stopped walking. Antonio noticed after a few steps, and walked back to her. "What is it?" "Something was moving." "Do you want to see what it was? We don't have any defense." "Yea, I know. Still." She could tell Antonio didn't really like the idea of investigating it, and with good reason, but she knew it'd be better to put her mind at ease before she started jumping at every little noise. 

The light, even at midday, was dim, the trees above blocking most of it. It was difficult enough to see the path ahead of them, let alone going off the trail. It was so dim they never saw it coming. 

She almost screamed when large fingers wrapped around her, lifting her off the ground before she could call out for Antonio. Not that calling for him would have helped, because as she stopped moving up and was released from the grasp, she realized he was in the same predicament. The two were now above the trees, allowing them to see what had grabbed them. 

She looked down at the hand, following it to its wrist, then further until she recognized who had picked them up. 

"Are all humans this stupid or are you a special case?" Once again, it was directed at Antonio. "We're here to try and make a better relationship with you!" She sighed, looking down at the hand. She wasn't going to watch it get ugly this time. She feared if Lovino got any louder that she was going to get scared again. 

The truth was, both were pretty happy that Lovino found them before anything else did. Even with that fact, Lovino was probably the biggest, and more than likely the meanest, of any of the predators around here. It was hard to not be frightened. 

"Of course you are. No fucking weapons, wandering around the forest with no backup. You sure they didn't just send you on a suicide mission?" Lovino glared. "I can't put up with you two today. Leave." He was starting to lower them to the ground but Antonio wrapped his arms around the naga's thumb. "We can't leave without any progress made!" That much was true, Bella hated to admit. Their boss gets unhappy with no progress made, he wouldn't let them redo the mission if they took too long. She looked up just in time to see his eye twitch before both of them were lifted quick enough that they became disoriented, and before Antonio could get his bearings back he was in the naga's mouth once more. 

Bella looked down at the leathery surface beneath her to stop the dizzy sensation, getting back to normal with enough time to look up at the naga as he swallowed.

She looked at his other hand and realized what happened instantly, fear making her heart drop. 

He was angry before he did this, and didn't say anything about having nice intentions. His other hand moved to pick her up and she panicked, scrambling away from the fingers. His hand stopped after a moment, him watching her cower against his clawed fingertips in an attempt to hide. 

A sick feeling washed over him. He hadn't meant to make the girl afraid. He thought she had more trust in him than that, since she came back. Did Antonio force her to again? She had been terrified at the idea the first time. His pulled his hand away, gently moving the girl towards his chest, where his pouch was. He was a little familiar with human customs, like how the kiss he did last time comforted her. This was supposed to be comforting as well, squishing her against his chest. Humans called it hugging, if he remembered correctly. It didn't matter, what mattered was calming her down. 

Bella squeezed her eyes shut when he started moving again, bracing herself to prepare for what she hoped wouldn't be her death. She felt herself get pressed against something warm, yet it felt the same as the hand under her.. which hadn't left yet. Was she not being eaten? 

She opened her eyes slowly, afraid of what to expect. She found quickly that he was holding her against his chest. But why? 

She jumped when a finger gently touched her head, running down her back before going back to her head. Was.. was he petting her? 

She couldn't help but calm down, her curiosity of how Lovino knew these human customs overriding her fear of him. She was still concerned for Antonio, and she'd have to ask if he was okay. 

When she stopped shaking he stopped, slowly lifting her back up. She didn't fight against him, so he assumed it was okay. He was going to ask her if she was okay but she beat him. "How do you know all these human customs?" His mouth opened, then closed again. After a few seconds, he simply said, "I can't remember." "Okay." She nodded, accepting the answer. Now for the second question plaguing her mind. "Is Antonio-" "He's fine. I was storing you two because I'm with my brother today and I don't want him finding out about you two." "Rather you don't want Antonio finding out about him." She teased. He nodded, leading her to burst out laughing. "He's normal sized, so he wouldn't be able to get Antonio to shut up by eating him." "I'm sure he could, it would just take longer." "Then there wouldn't be a point." He lowered her slightly, and she realized what he was doing. "What are you going to do about your brother? Or are you going to keep us in until he leaves?" He sighed, unsure how to answer. The rational thing would be to get Feliciano to leave so he can let them out before nightfall, but after sending him away so quickly earlier he doubted his brother would leave. Plus, having the two in his pouch made him feel full, and that would help him get through the day that he'd inevitably have to spend with his brother. 

"Probably until he leaves. I don't know when that will be." She nodded, then closed her eyes. He lowered her until he could slip her into his mouth with ease.

