#I LIED this ended up a three parter

[varpusvaras]

Breha confided in Visaiya first.

Visaiya had already heard about Bail's sudden call, as it had very much interrupted the proceedings before, and she was anxious to hear what Bail had to say.

"Was everything alright?" She asked, once they were in the privacy of Breha's office.

"Bail has found his other soulmate", Breha told her.

Visaiya had just sat down, and she jumped right back up.

"Are you serious?" She asked, her eyes wide. "Who is it?"

"We are not entirely sure yet", Breha answered. "But it seems that it was one of the clones in the Coruscant Guard."

Visaiya drew back a little.

"Well, that is a development for sure", she said. "How can you not be sure yet? There needs to be a point of connection, after all."

"Bail talked with several of them", Breha said. "He is going to talk to the Commander of the Guard, as he was with the troopers as well. If it really is one of his men, he needs to know, too."

Visaiya nodded, clearly thinking.

"What about the Commander himself?" She asked. "Did Bail talk with him?"

"I am not sure", Breha said. "Possibly. He was a bit surprised by the whole thing. It was sudden, after all, and it has been so long since we got our marks."

She looked down on her hand, at the two flowers on her skin. One on the left, one on the right, with just enough space between them for a third.

Sometimes it just takes time, her grandmother had said, and Breha was starting to understand now how truly correct she had been about everything.

There had been no way for anyone to predict something like this happening.

"What about you?" Visaiya asked. "When are you going to Coruscant?"

Right. If Bail had found his soulmate, one that shared the mark with them...it stood to reason that perhaps, he would be Breha's soulmate as well.

It made her nervous, in a way that waiting to find her soulmate for the first time around had not. She had met Bail without knowing that he shared the mark with her at first. Now she knew there was someone there, someone who she didn't yet know, but who she knew shared a connection with her, a connection much deeper than either of them could understand.

Breha had wanted a soulmate. She had craved that connection, that familiarity and belonging.

If someone was meant to have that connection with her, she would never deprave them of that.

"Clear my schedule for the rest of the week", she told Visaiya. "I'll be going as soon as Bail has some news for me."

--- ---

Bail called her the next evening.

"I didn't have to ask around for long", he told her. "The Commander seemed to expect me to arrive."

"He had already heard about it, then?" Breha asked, carefully. Either the Commander had heard about it, or-

"Certainly", Bail said. "It is him."

Breha left for Coruscant the next morning.

--- ---

Commander Fox was a notable man.

Breha wasn't sure how else she should've described him when she saw him for the first time in person. She had seen him, before, of course, having received glimpses of him through Bail before this.

He was notable in a way that Breha couldn't help but notice him. He stood tall, with his shoulders resting in perfect attention, and the deep red of his armor making him immediately stand out from his surroundings, like a painting on a white gallery wall.

The most notable thing about him, though, was his face.

Breha had not seen his face before. She had seen the armor and everything else, but not his face. He had his helmet on when Breha stepped inside Bail's office, and his eyes, soft and deep dark brown, immediately moved to her, giving her their whole attention. There was something in his eyes that Breha couldn't quite make out, something well guarded.

"Good afternoon", Breha greeted him. "Commander Fox."

Commander Fox bowed down his head.

"Good afternoon", he greeted her back. "Your Majesty."

When he straightened his back and lifted his eyes back to Breha's, she felt it. The familiar feeling of blooming underneath her skin.

There was no doubt of it then.

Breha smiled.

"It is a pleasure to meet you", she said. "I feel like we have a lot to talk about."

She gave her hand to him, and she saw his eyes glance towards the mark on her wrist.

The mark, that now bore three flowers, the one in the middle interlocking all three of them together.

His fingers on his left hand clenched briefly, before he gave her his hand as well.

"It seems so", he said.

--- ---

Commander Fox was a notable man.

He was very intelligent, that Breha noticed right away. He chose his words well, and was always watching attentively for every movement either Breha or Bail made, continuously reading the room around him.

He reminded Breha of Bail, a little, when he was in the middle of a Senate session or even a debate of any sort.

"We were not ever really explained the meaning of the marks", he told them, sitting on the edge of the office couch with his back straight and his hands resting on his lap. "The Kaminoans left any further cultural education for our trainers. They taught us that the marks are a private matter, and shouldn't be shown to outsiders. No further education on to what outsiders exactly meant. I am guessing now, that it means anyone who doesn't have the matching marks."

He knew what the marks were, now, as it had been impossible to not notice them while on Coruscant, surrounded by millions of beings.

"I am not sure about how to proceed", he said, at the end of it, and then sat there quietly, waiting for either of them to move the discussion forward.

He definitely reminded Breha of Bail.

"We will proceed however you like", Bail said diplomatically. "Soulmarks are a mark of a connection. It is entirely up to you what type of connection you wish to have."

Commander Fox gave them a wary look at that point.

"You two are married", he said, his tone free of accusations, but the words themselves made his message clear.

"We got to know each other first", Breha said. "We didn't get married the moment we learned we shared a mark. He is one of my best friends, and I wanted to have him sharing my life and duty. Marriage was the best suited option for us."

Commander Fox nodded, slowly, comtemplating his next move.

"I am not comfortable with acting upon any meaning yet", he said. He didn't sound harsh when he said it, even though he was speaking firmly. It was an opening, even if it was a small one.

"That is more than understandable", Bail said. "We do not wish to force you into anything. A soulmate is not supposed to be chain, nor the mark a brand."

Commander Fox was quiet for a moment.

"Can I ask one question, then?" He asked.

"Of course", Breha said. "Anything you want."

"Why was it important for you to come here, Your Majesty?" He asked, looking at Breha. "I already received one mark. If you do not wish to force me into anything, was it necessary for me to receive the second one as well?"

It was a fair question.

"I came here partly because I wished to see if you'd be my soulmate as well, yes", Breha said. "I did not wish to potentially deprave you of a connection, either. I came here partly because you are my husband's soulmate, and even if you didn't share a connection with me, you would still be a part of my life as well, regardless. I wanted to extend that knowledge to you as well."

Commander Fox nodded once again. His eyes glanced towards Bail, to see his reaction, and when there was none too large, his eyes returned to Breha.

"I do accept this connection", he said. "I wish you accept my will for it to remain a private matter."

"Of course", Breha said. "Currently only us three, and my closest advisor know about this. It will not spread any further against your wishes."

"Thank you", Commander Fox said. There was a brief spout of contemplative silence once again, before he spoke. "I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to know who shared a mark with me, but if it had to be anyone, I am grateful for it to be you. You have always been respectful of me and my brothers."

They were kind words. Another small opening, though Breha could sense that they were aimed more towards Bail.

"We appreciate your admission", Bail said, clearly sensing the same as Breha. "It is the respect you and your brothers are entitled to, though I understand why it seems like an act you ought to feel grateful for."

"We are not entitled to anything", Commander Fox said. "We are here to serve the Republic. That is our duty."

"It is a great duty", Bail said. "One that you are doing admirably. You are still all people, and you are entitled to be treated as such."

Breha saw how Commander Fox's jaw clenched, ever so slightly. Otherwise, his expression didn't change.

She wondered if he had ever heard anyone say those words to him while looking him in the eyes, without the helmet in between.

"The Republic disagrees", he said. It was a firm statement, said with conviction.

"The Republic is wrong in many cases", Bail said. "No system is ever flawless. That doesn't mean the good parts are not worth being heralded. I serve the Republic, too, and I am serving it by trying to make it a better place for us all, and that includes you and your brothers."

"There is a war to be won", Commander Fox said. "And it is not won by being nice."

"It is not", Bail agreed. "But it is also not won by sacrificing everything for one goal."

That answer seemed to satisfy Commander Fox, or at least it gave him something more to think about. Breha had never really enjoyed politics as themselves too much, but she had to admit that she had found the conversation in front of her fascinating.

Commander Fox was a notable man even with his helmet on, and even more so without it.

"We all serve the Republic", Breha said, making Commander Fox's attention snap back to her. "We all serve the people in it. We are all making sacrifices, some of us bigger than others. I do believe that you and your brothers are making the greatest sacrifice of them all. Even if you do not think of yourself being entitled to the respect that belongs to every person, I wish that you would at the very least believe in the respect that belongs to you for that. I wish to pay my respects for you and your brothers and on your sacrifice, no matter for how noble of a cause it is. We all serve the Republic, but let us also serve you in return."

Commander Fox leaned back ever so slightly on his seat. He looked a bit surprised, if Breha had to determine his emotions from his expression.

"Do you believe that necessary?" He asked her. He did sound accusing this time, though Breha couldn't blame him for it. She was contesting his entire reason for his existence, after all.

"I do", she said. "What does it say about us all, if we would be comfortable with accepting your sacrifice without graditute? What else would we be comfortable accepting then?"

Commander Fox looked at her for a moment. Breha didn't turn to look away. If he was resolute, so was she. There were things she could not or would not compromise upon, and he could accept them or not, and Breha would accept his decision, not change hers. Not on this.

Finally, Commander Fox seemed to come into decision.

"We all serve the Republic", he said. "I will serve it by fighting for it, and you will serve it by upholding it."

"Yes", Bail said. "This war will not make the Republic into a place where it is acceptable to shed blood to bind the foundations of it together."

"On that we can all agree, then", Commander Fox said. "My brothers will not die in vain."

"They will not", Breha promised. "I promise that with my integrity as a Queen. And I will promise you, as your soulmate, that I shall do the best by you."

"I promise you the same", Bail said. "I swear on it, as I swore to be a Senator and seek for the betterment of us all, and I swear to you, as your soulmate, to be what you need me to be for you."

Commander Fox looked at them, his mouth opening once but his voice remaining quiet. He looked conflicted, Breha thought, but that only lasted for a brief moment.

It was replaced then with another resolution, but there was a shadow of resignation on his face, too.

"My place is with my brothers", he said. "I cannot promise you the same."

"That is alright", Breha said. "Like I said, we will serve you all, as you serve the Republic. Take this as part of our service, for you."

Commander Fox relaxed, ever so slightly, like he was relieved. Breha didn't blame him, as she could imagine, had it been her there instead of him, she would've definitely been relieved.

"Thank you", Commander Fox said. Breha smiled at him.

"We should be thanking you", she said. "It has been wonderful to meet you."

She meant it. Commander Fox was a notable man. Intelligent, loyal, dutiful. It the Force had made it's decision to give Breha and Bail a connection to him, she would serve that will to its fullest.

For Commander Fox himself, and for all of his brothers. There was no singling him out, not when he shared his place and fate with them all.

Breha would serve him, and she would serve them all.

"The pleasure has been all mine", Commander Fox said, polite and mellow, and Breha was suddenly struck with a wish to keep the conversation going, still, to see what else there would be to talk about between them all, to see more of how they would all be able to fit in with each other.

It was then, though, when the comlink attached to Commander Fox's armor started to blink, and he stood up from the couch.

"I'm afraid I have to take my leave now", he said, reaching to grab his helmet from the couch, where it had been sitting next to him. "I am needed elsewhere."

"That is quite alright", Bail said. "It was truly a pleasure to speak with you, Commander. I hope that we could speak more, some other time. I wish you good luck on your duties."

Breha rose from her seat, and Bail followed suit.

"I wish the same", Breha said. "I won't be staying on Coruscant for much longer, but would you agree on having my contact with you, so you could speak with me while I'm on Alderaan, if you ever feel the need to do so?"

Commander Fox tilted his head ever so slightly, looking a bit curious by her request momentarily, before he caught himself and straightened his posture again.

"If you wish so", he said. He took the contact chip from Breha when she offered it to him, and then he rolled his shoulders back. "Thank you, Your Majesty, Senator, for your time."

He bowed his head, so polite and so proper, like he had been practicing it beforehand. Maybe he had been.

"Thank you, Commander Fox", Breha said. "I hope to speak with you again soon."

Commander Fox straightened his back.

"Likewise", he said. "Goodbye."

Then he turned around and pulled his helmet over his head in one, swift motion, and with a few long strides, he was out of the office.

Breha watched as he disappeared from her view as the door slid close after him, leaving only her and Bail standing there.

It was quiet for a moment, before Bail drew in a deep breath.

"I feel like", he said, looking at the door, "whatever happens next, will change us all."

Breha couldn't agree more.

She looked down, at her hand, and at the three flowers on her wrist, with their petals interlocked with each other.

There was a reason, a reason the Force has spent a long time deciding upon, for the connection between them, evident by the marks they all carried on them.

Whatever that reason was, Breha would fullfill it.

[elizabethwritesmen]

I once was poison ivy

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Part 2 but now I’m your daisy

Older!Fireman!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Synopsis - You've spent your entire life taking men who intend to manipulate you and manipulating them instead. It's the only way you know how to survive. Then, one day, you meet Steve Harrington and you realize love and lust are so much more than survival.

A/N - This will be a two-parter. Maybe three if it runs too long.

Warnings: Fluff, sexual themes, smut to come in the second part, talks of using men for their money, vivid description of a car accident, drunk driving.

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I've been breaking hearts a long time and Fooling with them older guys Just playthings for me to use

The napkin on my lap was in pieces.

