#'but there's no time for that the reapers are coming' there was enough time for a whole ass party

[warningsine]

Listen, I don't hate him either. In fact, during some of my male Shepard playthroughs, I saved him, because I enjoyed their flirting in ME3. But boy, is he a generic noodle.

I don't care which one of the two players save. That's their prerogative.

But. But.

Unfortunately, this "Ashley sucks" trend isn't TikTok specific.

Male fanboys on Reddit and people of all genders on here have been viciously hating on her since the games came out.

She's far from my favorite character in the trilogy, but the fandom's sexist treatment of her has made me turn the chair and defend her more than once over the years.

Unsurprisingly enough, there's an overlap between individuals who still call Ashley "the space racist" and those who hate Miranda (due to her being a "Cerberus bitch," never mind that she flips TIM off, never mind that she tries to bring the organization down herself) and slutshame her.

As if it's the character's fault she was designed for the male fans thus that stupid catsuit (also see: Seven of Nine on "Voyager," Jeri Ryan couldn't breathe in that shit) and those equally stupid shots of her ass. Remember when the fanboys threw a fit because those shots were removed from the "Legendary Edition"?

By the way, the creators quite literally told Yvonne Strahovski (a natural blonde that dyes her hair) that Miranda was gonna have black hair, because she was "supposed to be a femme fatale."

(Never mind that the character is more than a caricature; that she's amongst the most sensitive and insecure ME characters when you let Shepard know her.)

And they, of course, ignored that as gorgeous as the actress is, she doesn't have balloon breasts and ass.

But back to Ashley.

"She's xenophobic."

She does make some rather unfortunate comments, it has to be said, but people throw things out of proportion, because Ashley dares to be outspoken; a female character that doesn't suck Shepard's dick/vagina and challenges them. (She's one of the few squadmates that does this in all of the games, which I personally find refreshing. The blind hero worship makes me roll my eyes at times.)

When renegade Shepard says to an Hanar, "Because you're a big stupid jellyfish!" then everyone laughs. That's not xenophobic, that's badass and true.

When Wrex and Mordin (the fandom faves, my faves) say very, very xenophobic shit, then that's fine and dandy.

When Garrus, the ex cop, does it? The same.

Oh, the double standards of it all.

People love taking Ashley's lines out of context and/or before she gets her own character development.

"That bitch shot Wrex on Virmire."

Meanwhile, that's 100% on the player. Is it the character's fault that you didn't do Wrex's side mission and don't have enough paragon/renegade points to make him stand down?

In that case, Ashley does her job, i.e., protecting her Commander from an enraged Krogan with a gun, when Shepard doesn't pull the trigger themselves.

Also, notice how ME1 Ashley is one of the few characters--if not the only one other than Shepard, I'll have to refresh my memory--that doesn't dehumanize Wrex; she calls him by his name instead of "the Krogan."

"That bitch trash talks Shepard on Horizon."

Oh, you mean when she expresses her doubts about the human terrorist organization (that she righteously hates) bringing back a dead Shepard back to life? When Miranda herself tells Shepard that she wanted to use a chip to control them?

Wow, how evil of Ash to question why her cyborg of a Commander all of a sudden aligns with the cartoonishly evil organization that uses refugees to create Reaper abominations (third game).

Kaidan does the exact same thing on Horizon btw. His call out comes off as milder because he has a different personality.

The way I have to make sure I don’t get on Mass Effect tiktok because they ALWAYS end up hating on Ashley is so annoying. I swear people played the og Mass Effect once, killed Ashley during that play through and just never thought about her again besides miss remembering her comments.

How many times do I have to say it people. ‘I can’t tell the Aliens from the animals’ is triggered by being around Keepers. In universe there is a on going conversation about what the hell the keepers even are so while her comment is in poor taste she isn’t talking about any sentient being.

The ‘Bear Vs Dog’ monologue is a metaphor where humans are the dogs and the person is the Council. Her point is that the council would throw humans under the bus in a heartbeat and Oh, come ME3 she is completely right.

If you bring her along to the conversation with the  terra firma guy she makes it extremely clear that she doesn’t like them in anyway, even before she gets character development. She the hates her grandfather being used by them and strongly opposes them uses his history to promote their racist messages.

ALL the teammates in the og Mass Effect said dumb shit. Garrus in particular makes some shity comments. Because a group of random wildly different characters that start off distrusting each other but grow to love one another like family is a huge part of all the games.

But oh, Ashley is a woman so she gets to die while the boring soft boy gets to live.

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper Part Nine

Pairing: Poly 141 x female reader / Female reader/ You x Her mental health x König

Content Warnings: Violence, bloodshed, injuries, Premeditated murder on the brain (Female Reader), swearing.

Words: 756

Note: Sorry for a short one. Wanted to get this one out. Next one will be longer I promise.

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

Supernatural AU — Poem

Credit for Dividers:@cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I the problem? Did I do something to make you hate me so much? 

Why didn’t you just leave me instead of lying so many times to my face?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? 

I hope you rot in this hell you have made yourself. It’s my last gift I will give to you.

You knew how my life was before I met you. Yet you still did this to me. 

Cold. Calculated. That is all you will ever be.

If I had the power to curse you. I would have done it long ago. 

Once I leave this house, this country all over again. Do yourself a favour. Stay away from me.

Stay far, far away from me.

Otherwise, I can and most absolutely will kill you myself.

If you wish to keep your life.

Stay in your country and I will stay in mine.

I don’t want to be pushed into a corner. But you keep being adamant on doing so.

Don’t blame me when I bite you. Blame yourself for ignoring the warning signs.

You are the reason we are no longer married. Take accountability for your actions and shut the fuck up. 

König. You still don’t know if that’s his actual name or just simply a call sign. He never told you either way. 

But what does it matter? 

The man who had once been the epitome of comfort and support in your life had become a shadow of his former self. The trust that had once been as solid as steel between you had been shattered into a million pieces.

Leaving a gaping chasm of doubt and anger in its place. 

The coldness in his eyes, the way he looked at you now, it was like you were nothing but a stranger to him. 

Someone who had merely crossed his path at the wrong time.

"I will leave, and you won't see me again." you snarl, getting up to get your things.

König remains seated, his expression unreadable. "Reaper, I know you're upset, but we need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You chose to cheat. You made that choice. Suffer the consequences. I'm not the one who needs to explain anything. You're the one who broke our vows.” 

“My life is in my hands. I will not become who you are.” You told him. Your knuckles turning white from the way you turned your hands into fists. You were so tired of the kind of excuses coming from the mouths of men who neither cared nor wanted you around. 

You weren’t going to let König know you again. To choose death than suffer through his presence a second time. It made so much sense to you. You do enough talk. What did you learn from your mistakes? Did you even learn from them at all? 

If he can’t see it. May he drown inside his endless well of pitiful tears. 

You are not his wife, his friend, his punching bag. The call sign ‘Grim Reaper’? You earned it for a reason. Too bad he’s too blind to see it. 

What has eyes but cannot see? 

Escape.

Escape and run faster than he can hope to catch up. 