She didn't fight back, just like last time. He was able to send her down quickly. As soon as he was sure she was in his pouch, he started back towards home. 

~~~

"Are the humans gone?" He nodded as he moved the boulder in front of the door. "Did you hurt them?" "No, I scared them. They aren't here." He seemed satisfied with the answer, getting up and getting closer to the naga. "How come you don't like humans? Are they evil?" "Very. Don't trust them whatsoever." He failed to mention why. Feliciano still believed their grandfather was out there somewhere, along with the first wolf friend he made. Lovino knew what had happened to his friend, but he couldn't break it to him. It was humans, of course. He was just a pup when they…

"I guess. Gilbert said that some humans can be nice." "Don't count on it. It's better to assume they all have bad intentions. You don't get tricked and attacked that way." The smaller naga simply nodded. Lovino laid down, ready to take a nap. Maybe after a nap Feli would be willing to leave and he could let them out. 

Feli waited until he was settled, then slithered over so he could coil himself around the fingers. He curled as close to his brother as possible, to retain heat. That as a reason he liked the wolves so much, they were furry and they retained heat a lot better than his kind could. That, and they were nice to be around. 

It was a little bit after Lovino drifted off, and he was close to, when he heard something. Carefully untangling himself, he realized the sound was coming from the larger naga's chest. Specifically where their pouches were. He got closer, and realized that they were voices. The same voices from before! 

He wanted to talk to them, he never talked to humans before. He doubted they would answer from inside, though. Plus, what if they were scared? He had to tell them they were okay! 

He got close to his brothers face, his movements as gentle as possible to avoid disturbing Lovino. 

He carefully pried his lips open wide enough that he could slip in with ease, barely spending a few seconds inside the mouth before pressing against the throat, trying to get in. 

Lovino woke up to a strange prodding at his throat, and he realized someone was in his mouth. His tired brain processed it as someone stuck in his mouth, and he swallowed before trying to investigate. It was too late when he realized it had a tail like his. 

He had to swallow again to get the tail down, and when he did he was pissed. 

"Feliciano what the fuck!? What if I didn't realize you were alive? I could have killed you! What were you doing in-" it dawned on him too late that the humans were still in his pouch. 

That was Feliciano's plan, then. He wanted to meet the humans, after somehow finding out he had stored them. It didn't change the fact that he could have killed Feliciano! 

Feli heard the yelling as he went down, feeling guilty for scaring his brother like that. He knew Lovino wouldn't hurt him with this, but it didn't change the fact that it was pretty dangerous to do while he was sleeping. 

He didn't focus on that for long, because he was soon released into the pouch, where the humans were startled by the sudden yelling and even more so by the new addition. 

"Don't be scared! I'm a lot nicer than my brother here." "Don't say anything to them!" Lovino knew it was too late, however. It didn't mean he couldn't be upset about it. 

"My name is Feliciano, a lot of my friends call me Feli! What are you names?" 

Bella was wary to say anything, knowing Lovino was upset with the situation. But she was also curious as to why Feliciano did that. Maybe nagas were more okay with being stored since it's a part of their anatomy? 

"My name is Antonio, this is Bella." She gave a small wave when she was introduced, figuring that Antonio was going to anyway. They heard a loud huff from above them. "You know what? I give up. Go ahead and get your stupid information. After this, if I catch you in my forest again I will fucking kill you. Got it?" "No!" Feli yelled. "Why kill them? They haven't done anything!" "Because I tried my hardest to keep them away from you because humans are dangerous! They'll use the information to hurt us. So sorry that I'm putting your life above theirs." He wanted to say more, they could all tell. And they could feel the anger he had.

She never felt more in danger in her life. 

The trio was silent for a few tense moments, Lovino's words sinking in. Bella curled up, hugging her knees to her chest. She tried to keep herself from acting out of fear, but she really wanted to get out. She wanted to leave the forest, regretting getting talked into coming again. She hoped that once they were released Antonio wouldn't take another mission in the forest, and the whole group of researchers can just move to an alternate area to explore. 

The other human was starting to take Lovino's words seriously, but he knew if they returned with any information it would lead to disaster for the nagas. He could tell Bella was scared, he wished he could comfort her. But he knew it was his fault, she didn't want to come back, but he talked her into it. 

Feliciano didn't want to make Lovino any more angry than he was, but he also knew he was just talking out of anger. Lovino wouldn't actually kill anyone, right? He hoped it wasn't a risk they would have to take. "...Can I ask why you two come back?" Bella sighed. "Our boss makes us. He has these missions out and us two are the only ones who will accept the naga missions. Lovino scared the rest of them away." "Things won't really end well if we return from a mission without progress." Antonio added. "Oh." Was all Feliciano said. He tried to make a connection, and the closest thing related to their situation was the training Ludwig made him do, along with their kitsune friend Kiku. If he didn't do the training he didn't get to take a nap during the day until he did. Maybe that was a good connection? 