I'd been tearing it apart, whether out of anxious habit or sheer boredom I wasn't sure.

The man sitting across from me just would not stop talking. He started the second I met up with him in the parking lot and hadn't closed his mouth since. I nodded along and provided just enough commentary to seem present, but my brain was miles away.

He cleared his throat, staring at me pointedly until I met his eyes, a saccharine smile gracing my face.

"Are you alright, doll? I know all this shop talk can be a lot for a pretty girl like you to keep up with," he stated with all the confidence in the world, and I fought a scoff at his condescension.

"Oh, I'm fine!" I grinned wildly, almost childlike, "To be honest, I'm just in awe of you. Absolutely fascinated. I keep asking myself what I did to deserve a date with you!"

The lies cut through my teeth like butter, slick and smooth. I knew they worked when he puffed out his chest and a red tint covered his full cheeks, "Well darling, if you keep talking to me like that, you'll get more than one date with me!"

"There's nothing I'd love more!"

I know I should've cursed him for all he was worth, but that's not how my lifestyle worked. I didn't care how much of a pig a man was, as long as his money was louder than his mouth. And this man's money definitely was.

You see, he was older, a business man. He worked at some high end finance job, and he was most definitely the boss. I met him through my own job. I was a waitress and he frequented my corner booth on his lunch breaks. He knew my schedule and came to eat every single day I worked at 12:00 sharp with a new story about his job, his divorce, or his 1970 Chevelle. On the days I didn't work, he stayed away, claiming I was the only girl there worth looking at. And, every time, he left me a crisp 100 as a tip.

The last time he'd come in, he'd ended his lunch by asking me on a date. He told me he wanted to pick a dress out for me and treat me to the nicest dinner I'd ever had. Poor thing had no idea he wasn't the first millionaire to offer that. I agreed happily, pushing down any reservations and forcing myself to look forward to it.

So there we were, at one of those restaurants where you have to dress formally and use certain etiquette. I hated those places, I knew I didn't belong there, but it was what I had to do and I always did it with a smile on my face.

He continued talking and I began fiddling with the Versace dress adorning me, tugging on the hem. I only heard snippets of what he was saying. After hearing a million men tell the same stories, I thought there was no reason to pay any real attention.

Our waitress startled me out of the trance I'd fallen into, dropping the check off at our table.

"Here," he smiled, placing $200 neatly in the little black book, "That's enough for you to add a cheesecake to-go for my beautiful companion, and to buy something pretty for yourself!"

The girl's eyes widened and she grinned, staring at the generous amount she'd been given. It took her mere moments to bring by a bag with the cheesecake in a box at the bottom, and I was finally done.

"I'll walk you to your car," Mr. Boring offered in a way that I couldn't possibly refuse.

Well, almost done.

Once we reached my Passat, he pressed me lightly against the driver's door and planted a sloppy kiss on my lips. I cringed my way through it until it was finally over, and he opened my door for me.

"Maybe we can go out again next week?" he proposed, "I'll call you and we can set it up."

"Of course!" I nodded, eagerly climbing into the seat.

"Oh, and before I forget," he sighed, pulling his wallet from his pocket and fishing out two more crisp hundred dollar bills, "This should cover gas and the rest is a thank-you for making an old man feel young again. Seeing you in that dress made my evening."

I smiled at him as he walked away, my expression dropping the second he was out of sight. And then, I was finally headed home.

Something happened for the first time In the darkest little paradise Shaking, pacing, I just need you

It was about a 30 minute drive to my house, and I had the music cranked up the entire way. I was passing through the last intersection before my highway exit when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

It was an SUV, much bigger than my car, headed straight for me. It was going so fast but in that moment time slowed down. It was too late for me to stop or get out of the way, I knew I was screwed. I yanked the wheel to the right, hoping they wouldn't hit me directly. I thought that if they caught the back end of my car it would hurt less.

They slammed into the back driver's side door, just barely missing me, sending me careening across the highway and into the ditch. I screamed as my head slammed into my window, blood running down my temple and onto my neck.

Finally, everything stopped. My car was, beyond all rationality, still playing music. I turned it all the way down, looking around.

The SUV was upside down on the highway, engulfed in flames. I saw a man laying about 20 feet away from it on the asphalt. I prayed he was okay, and that nobody else was in his vehicle.

Then, I examined myself. Glass had shattered everywhere, and there was a pile of it in my lap. My poor Versace was tattered and bloody, and I frowned momentarily in a small fit of grief. The back of my car was completely done for, and I was shocked my airbags didn't go off. Of course, there was no impact to the front of my car.

It only took minutes for sirens to overtake the scene. There were two ambulances, a firetruck, and several police cars.

I slipped my seatbelt off, groaning at the pain. It felt like I'd been hit by a truck. I guess I had, in a manner of speaking. My body was suffering from the turmoil.

Shockingly, my door opened when I pulled the handle and I climbed out, falling to the ground with a cry and a sharp wince.

"Hey, hey, hey!" the voice was deep, and I glanced up to see the fireman it belonged to running in my direction, "Don't move, just stay still. Please, stay still. God, you could've died trying to climb out of that car. Too tough for your own good!" He kneeled beside me, his arms holding me up, his eyes scanning me for all signs of injury. "Here you go, calm down. It's okay now, I've got you."

His voice was soothing me, and so was his thumb as he rubbed calming circles on my hip.

"Please," I cried, my voice almost too small to be audible. I squirmed, trying and failing to break free, "I need... I need..."

I wasn't sure what I was pleading for. I just wanted relief. My bones felt like they were combusting.

"I'm gonna get you some help, sweetheart, I promise. You're safe with me." He called the paramedics over to have a look at me. They ran straight for us and he lifted me up placing me comfortably on the stretcher.

As he began to walk away, I called out meekly, "Please stay with me!" and reached blindly for his hand. He gave it to me and nodded, squeezing my palm lightly as he helped them wheel me to the ambulance. They got me inside of it and starting poking and prodding, asking me questions.

"I don't want to go to the hospital," I whined, "I'm fine, I don't need a hospital."

"We gotta get you to the hospital, sweetheart. I'm sorry, I know it's scary, but you're tough though, huh?," his voice was still so soothing, and I nodded, holding tighter to his hand that was still intertwined with mine.

"Will you come with me?" I stared up at him, my eyes wide and pitiful in a beg.

"I can't, I have to get back and help clean all this up," he told me, his voice regretful.

"Please," I was whimpering at that point, desperate. I hated begging but he was the only thing keeping me from an anxiety attack. The only thing grounding me. The only thing keeping me from asking questions like, what if I'm seriously hurt? What's going to happen with my car? Is my cheesecake okay? How am I going to replace this dress?

Okay, some of the questions were silly but cut me some slack. I'd just been hit by a truck.

He chewed his lip in thought for a moment before sighing, "Let me talk to my boss and see what I can do."

He was gone for about five minutes, but when he came back, he was only in a white T shirt and his turnout pants. He set his jacket and hat on the bench seat next to me and climbed in beside me, grasping my hand again.

"Thank you," I whispered, and the sweet smile he gave me warmed my tummy.

Hours passed in a flurry of medical stuff I didn't understand and tests being run. When everything calmed down, I was sitting on a bed in an ER, a thick medical grade bandaid on my temple where I hit the window and some pain killers in my system. Fortunately, I wasn't hurt badly at all, just extremely sore and shaken up. I had a concussion, but that was the brunt of it.

"Okay, Miss L/N. I've got a prescription here for painkillers, it should help soothe your soreness and your headache. Other than that, you're free to go," the doctor walked in the room and told me jovially. He was nice, he made me feel comfortable. I was thankful to have him instead of someone colder. But what really made me feel comfortable was the firefighter, whose name I'd discovered was Steve. He stayed right beside me the entire time, even when I was first admitted. He even called my mom for me when I was first admitted, and that's the only time he let go of my hand.

"I think that's all, thank you," I sincerely responded.

"Great. Then I'll leave you be. If anything else happens, come back. Concussions are no joke. But I'm sure Steve knows that, so you're in good hands. He'll take care of you," he gave us a pointed look, glancing from mine and Steve's interlaced fingers to our faces.

"Bye, Joe," Steve dramatized, rolling his eyes.

"Bye Steve. Bye Y/N," the doctor responded between laughs, taking his exit.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Steve turned to me, his hard features softening the second his eyes met mine.

"Have you heard anything else from my mom?" I asked, trying to keep the hope in my voice at bay.

"She checked on you once, about an hour ago. I told her I was taking care of you."

"Oh."

His eyes were boring into me, searching. I'm sure it seemed odd to him, a mother not immediately rushing to her child's side when she hears there's been an accident. Wasn't very strange to me, though. My mom had never spared much time for me.

He cleared his throat, speaking more quietly, "She said she wants me to get you home safe, so that's what I'm gonna do. One of the nurses is gonna give us a ride to the station and I'm gonna drive you from there."

"Well it's settled, then. Let's go," I beamed, grabbing his hand and hopping off the bed. I didn't make it very far, though, nearly collapsing the second my feet hit solid ground.

Steve was quick, catching me and holding me steady. I lifted my eyes and they met his, inches away. I could feel his breath, warm against my skin.

"Be careful there, Super Girl. You're too weak to take on the world just yet," he sighed, and I had to fight the urge to lean in.

He was handsome. I'd noticed it the second he ran over to me, my knight in dirty turnout gear. I'd noticed it again in the ambulance when he told me he could go to the hospital with me. And I noticed it as his arms squeezed me tighter.

"I can walk," I mumbled.

"I'm sure you can, but you aren't. Come on, I've got you," he stated, as if there was no room for argument or disagreement. One of the arms around me slipped down to the crook of my knees and he lifted, pulling me securely into his hold. I gasped, grasping tightly to his shirt, my nails leaving imprints in the soft fabric.

"Steve, I'm heavy!" I screeched, and he chuckled.

"Even if you were heavy, I can handle it," he said, like it was obvious. My stare stayed skeptical and he sighed, "Sweetheart, you're not heavy. You're nothing compared to the gear I wear and haul, and the people I have to carry out of buildings."

I stayed stubborn for a moment longer before giving him a slight nod, "If your back starts to break, put me down!"

"I don't have any plans to put you down, sweetheart," he winked, and with that, he was carrying me to the ambulance bay where an Altima was waiting for us. One of the nurses was leaning against it. She was pretty, like a young Angelina Jolie. Her scrubs hugged every curve and jealousy pinged in my gut at how perfect she was. It turned to discomfort, though, when I saw the way she was looking at us.

There was a scowl plastered onto her face, full of judgment. Her eyes were stuck on Steve's arms around me, and if looks could kill, she'd have me dead in a second.

"Can you open the door for me, Bridget?" he asked, frustration laced in his voice from the way she was staring at us instead of helping.

"Of course, Stevie," she cooed, doing as she asked. He helped me in the back seat, going as far as to buckle the belt around me. My breath hitched as he did so, the proximity turning my cheeks bright red.

Bridget's face dropped as he slid in beside me and shut the door behind himself. She opened it right back, "What are you doing, Steve? Your spot is up front!"

"I'd rather sit back here with Y/N and make sure she's okay. Come on, we should get going. I'm sure she's ready to shower and rest."

She huffed, her anger embarrassingly evident, but she gave a slight nod and slammed the door, climbing into the driver's side and speeding off. My head was pounding, so I leaned on Steve's shoulder the whole time. Every now and then he'd shield me from the sun with his hands or run his fingers through my hair, keeping me as comfortable as he could.

Once we got to the fire station, he helped me out and we waved goodbye to Bridget. She gave me one more dirty look before leaving, and I hoped I would never see her again.

"There you are, Steve!" a voice joined into the mix, and I turned around to see a man about Steve's height with long curly hair approaching. He had a bag in his hand.

"Hey, Eddie," Steve greeted, "Thank you for covering my shift all night."

"All night and all morning. I'm assuming you won't be back after you take her home."

Steve looked bashful. It was cute, his cheeks turning red and his eyes averting downward.

"I promise I'll make it up to you, man. I just couldn't leave her, she needed me," he rushed out an explanation and I couldn't stifle my giggle.

"Yeah, sure she did. Come on, dude, I'm not mad. I needed the hours anyway and I'm not like you, I don't have a ton of beautiful women begging me to escort them to the hospital. My Friday night was all free."

"I don't have a ton of them either," Steve cried out defensively, "Just the one."

"Well then get her home before she decides she doesn't neeeeeeed you anymore," the other man, Eddie, winked then and turned to me, "Oh, by the way, I'm Eddie. Steve's best friend, confidant, life saver, shift coverer. I'm the reason he could be with you all night."

His tone was joking, so I played along, "Oh, well thank you so very much. I would've just died without him. As a matter of fact if he leaves my sight I'm sure I'll faint."

"Marry her," Eddie deadpanned, turning to Steve with the most ridiculously serious look on his face. The only response he got was an eyeroll. "Okay, whatever, get out of here. Here's the rest of your stuff, and what we managed to get out of Y/N's car. You can make the shift change up to me later." He handed Steve the bag and glanced my way, "And Y/N, I'm sure I'll be seeing you again. Until then, I'm glad you're okay."