If he can’t take the hint, then…..you would have to kill him yourself.

Can’t be too hard to kill a six-foot ten adult man, right?

You can hear the shouting between him and his girlfriend. A sickening, twisted grin spreads across your face. Sweet revenge for the child you lost years ago.  Weight began to lift from your shoulders. It wasn’t over by a long shot. But now you know how to twist the knife to get what you wanted in order to leave. 

To head back home where you felt like you belonged completely. 

Home. Your home. 

The one where you don’t have to hide from broken bottles, yelling, shouting, endless need to feel like you have to explain yourself. 

Could it still be there when you go back? Will it still be there now?

[heartfullofleeches]

ITS MY BIRTHDAY TODAY🎉🎉🎉🎉 I was wondering how my favorites would wish me a happy birthday, Tobi, the cafe, host, static, the supernatural harem and the fast food, if that’s too many you can shorten it but I really wanted to have some of my favorite characters from my favorite writer congratulate me on my special day! BTW I’m the one who sent the Prince leash ask, I don’t know if you got it but I accidentally did it anonymously

(The Cafe was a bit too much for me to get this out to you the same day, but I hope you like this regardless! On the bright side, I did get your Prince ask and am working on that too. Happy birthday, chief!)

Tobi:

Has never had a birthday himself, but they know what they are and their significance to humans other regular people. Tobi's the kind of guy to surprise you with presents year round, but as your birthday rolls around they keep items you've had your eye on in their back pocket to gift you on your big day.

Its too embarrassing for them to give you in person, but Tobi creates a collage of all their favorite pictures of you to put up somewhere in your bedroom. Tobi loves baking and cooking so a homemade breakfast, dinner, and your treat of choice would be on the top of their list of surprises for you.

Host:

"Looks like it's a special someone's birthday- Those only come around once a year, you know? If - that's how you want it, anyway."

That time already? Time is a tricky thing for Host to wrap his head around. He could've sworn the last one was just yesterday. It hardly matters. Everyday could be your birthday- Contenstants come and go, but you'll always be his star.

That would, of course, wear the novelty of it all thin. Host is more than happy saving the pinnacle of his gratitude for you as his co-host for that one day. That day's contestants better be too if they want to leave with all the parts they came with intact.

Which is his funny way of saying they won't get any cake.

Static:

"Happy birthday to you.... Happy birthday to you...."

Hunts for every variety of birthday song they can find to serenade you with the second daylight bleeds into your room. Static's disappears predating your birthday can swiftly be explained by the trinkets they bring you, majority centered around the shows and movies you've watched together it knows you adore most.

They'd attempt to rope you into another movie night with you in full control of the remote since it's their favorite way to bond with you - and it's optimal cuddle time.

Supernatural Harem:

"Baron, must you make everything a challenge?"

"Piss off! I left enough room for you two to put your names on the cake.... Maddox more importantly than you, but still."

"We appreciate the consideration, but... Where are we supposed to write "happy birthday"?"

Nothing like waking up on your big day to your Demon husband roommate swearing today will be the day he slaughters your Angel husband roommate. Luckily, your Grim Reaper spouse roommate has the expertise to ķeep you soothed until things cool over long enough for all of them to prepare breakfast for you.

Baron stalks you around to shower you with mandatory birthday kisses- only to get pouty when he's done before noon and continues well past the age you're turning. You'll be older than all three of them by the time he's through.

Maddox, as usual, fills their journal with sketches of you to unveil at the end of the day. Their art skills is the only thing they're proud of in themselves and monetary possessions don't hit quite the mark they're trying to reach when it comes to presents they like to give. If you're a gamer/a fan of stuffed animals they'll pick up a couple so they can use them when you're away and they miss you.

The first birthday you celebrate with Alasdair has to be one to remember. He's watched you from the sidelines for years and now it's finally his chance to do what he's always wanted. It may be a tad selfish of him in hindsight, but he'll pull you aside the day before or after to enjoy a relaxing evening with just the two of you.

Fast Food:

"Code C! I repeat, Coqde C - The clown is loose!"

Birthday? Well you can't expect to have a celebration without the designated party planner, can you? As everyone closes up the restaurant early to commemorate your big day, Twister hoovers over the crew to insure everything goes swimming. The Janitor follows behind it with their trusty spray bottle to keep the clown in check - its the only excuse they have not to give their present to you by hand because they're too embarrassed.

The bathroom Succubus would insist on you opening her gifts to you first - if a certain goat wouldn't pout over it all day as a result. The ballpit hands shower you with all the shiny items lost in their depths. The Storyteller reads you the tale of someone who's birthday happens to fall on the same day - where nothing bad occurs and the universe smiles kindly in their favor.

The ice cream machine ghost whispers in the ears of customers they'd better wish you a happy birthday or be prepared to have dairy filled nightmares

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 6 - Prologue for a New After-Life

Excerpt from "The After-life for Gods and Monsters," location of book unknown.

[flashback]

It should be said that the space between universes was not a bar. You couldn't just stumble in whenever you wanted and pour yourself a drink.

Even if you were the most silver-tongued of creatures.

Even if you were fast as the fae.

"Akira Kibo, the after-life is not a free-for-all," Substance huffs, folding her arms. 

"Yeah, and if you ain't want visitors, you shoulda been faster closing the door." 

It was a technicality. But then again, technicalities were the lifeblood of the fae. 

Substance rolls her eyes, “Your father was like you. Fast enough to slip in here and take something that was ours. I hear the birds are still eating his liver."

"Sounds about right,” Akira smirks, “He was kind of an asshole.” 

And there, the creature standing before the Divine Creators demonstrated that he knew the foundational rule of the universe: 

Fuck around and find out.

“Akira Kibo, last one left,” Time observes in her honeyed voice. "Ancient upon ancient. Cursed with the speed that made you at once a harbinger and a relic. You must be lonely."

“I don’t gotta be,” Akira replies. “The Reaper's scythe is not a requirement for a new life.”

It was a law so arcane that the Divine Creators almost forgot they made it.

"You’ve done your reading," Substance allows, "And what would you offer in exchange for this new life? Would you get back what your father stole?”

"In exchange, I will make sure that what my father took ends up where it belongs."

As far as deals went, it left a lot to be desired. The fae can't lie, which wasn't the same as saying they don't lie, so that single statement presented loopholes upon loopholes.

But it was as close to satisfaction as the Creators were going to get. 

"It's tricky, starting a new life without death," Time purses her lips. "All this experience will be muscle memory, a life you feel but can't remember. You and your sister will be in between."

Akira shrugs. "We got over losing godhood. Pretty fuckin' sure we'll survive this." 

"So confident!" Time quirks a brow, "Alright. Have your new life, Akira. But first, a question. Who would you be in a whole new world? What would you do with a new set of circumstances?"

"I wouldn't be the last."

“I would keep them safe.”

It should be said that the Divine Creators were not usually chatty. Usually, they did not tell you shit. But sometimes, when you made a thing, you had a soft spot, and so, just before Akira reaches the doors, Time calls out:

“They will be unruly, Akira. And loathe to listen. They will make you break your rules and forget your vows. They will test your boundaries and leave you wanting. Death will come for you. And woe be unto the creatures standing in the way of the Hunt for your heart.”