"I understand that. Ludwig makes me do training and won't let me take a siesta until I finish it." More silence. Feliciano drummed his fingers lightly against his tail, uncomfortably coiled up against the walls of the pouch. "What was this mission's goal?" "To make a better friendship with the nagas of the forest. Though, we failed the last mission we had pertaining to nagas too so even if we just leave with more knowledge on nagas they'll be satisfied." 

"What if you fail enough missions?" The humans looked at each other the best they could in the dark. "It depends on what it is.." Antonio started. "If the species is too hostile and no progress is made on the missions, they try to gather a group to.." Bella couldn't say it. She couldn't bring herself to tell the two that if they didn't cooperate that they would become targets. That a group of trained and armed soldiers would come to eliminate the hostile species. "...to what?" They flinched as Lovino joined the conversation again. Right, he could hear us.. 

"They would get a group of people together to…" she sent Antonio a pleading look. "Take care of the problem?" He offered. "That doesn't answer my question, dumbfuck." "To put it in company terms, 'eliminate the hostile species to promote peace'." He blurted out in response. Neither of them wanted to say it, especially not with Feliciano in here. He seemed too innocent to deal with hunters. 

"So if we don't cooperate, they come to kill us?" Bella curled up tighter. She was sure he would ensure they didn't come back now that he knew. Maybe she was just thinking the worst, but she had a bad feeling about the whole situation. 

The walls around them began to tighten, and she broke. 

She let out a scream, stopping everything in their tracks. "Bella!?" Antonio tried to calm her down, finding her arm and trying to pull her to him. She started flailing in response, panic taking over her mind. She felt something wrap around her waist and a few seconds later, most of her body so she couldn't flail. She tried to scream again but her mouth was covered by something scaly, and slimy. Her eyes were screwed shut, but something felt off. She felt the need to open them, but she didn't want to face what was surely going to be their death. Something brushed against her cheek and they flew open. 

She had a suspicion that Feliciano was trying to keep her still to calm her down and that was confirmed by the coils wrapped around her from the neck down. The tip of his tail was pressed against her lips and a hand rested against her jaw. She looked up and met the naga's eyes- which were a strange, swirly pattern? It wasn't like that before, was it? It was getting harder to think, she couldn't look away from the gold and amber swirls. Her mind got fuzzy and she went limp, relaxing against the scales that held her. The naga said something in a language she didn't know, probably talking to Lovino, but she couldn't focus on it. She felt herself being moved, and now she sat next to Antonio, who looked worried. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, keeping an eye on the naga on the other side of the pouch. 

After a few minutes she felt the hypnosis wear off, and she sat up. Her head was pounding, probably a side effect of waking up from it. "Bella?" "I'm okay. I.." Now that she calmed down, she felt embarrassed for acting out. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." "Was it panic? You were panicking, because Lovino was letting us out." Feliciano asked innocently. She looked down. "Yea, I panicked. I thought he.." "Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't kill you two. Not with Feliciano here." He wanted to tell her he never planned on killing her because she kept getting dragged into these situations not by her choice, but he decided against it. "Not with me not here, either." Feliciano added hastily. "Mh." 

He made her scared again. 

Why did he care so much? This is the third time he's scared her, and yet it makes him feel awful every single time. Yet he felt nothing about scaring the other humans.. 

Why does scaring her make him feel sad? 

He pressed a hand against his abdomen, feeling a flinch in response when he found the girl, still curled up. Guilt cut through him like a knife. 

Pride be damned. He needed to apologize. 

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm not trying to scare you or make you think you're in danger while you're with me." Feliciano jumped on right before he could continue. "Actually, you're safer in the forest with Lovino. Everyone knows not to mess with him, because he won't hesitate to stand up for himself. Honestly, it's a good thing he finds you two everytime you come here, I can think of a few monsters who would hurt you as soon as they saw you." 

Bella looked down, feeling guilty. It was her fault she couldn't keep her fear in check, why are they apologizing? "No, it's-" "It's not your fault. And it isn't Antonio's either. I didn't know about the company thing until now, I thought he was just being stupid and wanting to learn about us for personal reasons." 

"I would have told you before, but I was hoping we could have made some progress first. That way the bosses would be off of our backs for a little while. I didn't want to make you angry with us for the company's policy." His arms tightened slightly around Bella. "And I wasn't trying to pull you into any of this either." Feliciano shifted slightly, pulling his coils closer to himself to give them some space. "If we answer your questions, you'll make sure we don't become targets?" "We will do our best to." Bella said. 

"Do you want to do this questioning thing while in there, or do you want to come out?" 

Bella was about to say yes, but she hesitated. She felt safer now that everyone had explained themselves, and honestly it didn't make a difference except for making Lovino do a little extra work.  "I wouldn't mind staying, if that's okay." 