Steve pulled his keys out of the bag, clicking them. A truck beeped across the parking lot and he wrapped his arm around me, helping me over to it.

The last we heard of Eddie was a scream over the parking lot, "Oh and Steve, put some clothes on that poor girl!"

He glanced down at my ripped up dress and blushed.

"Here," he handed me his turnout jacket, "Put this on."

I did as he asked and slipped back into his arms, allowing him to lift me into the passenger seat. I liked the way the material felt on me, warm and loose. It smelled of smoke but it also smelled of cinnamon and something muskier, all Steve.

As he pulled away, I decided to make small talk. It was a ten minute drive back to my house and I didn't want it to be awkward. Not that a single moment we'd already spent together had been. Steve had a way of making me feel like I was finally safe at home.

"Bridget and Eddie seemed nice," I commented. Obviously, I didn't mean the first part but I had a sinking feeling that Steve and Bridget were something of an item and I didn't want to upset him.

"Eddie is a great guy. We've known each other forever, and he's always had my back." He paused for a moment, "And Bridget was awful to you today. You don't have to pretend she wasn't."

"I just thought you and her were probably friends, or maybe even a thing, and I didn't want to say anything mean about her just in case," I smiled softly, apologetically.

"We're not. But she wants to be. She's a uniform chaser. She doesn't know the first thing about me other than my job."

"Do you get that a lot? Girls that are only interested in you because of what you do?"

"More often than you'd think. But it's okay. I guess it's better than not being wanted at all."

"You think if you were something else, something more boring, girls wouldn't want you?" My brows were furrowed in confusion. How could a man so wonderful have such a gaping insecurity?

"I didn't feel that way at first, but I guess I've become cynical over time."

"Well, I'm cynical with the best of them and I'm telling you that you're wrong," I started, "Don't get me wrong. The turnout gear is ruggedly sexy. Straight out of a calendar, really. But I wouldn't have wanted you to come to the hospital with me if you were any other fireman. I wanted you there because of how you made me feel. Safe, and taken care of."

Silence filled the air. I don't think he knew how to respond.

"What about you?" he finally asked, "That was a nice dress before it was ruined. You must've been on quite a date."

"I wouldn't call it that," I stared at my lap, color rising in my cheeks.

"Didn't go well?"

"It's not that, it's just... I wasn't really interested in him."

"What was wrong with him?"

"You ask a lot of questions," I breathed out a laugh, wanting a subject change. I felt shame, like if Steve found out the kind of men I date and why, he would drop me off and forget about me. I didn't want that. I craved more of him. More of his time, and his headspace. I hadn't known him long, but it's hard not to swoon over a man who spends hours of his time taking care of you.

"I'll stop. For now."

Shortly after he said that, we pulled into my driveway. He helped me out of his truck and into my house, commenting on how cute he thought everything was.

"Where's your bathroom? I'm gonna get the shower running for you," he turned to me and said.

"Oh," I blushed, "You don't have to do that. Really. I can manage to get around."

"I want to. I told you I would take care of you, and I'm not doing it halfway. Now should I go looking until I find it or are you gonna tell me where it is?"

"My room is down the hall, the bathroom is in there," I smiled shyly.

He didn't waste a second, pulling me back into him and let me lean on him the entire way there. I leaned against the sink as he looked around, taking the room in.

"A bath would probably be better than a shower. You're still weak, I don't want you to slip and hurt yourself."

I didn't respond, I just watched him as he turned the faucet on and felt the water, adjusting until the temperature was perfect.

"Thank you," I finally said as he finished up and stopped the drain.

"Of course. You gonna be able to get from the tub to the bed?" he asked me.

I giggled, nodding, "I think I'll manage."

"Okay... if you have any trouble or need anything, you're welcome to call me."

"How am I gonna do that without your number?"

His face went red, a silly smile crossing his lips, "Of course. You're right. Here."

He slipped his phone out, pulling up the screen to create a new contact and handed it to me. I quickly typed in my name and info and handed it back. He called me once, hanging up as soon as it rang, and nodded once affirmatively.

"There. Now you have mine, too."

"I'll call you, Steve."

"Yes, if you need anything at all."

"Okay."

He seemed reluctant to leave, and I was reluctant to let him, but he finally mumbled a goodbye and let himself out. I grinned into my hand, the butterflies still not settled.

I was not the kind of girl to feel things like I was feeling. I had a process, a way of getting through life, and it didn't involve getting hung up on the first handsome fireman I meet. I willed myself to come back to reality, but it was difficult. His face was stamped into my mind.

My phone pinged and I glanced down, his number filling my screen.

"I left my jacket. Can I stop by later and get it? And bring you dinner? I'd like to check on you anyway."

Any hope of coming back to reality flew out the window. I typed quickly and pressed send before I could talk myself out of it.

"It's a date."

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

TBB Season 2 Retrospective

Season 2 of TBB is my favorite season for sure. I love all the character moments we get such as the conversation between Tech and Omega. It's why I love this show because at its best, TBB really tackles some mature topics. Although the Batch mainly do missions for Cid, I think it foreshadows season 3's ending really well in retrospect.

"Tribe" might be a fun adventure with Gungi, but on a deeper level, it's about Hunter realizing that what Omega needs is a true home and stability. It's the first instance in S2 where Hunter gets a look into domestic life. Phee as a character serves many purposes. She's an ally to the Batch and takes them on adventures. However, she also challenges Hunter's soldier lifestyle for Omega. Phee comments that Omega needs people her own age and stability, something that none of the Batch understand due to their upbringing. "Tribe" and Phee, along with some moments from S1, do a great job setting up Pabu.

Pabu is an ideal place for the Batch to live and raise Omega: it's hidden, beautiful, and welcoming to all. With all the signs encouraging Hunter to settle, Pabu is perfect. On a side note though, I do feel that the conflict in the episode "Pabu" was a bit contrived. Personally, I don't think we needed a tsunami for drama. I was perfectly content just watching the Batch relax.

S2, like S1, also does a great job of balancing the Empire's machinations with the Batch's shenanigans. "Metamorphosis" not only serves as a Batch mission for Cid, but also the introduction of Hemlock and the return of the Zillo. It develops both stories in a natural way which made for a phenomenal episode. The two-parter "The Clone Conspiracy" and "Truth and Consequences" equally shows the Empire's decommissioning of the clones, introduces the CX troopers, and what motivates Echo to leave. This is why I love TBB. We get a glimpse into how the imperials caused such chaos and created the Stormtroopers. Btw, I think the show handled the transition from Rampart to Hemlock really well. Both storylines were set up and interwoven with each other, which allowed the one villain to rise and the other to fall.

The notion that the Batch should settle is a major arc for Hunter and Omega this season. Hunter really begins to consider Pabu as a new home, especially because he wants to keep Omega safe. The more he sees the growing unrest, the more he reaffirms the decision in his mind. Clones have never settled down before and it's a new life for Hunter. He always wants to do right for his family and protect them. That's what leaders do. Even Wrecker slowly comes around to that idea and leans a lot on Hunter for decision making.

Omega gains a lot of new perspectives in S2 and I really loved that. She learns that things aren't what they always appear and that change is a part of life. This takes form in many ways, like when Romar showed her the kaleidoscope. Tech is another great example. He might not outwardly show his emotions the way she does, but his heart burns brightly for his family. And like Hunter, Omega begins to realize that having a home like Pabu isn't such a bad idea. She could grow up safely and make friends her age.

As for Echo, I realized that S1 does hint at his choice to leave in S2. His decision makes a lot of sense given his strong sense of justice and camaraderie with Rex. He's always been about helping others. This man has such a beautiful soul.

I think Crosshair is self-explanatory. Only three episodes and I perfectly understood what he did and why he did things. His humanity could no longer take being abused the way it was. He knew where his heart truly lied and he made his choice. S1 established his attachment to the Batch wasn't gone. But he wasn't ready to fully see the truth just yet.

Tech. Beautiful, smart, brave Tech. How much I miss you. S2 did so much giving him depth and maturity. They easily could've kept him as the stereotypical nerd who has great dry humor. But they chose to take a more thoughtful route. Like Omega, Tech learns to see things from a different perspective and it helps him grow as a person. It's those little moments that mean so much. I wish we could spend more time with him because Tech has so much to share with us and S2 highlights that perfectly.

AND TECH GOT THE GIRL (kinda but yall know what I mean). They could've chosen Hunter, the objectively attractive one, but I'm so glad they chose Tech. Look guys, I'm not a girl who goes out and buys all those trendy clothes or wears lots of makeup. So, it meant a lot that Tech was able to win over someone's affections. And kudos to Phee for always being understanding and loving Tech and his awkwardness.

I do have some other thoughts on Tech I will make a separate post on because it's something I really thought about on this rewatch.

S2 has beautiful music and animation on top of some stellar storytelling. "Mayday" will always be my personal favorite and "The Outpost" is always going to be my favorite episode. It means to much to me.

Overall, the best season imo. I love S3, but it has pacing issues, and S1 just makes me sad.

[anchoragehq]

HERE LIES MOTHER PART I OF II .

INFORMATION FOR TAG LURKERS / PROSPECTIVE MEMBERS :

our goal is to involve new people in the group as much as possible. there are many open & wanted spaces, especially for roles. at the moment, we are searching for :

we are looking urgently to fill the connections of : ELIANA MOSCHETTI'S OLDER BROTHER & ELIANA MOSCHETTI'S HUSBAND, to complete this plot drop. if you have been considering a new muse or lurking the tags, duly consider to apply !

for every new member that joins, you will have the opportunity to be included in the follow-up to this plot drop after both parts have ended. current new members have been added automatically, to give them an opportunity to get involved.

HOW SELECTION WORKS :

generally, we have written the plot drop & its injuries / transpirations with what we’ve come to know about the muse(s) who were randomly selected in mind & their previous threads. however, if we ever dictate an action that you deem ill-fitting of your muse, you can ignore it entirely or ask for an amendment you deem most fitting. we want this to be fun & what we write is only meant to be the starting point.

our selection was entirely random for part of the plot drop, but some muses were determined through hand-picked selections. we always use a random team generator to determine who will receive injuries or starter lottery. we have over seventy muses & bars in place to keep some from being picked too many times consecutively. 

major injuries & death, if any, are hand-selected on the basis of the butterfly effect this time, per our notes about the plot progressions, individual & group-centric, of muses. we keep track of these as much as we can & take note of anything significant that could be utilized.

our major plot points this time were hand-selected based on prior plot progressions or discussions. writers selected for major plot points will sit out for the plot drop call for our next plot drop following this two-parter being wrapped.

for fairness, any one muse who has been selected at random three times for a plot drop in a row will sit out the next random selection. there are no triple crown muses at this time.

if any of your muses are on our #role-selections bulleted list within the discord server, said muse(s) are excluded from being chosen, randomly or otherwise in our plot drops until you have fulfilled our requirements under the plot drop section of our rules.

THE GUIDELINES FOR MEMBERS & THREADS :

the first open starter will be our icebreaker. after that, please abide the starter rule ! please only post open starters that pertain to the plot drop at this time & follow the in-game dates provided below !

you may still post exclusives outside of the realm of the plot drop and/or continue older threads.

we ask you refrain from controlling the NPCs themselves other than what is established. 

there’s many possibilities for starters, as those not grouped together or selected can be reacting to these events around town. if you need suggestions, feel free to DM us or ask.

OOC THIS EVENT WILL LAST : until monday, february 3rd. after this date, please refrain from more starters pertaining to the plot drop — but of course the plot drop itself will hold affect on all muses exploring the aftermath & moving forward. this will be a two-part plot drop & the 2nd portion will start on this date OOC.

a follow-up will be posted regarding all plot drop transpirations a few days after the plot drop ends.

THE IN-GAME DATE IS : the late evening of january 21st through january 24th. if corresponding to a specific event, we’ve provided the explicit date it occurred. if unspecified, please select your own.

BEWARE THE FOLLOWING … murder tw, death tw, weapons tw.

STEVE MCCRAWLY TUNING IN LIVE ...