With those parting words, the Creators watch as Akira walks out the doors and falls into his next life.

"The screaming is always so loud. We should change things up," Time muses. "What about a nice bayou instead of a warehouse? We could drown everyone in a lake instead of dropping them onto concrete."

“It won’t work,” Substance grumbles.

“Of course it will. I already have the perfect piece of property picked out.”

"Not your swamp. This plan. I don't like it."

Time is unphased. She sinks to her knees behind her wife, placing a steadying hand on her hip. "You worry too much."

“And you don't worry enough,” Substance tilts her head back. She bites down on a moan, fighting against the distraction. “You promised me an eternity of torment, and now we’ll have to free him because if the son exists, so too must the father.”

“You are too tense,” Time plants the softest kiss at the base of her wife's spine, “Remember when we killed all the gods and replaced them? This is like that. It's a good plan."

"But my birds are—"

Another kiss. "The birds won’t go hungry for too long. Akira will remember his task.”

“The living don’t remember shit.” Substance snaps, but her voice is breathless. "And anyway, he's too fast. Cursed with it."

“Then Death, my love, will just have to catch him.”

PREV | NEXT

(I was going to have them pour each other wine, but then this pose by @fallstaticexit came for my throat, and it is PERFECTION)

[lizz-crimson]

The Gala (Doomfist X Female! Reader)

Ahhhh! I've been working on this one for a while! Doomfist lovers come get yall juice!

Summary: After returning a stolen file to Doomfist, your boss has an extra special mission for you.

Tags/Warnings: [SFW, Female Reader, (Name) used instead of (Y/n), Doom is a bit of a tease, very gentleman, very polite, a lil jealous.]

Words: 5200+

A silence sat in the meeting room. Doomfist's hands pressed on the table as he leaned on it, glaring at his comrades. Reaper turned his head to the side, Sombra gave a side-eye to Moira, and Widowmaker didn't react at all as usual. Moira, however, stared right back at Doomfist, though her gaze wasn't nearly as piercing.

Akande inhaled through his nose, making it wrinkle like an angry lion. "So, where is it?" His chest fell harshly as he breathed out, his tone dangerous. "Where. Is. The file." He emphasized. Sombra's eyes flicked to Moira. She couldn't contain her curiosity. Moira was usually so organized.

"It's gone," Moira said factually.

"Gone where?" Doomfist shifted to lean more on the table, his glare intensifying.

"Am I to magically discern where all my stolen files go?" Moira asked.

"No," Akande said sharply. Then there was a pause. "You're to make sure all files remain hidden. Secret. Locked up." The steel table dented as he gradually added more weight to his hands. "You are the one responsible if something goes missing," he growled. Moira's own nose curled, and she immediately retorted.

"I'll have you know, Akande, that it was Sombra who was in charge of that particular sector at the time. Not I."

Sombra gaped. "What? You're trying to pin this on me?"

"I'm not trying; it's a simple fact," Moira replied. Sombra groaned and gestured to Reaper.

"It was Reaper who was by the server room during the attack!"

Reaper stood, his chair falling to the floor as he loomed over Sombra. "Shove that finger in my face again and see what happens," he threatened.

A slam of Akande's gauntlet was enough to shut everyone up and gain attention back to him. The poor table now bore a mighty dent in on itself.

"Enough! If you all weren't vital to Talon, I'd make sure you--"

A sudden round of knocking on the meeting room doors made everyone turn their heads. Nobody else was told to come join the meeting. Could there be another attack? There were no alarms going off.

Akande flumped back in his chair with a huff. He rubbed his eyes and gestured for Sombra to go see. The hacker gave an annoyed look but didn't complain. She went on over to the large double doors and opened them up.

You, one of the middle-tier Talon soldiers, stood on the other side. Your cheek bore a sizable bruise, and your gear was messy and damaged all over. In your hand was a cracked datapad.

"Hello," you said politely, but tiredly, not even aware of the uproar that had been going on moments before. You held out the datapad to Sombra with both hands. The last thing you wanted to do was damage the thing further. "Um, one of the agents from the attack made off with this, and Miss O'deorain wasn't in her lab, so I figured I should bring it on up here," you explained quickly. You weren't supposed to be here, and you knew it.

Sombra snatched the datapad out of your hands and then began furiously tapping away on it. She sighed after a few seconds. Nothing had been breached. Thank God.

"Hey, Doomfist!" Sombra turned from you, wiggling the datapad in the air. "(Name) got our file back! Say thank you!"

Doomfist pushed himself out of his chair and lumbered over, snatching the datapad from Sombra's hand.

"Ay, watch the gauntlet!" she hissed, rubbing her wrist. Akande brushed her off and then took a look through the datapad himself. He hummed. Not a satisfied hum, nor a frustrated hum. Just a deep rumble of his chest.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours as he handed the pad back to Sombra.

"Did you look in the file?" he asked.

"No, sir," you answered curtly and honestly.

"Did the one who stole it get away?"

"Uh, yes, unfortunately." The sting of your bruise was still very much present.

Your boss's gaze was always so intense. And long. And solely on you. Not a group of operatives. Just you.

Akande nodded, seemingly believing you and mercifully speaking up.

"Thank you. You are dismissed."

He shut the doors on you without giving you the chance to say, 'Yes, sir.'.

Working for Talon wasn't completely stressful. You actually had a lot of downtime to do as you pleased when you weren't on duty. Of course, you were required to live on base, so you were always ready for potential attacks like earlier. Which is exactly how you ended up getting into a brawl with some sneak thief agent. The bruise ached, but you were just glad they hadn't gotten away with it.

The day stretched on, and when your shift ended, you went straight to your dorm and flopped into bed, still in your damaged uniform and with a hastily applied bandage on your cheek. The other bed in the room was vacant. Your roommate had been caught trying to defect, and, well… you no longer had to trip over her shoes in the mornings. The bed was now where you piled your snacks.

Speaking of, you went ahead and grabbed some mini Oreos and continued to laze about. Just as you got comfortable and relaxed, a round of knocking sounded. You stood and approached the door with a quiet sigh. "Coming." When you opened it, you nearly choked on your snack.

Widowmaker stood on the other side, looking unimpressed as always.

Was this it? Were mini Oreos to be your final meal? Why didn't you grab the regular-sized ones under the mattress?

It took a good few seconds to notice the lack of bullet in your cranium. Windowmaker didn't even have her gun on her. Your feet shuffled, and you cleared your throat.

"Uh," you stuttered. "Can I--?"

"Doomfist wants to see you," she said in a flat tone. "Now." The added use of 'now' made you shudder.

"Right," you replied. You threw your shoes back on, and Widowmaker made way for you as you passed her without another word.

You had always been slightly afraid of elevators. You couldn't shake the thought of one of them malfunctioning in a plethora of different ways. It was rare it happened nowadays, but you assumed Rick the elevator guy was hired for a reason. Your hands formed fists over and over at your side until the elevator came to a slow stop at the top floor. A breath of relief left you as soon as the doors mercifully slid open.