~~~

Their boss grinned down at the folder on his desk. "Finally got through?" "Yea, it just took a while." "A lot of trial and error." The two gave vague explanations. 

Honestly, would their boss believe them if they had said they got most of their information while residing in the naga's pouch, which was essentially a second stomach? Would their boss believe that was the second time they were in the pouch? It would be better to keep the adventure stories to themselves. 

The man did a quick flip through of the folder, taking in the information. "And this was a friendly species despite the scaring?" "That's their natural response to foreign creatures in their territory. They were friendly after they started to recognize us." "Well, that's all we need to know. If they don't pose a threat, we have no reason to mess with them. We can go ahead and move to the next biome."

#voretalia #soft vore #safe vore #unwilling vore #nagatalia #naga vore #g/t vore #fearplay #nonfatal vore

[periodicreviews]

Uncharted 1-3

With the release of the Uncharted trilogy for free, I decided to finally make my way through them. When I bought my PS4 in 2017, it came with a copy of Uncharted 4 that I’ve left untouched until now. I go into specifics for Uncharted 1-3, then talk a little about the series as a whole.

  Uncharted 1

My biggest complaint with this game was the platforming. It was not only tough to figure out which ledges were “grabbable” but even after my 9 hours in the game, I couldn’t accurately judge distances.

Some ledges appear to be close enough, but there’s actually a different side path the developers want you to take. Drake as a character seems to have a variable jump distance depending on if the game detects you are trying to land on a grabbable ledge.

If you jump too soon or at the wrong angle, you’ll execute a short “hop” and fall to your death. I haven’t done any digging on whether such a system exists, that’s just what it appears like.

I died over and over on one of the later levels where there is a series of platforms in the rafters of a church. I just kept misjudging distances and jumping too early.

My primary cause of death had to have been just been falling as opposed to any enemy NPC.

As I say that, I’m reminded of one particular shootout in a courtyard. At the time I remember being really frustrated that being in cover didn’t mean that you were safe from bullets. There was so much gunfire that I couldn’t get anywhere near the people who were shooting at me especially with the number of grenades they were shooting at me. It was tough to have to unlearn everything I know about cover from Gears of War, where you are safe if you don’t peek out from people shooting towards you.

 Uncharted 2

Uncharted 2 in some ways felt like a step back and a step forward.

The remastering team on U1 maybe did too good of a job because I felt the eyes of the characters in U2 felt a lot more lifeless.

The step forward was obviously in the improved platforming. I had less and less trouble judging distances. I can’t tell if that’s just because I had 9 hours of practice from the previous game, but I feel like the system judging character movement was also greatly improved.

I died 10 or more times in a single sequence when a helicopter is firing missiles at a building. The building begins to tip over and collapse and you are supposed to jump through a window on a neighboring building to escape.

Fail to jump and you die. Jump at the wrong angle, and you fall between the collapsing building and are crushed. Before I realized I was supposed to go through the window, I thought I was supposed to grab onto the ledge of the neighboring building.

Right after you jump at the exact spot, Drake says “Jump”. But for me, this audio cue always came after I was supposed to jump. I’m not sure if they intended that audio cue to be the cue for the user or not.

This particular scene is a symptom of the root problem in my opinion of the game trying to be too cinematic. I say that, even as a fan of Quantic Dream games. I know there’s a very fine line between cinematic and game. Go too far and you can confuse the player on when they are required to interact and/or make it feel like their actions have no impact. Uncharted 2 had a few such sequences for me. I never wanted to see another train by the end of it.

 Uncharted 3

The beginning of the game had me a little worried about the collision detection. It might have just been a side effect of playing with a smaller character model and the collision requirements being slightly different than the regular sized character. There were a few moments when I would get stuck in the chase sequence on corners or edges of geometry.

U3 also put a lot more importance on the melee combat system. I personally prefer to stick with the gunplay but for certain enemies like the shotgun/bulletproof vest guy and the giant brawler types, it felt like a requirement to engage them melee combat. The ability to return grenades and dropdown on enemies in silent takedowns was a welcome addition though.

I really hated the “drug trip” levels. It was very uncomfortable to look at the screen as it distorts and I started to panic during the first level because I was worried I was going in circles and causing this level to last longer than it should. Though to the developers’ credit, that’s really the point of these sequences.

There was one segment I was intent on getting through on all stealth as you infiltrate the airport to stowaway on the cargo plane to the desert. Two enemies at the end guard a door and you can’t shoot either without triggering the “alert”. You had to catch their attention, one at a time, to lure them away from the door and take them out. I really wished I could use the rock mechanic from Horizon Zero Dawn to even get them to spread out on a patrol as they searched for the noise. Ultimately, I was able to remain in the shadows enough to grab their attention but not to fully alert them.

General

I think story-wise, I enjoyed the first game the most, despite it being a little cliché that the Nazis appeared. But gameplay-wise, I probably prefer U2. I enjoyed Elena being presented as someone who didn’t have to rely on Drake to save her. The scene where Elena breaks Drake out of jail in particular was well executed and it was fun to watch these actors perform it.

In U2, although realistic that there would be some animosity between Chloe and Elena, I wished the two could be there as part of a team, not just as two sides of the love triangle. Thankfully they do warm up to each other.