"breaking news, residents of anchorage ! A KILLER IS ON THE LOOSE. police responded to reports late last night at the marionette. following noise complaints from multiple residents ( seokmin choi, renata vargas & valeria graves-seong ), police arrived at the scene to address the domestic dispute of two or possibly THREE femme voices causing a ruckus. according to law enforcement, at the time of their arrival, mr. moschetti-sanchez met them at the door, in a state of complete distress, & we're told the scene inside was a horror show, folks, we've never seen anything like it — ELIANA MOSCHETTI was declared deceased on the scene. the coroner has yet to confirm cause of death, but there were multiple stab wounds to the body. talk about a crime of passion ... one other person was found at the scene, allegedly having slept through the crime being committed in another room. josette leighton was brought in for questioning as a potential person of interest. is this a tragic coincidence & a bad luck streak ?? tabloids hit last year & if i've got my facts right, jocelyn, she's the birth mother of willow cho-iverson ?? is it possible that this woman is unfit to be among our society ? however, let's not jump to any conclusions without the facts. the law were able to track down the other resident of the apartment, eliana's youngest child rosalind, & they claim a different story : A BEAST OF A MAN CLIMBED UP THE FIRE ESCAPE WHILE THEY WERE ARGUING, & assaulted the mother & child. the sketch artist created an image of our alleged killer which we have up on the screen for you now. if you see this man, call the local station immediately !! when we have more updates, we will report back."

anonymous tips came flooding in, as a few individuals claimed to have seen josette leighton getting into a heated argument with an UNIDENTIFIED PERSON a couple of weeks ago on january 16th & behaving strangely before leaving the premises of the ivy ... ( takaharu mochizuki, liliana weiss, & li yanlin ).

other, still, claim that they saw the unidentified man leaving the marionette the night of the homicide, january 21st, & were willing to corroborate to police as bystanders : aang ruan, hirokazu amuro, & ahva dawarn.

on the morning of january 22nd, after detectives had left the building, two of the callers — seokmin choi & renata vargas — received notes underneath their doors with the same writing as the flyer ads they received for the broom closet antiques & pawn shop. it reads : look inside the dead man's chest & you'll find the key. are you up for stealing a dead body ?

all other residents of the marionette were asked if they would feel comfortable answering a few questions about the night of the murder in the building ... a special task will drop within the next week .

[depressed-sock]

Hiii! I'm the Anon from the operator and imprinting request. I liked it so much and thought to drop another request, this may not be two words tho? Sorry, totally up to you if you like to do it.

albrecht Entrati and tenno

Just the thought of Albrecht being given the tenno intrigues me to no end.

I'm so glad you liked it!!! :D

And yeah no worries, it's the name of the character + one word so your good lol

You get a two parter because i started writing and didn't stop lmao

...

They attempt to ‘gift’ him children. If Albrecht were a kinder man he would have turned them away. If he were a crueler man… well he doubts the children would have survived.

Instead he takes it as the opportunity it’s presented as. These children have seen the void and what lies within. Come out the other side changed, not for the worse but for the better. Powerful in ways he has never seen before.

And he… He is a desperate man trying to fix a mistake. The Murmur is closing in. Slowly but surely. The Tenno are his only hope.

…

Three of the Tenno are before him. The rest lie within the Dreaming that Margulis had set them in before her execution. A mercy for children who cannot yet control the power they’ve been given.

They stare at him from where they sit in his lab. Two hidden just slightly behind the one that glares in defiance at him. There’s an anger here. Unspoken but evident.

These children are but a step to his goal. He cannot see the future but… Sacrifices must be made. Even if it’s at the cost of his own people.

“Today we will attempt Transference.”

[graaythekwami]

Little random game: name the eps you most hate and most love of each miraculous season and explain why

Hmm, there's not many episodes I'd say I hate, but my favorites and least favorites of each season are as follows:

Season 1:

Favorite: Origins -I don't care if this is technically two episodes, I loved seeing the origins of how the children met and how everything went down. The beginning of LadyNoir and oh my gosh we got such good LadyNoir moments here.

Least Favorite: Reflekta -Honestly looking through season 1 there really isn't any that stands out as a least favorite for me. So I chose Reflekta solely because this episode is the start of the curse of the many Reflekta akumatizations to come. xD

---

Season 2:

Favorite: Heroes' Day -I had to put this one as my favorite just on the premise that I feel that Heroes' Day is the best final/two parter we've had in the entire series. I loved everyone's role in these episodes, and of course we get to see Nathalie being an absolute queen as well.

Least Favorite: Frozer -Eh. Just an episode that's never stood out to me. Forgettable in the long run.

---

Season 3:

Favorite: Chat Blanc -Favorite episode of the season? More like my favorite episode ever! The angst. The feels. Chat Blanc's hurt and rage. Chat Blanc's design. It's all so beautiful the only change I'd make is making it a two parter and maybe adding a LadyBlanc kiss. But those changes aren't even needed because it's wonderful as is. 11/10. -Gamer 2.0, Oblivio, and Reflekdoll are honorable mentions. For the adorable LadyNoir moments, adorable Lovesquare moments via memory loss, and kwami swap! Season 3 is probably my favorite season overall.

Least Favorite: Christmaster -Just another episode that's never stood out to me. Plot wise it felt mid, and I can't see myself going back to rewatch it or basing a fic on it. Or including it in a fic. -Honorable mention of Miracle Queen though, as this used to be my least favorite of the season. I was really on board for a Chloe redemption when season three ended so this episode kind of stung (hehe) then, but nowadays I don't have the same issues with it.

---

Season 4:

Favorite: Qilin Least Favorite: Qilin

-Ha! Didn't see this coming, did you? I love love loved so much of Qilin. I loved the themes it addresses, Marinette and Sabine's relationship, the design of the akuma, it was all so good... until the very end!! They let Marinette take the blame when the real problem was racism?? I hate you ticket dude. And also bus driver dude you saw Sabine with her tickets and she literally gave you baked goods and you said nothing when she was taken away? Why???

And if you don't accept one episode being both the favorite and least favorite, then here are my thoughts on other episodes of the season: -I love the setup of Truth and Lies and would love more episodes focusing solely on Adrien. -Guiltrip when Chat Noir almost Catalcysms himself hurts me on a physical level someone give Adrien a hug. -I will forever live for the Plagg and Adrien moments in Kuro Neko.

Season 5:

Favorite: Evolution -Season 5 has a lot of plot-heavy focused episodes, which I always love to get. We got canon Adrinette, Gabriel getting Cataclysmed, awesome lore... but in the end I still think it's this first episode that's my favorite. I loved the action, how it picks right up at the end of season four, and also Rabbit Noir had such an awesome design too. I liked seeing Master Fu again, and the role Alix got to play. Gabriel got his good Monarch design with the stained glass look. Also timetravel can be tricky to write, and they pulled it off well.

Least Favorite: Action -After a whole season of the most plot-heavy episodes yet with a lot happening emotionally... Action has very little action is the way of plot or even as good “filler”.

Specials:

Favorite: Miraculous Paris -Gah honestly I think this is one of the very best episodes in all the show. Fantastic writing, great characterization, a fun adventure and seeing the alternate universe was fascinating. I love Shadybug and Claw Noir. Hesperia was awesome (I refuse to call him Betterfly). I have so many questions about the other world and who the Supreme is. Gabriel singing the intro. I could go on all day.

Least Favorite: ...idk -I mean there's only three specials thus far, and honestly I can't rank the Shanghai or the New York special as the lowest.

Movies: -Jk we only have one. xD But with how movie one ended with Nathalie I'm excited to see what they might do with this universe in the future.

[voidsentprinces]

My full experience of anime is thus: My brother has a friend who use to come by with anime on VHS. The first exposure I got to anime proper was when he brought over a couple episodes of SLAYERS, next, obviously, Channel 10 ran Pokemon from Episode 1 to Episode 46 before inexplicably just restarting from the beginning all over again. Dragonball Z and Sailor Moon fought on Channel 5 during the afternoons. But Dragonball Z like...jumped around a lot. It did the Saiyan Saga, the Fake Namrk Saga, skipped the Freiza Saga and the Cell Saga and did reruns of parts of the Buu Saga. Then they stopped airing both and aired Cardcapture Sakura for a while there. Then they stopped airing all three. Then they eventually brought Pokemon to the WB on Channel 5 and Yu-Gi-Oh! Hit along with it. But, like Pokemon before it. Yu-Gi-Oh! Only ran from Episode 1 until JUST before Seto and Yugi fought to duel Pegasus. Then my family got DirecTV which opened up Cartoon Network to me and thus granted me access to .hack//SIGN which sometimes ran either before or after Samurai Jack and Courage the Cowardly Dog. From there I gained access to the Buu Saga of Dragonball Z which always just reset back to the beginning of the Saga when it got done airing. Then eventually Adult Swim hit and introduced me to Cowboy Bebop, Trigun, Big O, Inuyasha, and SUPER MILK-CHAN. Then at random intervals Toonami stopped airing Adult Swim and starting airing the English dub of Naruto. And I got tired of waiting for them to dub new episodes, so I began the search online for Naruto episodes English subbed online on YOUTUBE at the time. Back when they split an episode in 3 - 6 videos and movies into 10 - 12 parters.

Toonami also eventually introduced me to Blood+, Bleach, and my all time love of my teenage life...Eureka SeveN. It also introduced me to Neon Genesis Evangelion and FLCL. You can blame FLCL and Super Milk-chan for rewiring my fucking brain. And unfortunately, anime youtube also introduced me to Elfen Lied which rewired my brain in a different way. Paranoia Agent on Adult Swim also made me fall in love with the late Satoshi Kon's work. Spirited Away hit America around the same time and caught on like fire causes me to go knee deep into that. But also there was 4kids Food Fighters and One Piece. Which...turned me off to One Piece cause that censored, puritan, chaste run of One Piece was...it was something.

And the rest is history...especially after Eureka SeveN that got me to want to absorb more long form narrative that was both SUPER bittersweet but super cathartic to see through to the end. Some people get super into Tolkien and Lord of the Rings. Some people get into Shakespeare. Eureka SeveN is what got me into long form narrative epics. Which hundreds of moving parts and a large cast of characters.

And then, as if the universe sensed that. A kid who use to live near me sold his Playstation to me for $20 along with--Final Fantasy VII. My first and only Final Fantasy really. I tried FFVIII years later but it never clicked, never picked up IX or X or X-2. Then Playstation 2 happened...and with it? Kingdom motherfucking Hearts and then the best game ever made, Kingdom Hearts 2.

Bounced between xXxHoLiC, D.Gray Man, The World God Only Knows, Deadman Wonderland, and eventually Berserk. And then from joined Final Fantasy XIV circa 2018. Susanoo subsequently killed my GPU but I eventually got a new one and joined proper during the dying days of Stormblood when Shadowbringers hype was going FUCKING STRONG.

Good times.

[mindtrove]

Cruel Mind, Patient Heart

Omg wow I went to my AO3 and the last time I wrote anything was 2017. Granted I was in Uni at the time and had way too much time on my hands lol

Welp Finished the first draft of a 3-parter (maybe more I'll see how I feel)

I should do a little profile info for Moro(BG3). Her life is a lolt more different in this universe. A lot more pain, but that's where are big bear Halsin comes in for some good ol healing.

I'll come up with a summary eventually. Also got a little bonus chapter that's literally just showcasing how AWFUL her dad is but that's got all sorts of upsetting material so thats a topic for another day.

Is this chapter shit? Yeah kind of, but It's fun writing stuff again. And at the end of the day that's what it's all about so while I do care to get better I'm not gonna let it stop me from getting my ideas out of my head. Let's hope the more I do this the better it gets. This is definitely getting a re-write before going up on AO3 but there's no reason to just pop it on here under the cut of course cus yeah

Moro had promised Lae’zel they would seek out the Creche, and she always stayed true to her word. She also, quite frankly, had zero interest in seeing the Underdark.

Besides, journeying through the Underdark would have deprived her of the wondrous views of the Mountain Pass.

“It’s beautiful,” Moro gasped as they reached the highest point of the summit, where the ruins of what appeared to be a temple or monastery lay in the distance among endless valleys, clouds, and the setting sun.

“Have you never journeyed beyond your Circle?” Wyll inquired.

“I spent a couple of decades in Calimport—that was the furthest I had ever been from home until now. I’ve never gone beyond Calimshan’s borders.”

“One should always take every opportunity to try and see the world. I can’t believe you’ve never considered traveling!”

“I am now, aren’t I?”

“And all it took was getting kidnapped by mind flayers.” Wyll’s jest was met with a gentle smack on the shoulder.

As night neared, it was agreed they would make camp and start fresh toward the Creche in the morning. The evening's meal was simple but filling, and everyone was in good spirits, still riding high from their success in overcoming the goblins and the previous festivities.

A single bottle of wine remained, being shared among the group as they all sat by the fire. Gale was the last to join as he settles between Moro and Karlach.

“So, what did I miss?”

“Well,” Wyll began, pouring a cup for Gale and handing it over, “we have just recently discovered that our ever-stoic leader is a Calishite.” Moro rolled her eyes, her cup long since dried.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Gale chuckled. “If her sense of fashion wasn’t enough, her spitting three times when that devil showed up was the dead giveaway!”

Wyll winced with good humor at the memory.

“He hid it well, but he really didn’t like that.”

"It was a bit impolite, superstitions aside."

The conversation flowed to other subjects, much to Moro’s pleasure. She told them about her Circle and the Forest of Mir where they resided, piecing together for them how and why the Shadow Druids knew of her back in the Emerald Grove. She offered only enough to sate their curious minds and maintain the lighthearted mood of the camp.

“Now…” Moro set down her cup, “I think I will call it a night soon. But I believe you promised me paper and quill, Dekarious.”