Okay, now for the second, and arguably more prominent issue.

Akande's office was no more than two steps outside of the elevator. To get it over with, you knocked despite your uneasiness. Two run-ins with the boss in one day? Clearly luck had decided to pick on you specifically.

You flinched as the doors slid open, and Akande's voice sounded out.

"You got here fast. Come in," he said. He was sat at his desk at the far side of the room, typing something into another data pad. The curtain wall behind him had a view of the city anyone would kill for, and the rest of the office looked more like a real living space than a place of business. As you came in, the doors closed behind you, and he gestured to another chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

You sat.

Were you supposed to talk now? You weren't really sure, and you didn't want to take the risk either.

"(Name)," he said, breaking you out of your nerves. He put down the datapad, giving you his full attention. "I know it's a sudden call, but I wanted to go over today's breach and the agent you failed to catch."

Oh, dear.

You stuttered. "I promise I tried my—"

"Do not panic. You're not in trouble," he said.

"I'm not?"

"No. Reaper dealt with your quarry after the meeting earlier. I only have a few questions."

That was a relief, but you couldn't help but feel like Akande was being unusually calm about this. You failed to catch a thief but were able to recover a stolen file. He said you weren't in trouble, yet he'd called you to his office for more questions? Sombra could easily roll back the security feed, corrupted or not, and get answers if he had any doubt about her honesty. 

A snort. "You are thinking pretty hard. Didn't I just say you weren't in trouble?" he asked.

"Oh, uh," you stuttered and adjusted yourself in your seat. "You did, yeah."

He chuckled and stood from his seat. "Calm down. This is an invitation, not an interrogation." He went to stand before the curtain wall, hands behind his back. "Are you aware of the Vishkar event going on this Friday?" he asked.

"You mean that gala?"

He turned his head, pleased. "Yes, that one. They have one once a year, and this time it's being thrown there." He pointed to a tall building outside. It wasn't far off, and the Vishkar logo flickered to life as the evening sun set in. "As you know, that building is home to many experimental designs. One's Talon would greatly benefit from. At first I was going to send Sombra during the festivities, but I received an invite to the gala itself."

That made sense. Akande wasn't someone you'd want to make an enemy out of. Holding a gala and not inviting him to it, all the while holding beneficial technologies, experimental or not, was not a good idea.

"But this invite has a certain requirement." He turned his body fully to face you. "A plus one."

Oh.

Oh.

"Oh."

"So here's my proposition," he started, walking around his desk to you. "You and I will attend the gala, mingle, find someone to plant false evidence onto, then leave. Sombra and Reaper will have been in and out by that time, and no blame can be placed on our organization."

It didn't really sound like he was asking, but he didn't sound forceful about it either. That tone of a dangerous leader he always carried was gone. Now he was just a man. A big and intimidating one, but a man nonetheless.

One who'd especially look nice in a suit, too.

"I accept," you said.

"Fantastic. Here." He suddenly handed you a card. "This should hold more than enough funds to ready yourself for the event. If you want my personal recommendation, the boutique near the port has many fine dresses and accessories to suit a plethora of tastes." He circled back around his desk and sat down again. He took the datapad once more and began typing something down. "I'll have transport arranged in an hour. You should also stop by the medical bay to have Moira fix up that bruise of yours. No need for a scandal at the party, yes?"

"Uh, right—" You cleared your throat. "Yes, sir."

He smiled. "Good." He leaned back a bit, his eyes returning to the datapad. "Now, I have other work to attend to. I shall pick you up at eight on Friday."

You stood, excusing yourself. For once, you were thankful for the privacy of the elevator. Your ears burned like the sun, and the shiny interior reflected your bright red face right back at you. You were going to a gala. With Doomfist. And you were actually looking forward to it. Why did he pick you? Was it because you let the thief get away? No, no, he'd already said you weren't in trouble. Ugh.

You'd covered your face with Doomfist's card from the imaginary audience at this point. The damn thing was a black card, of course. Shiny. Few fingerprints. It was likely new. You made a mental note to give it back to him as soon as you could. Who knows how much money it held?

Enough for a dress at that extremely expensive boutique by the port, plus accessories.

Yeah, you really needed to give this back to him.

The elevator door opened, and you pushed the card into your pocket for the time being. You nearly bumped into Rick the elevator guy as you stepped out. 

"Whoa, sorry, Rick!" you apologized.

"No worries. You should probably steer clear of the elevators for the time being, though. The one on the west wing fell from the fourth floor," he replied casually.

You exhaled. "Oh…"

What kind of person forgets their own favorite color?

You, apparently. As soon as you walked into the boutique you were met with all manner of gorgeous dresses in all colors and styles. You were hoping it would be a quick trip, but no. Doomfist needed to send you to the best damn place in the city. How dare he.

Your attention was caught by a sparkling necklace in a display case nearby. The chain was thin, like most necklaces, and the bale held a pendant in the shape of a bird. The iridescent shine of the piece reminded you of a starling's feathers.

At least this choice wasn't hard.

The dress was still giving you a headache, though. You swore you'd been looking for over an hour. You don't recall ever spending so much time picking out clothes in your life. Let a alone a dress. You hadn't worn one in years now. You never had a reason. Sure as hell did now.

You let out a frustrated huff and put another dress back on the rack.

"Awe, having trouble, amiga?"

"Jesus!" You whip around and see Sombra on the other side of the clothes rack, smirking over at you. "Sombra?"

She chuckled. "Hola."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, still trying to calm your heart.

"Just browsing. This place has a good selection. I'll definitely sneak back in after closing to collect."

"Mm. Well, at least you found something. I can't choose a dress for the life of me."

Sombra tsk'd. "C'mon, Doomfist isn't picky."

You felt your ears burn up again. "I'm—I'm not worried about that; I just. Well, there's a lot of options, so…"

"Well then, what's your favorite color?"

"��I forgot."

"Ha! And you're sure you're not worried about Doomfist's opinion?"

You didn't respond that time.

"Ay, don't worry about it. Just go to the VIP selection. I hear the good stuff's in there."

There was indeed a whole other section of the store. It was closed off; the walls were pitch black, and they even had an employee at the front to check before letting people inside. 

You look yourself over. Jeans, a t-shirt, a bruise you should really get looked at. You didn't match the usual description for a rich person. Hell, people had been giving you the side-eye since you walked into the boutique.

Sombra rolled her eyes. "The card."

"The card…? Oh!"

You pulled out Doomfist's card from your wallet.

"That's your ticket," Sombra said. "Now, go. I need to copy these serial numbers."

You've never gotten a dirtier look than the one you got from the entry clerk at the entrance to the VIP selection. Let's just say the disgusted-looking-up-and-down expression wasn't exclusive to movies. It was gone as soon as it came, and the clerk interlocked her fingers and put on her best customer service smile.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"Hi, um," you handed her the card. "This'll get me in, right?"

The woman looked taken aback. She took the card, scanned it, then went wide-eyed at her screen. She quickly handed the card back to you and nodded. "Why, yes, of course. Hehe, go on in."