In U2 and U3, characters ask Drake “what’s the point?” and I felt like Drake never successfully answered that. In U1, the driving motivation is rescuing Sully and Elena, then later on it’s in preventing the destructive power from leaving the island. In U2, despite Elena being on death’s doorstep, Drake still decides to face Lazarevic. In U3, especially after getting the warning that Francis Drake himself is alleged to have written. Drake wants to continue on. I guess that just speaks to who he is as a character but the 2nd and 3rd games lost me in that regard as to knowing when to quit. To be fair, he did want to quit in U2 until Schafer convinced him otherwise with the power of the Cintamani stone.

Music

Given Uncharted’s inclusion on stuff like Video Games Live, I expected there to be more to the soundtrack. The main theme is notable but unfortunately that’s the only track that stands out. There are no bad tracks so to speak, but nothing that made me want to listen to it again.

 Hints

The hint system was hit and miss at times. I imagine they did a lot of testing to figure out what’s the average time it takes for someone to figure out a particular puzzle and then use that time for how long it takes for the hint to appear. Frequently, the hint would appear when I was already well on my way to finishing the puzzle or when I had just figured it out.

Sometimes the hints would take the form of pressing up on the D-pad and that’s great because I have the option to not press it. It was frustrating when character dialog would tell me what to do instead of letting me figure it out. I know I could’ve turned off the hints in the menu, but I think that would have only worked for the D-pad. It would’ve been nice if that extra character dialog wouldn’t give it all away or could be triggered optionally by the D-pad.

Take a break

It’s probably my fault for trying to rush through these games. But I couldn’t help but notice how high the body count is as you kill non-descript enemy after non-descript enemy. In the first game, they’re just trying to find El Dorado and yet these people are throwing their lives away. In U2, it’s maybe a little more believable because Lazarevic is a warlord basically. And in U3, I guess it’s also believable that this secret society has vast sums of money and influence. Everyone has a price as they say.

At times, I just felt fatigued at having to mow through a whole other squadron of enemies. I know that sounds strange from someone who has played his fair share of Halo, Call of Duty, and Gears of War, where there are no puzzles or exploration, it’s just killing.

In two of those, you’re fighting aliens or “monsters”. I wonder if I played through the 3 Call of Duty Modern Warfare games back to back, would I feel the same way about them? Or maybe it’s merely because Uncharted is not sold to me as being a soldier on a battlefield, you’re just a treasure hunter against mercenaries hired by some rich guy who are just looking for a paycheck (though to be fair, that’s many soldiers as well). Maybe it’s just my personal tastes changing over the years.

This endless warzone type combat also made me yearn for one or two scene where Drake takes it easy. Even just like stopping to eat or sleep would’ve been good. The puzzle and vehicle sections are there to break up the standard run and gun action but I just feel like as a person, it would feel more realistic to see Drake take a nap some time.

Granted, Uncharted is not necessarily aiming for realism. Chances are very low that any person would be able to climb up a train car as it teeters on the edge of a cliff in Tibet. Or escape from a collapsing building that has been shot with rockets from a helicopter gunship. Or survive days walking through the Rub' al Khali with no water and still have the stamina to survive waves of troops in a gun battle. And keep doing it all over and over again.

He does take 1 nap in Uncharted 3 for like 3 hours and I welcomed every second of it. Uncharted 2 opens at a bar where he takes several sips of a drink and of course he takes several sips of the poisoned water in Uncharted 3. But in excluding all of these normal human activities, Drake feels less and less like a human and more like a god.

 I feel like maybe I’m missing something that all of these 10/10 and 9/10 reviewers saw. Part of that is probably the time that has passed. I started with The Last of Us and moved on to other games, like Death Stranding, that have built upon the motion capture acting format. Part of it is probably due to me trying to beat these games too quickly, especially when it comes to 2 and 3. I feel like as a whole they are more an 8/10.

I’ve since moved on to Uncharted 4 and so far it feels like a very different game, which I’m not sure if that is a good or a bad thing yet.

#uncharted

[nylaaaaa]

Little Secret

Chapter 1. Your Secret Is Safe With Me

Name and Surname: Natalie Fleur Estelle

Sex: Female

Date of Birth: 19th August 1692

Place ( Registration 

of      < District                     Cynthell

Birth  ( Sub-District

_________________________________________

"Here's the birth certificate. It has nothing about her parents on it as you suggested." I gave the man standing beside me, who had grown to be a brother to me, a quick, but satisfied, grunt of approval. 

"Thank you. Keep this between us and I'll keep up my end of the deal." Quintin gave me a questioning side glance. I knew he didn't appreciate me bringing up the past but I needed him to keep this between us.

"I don't see why you won't be honest to her. For all we know she might be like you..." I knew what he was suggesting, but I refused to listen. She won't be like me. She can't be like me. I waved him away, annoyance clear as day across my face. He will be annoyed too. We both have secrets. I just don't know whose is worth more.

_________________________________________

Today....

Today is possibly the worst day I'll have in my life. I'm honestly not sure. 

Today I officially turn 18 which, unluckily for me, means I have to add another thing to my job description.