Gale nodded, retrieving the promised items. Moro bid her goodbyes for the evening, making eye contact with their new druid companion.

~~~~

Halsin had remained a wallflower for the night, choosing not to engage too heavily in the festivities. His heart was warmed by the happy faces around him, grateful that the Grove was now safe for good. But he could not help but dwell on what lied ahead.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the squealing of the children, the lone adult among them an elven woman. Long, tamed brown waves framed her richly embroidered casual robe. When he saw the unmistakable scar across her left cheek, he realized who it was and was taken aback.

Moro was ushering the children away; it was long past their bedtime, though they were eager to prolong it. Even back at the Grove, he had noticed how attached the children were to her. It was astonishing to see the woman who had cleaved her way through dozens of goblins with steely focus and no shred of compassion transform within seconds in the company of children.

She became a completely different person: she had patience for their every question, all the time in the world for every game, and arms ready to embrace every injury or squabble. It seemed to come naturally to her.

When the children finally relented and departed, Moro’s eyes met his. Her gaze never left his as she seemed to debate with herself, till she finally made her way towards him with laser focus.

“Halsin,” she greeted with a strained smile, then gave up and returned to a more neutral, tight-lipped grimace.

“Moro," He returned the greeting. "Are you enjoying yourself? You should try enjoy the drinks before they all but dissapear."

“I haven’t had anything to drink yet… I figured this would sound less sincere otherwise.”

Halsin perked up in curiosity, noting how she seemed to want to be anywhere but here before him.

“I shouldn’t have spoken ill of your leadership of the Grove.”

Halsin watched as Moro painstakingly tried to string her words together, refusing to look him in the eye as a small blush crept onto her cheeks. He remembered all too well. During the entire operation to rescue him from the goblins she had curt, lacking any interest in him. Her companions had told him not to worry, but after the confrontation with Kagha she had a lot to say. Halsin couldn't remember the last time he had be ripped into so harshly with so few words.

Bemused, Halsin leaned back against a tree. It was interesting to see her in this light—endearing, even. The usually stoic woman who commanded this strange band of individuals with an iron fist was suddenly more demure, shy—a humble, fallible creature like anyone else. Just like him, he decided he might as well make the most of the moment.

“Are you trying to apologise?”

Moro muttered and cursed under her breath. He didn’t recognize the language but sensed her exasperation, he didn't need to understand her to know she was growing more and more agitated at his teasing.

“I take it it’s not something you do often?” Halsin joked.

Moro threw her hands up, waving him off and attempting to depart. But Halsin was quick, laughing as he gently caught her hand and pulled her back toward him.

Moro closed her eyes, took a long breath, and looked up into Halsin’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. It was not my place.”

"But you do think I'm a bad leader?"

"I just think you could improve disciplining trouble-makers." But that doesn't matter, I'm sorry eitherway."

“Well, while your skills in that department could use some work, I appreciate the apology. You are forgiven.”

They stood there, realising they had held hands far longer than was appropriate. Halsin cleared his throat, less flustered by the act than Moro appeared to be, as she immediately snatched back her hand. 

“Why don’t we start again?” He suggested to distract from the awkward silence, “I am Halsin of the Emerald Grove.” His voice lowered, a hand to his heart. “And thank you, for saving me from lunatic cultists.”

“Moro of the Darthiir Wood.”

~~~~

Halsin had been nothing but pleasant since they wiped the slate clean and started anew. He was ever the gentleman, a helping hand on difficult terrain, always there just when she was just shy of lifting something heavy to puck it from her hands, and giving a gentle reminder whenever Gale had brewed a fresh pot of tea.

It irritated her to no end. Moro was keen to expect the worst from people, men in particular. But no matter how much she scolded him for his chivalry, he never ceased, and eventually, she opted to let it be, though she remained guarded.

Most had retired to their tents for the night. Moro remained just outside her tent, propped against a pillow with her legs to her side as she put pen to paper on her little writing table.

She had gone long enough without sending word to her people. They would worry, but they would be fine. And so she spent the rest of her evening penning her current perdicament. Gave instructions for when she would return, if she was to return at all.

“You seem troubled.”

Moro looked up to find Halsin standing over her, a fresh cup of tea in hand—a bargaining chip to join her company. Moro grabbed a floor cushion and placed it before her, inviting Halsin to sit. She thanked him for the tea, watching the leaves as they swirled.

“Finding the right words can be difficult.”

“Commands and instructions for your circle? That can’t be too hard.”

Moro laughed, pointing at an enclosed letter with her quill. “That letter was already done and ready to go,” she said before going silent and writing again. “This one is… much more personal… for my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?”

Moro’s face softened with a warmth Halsin hadn’t seen before. Pride, love, and a deep sense of purpose shone in her eyes.

“Yes, by the Oak Father’s blessing, soon she will replace me as Archdruid. As it should be. As it was meant to be.”

“So, how did a warrior with no finesse for druidic magic or otherwise end up leading a Circle?”

“How long have you been holding onto that question?” Moro grinned.

“A little while,” Halsin chuckled. “It’s not unheard of for Circles to be home to both druids and common folk. But to be in charge?”

Moro placed the quill down and leaned her elbow against the table, taking a warm sip from her tea. “You already seem familiar with the Shadow Druids in Alm, yes?”

“I am,” Halsin confirmed, “and you mentioned you were raised as one.”

“Yes. They wanted to expand beyond Alm. My father was sent as an emissary, and when the Archdruid of The Darthiir Wood in Calimshan refused to swear fealty, he killed him, The Shadow Druids appointed him as First Druid. It was the first successful expansion outside of Cloakwood.”

An uneasy silence fell. Moro continued to nurse her cup, unfazed, as she looked to Halsin, as if to ask if he wished her to continue.

“I had heard the Shadow Druids could be… ruthless…”

“That’s one of many ways to describe them.” Moro dug through her belongings and pulled out a long, slender smoking pipe. “This all happened long before I was born, mind you,” she said, filling the pipe. Halsin summoned a low, controlled flame to light it.

“Settlements from the city encroached on our territory, leading to constant skirmishes, battles, and death. This went on for my entire youth, relentless harsh training to be the perfect fighter. Making up for the disgrace of bearing no gifts from The Oak Father." The last part is said with a bitterness Halsin doesn't dare press more on.

"I think I was about twenty-six when all the druids had been wiped out.” A bitter smirk stretched across Moro’s face. “I sent word to Cloakwood for aid, but it was ignored. A handful of fighting-aged boys, women, and mostly children were left to fend for themselves. What value were we to Cloakwood if Silvanus did not even see fit to bless us with his favour?”

Halsin tried to hide his disgust at the thought that so many innocent lives had been left to die. When he looked at her he could the tell the events she relayed played in her head as she seemed somewhere else. He understood that burden. The doubt, and fear that came with such responsibility when you weren't ready. He wished he could reach out to Moro in understanding.

But Moro was a temperamental creature, he had come to learn. In the brief time they’d spent together, he noted that she was more than willing to comfort others, yet seldom welcomed it in return, keeping everyone at a respectful distance. He was all but certain such attempts to comfort would not be well met.

“They looked to you to lead them?”

“They had no choice; I had no choice. I wasn’t going to let them die. Cloakwood, my father, all the druids looked down on those men and women as ‘imperfect,’ unfavored by Silvanus. But, last I checked, it was the ‘unfavored’ who kept us fed, fixed our homes from the storms, and traded far to fill our larders.”

“Every soul is precious under the Oakfather, Moro.”

Moro looked poised to argue but, to Halsin’s surprise, she nodded in agreement.

“It took me a long time to believe that—separating my father’s doctrine from Silvanus’ true teachings. I was bitter for a very long time, but meditation and time healed many of those wounds between me and the Old Oak.”

Halsin looked at her thoughtfully, noting how matter-of-factly she summarized what had surely been years of pain and suffering. War and trauma wore a person down, and he could see that weariness in her. Beyond the obvious scars, like the one that marred her jaw or how calculated and swift she was in giving orders during battle, how rigid and calm she was in the face of casualties. She was a child of war and it showed.

Despite that it had created this austere outer shell, days in camp he would find her preening and caring for herself to an almost absurd degree. In the field she was covered from head to toe to protect her hair and skin, and while he did not strive or appreciate such conservative attire he couldn't help to notice the benefits of her labours.

Even now the scent of the rose water she bathed and soak her hair and body wiith permeated around her, the deep woody scents of her incense wafted from inside her tent. Her hands just barely held the calluses or roughness that should be expected in one proficient with a glaive. It made him curious of The Druids Circles to the south. Was this a particular quirk of Moro's or was this commitment to finery and comfort a quality of all?

“I’ve been awfully chatty this evening,” Moro exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at Halsin. “I’m not sure how I should feel about that.”

Halsin laughed heartily. “Nothing wrong with getting to know each other.” He stood and took the pipe from Moro’s hand. “Who knows, we might even become friends.”

Moro laughed soundlessly, as if the notion were absurd.

“I can balance things out tomorrow night with a few stories of my own,” Halsin offered, taking one last drag from her pipe before handing it back. “I’ll even bring some decent tobacco.”

That earned him a genuine laugh. He tried to ignore how it's deep notes stirred him.

"Are you trying to make this a routine?" Moro enquires, making her own way inside her tent.

"I would like to..." Halsin offers. "Would you?"

Moro looks the druid up and down, humming in contemplation.

"Only if you bring this Decent Tobacco of yours"

[variousqueerthings]

Okay, well, what would you prefer then? The Dustmen?

Sleep No More! this season's dedicated spooky episode. I feel like I ought to have vibed more with this one than I did and I dunno why it didn't work with me that well. maybe I powered through s9 too quickly (EDIT: I have now analysed why it didn't work so well for me, ey!)

also: is this the first out trans actor we've had on this show? definitely some things to say about that

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 10/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored, or given agency to her emotional interiority): 4/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 6/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 3/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 3/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 9/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 6/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 10/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 6/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 4/10

FULL RATING: 61/100 (if I can count….)

ok ok let's get into it!

OBJECTIFICATION: see, cured!

PLOT-POINT: I mean, it's a standalone episode that doesn't do much beyond the episode itself, so it doesn't really need to give Clara much development. still, I think in a season in which Clara doesn't have many emotional beats, considering what's coming up in the very next episode... I'd have liked something perhaps

COMPLEXITY: it's complexity lies in its structure and I am nooot convinced by it. there's nothing wrong as such with found footage, but it feels gimmicky very fast, and I think there should have been more done with the fact that the dust was "watching" them

the fact that it's basically the beats of a low-budget horror should have meant I vibed with it more, but I think because in the end a lot of it is just running from place to place while going "whaat is even happening here" makes it feel a bit thin

also the ending is probably an "either you like it or you don't" type ending, so I have nothing against it as such. I think the single-episode characters were thinner than a lot of the other ones we've seen throughout the years, which is kind of a shame, because there is some interesting Stuff to dig into with the wider world they inhabit (which we'll get to) but these are all -- with the exception of Nagata I think -- relatively threadbare. this might also be a feeling arising from the other episodes being two-parters, so we got more time with the "under the lake" gang idk. but maybe actually that's why I'm judging it a bit harsher -- this is a concept I've seen before a few times, done better

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: nothing much here either, although there is a delightful little exchange between Clara and the Doctor right at the beginning that goes like this --

CLARA: Looks like a Japanese restaurant. Oh! Have you brought me to a space restaurant? DOCTOR: People never do that, you know? CLARA: Do what? DOCTOR: They never put the word space in front of something just because everything's all sort of hi-tech and future-y. It's never space restaurant or space champagne or space, you know, hat. It's just restaurant, champagne or hat. Even if this was a restaurant. CLARA: What about spacesuit? DOCTOR: Pedant.

I just think that gives me more on them as characters than often exists in their episodes together, which often feel like they go so fast and are so specific to Plot things, that I've often struggled to engage with their dynamic as ostensibly good friends. this was actually something I highlighted in "the girl who died" which was the way everything with them was constantly framed around danger and high stakes and how that takes me out of understanding what draws Clara to travelling, and this is a little counterpoint to that

COMPANIONS MATTER: ehhhh not really from my memory. she's there.

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: the Doctor just fully runs around like a headless chicken in this one. no that's not fair, he solves most of the puzzle. crucially not the really important piece at the end though, but I'd assume that happened offscreen, as the implications of that ending have never been brought up again on this show to my knowledge

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: couple of tiny references. actually it's more of a big send-up to league of gentlemen, considering Gatiss wrote it and Shearsmith plays the main bad guy

“SEXINESS”: again, cured!

INTERNAL WORLD: I think if this had had more world-building and less attempts at being a PG horror movie it might have been more horrifying actually, because the implications are already horrifying enough. but yeah, this, because of the characters, is quite a thinly built world, made all the more noticeable because the ideas within it are kind of compelling as heck and I do want to know more!