"Thanks."

"No issue, ma'am, and if you need anything, just holler."

"Will do."

You won't. Kiss ass.

So, time for round two of dress-hunting. You swear, how many outfits could they pack into one place?

You stopped in your tracks. Looking up at a pristine display case, a dress more gorgeous than any other. The neckline was low, but not too low, and still left plenty of room for the necklace you picked out. Sleeveless. The skirt was long but wasn't meant to touch the floor and had a slit to show off one leg. The best part: it was the perfect color!

"See something you like, ma'am?" another clerk walking about asked.

"Yes," you replied in a snap.

Friday arrived a bit too soon for your taste. You took the last couple of days learning to walk in heels again. How Widowmaker did it all the time was beyond you, but you got it down in time. Your hair was fixed up, your nails painted, bruise gone, and your makeup done. The dress was a perfect fit, and the necklace around your neck was the cherry on top. You knew you shouldn't worry about it too much, but damn, you hoped Doomfist liked it.

Your phone buzzed, and you swiped it up. Just as you feared, it was time to go. Taking a breath, you put your phone and other things inside your purse and headed out. You were meant to brief with Doomfist, Sombra, and Reaper first. So you headed to the meeting room from before. Along the way, getting many a compliment from other agents. Though they were definitely confused on why you were dressed like that in the first place.

You knocked on the meeting room doors again, being immediately buzzed in. Sombra was again the one to open the doors, and you blushed as you saw that smirk of hers form on her face. She was definitely going to make a fuss, and it began when she stepped out and guided you inside by the shoulders. "The guest of honor is here!" she announced. Reaper stood just in front of you two, blocking your view of Doomfist. "Move it." Sombra shoved him and pushed you forward as he growled.

Now, you stood in front of Doomfist. And he looked nice. A white suit. White. It was perfect for him.

You looked at the wall. You swore you heard Reaper snort.

"You two are dismissed," Doomfist said to Sombra and Reaper. "Remember the plan. Don't get sidetracked."

"Got it, boss," Sombra saluted.

Reaper grunted. The both of them left, leaving you and your very nicely dressed boss alone.

It took a moment, but you finally built up the courage to look at him again.

"You look--"

"You look--"

Ah, you'd cut each other off. A chuckle left the both of you. Doomfist gestured to you.

"You first," he said.

"Ah, um, you…" You took a breath. "You look really nice."

"Me? Have you seen yourself?" he asked, looking you up and down. "You are absolutely breathtaking."

"Thank you," you replied. Damn it all. Your ears were going to burn off at this rate. "And I appreciate you choosing me for this mission, Doomfist. Er—is Akande all right?"

He chuckled and held out his arm for you. "Akande is fine. Always fine."

You allowed your heart a moment before you linked your arm with his.

"Now, come. The car is waiting outside."

Akande led you through the back halls of the base. No more ogling eyes from other agents. The sun was setting by the time you stepped outside. Waiting for the two of you was a long black car. A limousine.

Akande opened the door for you. "Ladies first," he said. You climbed in, and he right after you. "Diver."

All it took was a word, and the car was off.

"You picked the perfect color for yourself," he said.

"Oh, thank you. There were a lot of options there," you replied, fiddling with the necklace you bought. Akande's eyes landed on it.

"Let me see that." He leaned over and gently took the starling pendant in his hand, examining it. He hummed, and you could feel his breath hit your chest. His smile shifted to more of a smirk as he looked back up at you. "Who told you I was fond of starlings?"

You swallowed. "Nobody. I just got lucky."

"Well, luck is certainly fond of you, isn't he?" He said, leaning back. "I hope I don't have competition."

A chuckle left you. "Are you saying you'd fight a concept over me?"

"Any man would," he replied.

As the car neared the Vishkar building, Akande pulled something out of a bag on the floorboard. A bag that matched the color of your dress.

"And this is for you."

"Wow, it's gorgeous," you said as you took it. "I hope it didn't set you back much."

A more boisterous laugh left him this time. Your face went red again. How'd you forget how loaded the man was already?

"Never mind," you pouted. In efforts to save your embarrassment, you changed the subject. "So, about the mission…"

"Yes, yes," he calmed. "There is a USB in your new bag. Once I find someone to plant it on, I'll tell you."

The car came to a stop outside of the entrance to the Vishakr building. 

"For now, we enjoy ourselves," he said.

Stepping out of the car, cameras flash, taking pictures of you and Akande. You ignored them, a bit too preoccupied with linking your arm with his again. The suit may have covered his muscular frame, but you damn sure could feel them.

And you were glad for it. Once you got inside the building itself, you and Akande were headed straight for an elevator. A godforsaken elevator. Your arm held his tighter as you two stepped inside, and he took notice.

"Not a fan?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. "No." 

He held your arm a bit tighter and brought you closer. "Do not worry. I've got you."

"Appreciated."

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator stopped on the top floor. The doors opened, and you breathed a sigh of utter relief, opening your eyes again. 

"See, you survived," Akande said, leading you out.

"I did," you nodded.

He led you through the room. The place was full of people you'd seen on the news for their achievements and ambitions. Vishkar didn't spare an invite for anyone. It made planting evidence harder. With so many eyes around, anyone could see her. And it wasn't like she was dressed subtly.

But Akande didn't seem concerned with that right now. He led you to a table, pulling out your chair and letting you sit down. A waiter brought over a couple drinks and menus, then left you two to think on your orders.

"Anything catch your eye, Starling?"

"Mmm, I'm stuck between the steak or the lobster," you replied. It took another few seconds to register the new nickname. "Wait, what did you call me?"

"You heard me," he gave a lopsided smile.

You quickly covered your face with the menu. You never expected your boss to be a tease. 

"I'm leaning toward the steak as well. Shall we try it together?"

You peeked over your menu, burning ears just in view. "Sure."

"And I'll be sure to get you some ice cream for dessert," he chuckled. Oh, this man was awful.

Yet every moment was enjoyed. You don't think you ever smiled this much at a dinner date. Akande, while normally your scary, ruthless boss, was nothing short of a gentleman. He asked you questions, and he answered your own. You left to go to the bathroom; he'd watch over your drink. Not that anyone would dare try to mess with you or him, but there's no reason to not be cautious.

After dinner, the main event of the gala began, with scientists and entrepreneurs coming onto the stage in front to announce their projects and products. Most were unimpressive, just new ways of documenting information and simple construction projects. It made you wonder what types of experimental designs Akande was so interested in in the first place.

The next person took the stage. A man in business attire and holding probably the snobbiest smirk you'd ever seen. You couldn't help but curl your nose in slight disgust when he spoke so highly of his new 'Carry-Coin' project.

"Mm," you grunted.

"You don't seem fond of that one," Akande said.

"I'm… not," you admitted.

"Good," he replied. "Because he is our man."

You smiled at that one, and Akande chuckled.

Finally the man's announcements came to a close, and he was given minimal praise from the rest of the guests. The lights remained dim, and music began to play. While other guests took to the floor, you and Akande remained seated. Waiting.