Isaieth adopted me when I was born because my father died and it caused my mum to become a drunk. I don't exactly blame her for leaving and forgetting her troubles with a drink. But I also can't say I'm fond of it. I love Isaieth with all my heart, he feels like an actual father to me. But I sometimes wish I had an actual mother to help me grow as well.

When I was born my father died. No one told me how, I just know it was traumatic enough to make my mother a drunk. Isaieth adopted me when I was 2 after he had an accident that caused him to be deaf and partially blind. He wasn't fit for work anymore so the second I turned an age where I can go to the toilet by myself he taught me how to tend his farm. He makes a business by selling wheat that he grows and whatever we can get from the few animals we own. When I was 16 I found an abandoned lamb who we later discovered was a merino sheep. Merino sheep are, in my opinion, the best sheep you can get. Their carcasses are smaller than the average sheep so they aren't used for meat but rather for the wool that they grow. The average amount of wool the sheep grows is 11kg which is enough for about 11 sweaters. Aswell as the sheep we have 2 chickens, both of which are female. They were actually, in some ways, a gift from the king. The king and Isaieth are best friends almost from birth. They both grew up in royalty but only the king kept it that way. Isaieth was the son of a knight, and so in turn, Isaieth was also a knight. The king was born a prince and then was assigned a knight who happened to be Isaieth. One of the times when Isaieth was protecting the king he ended up getting seriously injured and the king fired him for his own safety. The king doesn't exactly care for the knight's wellbeing but because they were friends he decided a knight was too dangerous for Isaieth. After the event the king offered him a plot of land on the outskirts of the city that was run down and abandoned but had potential for a farm. Isaieth's dream as a boy was to grow old and have his own farm, so like any friend the king got him his own farm. Because of the friendship and countless times Isaieth saved his life our rent was greatly reduced and we were offered a permanent job to make sure we always had the money to pay rent. The job included selling off our produce from the animals. The eggs given to Isaieth was originally just starter food but Isaieth decided to keep them and let them hatch instead. When they grew to be quite old he kept a few of the last eggs they would hatch and did the same thing. The hens we have now are 1 years old, or will be in a few days. We don't get much from our farm but because of the discount on rent sometimes we have enough money to spare to get nice things. The average price of rent can go up to 100 gold.

(100 gold is like 1k, the money in this story is, bronze= pence or cents or whatever is the lowest in your country, silver= pounds or dollars etc and gold= the hundreds +. In simpler terms, but in GBP ((Great British Pounds)) terms, 1 bronze= 1 pence, 1 silver= 1 pound and 1 gold= 100 pound.)

Ours however got put down to 45 gold. It's still a lot that we just about make each month but we're still thankful that he even gave us this place to begin with. He didn't actually have to.

It's also lucky that our farm works well with rent times. Each month you have to go to the castle and pay your rent. If you dont have enough or you skip it they go to your house and either take a child, that becomes their servent who has to work for the money you didn't pay, or they take some belongings that you don't get back unless you pay extra. Luckily we've never seen it first hand but one of my childhood friends ended up becoming a servent from it. I haven't seen her since. Our wheat takes a month to grow so we've always got that to keep our money up. Unfortunately wheat sells cheap, one wheat grain sells for 30 bronze. Every month we grow, on average, 700 wheat grains but have to keep back 350 to replant so we can get 350 the next month too. So on average every month with wheat alone we make 10 gold and 5 silver. Which by itself is almost a quarter of our rent. Replanting and harvesting wheat is one of the most tedious jobs of farming, but maintaining is by far the easiest. You only have to water the plant at most once in summer but otherwise never. All you really have to do is make sure the plant isn't dying and be on your way. The worst job I have is turning the sheeps pelt into wool. She doesn't like to be milked so doing that is an annoyance but I dread making wool the most out of all the farm jobs I have. Next to maintaining the crop the hens are the easiest too. They lay at least one egg everyday, the only thing I have to do is collect the eggs without breaking them and make sure the hens are well fed and have fresh air. With making wool you have to flatten the pelt completely and then tie the strands together to make a really long piece of wool that I have to cut and ball up. It's the worst job on the entire farm but I can't say I hate doing it. My favourite thing is balling it all up after dying it. I'm just thankful all these things take a month to do or we'd be screwed on rent every month.

(Realistically these don't actually take a month, I researched so much to make the story as legit as possible but for story sake I tweaked the timing. Hens do lay one egg a day at least, if properly cared for and also depending on breed. But wheat takes a LOT longer to grow and you can only shave a sheep once a year. I changed the timing of it all tho or I'd have to be even more creative with money and stuff and tbh I'd rather not. Coming up with these ideas for the farm was hard enough.)