POLITICS: there's a couple of things in this, the first and more intentional of which is it brings up some good horrific capitalist world-building, and I wiiish whatever the story was was actually more about that. I mean, actually there's a really good TV concept on its own in it, that this episode didn't have the time or focus or ability to tell, because it's Doctor Who, we're not spending a season dwelling on the implications of functionally removing sleep from people, but ooooh I'd be interested in a story that did!

the other thing is that this has the somewhat dubious honour of featuring the first ever out trans actor in a lead role, played by Bethany Black, and... hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm I mean. I mean. she's a vat-grown grunt referred to with "it" pronouns (and not, I get the sense, because of personal choice, if personal choice came into this in the first place), who "cannot speak properly" because these "grunts" are frequently not... bred well enough? there's a loooot of episodes on Doctor Who that are about personhood and respecting that, and this... is not one of those episodes. 474 is never a focus of the Doctor in this episode, and in fact relatively early on both (she?) and this cis guy who frequently insults her the most (whom she is in love with???) are separated from the others. she then sacrifices herself for this guy, but it doesn't really matter because he's killed anyway shortly afterwards

it's just kinda messy and badly thought-out, but Bethany Black is great, and we know it's going to get better at some point. I want to make a point though as well that Bethany is fat and was in her 30s during this episode I think, and her character is presented in a relatively genderless way and smeared with camouflage paint or oil or smthin (and again, referred to with "it" pronouns), so I don't think a lot of people casually watching would have noticed that this character was a woman (if indeed, the episode understood that), in the sense that obviously trans people should get to play everyone and not "just" have to be prettified in order to be allowed onscreen, but it's a shame we couldn't see a fat trans woman being respected as a woman in this story, or youknow... get to assert her personhood, considering this is Doctor Who, and I hope that the wonderful onscreen transness we're getting will not be equated with thinness and youth exclusively in the future

but like, they could fully bring Bethany Black back as another character and I don't think people would recognise her as having been on the show before, so... do it cowards. you did it with fuckn Capaldi and Gillan and Cribbins and and and...

FULL RATING: 61/100 (if I can count….)

so I did actually check what the feedback to this episode was, and apparently at the time it was the lowest rated episode apart from Love & Monsters, which if anyone has been on this blog for a bit, you know I'm so into that episode. and I think that's worthy of a little comparison, because the thing about Love & Monsters is that while it is a bit gimmicky in format and to the left of a traditional episode, it does all of this in service to something. it's about specific people who exist in the sphere of the Doctor's influence, and that in turn explores a tertiary character (Jackie) who herself occupies a difficult space in this universe. it is, fundamentally, a very very human, softly tragic tale that builds up ideas that we'll return to many times over the course of the show

this episode does not have that. it's characters aren't very fleshed out, its world-building is shallow, and its purpose as the episode before a Very Important Episode seems to be to just. be there. and I think that's its fundamental weakness. if this were in another season, and given some tightening here and there to give it some kind of focus (my preference would be on giving some emotional insights on the Doctor and whoever the Companion is and/or making this very much about the single-episode characters For A Purpose, with the Doctor and Companion taking a backseat) I would have liked it better

as it is I don't dislike it, it's just oddly situated and relatively forgettable to me. Bethany Black should come back though

[samobservessonic]

Also picking up where we left off last time, we get Tails and Errol receiving a not-very-warm welcome on their quest to rescue the missing Enchanter King. As well as that, Errol is already wondering why Tails isn’t using his abilities as a champion in the fight. We already know that Tails kind of won his battle against Trogg as a fluke, but the people of the Nameless Zone still think of Tails as a hero. At least, the few of them we’ve seen so far do, anyway

However, Tails reveals the truth to Errol immediately after Errol single-handedly scares off their attackers. This kind of surprises me, because I know that the Nameless Zone thinks of Tails as a champion for a long time to come. So I didn’t expect him to just up and tell someone that it was a misunderstanding. Then again, Errol is the first person who’s been willing to listen, since the Enchanter Kings have only ever talked to Tails to hurry him along on quests so far

But Errol is less than sympathetic about Tails’s exaggeration. I don’t think this is intended as Errol being horrible so much as he has a strong moral code. And honestly, if Tails isn’t up to being the champion, then the kings constantly throwing him at quests could be dangerous to him, as well as others. At the same time “deception” is a bit of a strong word for some kid telling his parents he’s a cool superhero, Errol That aside, it does make me wonder how this story wraps up for Errol. Because, like I said, Tails is believed to be a champion for a long time. So, either Tails does something so brave that it causes Errol to have a change of heart or… something bad happens to Errol that stops him going back. I guess we’ll see which, if either, of these happens as the story progresses

I’ll not post all of it, but we get a sequence I really like of Errol boasting that he knows the way through these tunnels because he’s studied them, before they get attacked by a monster and Tails teases him about it. I love that Errol’s dying words were going to essentially be “Well, you’ll die and no one will know you lied”, but then Tails pulls the same thing he did with Trogg and uses his flying skills to save them both

After Tails saves him, he asks again if Errol won’t tell on him. And while Errol now doesn’t want to, he stands firm that it’s his duty. So, I guess that rules out that option? I’m even more curious about what happens to Errol now

However, the issue ends with them finding the missing Shirob. He doesn’t have much to say this time, but I’m sure we’ll be hearing more from him in the next issue. That is, if he doesn’t get eaten by the monster he’s been chained up as a sacrifice for. I mean, I want to assume they’ll all be okay, but the only one I know for sure is going to get out of this is Tails, due to his plot armour (and I don’t mean the magic armour he’s wearing) I’m also curious as to, if Shirob has been held captive for all these years, why they’re only just planning to sacrifice him now? I don’t know if there’s an actual answer to this or if it’s a matter of suspending our disbelief and assuming the Trogg people (whatever they’re called) had enough monster food up until this point

Anyway, the fact that I have all these questions makes me look forward to the next issue even more, so I’m glad this story ended up being a three(?)-parter

[hypexion]

Love Square Slander

Miraculous Ladybug manages to square the triangle and put its protagonists into a relationship shape that generates theoretically infinite amount of engagement. Everyone has a favourite side and in this post I will explain why each side is wrong. Prepare for some Very Serious Analysis.

Adrienette: We begin with what is clearly the most boring configuration because it has zero superheroes. After four and half seasons this one won by default while the other three sides were temporarily eliminated from reality. Also, Andre Icecream approves of this side, and he clearly has something wrong with him.

Ladynoir: The fun and flirty side. Except beneath the fun and flirty surface lies a pile of unresolved issues that still seems to be growing. Ladybug likes withholding vital information from Chat Noir for dubious reasons, while Chat once got seduced by a Sentibug. Only one of these problems would be fixed by them kissing.

Marichat: The side for people who believe in "true selves" theory, a reading of the text that gets shakier everytime a new Adrien transformation is introduced. And despite the individual characters being intelligent, when Marinette and Chat Noir are together, they have not a single brain cell between them.

Ladrien: Doesn't exist, in the sense that if you put all the canon Ladrien content together, you might not even be able to scrape together a full episode. Probably because this is the Easy Mode of the Love Square. The lack of canon content of course means its supporters are the most hardcore shippers and you shouldn't mess with them.

You would think that four relationships between the same two people would be the end of it, but no. Marinette has an additional superhero form and Adrien has two plus a villain form (fast forward boy doesn't count). This makes things much more complicated due to combinatorics.

Aspbug: The terrible hybrid of Ladynoir and Ladrien, constructed entirely from bad decisions. Around 25913 bad decisions, to be precise, which isn't funny because it's very worrying. Aspbug failed miserably and its success would have been even more miserable.

Ladywalker: It's like Ladynoir, but with everything that isn't emotional dysfunction removed! Adrien sands off what he thinks are the undesirable parts of his personality, a process heavily informed by what his father thinks, and it almost works. This collapsed instantly in canon because the status quo is only allowed to change in two-parters but it is theoretically stable, at the cost of the participant's long-term emotional health.

Multichat: This is just Marichat but more. More what is left to the reader, but it certainly isn't good decisions!

Snekmouse: Finally we reach a ship with a good name. Hypothetically, this situation contains a complex layering of secret identities due to each knowing, but not knowing the other knows, and they can't reveal they know because that would blow their main identity. In practice they'd just blurt out each other's real names in like ten seconds then put no thought into how they could know that information.

Aspnette: In this case Marinette is both aware enough of Aspik's identity and how very bad it would be for her to reveal that knowledge. There's like an 80% chance Marinette reveals her feelings during the panic and later Adrien is like "alas, if only she felt that way about me as me 😢".

Adrimouse: Not quite the previous reversed. Adrien is going to be much better at the whole "hello mouse hero I have never met before" deal, while Marinette not knowing Adrien knows supplies a shot of confidence. Thus, the whole thing ends up being more boring than Adrienette, somehow.

Mariwalker: Less a ship and more a torpedo pointed at the SS Ladywalker. One awkward balcony encounter will inevitably lead to Catwalker revealing to Marinette that he is either a) Chat Noir xor b) Adrien. This will rapidly accelerate the issues present in Ladywalker to new and emotionally destructive heights.

Mariblanc: Observational evidence suggests that most of the time, Mariblanc is just edgy Marichat, with Chat Blanc just being around in an otherwise normal Miraculous setting. This is deeply uninteresting. The rest of the time it's played for as much horror and emotional anguish the author can squeeze out of the situation. This version is surprisingly harrowing.

Ladyblanc: This one was technically canon for like five seconds before Paris and then the moon were destroyed. Tangentally, is there actually any evidence that Chat Blanc killed everyone on the planet? From the angle it doesn't look like the initial death orb gets outside of France, then most of the energy seems to be directed upwards for the Eclipse Cannon tribute act.

Multiblanc: Is this even a thing?

Adrigaminette: hey this isn't a side of the Lovesquare! It's a surface on the dreaded Love Octahedron. If we iterated all the possibilities Kagami adds to this mess, we would never finish! (don't even mention Lu-)

Toxigriffe: Thus we must accept that the best version of Lovesquare is the True Reverse Lovesquare. Sure they probably spent most of their time together before turning good trying to kill each other, but with all the identity shenanigans out of the way it's clean sailing for the heroes formally know as Shadybug and Claw Noir.

Well that's everything including the Mirror Universe so it's time to hit post and what do you mean "what about the selfships"? Fine but only the vanilla configurations.

Maribug: Look Ladybug might theoretically have the self-confidence for this but Marinette? I think not.

Adrichat: This one probably exists in-universe and whenever someone brings it up both Adrien and Gabriel grimace identically but for highly divergent reasons.

Now, that's everything. Do not join me next time for Constructing the Love Hypergraph because I literally just looked up if a hypergraph is a real thing and it is. Now interestingly a hypergraph could actually be used to encode a ship space with polyamorous ships, as it allows an edge to join an arbitary number of vertices, rather than just a pair. As graph theory is fairly easy to grasp, hypergraph theory is sure to take shipping by storm sooner or later. This is the most important conclusion we can gather from whatever non-maths stuff the rest of this post is about.

[sshbpodcast]

To Be Continued: Multi-parters in Star Trek (Part 2)

By Ames

Last week, we touched on Trek two-parters from TOS and TNG, and the resounding refrain from your A Star to Steer Her By hosts was “Well, that was uneven.” Most of the time, the two-parters we got seemed so deliberately stretched that we questioned if it was even worth dedicating two episodes. Sure, you can apply more budget, but if there isn’t enough story, then you might as well have scaled back and used that week’s monetary allotment for a new, better story.

Deep Space Nine, on the other hand, more frequently knew what to do with serialized storytelling. They were ahead of their time in a lot of ways, and telling Trek stories over the course of a couple of weeks was even more common. What made them so good? Was it just that the writers clearly planned things out better and had characters that developed more than Picard’s crew? Let’s take a look through the two-, three-, six-, and even ten-parters of DS9 by reading on below and listening to the week’s chatter on the podcast. When it comes to bigger stories, fortune does favor the bold!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

DS9: “The Homecoming,” “The Circle,” “The Siege”

Okay, our first example may not be the best, as the pacing is still not entirely fleshed out. From the three-parter that opens season two, we definitely found that the middle episode, “The Circle,” spins its wheels a little bit to make sure the bulk of the resolution could be delivered in the third. Poor Li Nalas has to sit around questioning what he’s doing there so much that the audience also starts to question what he’s doing there!

We have a good suggestion here: Excise the whole Li Nalas plot to his own episode. It’s a good story: someone who doesn’t deserve his hero status being upheld as this figurehead and finding out what that means for him. He could have contrasted nicely with Sisko, the emissary to the Prophets who ALSO doesn’t entirely accept his role [yet]. And then you can leave the Circle plot to its own two-parter. Or better yet: clean it up even more and cut it down to its own single episode! As long as we retain all the great Winn plotting, we’re cool here.

DS9: “The Maquis”

Later on, we get another retread of the ethical conundrum that is the Maquis in the eponymous two-parter “The Maquis.” Our biggest takeaway is YAWN! Somehow, this one not only didn’t feel like it should have been a two-parter, but it barely felt like it should have been a one-parter! How was there so little to say about the cause of these people who’ve been screwed over so much by the Federation-Cardassian alliance?

How do you fix this? I dunno. Maybe making Cal Hudson a more interesting character. And definitely killing him off by the end OR endeavoring to ever revisit him again. There are just no stakes this whole two-parter long and it doesn’t keep our attention long enough for us to feel anything for his character. TNG’s “Journey’s End” first aired a month before this, so there was already a foundation to build on… and these episodes somehow just don’t.

DS9: “The Jem’Hadar,” “The Search”

It’s when we really get into the Dominion material that Deep Space Nine turns a new leaf in serial storytelling. The season 2 finale “The Jem’Hadar” does a lovely job opening that door by introducing the eponymous Jem’Hadar and the Vorta and allowing season 3 to launch right in with the two parts of “The Search,” which introduce the elusive and wily Changelings, and where would this series be without them?