"You clumsy fuck!"

Your head whipped to the side. There the snob was, yelling at a poor waitress who'd tripped and spilled wine on his suit. He was rending into the poor girl, and anger welled in your chest.

"That's your cue," Akande whispered low into your ear. It didn't exactly calm you. 

So, with reddened ears, you got up, new bag on your shoulder, and approached the two.

"Goodness, you're a mess," gasped as you stepped up.

The man growled. "Yeah, and you can blame that one." He pointed his thumb to the waitress.

You waved your hands dismissively. 

"Ah, leave her be. Nothing some wet wipes can't fix up," you said. You nodded at the waitress, who scurried off right away.

The man pouted. You pulled out some wipes and took his sleeve. "Now, what's that face for? Lighten up." You smiled up at him. His own face reddened.

"Oh… fine. You're persuasive, lady."

"I'm not the only one. Your speech was impressive."

The man raised his head up high. "Wasn't it? I'm sure to make millions within the quarter, hehe." He looked down at you and smirked. "And you're more than welcome to it all, doll face."

Your nose twitched. It had never been harder not to punch someone.

"Oh, some wine got on your back, too. Here…" You went behind him, rubbing his shoulder and pulling the USB out of your bag with your other hand. You dropped it into his coat pocket. You could see Akande from where you were, and you nodded. You couldn't help but notice his gaze was a bit harder, though.

"There ya go," you said, tossing the wipes into a trashcan nearby.

"Thank you, doll face. You've saved my night."

He looked out onto the dance floor.

"Though a dance would certainly make it better…"

Before you could decline yourself, a big hand found its place on your waist. You looked up, slightly startled. Akande glared over your shoulder.

"Sorry," he spoke, his voice low and clearly not sorry. Dangerous. Like the boss you knew. "But she's already taken."

The man all but disappeared, shrinking into himself and shuffling off quickly. Akande's hand slipped from your waist, and you turned to look up at him. His eyes were still locked ahead.

"You, uh, really wanted to scare him off, huh?" you asked, trying to lighten him up.

"Yes," he replied.

Well, that didn't work.

It was your turn to look out at the dance floor, where people danced to a high-energy beat.

"Fair warning, I haven't danced in years, but…" you trailed, but still left your meaning clear.

He followed your gaze, and his face relaxed. "Don't worry," he said, taking your waist again. "I'm here, and I'm an excellent teacher."

There we go.

To your absolute astonishment, the high-energy music ended as soon as you and Akande stepped onto the floor and switched to a slower, more romantic song.

"Are you serious?" You deadpanned; your poor face was going to bake. Meanwhile, Akande let out that boisterous laugh of his, and he took one of your hands in his while you put the other on his shoulder.

"I told you, luck is on your side," he said.

"No, luck is your wingman."

"Then he and I have no reason to compete after all."

And so, swaying to the gentle rhythm, you finally gain the courage to look up at him without letting your face deter you.

"Gaining some confidence, finally?"

"A little. Could be the wine."

A chuckle left him again, and you could feel it rumble in his chest. One hand came to lift your chin. "Red or not, you make me look pale in comparison." With that, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. Right where that once painful bruise had been.

Your face pressed into his chest. It was the reddest it had ever been.

Some time later, after your dance and promised dessert of Oreo ice cream. A sound came from the communicator in Akande's suit pocket.

"Boss, all blueprints secured and headed back to base," Sombra said.

Perfect timing. The festivities were ending, and people were already filtering out of the building.

"Very good. (Name) and I will make our way out."

You stood with him, collecting all your things, then took his arm again. He didn't even have to ask this time. You two made your way back to the devil that was the elevator, and while you went down, you spoke up.

"I know this was more for a mission and all… but I enjoyed myself tonight. So, thank you, Akande."

"Of course, Starling. This wouldn't have gone as smoothly without you, and I would have enjoyed myself far less."

The car hadn't arrived yet by the time you and Akande stepped outside. The night was late, and you shivered from the cool air.

"Cold?" Akande asked.

"Yep," you replied, rubbing your arms with your hands.

"Hm. Here."

The next moment his suit jacket was placed upon you. The damn thing practically ate you, but you nuzzled into it all the same. "Thanks," your muffled voice came.

When the car came, you and he piled in, both letting out tired sighs. A single word to the driver later and they were off back to base. A mighty yawn left you.

"You look like you're ready for bed," Akande chuckled.

"I am."

"Join me?"

Your face didn't have the energy to be red anymore. You simply placed your head on his shoulder. "Yeah…"

You were nearly asleep when you returned to base. You two went in the way you came out to avoid any agents on night shift. Just before you reached the elevator, you remembered something important.

"Oh, hold on!"

You rummaged through your bag and pulled out his card. "Here you go. I meant to give it back earlier."

He held out his hand, pausing you.

"Keep it. It's yours."

"Huh? Are you sure? I mean, it's your money," you replied.

He held out his arm as the elevator door opened. "Oh, please. I'm not going to miss one hundred thousand dollars anytime soon."

You linked your arm with his one more time. 

"How much?"

"You heard me."

Huh. And they say chivalry is dead.

---

Sombra set the communicator down on the dented table, in her other hand, a set of colorful cards. A lot of them.

Reaper placed a red four on top of a red three.

"Uno," came Reaper's amused voice. Sombra quickly fell into a string of Spanish curses before flopping back in her chair.

"(Name) gets to go to a gala while we are stuck here at base." She crossed her arms, pulling a green four from the deck and feeling her nose twitch. They never had to steal anything in the first place. Nothing but garbage is ever announce at the Vishkar Gala.

Reaper shrugged. "You helped her."

"That was a coincidence. I didn't know the bag would match her dress. I gave to Doomfist to help him."

"Whatever. Also, "Reaper placed his last card on the pile, "I win."

"Oh, you—!" No. No, we have time for one more!"

"No. I'm done playing."

"Come onnn!" she whined. She looked around and pulled another game off the shelf. "I have New Phone Who Dis!"

Reaper sighed. "Fine, but don't post anything like last time."

-----

There you go! Hope yall liked it! This will also show up on my AO3 later! Link in pinned post on my profile! Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[mourn-and-watch]

i wish me3 had loyalty missions it would be so sooo good. assisting some shadow broker agents with liara. joining kaidan/ashley on one of their first spectre assignments to reassure them. helping garrus to evacuate his family from palaven. sticking around with tali on rannoch to make sure quarians and the geth are doing fine. handing a serious job to james and guiding him through it as a part of his n7 training. going on a task with edi to help her adjust to working with other people as a person and not as a vi. visiting javik's squad's resting place with him. doing little favors for your friends in the middle of a war because life itself hasn't ended yet and you want to make it a little easier for them while you have some time left

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

Sophie Shepard & Kaidan Alenko (ME3) 1/?

MIRA'S MORE CANON ME3 "You're real enough for me." AKA: The tango. :) Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[foxcassius]

the day i get paid always breaks my brain a lil bc i just have to send all my money awayyyy and be normal about it

[nightingaletrash]

me: Sharp is his own unique character and is very distinct from Garrus. They share a VA and a few overlapping traits, but they’re not the same person- Sharp: *says something that Garrus has absolutely said* me: ... me: okay now I want fanart of them talking shit (affectionate) about their respective favourite persons

[destinydraws]

It's Motoi's birthday so let him party!