On average you get 2 balls of yarn out of 1kg of wool. Luckily for us our merino sheep produces 11kg of wool giving us 22 balls of yarn. 1 ball of yarn sells for 1 gold, so for 22 balls of yarn we make 22 gold. Personally I think it's extremely expensive but it does make sense considering there aren't many sheep around, which also means clothes, blankets and shoes are harder to get. On average with the hens we get 2 eggs a day. 1 egg sells for 25 silver, meaning the 2 we make in a day gives us 50 silver. There's 28 days in a month meaning with eggs alone we make 14 gold. Altogether in one month we usually make roughly 46 gold. As good of an amount as that is, 45 of it has to go to the king, leaving us with roughly 1 gold left. Because we're human and need to eat, bathe and clothe ourselves just like everyone else, whatever's left gets spent on stuff like that. On average every month we spend about 50 silver on food. I have my own plant pots in my room that we use for our own food. There's only 2 of them but in one plant pot I grow strawberries and in the other I grow raspberries. Truth be told if I sold the strawberries and raspberries we'd probably be richer but honestly, we're both kinda used to this life and although we don't have everything we want, we have everything we need. Besides the fruits take 2 months to grow and because of my reputation people would refuse to buy them for their actual price. They just about accept the other things, if fruits were in the mix I'd probably get death glares and 1 bronze for a batch. It doesn't bother me too much though because with whatever odd bit of wheat we had spare from the 700 odd we plant and sell we use that to make bread or pastry, so every 2 months we make the fruits into a jam or crush them and make a pie. My all time favourite activity is making them into pies or bread and jam with Isaieth. It's the only thing we can properly do together. He helps me replant and harvest the wheat sometimes because there's so much of it but usually he just watches from afar. His eye sight is getting worse the older he gets so he helps less and less. It saddens me because I know he doesn't want to go fully blind, we wouldn't be able to communicate at all and what kind of life are you living if you can't see or hear anything. You might as well be dead at that point or you'd be so throughly confused. 

Getting back on track. Today is a bad day because it's the first day where I have to pay for the rent. I've been a few times with Isaieth as a child but I've never gone alone. It's an adults job and should only be done by an adult. But today, aswell as being my birthday, it's also rent day. Isaieth didn't actually want me to do it but I insisted knowing that he would have severe trouble doing it himself. And what's more is that I have to go alone to sell our produce now aswell. I don't put any blame on him and I especially will never complain. But in my head I can feel bitter about the situation. 

I look forward to the day.....

...

No I don't. 

[zhanael]

@The RWBY FNDM

Fuck off with that “manipulation” bullshit in regards to Ozpin, thanks.  Rant under the cut.

First off, in case you didn’t play Grimm Eclipse, Oz actually doesn’t want anything to do with Grimm at all.  Dr. Merlot was experimenting with Grimm, mutating them, and was responsible for Mountain Glenn’s destruction, all of which Ozpin found disgusting and heinous.  He never sounded more angry with anyone than he did in that game with Merlot.  Suggesting that Ozpin manipulated Salem into experimenting with Grimm in any way and that’s why he’s “cursed” is flimsy and reaching at best and outright ignorant at worst.

(Yes, this is actually a “theory” I read.  Ugh.)

Second of all, immortality just by itself is a curse.  You live on, watching friends and family live and die, and you’re very, very alone.  But you still get attached because it’s what makes this immortality bearable, at least for a time.  Oz has it a little worse because he does die, but ends up resurrecting in someone else, still remembering literally everything, and actually absorbing that person.  It’s not that the gods themselves cursed him, it’s that he sees it as a curse.  I’m 100% sure that he doesn’t want to do this anymore, but he literally cannot stop it until he stops Salem.

And that’s the kicker, there.  Y’all keep wanting to blame him for shit Salem does.  He wouldn’t have to train warriors or make Maidens to throw at her if she wasn’t trying to destroy humanity (and faunus-kind).  That bitch started the war, and he’s trying to find ways to end it for good.  That’s the thing about war, kiddos.  It’s never bloodless.  People fucking die, and no, it’s not great, but what do you want him to do?  Salem and her Grimm want to kill everyone.  How the fuck do you expect him to fight that?  Walk up to her and give her a hug and tell her everything’s okay, that she doesn’t have to be this way anymore?

You people who blame Ozpin for Pyrrha’s death, saying he manipulated her or whatever, sound exactly like Hazel.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say Hazel was made as a portrayal of your portion of the FNDM (which I do know better, thankfully).  Pyrrha made her fucking choice, just as Gretchen did.  Pyrrha was a warrior with a heart of gold, ready to sacrifice herself for the greater good, Maiden or not.  Even if Ozpin hadn’t explained to her what was going on, if she hadn’t lost her life on the tower, she would have lost her life to Salem and her minions or her Grimm at some other time.  That wouldn’t have been Ozpin’s fault, but she would have died anyway, because she would have fought Salem--or at least her Grimm--and thrown herself in harm’s way for anyone else.