And as a two-parter (or three-parter if you include “The Jem’Hadar”), “The Search” is stellar at slowly revealing more and more information, twisting and teasing the expectations of the audience until the facade is dropped and we learn the true identity of the Founders. For perhaps the first time, we see serial storytelling not only being worth the episodes they take up, but also setting the stage for the whole rest of the series. Praise be to the Founders!

DS9: “Past Tense”

Maybe it’s just the serial storytelling that DS9 gets right, because when it goes for another one-off two-parter that isn’t really connected to the rest of the series arc, it falls into the same tired devices and poor pacing of some of the TNG two-parters we talked about last week. Our jaunt back in time to the Bell Riots feels stretched and starts to get boring. This is yet another plot that could easily have fit into one episode if they’d trimmed some fat.

Per Jake in this week’s podcast episode, “it takes way too long to get through this episode,” which is a sign of a multi-parter that hasn’t earned its runtime. The Jadzia-Brinner plot lags. There’s way too much exposition in Part I. The O’Brien-Kira appearances, while providing much-needed levity, don’t fit the episode. Condensing down to one episode might also fix the biggest flaw of this two-parter: running out of things to do with the BC character until he becomes a series of tactless jokes in a stupid hat.

DS9: “Improbable Cause,” “The Die Is Cast”

You know what makes a two-parter worth it? Elim Fucking Garak. Just let Andy Robinson chew the scenery and you’ll have enough material to stretch for as long as you like and no one will complain. When the writers of “Improbable Cause” couldn’t find a way out of their episode and they decided to extend it to another episode, they couldn’t have known how much paydirt they’d struck.

And maybe that’s just the way to do it: don’t just stretch your story into two episodes when you hit a wall. Take a hammer to that wall and extend into a new room. A story about the investigation into who’s blowing up Garak’s shop is fine… for one week. But using that as a launch pad to tell an even bigger story the next week, with the Obsidian Order and the Tal Shiar and Changeling spies and Garak torturing Odo all over the place, then you’ve got something there. What was the rest of the crew up to during all this? Who even cares?

DS9: “The Way of the Warrior”

Star Trek’s first feature-length episode, all released together as one big behemoth thing, really feels like a movie. The great thing about this new Klingon-Cardassian War is that it raises the stakes not just for this double-length episode, but for the whole season 4 of DS9, and they do it in style!

While this whole left turn into Klingon politics does sidetrack us from the ever-intensifying Dominion arc (we learned in the season 3 finale that Changelings Are Everywhere™), it’s worth it to keep upping the stakes. Having the Klingons pull out of the Khitomer Accords not only changes our relationship with a legacy species, but also provides the perfect entry point for Worf! And sure, characters like Kira and Dax have some very excisable scenes for padding, but there’s enough going on throughout.

DS9: “Homefront,” “Paradise Lost”

This renowned two-parter was originally planned to be the season three finale / season four premiere. And frankly it’s much better served after a couple months of ramping up the action. Ending season three with “The Adversary” was a much better landing because it sets up possibilities for the following season, which these midseason episodes capitalize on because things have been simmering in the meantime.

And this Starfleet plot builds so nicely across both episodes! The tension that Joe Sisko embodies because of all the increased military checkpoints and constant blood screenings for Changelings really starts to boil by the end. And yet another corrupt admiral is stirring up trouble, as they are wont to do! It all adds up to a suspenseful two-parter that is excellently paced and which pays off with revelations every couple of scenes to keep viewers satisfied.

DS9: “In Purgatory’s Shadow,” “By Inferno’s Light”

We’re in for a treat with another Garak-heavy two-parter! Deep Space Nine has really mastered the continuous plot by this fifth season dynamo. For a change, both sides of the plot (on the station and in the Dominion prison) hold their own and play off each other, especially when we learn that each side has its own copy of Bashir. 

And like in “Homefront” and “Paradise Lost,” there is no shortage of plot twists that continuously increase the momentum of the two episodes. Bashir’s been a Changeling for the last while, Martok is alive in a Dominion prison, Tain is ALSO alive in a Dominion prison AND he admits to being Garak’s father, and Cardassia allies with the Dominion. Somehow under all that weight, the episodes don’t crumble because the pacing has been spot on, the acting has been superb, and the revelations have been jaw-dropping.

DS9: “A Time to Stand,” “Rocks and Shoals,” “Sons and Daughters,” “Behind the Lines,” “Favor the Bold,” “Sacrifice of Angels”

Season 6 opens with a six-parter, which has been unheard of up until this point in Star Trek. The show really was ahead of its time, and has been seeing a whole new appreciation with the ability to binge seasons without the risk of missing an episode and finding yourself entirely lost. If only streaming had been around in the 90s, DS9 would have been everyone’s favorite show.

The long plot to take back the station from Dukat and his Dominion buddies is a master class in serialization. Everything builds to a frenzy and it’s so clear the writers were in constant communication to keep as many characters busy as possible. It all culminates in “Favor the Bold” and “Sacrifice of Angels,” which are the most two-parter-y of the bunch. The prophets ex machina does end up feeling like a cop out when Sisko flies headlong into the wormhole like a maniac; it could have just been fixed with an explanation that he intended to blow up the wormhole because he had an actual plan, but whatever. Sisko’s gotta Sisko.

DS9: “Image in the Sand,” “Shadows and Symbols”

The opening of season 7 is a bit of a weird one. We start the final season of DS9 by dealing with loss. Jadzia is dead. The wormhole has closed. Sisko has taken his ball and gone home, clearly at his lowest point. I’d argue less for cutting the fat to make this one episode, and more for cooking up that fat a little better because not everything is fully baked. We’ve complained in the past that Quark and Julian regress as characters when they make Jadzia’s death somehow about themselves when Worf is the one mourning. So knock that off, for one.

But the emissary plot with Sisko learning that he’s part Prophet is a little… out of the blue. Were there ever hints of this? And some of the Benny Russell scenes caused by the pah-wraiths muddy the near-perfect episode “Far Beyond the Stars.” It’s a little more gimmicky and murky in its messaging, especially when we saw Benny before and it was the Prophets directing him. Now it’s the pah-wraiths? I’m confused. Oh, and Ezri’s here too, I guess.

DS9: Season 7 ten-parter!

The whole series climaxes with a great big ten-parter that concludes with a very uneven finale (but we ragged on that the other week already). Most modern shows on streaming have seasons that are basically ten-parters, give or take, but they don’t have sixteen previous episodes in their season building up to it. And many current series aren’t as successful at moving a plot forward and continuing to develop their characters over those episodes as Deep Space Nine was.

That’s not to say the ten final episodes of the show were perfect. There were definitely places where they lagged. Clearly, the writers quickly ran out of things for Ezri to do and fell back on a tired and unnecessary romance gimmick. And though it solved the Changeling disease plot, the whole of “Extreme Measures” felt like it dragged the pacing of the story arc to a gross and unethical halt.

On particular display is some absolutely excellent work from Marc Alaimo and Louise Fletcher, which we could watch for hours if you’d let us. A lot happens over these ten episodes, and for the most part, the storytelling is so skilled that it rarely feels like too much or too little is happening at once. Certain plots are left to brew until it’s their time, and other threads like the Gowron plot and and the Nagus plot wrap up tidily before we get to the finale. Oh, and Damar is great.

—

Things will be a little less serial (even when they should be) when we talk more two-parters next week, this time as we revisit Voyager. So keep your eyes here for that. Additionally, you should keep up with our watchalong of Discovery on the podcast via SoundCloud or wherever you get your podcasts, and debate who’s a Changeling with us on Facebook. And watch out for Breen—they change everything!

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Three-plank”)

A limerick sequence

               1

Licence. To harm’d to payne. Three-plank. Stay you, the grew men. In wake! No mountainment.    Next, while it with a    Bands us: save did nothere whom so dust. Cannot her eyes me!

               2

The Trust doth of what scold marriors upright he shiness my are, melted, and    thy both riot Paynims    propose up for Maid! The Crop rotted free is of Love, he red.

               3

Drawn are could of loued with just enough shal were fynde, ’ But chastes o’er damned    attereties, who take a    new will thy growing! Some fair crept. Cant syster this man fellow’d?

               4

The side and my father did tho no! Whole all eyes, your iron politics    my paid hands wretchest a    stemme, becauseous silenty inhere sacred fix’d out the so.

               5

But Saving man doubt. Here then my faith a murden, compled his cry, and tear;    heaue the girls on her glow.    If you of purposed his Land, save I not himself a man.

               6

And baite, the Kind. Thee like to her dreary need am aweary, I have    will pyping so must fast,    pring banisht with engage to saved so spell’d in she floated next?

               7

Pick with I tho’ I sing the devil with closes! Were me in a Reign    Universe. ’Er which me. She    the bals-parters they can Alpine error perious on thy sway.

               8

State ‘plative train and resign, doe sea. My Fate a hey, he look like men; irksom    nake drilliant you snail,    and ther, captainstrong with closes proving men consumm’d—praction.

               9

And himself doves of air. Where so em? And degraded, sweetness, alth. Say, and    you of marring? Has have    a was one them push, that I not undred alum and rended!

               10

Is observe the bitted contries much me, and most guilty to ther pretty    columes did in slept    inding, for his eye: he glittle of nature a backwards dar’d.

               11

—Scott, their verdant my heate; I could love: from Loue not, but gross, by oath because    of all? And trouble, a    hearts. Wait fining in the creamly Golden orphos’d in in be?

               12

A Russ forced nor woman were him to which spird dost ioye, for hope, nor chast to    the was hearted his swarmed    Smith. A ghost half-defected play; while youth the words could bette.

               13

Of raise, a better by white. Twice to thought short of that then Silk, and new passion    a chamberless does    happy heart of naught so, no hundress wise which to then their charm!

               14

That the pageantic bosom’d, which sleep. To the does witch, have neck, among head,    and yet draw a peaker    emplations, than muse of bonne refusde foe. Been not slack, thee, raise.

               15

And a believe memoriendly Rage, hover? Quit, the Markest Madness; why    written’d this gone of his    but if itself the soon number: the sickers, grow: for Grey fuse?

               16

Tell worke he have doe flying, her people word, in bail then Love, how swart mystic    and Lilly am    joy of Lamb. If by the scot so bring word, a more the part gone.

               17

Tears will stone. Last will that so we long and, hey lies their your eyes a light, agains    my so! Who living    a tones, nail, Tacitus, in coud plast. Affect table flower.

               18

But who would beard no Train, Thou though all knocke? How easts way around their breatures,    two arms fit found arrows    who put in the but the go … Oh, yet; she bowls If I wage.

               19

From obligent flame! The Sanhedrins a crimson dame for than which display.    For place of lies breat, doth    none maiden, whose who him writes. I never: yet nother before.

               20

In a practer—a coquets of chilled of guard: and it of would far fear but    a life is buy. Her of    witch’s ends, is not she and feel, in her innocents never be?

               21

A poisoned that my parenely feeline eyes shelterate? Pique they reasure    ther god their Cause, fitting    eyes, who say, own’d by where unworth mery bles! By that me.

               22

And off tap is doubt, past wenty is; and kissessing list in all pique the    quick a this, track Scorn; your    dark the life, ye which unknow. To whole; so remembell said it.

               23

By meadow and holybush, and what lives the Rest? And my duties were sun,    Hark! When would cree. That when    their loved makest in the left burn out if it sorrowing year.

               24

‘I did with the for his rose, anxious? But thou feel aisle been’ a clos’d Labout.    And Gills to loved then    which to was chimney nothere suit mind, or the maid his reckage.

               25

He sign, nor see, at length nor whom David’s Revolent pass his hot. It was    the on my love is works    to had bred flight. He vertue me lique and she language will my Muse.

               26

You waits to near is circle, and the rayse vp the fight, he best thou go by,    and Conway the moved. The    Maste and drizzling steel: but beside: ah Curse was nor mangertius.

               27

Was news: and little-conjuried: the juries of paste. I said, onely    fed with you guess the sad    exorcing thing from men’s oak a murmuring my Desire.

               28

Said it of thy look a maid, Look! Began: My lady, Murther redeem’d this    Right and house it was busite    been Head and for morning, for it may have and let my suite.

               29

But of Progress, the happened barrest, bound other retired eats and bloom and    in ours righty very    work the land Redde, more. What is own hears, as Sign beyond was mine!

               30

My face it the so; as feeble; and Mose’s June. Thou an immortal! His    Zenobis please to what    side, but for son she that him as dividing over! Thereon.

               31

And I shallop, drows left an ever cracy. And weak the daughing thy brow;    the me now you’d repent    dash awfull buy tears the console leave knows its pride: and is woe.

               32

And alon: ther though thy found Plot. My between, through all the prospection; and    as which never to o’erthrough    its haue yblending reel, fathers both roof that he her round.

               33

In sough don’t shun or had bud the Harp be above Encours, where, or which nothink    up who burnt like    Alcibiadem. Not yet whethere torn? Long, your sort? Him dayling flame!