[bleaksqueak]

I would read an entire book about the magic system and study in Solivaga… i love intense worldbuilding. Do sigils retain/transmit energy or intent through a shape or letter system? Neither, and simply have to be unique and enchanted by the Magi making the sigil?? Or is that more the concept behind Loci… Maia can use sigils, but cannot make her own? Does the attunement of the caster affect the sigil?

None of these are specific questions, I just love the amount of detail in everything. (But if you want to answer anything… I would not stop you 👀

On the other hand if you’ve answered any of this before ignore me)

So I've been wanting to answer this one since the day you sent it, but between my backwards sleep schedule and being busy, I just hadn't had a moment to or the brain power to... yet, today I am here. Sigils absolutely retain the energy and intent spent to make them. You might notice in Chapter 2 when Prof. GB gifts Maia the imbued sigil, even when dormant, it's radiating *her* aetheric signature's color and energy. When activated, the Trapper's Thrall retains the aetheric signature of the magi who originally cast it. Maia remarks later that it's always ever been borrowed magic-- because, to her, especially, it has. She's never seen her own magic's signature, but she's seen, through these pre-cast imbues, the magic of others. Madame Zoe, the owner of the Apothecary (and knickknacks) shop that Maia works at, sells imbued sigils that she (and Maia's coworker, who we'll meet in another chapter) make. There's other shops around town where they can be purchased, including specialty shops that sell them for convenience, younger/elderly magi, and as general disability aids for those who need them. Their most common usage is simply that of convenience-- a sigil cast has already had that aether spent, stored, and replenished for the magi who made it, saving the need to expend further aether in the now for someone who needs to catch some pests or who wants to have their floors swept up and cleaned. Cooling down, heating up, a spare light, pain relief-- even party tricks, ready made sigils are great usage for convenience. As for how they're made-- The spells all have a precise shape language that builds their foundation. The trapper's thrall I did three stages for in chapter 2 -- the precise geometric perfection of the spell in its official state, I did Madame Zoe's handwritten version, and then I did Prof. Gwennebat's.

You can see them here... the slight differences between the two quickly hand written ones, and the perfected model. The spell in its entirety is written in the sigil itself, and the more complex the spell, the more dynamic the working parts of the geometric language that comprises it. Madame Zoe is older and never became an eidolon, but her work is enough to catch some Mice or Gallynappers (you know, crane flies!) like Maia said. Gwennebat is, however, an eidolic expert in her field, and her shorthand writ for this spell reflects a stronger sense of knowing exactly what must be and where. Each spell must maintain the exact necessity of the language to summon it, but new ones can be made (Granted, this isn't exactly an easy task, and a great deal of the most commonly used spells used by magi within the veil were all coined by a single, well documented scholar from the time before "the worlds were split", as Prof Rasputin put it.). It's a very pictographic writing system with individual sigils themselves feeling more akin to a writing system like kanji, but it's not advised to string a bunch of sigils together to form a cheeky sentence. That's how buildings get evacuated at worst, and angry neighbours at best. As for Maia, before I end this-- Maia can use any sigil so long as she has her vial. Her vial may not be attuned, and it may be magically weak as all nascent aether is, but the vial casing itself and the housed nascent aether still behaves as the catalysts of will. So long as Maia provides these things and enters the mental state required to connect to and summon from the pre-cast sigil, she doesn't need words of invocation, the spell will activate. She carries a fairly large stack of varied, commonly needed sigils with her at all times in her bag. Those imbued on slips of parchment are sadly single usage, so she needs to restock fairly often... luckily, Madame Zoe is fairly generous with her and gives them to her free in exchange for a little bit of extra work around the shop.

[luetta]

idk if people on tumblr know about this but a cybersecurity software called crowdstrike just did what is probably the single biggest fuck up in any sector in the past 10 years. it's monumentally bad. literally the most horror-inducing nightmare scenario for a tech company.

some info, crowdstrike is essentially an antivirus software for enterprises. which means normal laypeople cant really get it, they're for businesses and organisations and important stuff.

so, on a friday evening (it of course wasnt friday everywhere but it was friday evening in oceania which is where it first started causing damage due to europe and na being asleep), crowdstrike pushed out an update to their windows users that caused a bug.

before i get into what the bug is, know that friday evening is the worst possible time to do this because people are going home. the weekend is starting. offices dont have people in them. this is just one of many perfectly placed failures in the rube goldburg machine of crowdstrike. there's a reason friday is called 'dont push to live friday' or more to the point 'dont fuck it up friday'

so, at 3pm at friday, an update comes rolling into crowdstrike users which is automatically implemented. this update immediately causes the computer to blue screen of death. very very bad. but it's not simply a 'you need to restart' crash, because the computer then gets stuck into a boot loop.

this is the worst possible thing because, in a boot loop state, a computer is never really able to get to a point where it can do anything. like download a fix. so there is nothing crowdstrike can do to remedy this death update anymore. it is now left to the end users.

it was pretty quickly identified what the problem was. you had to boot it in safe mode, and a very small file needed to be deleted. or you could just rename crowdstrike to something else so windows never attempts to use it.

it's a fairly easy fix in the grand scheme of things, but the issue is that it is effecting enterprises. which can have a looooot of computers. in many different locations. so an IT person would need to manually fix hundreds of computers, sometimes in whole other cities and perhaps even other countries if theyre big enough.

another fuck up crowdstrike did was they did not stagger the update, so they could catch any mistakes before they wrecked havoc. (and also how how HOW do you not catch this before deploying it. this isn't a code oopsie this is a complete failure of quality ensurance that probably permeates the whole company to not realise their update was an instant kill). they rolled it out to everyone of their clients in the world at the same time.

and this seems pretty hilarious on the surface. i was havin a good chuckle as eftpos went down in the store i was working at, chaos was definitely ensuring lmao. im in aus, and banking was literally down nationwide.

but then you start hearing about the entire country's planes being grounded because the airport's computers are bricked. and hospitals having no computers anymore. emergency call centres crashing. and you realised that, wow. crowdstrike just killed people probably. this is literally the worst thing possible for a company like this to do.

crowdstrike was kinda on the come up too, they were starting to become a big name in the tech world as a new face. but that has definitely vanished now. to fuck up at this many places, is almost extremely impressive. its hard to even think of a comparable fuckup.

a friday evening simultaneous rollout boot loop is a phrase that haunts IT people in their darkest hours. it's the monster that drags people down into the swamp. it's the big bag in the horror movie. it's the end of the road. and for crowdstrike, that reaper of souls just knocked on their doorstep.

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

...