But since she did actually die after making her choice, let’s go over these circumstances of said death here.  First up: the world of Remnant as a whole.  Semblances are a thing, Grimm are a thing, Dust is a thing.  The supernatural isn’t uncommon.  But magic, the ability to manipulate reality in more ways than just one and without the use of Dust, is entirely unheard of anymore.  It’s lost to legends and fairy tales, much as it is in our own world.

So take a high school jock that’s still pretty nice and actually pretty smart.  Not nerdy by any means, but aware of pop culture, at least.  Then tell that jock that magic is real.  They’re not going to believe you at first, laugh you off.  But then other people they trust go “well...............yeah” and they’re going to start worrying.  “What do you mean?” they’ll ask. “Like, fireballs and shit?”

“Yes,” says the authorities they’ve grown to trust. “No special tools like lighters or flamethrowers.  From their hands, from nothing but the energy inside themselves.”

They’re probably going to start freaking out.  Like, a lot.  Their reality has been shattered.  Everything they thought was true could be a lie. 

There’s a show on Netflix called Magic for Humans.  Episode 5 featured a gimmick where the magician convinces a bunch of people to pretend the subject of his trick was completely invisible.  The show only featured two separate subjects.  Neither thought it was real at first, but when they came to realize that no one seemed to see them, their reactions changed.  The first bought into it pretty handily, even tried to steal some wine thinking he actually was invisible (lmfao at the Ring of Gyges actually proving right).  But the second was absolutely panicking and breaking down into tears, enough to make me wholly uncomfortable with the entire thing.  He believed he actually was invisible, and he hated it.  That’s how your average joe would react to magic.

And that’s how your average Remnant joe would react to magic.

It was revealed in Volume 5 that the Spring Maiden (before Raven) had panicked and fled.  The burden had become too much, Leo said.  She was scared, Raven said.  She was the dude who was turned invisible and she fucking hated it.

Given all that, why on earth would you people think putting all this shit up front would be at all helpful?  Why do you think Ozpin wants to scare off anyone who could take on this power when he’s already had it happen once?

Now, no.  Pyrrha was not your average Remnant joe.  She was strong, resourceful, and willing and able to learn.  I don’t think she would have freaked out, at least not that much, but you could hear how shaky her voice was when Glynda, Ironwood and Qrow confirmed that Ozpin wasn’t joking.  Even before she was given the actual choice, she was questioning everything she knew, and I’m sure Oz could see that.  I’m sure Oz could see another Spring coming on.

So he was going to take the slower approach with her, even despite the circumstances around Amber.  Surely he thought he had more time.  Even the choice he gave her was intended to be answered at the end of the Vytal Festival.  How long would that have been?  The Olympics, which is the closest real world comparison to the Vytal Festival, lasts 16 days, so just over two weeks.  We were probably close to halfway through the Festival when Oz called Pyrrha into his office, so that decision would have been given maybe a week, week and a half.  Not that long when it comes to a big decision like this, but certainly a lot longer than what she actually had.

Because the next day, Beacon fell.  And that wasn’t Ozpin’s fault.  That was Salem’s fault, and Cinder’s fault, and Emerald and Mercury’s fault.  That was Roman and Neo’s fault.  That was Adam and the Vale chapter of the White Fang’s fault.  Pyrrha saw what was happening, knew she had an opportunity to do good, to try to keep more people from being hurt, and she fucking took it.

If Cinder hadn’t ambushed Amber, she wouldn’t be in a coma.  If Amber hadn’t been in a coma, Ozpin would not have needed to seek out someone to take her on in an effort to keep the power out of Salem’s hands.  If Oz didn’t need to find a replacement Fall Maiden, he wouldn’t have called Pyrrha into his office.  If he hadn’t called Pyrrha into his office, she wouldn’t have known about magic or anything else.

But even if she hadn’t known about magic or anything else, if she had an opportunity to stop Cinder, she damn well would have taken it and died anyway.  Because that’s how Pyrrha do.

Yes, Ozpin appealed to her sense of justice and protectiveness.  But I don’t think that was unique to her, or to anyone.  I think that’s actually his own perspective.  He seeks out people who are willing to fight for humanity and protect it from the darkness, and tries to empower them to do so in any way he can.  But he hasn’t stopped being human (or faunus), despite being immortal.  He can still make mistakes.  Unfortunately, because this is war, those mistakes can be big ones, and cost lives.  Gretchen Reinart.  Summer Rose.  The second-most-recent Spring Maiden.

Pyrrha.

Their deaths burden him.  He’s exhausted, he doesn’t want to do this anymore.  The Wizard was him trying to escape it, or at least rest, just for a while.  But he can’t, quite literally, not while Salem is still around.  And now he’s stuck with a bunch of teenagers and one trusted friend, in the body of another teenager.  He no longer has the support he used to have--especially since Leo betrayed him.

Salem is winning.

And yet y’all want to think he’s the bad guy too, for doing what he can to stop her??

Right.  Okay.  What the fuck ever.

You people exhaust me.

#rwby #rwde #professor ozpin #salem #oscar pine #pyrrha nikos #ozpin