[pathologicalreid]

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with you car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 

[oceantornadoo]

home invasion

neighbor!simon, gender-neutral reader, fluff, implied violence

--

there was someone in your room.

you had fallen asleep on your living room couch, soothed by the sounds of trashy reality tv show. however, some creeping sensation overcame you, cold hands tickling your spine, waking you up with a bucket of ice water. you lay absolutely still as you heard sounds of someone rummaging through your things. thankfully your apartment walls were thin, so you heard them closing drawers loudly, as if they didn't think you were home. you started running situations through your head, ones where you called the police and they came too late, your trespasser having heard the phone call. there was only one decision to make.

silently, like you were five again and playing hide and seek, you moved towards your door. thankfully your door didn't squeak as blood rushing was the only sound running through your head. you left the door slightly ajar as you sprinted down the hall to his door.

"simon!" you whisper yelled, knocking furiously but trying not to alert the intruder at the same time. tears were gathering in your eyes, ones of frustration of having your safe space broken into. finally, after what felt like an hour, the lock clicked and he opened the door.

simon was grumpy. he had just started to fall asleep, that elusive feeling he was always chasing these days, never quite catching it. he was about to tell you such until he saw your eyes glistening, hands gripping your blanket fiercely. "theresanintruderinmyroomhesinmy" you sputtered, absolutely distraught.

"slow down, lovie. wha' happened?" fuck, he wasn't supposed to call you that. he was supposed to keep his distance and not be one of those creeps you complained about. and now he had fucked it up and- "there's someone in my apartment. in my bedroom. going through my things. i knew the cops wouldn't come fast enough so i just thought-" he interrupted you, opening his door just wide enough to shove you through it. fast as a whip, he turned around, kissing your forehead through his mask and murmuring "lock it behind me." then he was gone, your vengeful grim reaper stalking down the hall to his next victim.

ten minutes later, the clock in the kitchen ticking slower than humanly possible, you spotted him closing the door of your apartment, shoulders bunched around his ears. you were pressed against the peephole and opened the door for him as he neared. "simon? what happened?" his eyes were black pits in his head, pupils blown wide by some intangible force. bloodlust. he reached behind you, triple checking the lock, before turning on the light. you gasped.

his knuckles were bloody, gray shirt disheveled, like someone tried to claw it. his mask was askew, shoved up as if someone tried to pull it off but was stopped before they got the chance. he pulled your forehead to his, souls touching in some intimate embrace. this was your neighbor, the one who always held the door for you and accepted your extra baked goods with quiet disagreement. the one who covered sharp edges of corners before you bumped into them, watched your door to make sure you got in okay after late nights out with friends. he breathed in your scent quietly, telling himself this was not a mission, this was you. he ran his thumbs under your jawline and down your neck, feeling your pulse to remind him you were alive. you, this bundle of life he came back to, week after week, deployment after deployment, the one reason he stayed in this shitty building when he could easily afford something better. "yer stayin' with me tonight." you nodded easily, soft as butter in his arms.

you blinked and you were in his bed, strong arms wrapped around you. he gripped you hard, like he thought the intruder might try to steal you straight out of his arms. in the darkness of his room, you slipped off his mask, laying it on his bed table. you kissed his forehead, a mirror of the one he gave you earlier, and snuggled into the crook of his neck. "thank you." you whispered into the silence of the night. you felt him nod against you, arms constricting tighter, legs tangled in the safety of his bed.

simon didn't sleep much. too many memories, sounds of gunfire and the glint of the meat hook ever present. he was required to see a shrink on base, but even that didn't help. turns out this whole time, all he needed was you.

--

[twilightakiishi]

—NIGHT LIGHT ⋆.˚ ☾

hanma is a childish grumpy baby when he’s been woken up. 0.5k wc ﾉ fluff ﾉ a little suggestive.

cw: no pronouns used, hanma calls reader doll and baby, brief mentions of a previous blowjob & free use.

“doll…” his low grumble comes from beside you as he shakes your shoulder a bit.

you barely glance in his direction as you scroll on your phone. “yes, shuji?” 

“turn the damn light off.”

“huh? there aren’t any lights on.”

he lays there with his eyes still shut a few seconds before he cracks one open and points out the window with a childish grunt. 

you stifle a laugh, “…that’s a street lamp.”

“…huh? for what? why is it on?” he’s clearly half asleep, and a little incoherent. you know you’re safe to giggle as much as you want when he’s like this. 

“so people can see.”

he pouts, throwing an arm over his eyes, “ugh, it’s like, 3am, nobody needs to see anything right now.”

“actually shu, it’s only midnight. and, if i hadn’t sucked you comatose, I’m sure you would be one of the hooligans out and about at this hour.” 

“….close the curtain, doll.”

“no. it’s like a night light, and–

he scoffs, “what do ya need a night light for? dontcha trust me to protect you?”

he wants to bite back and tell you that he doesn’t need a night light, not because he isn’t a little afraid of the dark, but because he feels so safe next to you.

“–and it helps me wake up in the morning when the sun comes through,” you deadpan.

another thing he won’t tell you is how he doesn’t need the sun that streams in through the window every morning; the sight of your sleeping figure beside him is enough. 

but it’s midnight, apparently, and he’s not feeling the type of tired where he can be vulnerable tonight, so he keeps that to himself, even though he desperately wants to know if you feel the same way.

“excuses, excuses,” he tsks. he turns his head toward you and lifts his arm from his eyes, barely cracking them open, “if you hate me just say that.”

“shuji, my dearest. i had your cock down my throat 20 minutes ago.”

he full on glares at you, or at least he attempts to; his sleepy, half lidded eyes betray him. you don’t miss the way the corner of his lips twitched up for a moment, though.

in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he paws around in search of your arm, and grabs you tightly when he finds it, causing you to gasp and drop your phone. with a confused yelp, you’re suddenly manhandled on top of him as he buries his head in your neck, muttering a muffled, “relax, baby.”

you sigh, “shuji, you’re insatiable.”

you feel a deep chuckle resonate against your throat, “c’mon, you told me you like being used, yeah? so be my sleep mask for a lil while...” you roll your eyes at him for using your words against you, and at the way his voice trails off as if he’s already falling back asleep. you can’t help but giggle at your needy god of death who whines when you aren’t touching him for even five minutes.

your personal guard dog, the grim reaper of kabukicho— his world would fall apart without you. 

he’s never told you that, but you feel it through his actions; through the longing in his touch. 

in the morning before he leaves for work, he gives you a tighter hug than usual, and the sweetest, softest kiss. in bed when he grabs at your hands, no matter what position he’s tangled the two of you in, he gently brushes his palm against yours before he squeezes. and now, as his breaths even out and you slowly attempt to shift yourself off him, his arms tighten around your waist with an annoyed huff. 

he feels protected by…well, whatever it is about you; he doesn’t know. it’s less like the way he looms over any poor soul that dares to glance at you a second too long, and more like your soul is the solace that his needed all this time. your presence grounds him in a way he hasn’t experienced before; it warms up his heart and makes him soft. it’s the reason he can’t bear to let go of you in the night, and clings to you as long as he can before he goes out into a life that doesn’t treat him with nearly as much warmth.

despite the headache that he is sometimes, he makes you smile. so you settle in on top of him, because he’s given you no other option than to be his anchor in a world where he can only see the light in your presence.