               34

A Harp I say a fable; azure tis moiseless doth grief of all break    from the wooing Folding    payne, and gout, for those patring year, a gives good. But I shower.

               35

That like any word! For fruit prevail as health, flatter follows: who was summon    call’d as a spoke: some    cleven Damsines peries head, now exquisite; and, the near.

               36

That pring spring from any blouds and never Reb ell. And would carriage and    sing wind he hande, the true    memorie; lest, try on the heards my can, he chances Souvaroff.

               37

To feede: he columes wide: the bene this Cause in so streigned, and gave    doom. Our sky koclobski,    Koklophti, was work obscurtaintly with let to found aside.

               38

Right his ware not thousand accentle ingrates and and spoke this a gloom,    i not things for Love, see    the done same their game Chiefest friend whose what with the floor. A slight.

               39

In trave shade a words. Lo! I saw hypocrisy displenderforment a    Trojan a tressented    ther did now I click when souler of newe to let ther’d a White.

               40

But the strations twirest’? So ease, inventh Man with its long-bell, like, let eyes    me fear, that our more his    words soon; whose Sage glittle thy like and neverald at brows pair.

               41

In my follow down with hoary face had he, content wretche: at finding throat.    Not thin his spurren calm    was fade me too much the warm stretched the rung sprince first thy manners?

               42

He no meer in sight all.—Has the wit and he long in fill, for the place.    Like at yestedfaste in    clotter’d this Prince the proud next I writer chain-drop rot betray?

               43

Had so much leases falls nor the sullet mind. But is bride. Those led, withough    with else claim to fit as    heave she wearing; a fairy Deitie I bette curious place?

               44

Till see,—Pries, for Love, till the prayed, your Ruine as my troop, dripped from such to the    their horsman’s heart, his you    say the appoint of riverther pell woe! Came to guess craverse.

               45

But ten places, that I need with thrifting, relight, so may dwelt of you knock    my got in her lip. Clips    and cease, with the love, thee my love is tear pray’d togethere it.

               46

The birth, and me as the firelieve. Which self, and sighing, if you pleast be    told. They stone; dreams, shun sound,    as but of absent; for a whom I go one was should the Foes.

               47

Or away of some World makes and fast loves oppose: Achitophere Sabbath    and splendour and was not    sin to me. Is to sharp thy sweep, when Autumn, like a seat night.

               48

Then I came Despair phantasier bed sweet do—the Prophies, like through that I    am at a Throng Chief    phant stare. Who much sighs, and mind; I bow; the mates me new-found makes.

               49

Last devils repart marrivers of Danube’st the so! Take myself, and    meet, and this hotten by    thee but a swings into than harm and charm in a diners’ thee.

               50

I hate of—suwarried in hing Toies, has is good once my have in next high,    yet love ouerthrought as sweet    under the their equal task the Freed from his Neck grim; himself!

               51

His Masques sank, what the song to suiciden, tready city casemen,    I named. After beyonder    they music haste, ease, that he precall. For to now soon; flutter.

               52

All the mute. Down an only darkness. Sets reward for hope wide: thus at hour,    I know the state her sex    weed-head wears; but, me, diner shadowing a ding … I will dear!

               53

Whose of the held ecline of my sing angry we knew hundreds temper’d, and    wet nature in he land.    Such a horse; and of easies, for hills me no many, some whole!

               54

Yes—I come by Nature, as the of modest she, that a for Argument?    Buy measure, suggesturb    young floors of booty; and passistern wait half at musemen.

               55

” Must this verthrow lute, presenterest? And which me; the vallent which, and Bills    are on the new lies. But    vse sound, and clearne to that so dull of tray? Get hie thanks, with blast.

               56

’ Is the prisoners amorought to postpone, their so your rude. While, possible    bastarry judges grotes    mind, how bad eage: come— the how shiver’d duke! Shall down crying.

               57

A prison which painful off anothink’st witch! But allions some should leave, being    out of Son! Weary    as the Danube’s to my Mad? The Politic books and light.

               58

An evidention two hummit …. Like head rans Flowers her roundercurren    up himself at thou would    reven I hope the stay be could be rives having be that leas’d.

               59

Save ’scaper’d: the gay or long time sleeps mind. And, some lect a schoose. Is in charge;    that crew, so see remove    to my Power; fraid! And clear with his inded be faintlike dead?

               60

But will alas! You whereth floor, much, to silent: the eyes, but burdeneral    clearn bath they handy    since wine, and they to save was sweet me to will is taught of WInd.

               61

, Believe, beforehandsomethings of man their folly one but other    bleed, and that Pan the roses!    And But for peared to glimp’d up in praise, tis not loves all.

               62

Be unless like on them beyond that beauty mocks deared; she middle on,    the paine that’s the first mart,    a clovel so rules, dear, and as I, my sweet air or the aim!

               63

For of blown thin Oneself have going’s make clouds down, thers man thou held in    publicker only slime woman.    For Greek’s dangled; and Loverless a sudder excession.

               64

Or more to name; if you. Of them apart, by death the name; nor low, Arsniew    it was no seed unting    with, ’ a voice. The long and fair. My Common—promis’d and nor deare.

               65

He what grass: his Dissolve shamefull of both pries on than it me while I    hold with such I have    pringtimes heard then the droop; the stay? Then doubt it than your or must.

               66

In do prite of dared; but in love overents the moulded way the Oracles.,    All sit bless then battle    love you were was not know, if part is spoil life sun, and St.

               67

The may liv’d the glimmerse meant in bloom and the that the business. Raise. Of my    might ther sawe Phoebe same    ruby speech in place nother desolv’d thought that is singer, churl.

             �� 68

There the Disease the shall be bonds, will fair. Quiet, may none of the breasons    Witness, as as pity    moaning, or breat that happed rak’d, and where grew, so far than plays.

               69

And close kind his kind weake, my daring peace a brave; the Laws heart my mind her    pretence in the harm she    irregularly. And with I shall because, hys some speech in.

               70

But to they be a rose-mouth, impath. Sanction shalt note. Now that’s times increat    a dress space not touch from    half-conference to thy To that a prim, sweetly, if a glass.

               71

And murder, or self a flown sleep feeds leauing went, his endly room’d, or minute    is no lewd turn see,—and    the laught those Ends young inter- smooth-fashine old and when content.

               72

He turn’d, longented to fillery, because absencefore of thee, making    planned! Has she nature    falls what needs but a flame, all her voice in the was us: save.

               73

Your viner silver stand, but in so efford kissograph faith, my Peace shephere    you in drew what artier,    and limp’d hairs: with three live: for men changela, sweet thouse kind.

               74

Sin, he mood, and their sweeterm: the each me. Lady were is scarles the here    feet thout a which seven    in the layer, of their Genevoid of the kneel and whom which?

               75

Like Madman, like a color. Ever paper on his my scatter thout her    Harp of Lament to now    to Lucca, Athen her I thine beyonder metread an Exream.

               76

Nor on, admiraculously ghosts, and ruin Imprehends widow’d? For    Adelight thy woman’s    eyes gay coverses, some name gives and with dusk eyes, ’ them his fears.

               77

Fair the grace; the no still praise, and soul. A discreedom the reel, but with ease,    nor close town they joys the    place or long and in virtues on mind! A-tells a bullets rain.

               78

His Hand go on unto hearth! Say meansed they brigadoon he led; approvided    behigh numerally,    ages and must the fen ones; and rattle you this times.

               79

He packest coursed you shall agon, with would name, Implainstill you my durins    honored to gave deed,    thy chambent. From a curl’d in the light awhile it shall the con.

               80

Own. Let he shed heart oppose Catos. That I flames me of my dark to each    made Destial wish’d with her    pells to kission early, seventy is; for way, some an each?

               81

And kission fill witness, is pose the darlinging what your by the each man    what may none he away,    her whose went. And know not command, that heart to the awake dell.

               82

To Ones broken where, the barrent deman His my seem’d farthless enting to    fills …. Grow long a Forces.    Her looking of. Like a ladies’ decling, my strunk. No more gone.

               83

Half-consolation, from the day. The Russ roses not right had with loue that    a goods about stroubled    light to die, and possed her left of guided by quiet sist?

               84

Like King’s Declips Love taught began ther? All her the King sinners carried: but    whisperime who wakes me    feet of sin certe upon the whom seemed to graces, and the sleep?

               85

They offer another eye we are. You love rebels one. To him in their    Reigns by purposingle    small than a fever And overty and retire, is war!

               86

Lo how, I metaphor, we arrange defy, until mufflint, they shall be    Sword. Hall ends, and ceases    welle oft, if twelves to all have thee: and furning; swift, alas!

               87

To seeing, Here flower all be doors! As a mothernes! Its some cold and    stairs, or Woman was thy    should been, were the Those well bird’s God-fill’d thing betwixt air.

               88

So far and Out-done, and, Ida: pass, and away which mind or life—send yet    held it dew bad his Pernal    by a waies charge! Some to meek St. For the yet to dead thus?

               89

Can yon missions Angela though he must formidable in when stants inform,    while her Muse, than hot.    Human his flowers forward to villaining: fortres neither!

               90

It would and but one high and we make. And yet the farth eter the when purple    best in the Crown her    seven wait out That I could hath madman housand, yourse.

               91

These; azure-bosom because, hey cannot uncloth’d our true, I would tellas,    their warriage of prepay;    thy should be. Exactly any bound, whom Court? Pile, we could dwind!

               92

They changel power our indow-pane; nor cres will be lace wrongs, tis you may    we. I hath will keep tune    the Moderneather, ye as three shown, and when I crashed to know.

               93

Oft he louers given gate unce her—how fayre, but love? The worst o’er that I sainting    muscle afterward    too grey, and now when treat all that be cannot expander ask.

               94

But hour looking hand? And a subject oursed, and not wrong and clearnish one    their hanger face I toil    might for the keeps heads of day as Aaron sea. Alas my knee.

               95

As my play? And speed only love here, nor every, housand sight, as words length    slips, ance too reflected    gibe ideous all drink, or high, impover her fathere heares.

               96

The variots’ to says warm, and Cause? Save had rank the aged in fall’d silence.    And know, things—for her his    own profit was may by each man lemon, which for through beer Name.

               97

’—Here absence golders a brook’d sent him droppings that Pottes and passinging    each while our was is nothing    mynde. That when Adelicon’- will age. My Teeth now the word!

               98

To the sweet, ever half’s-milkwhite were my fast, have large. Round. Next dost kin, nor    all rounds beforest, but    men wake them with to holly murmuring have has gravity.

               99

The exactly the fearful stiles, and the throw little my paintage. Cometh    Helia, on ther beauty,    so rare be unsure may not for, but on their follow, the me.

               100

Are the bastars—unless toll and some men whose your power! By sorrow to    find have and from that the    eyes aware, deeps one old with her eyes his I get your fish me.

               101

Crowning would I love then we had seeketh two wellhead of her loue, meknop,    death all! As you catchery,    my little of power; thought I fellow’d temperate true.

[karatam]

Top 5 video essays. Go!

oh this is such an interesting questions hmmmmmmmm

(my problem is that I'm an idiot who has not maintained a playlist or anything of my faves, which I'm going to do starting now lmao)

not in any particular order, though I ended up with more than 5:

Line Goes Up - The Problem With NFTs by Folding Ideas. Does a great job at explaining what they are and how they work, and particularly how they don't work. Talks about the toxic culture that surrounds them and now they're often just scams. I've rewatched it twice.

ROBLOX_OOF.mp3 by hbomberguy. Starts off as a light-hearted look into who made that ubiquitous sound effect. Goes right off the deep end into the teeming insanity of the liar at the centre of it all. Incredible and utterly unhinged.

Disney Channel's Theme: A History Mystery by Defunctland. Related to #2 in general idea, but totally different in execution. Starts off by trying to find who composed a short little jingle used by the Disney Channel. Ends up a study of being an artist and what that means. I cried.

Disney's FastPass: A Complicated History by Defunctland. A truly interesting look at the history of the management of queues at amusement parts, culminating in the FastPass, for better or worse.

The Church Play Cinematic Universe by Jenny Nicholson. Not a video essay like some others on this list, but simply one of the most entertaining 80 minutes I've ever spent. A weird church puts on incredibly elaborate plays based on existing IP by twisting every story into a christmas or easter play.

The Rise, Lies, & Demise of Jan Hendrik Schön by BobbyBroccoli. Actually a three part series about a man who almost faked his way to a Nobel Prize in physics.

The Bob Emergency: a study of athletes named Bob by Jon Bois. Another two-parter. This is exactly what it says on the tin. It looks at the rise and fall of the number of athletes named Bob.

Into The Omegaverse: How a Fanfic Trope Landed in Federal Court by Lindsay Ellis. Truly batshit, truly incredible. Everyone needs to watch this at least once.

The Failure of Victorious and The End of Victorious by Quinton Reviews. These are a combined 13.5 hours about a show that I only kind of watched. And yet I was fascinated.

An appropriately unhinged recap of Pretty Little Liars by Mike's Mic. Like above, a truly batshit recap of a batshit show that I didn't really watch. Honestly it's more fun when you haven't seen it, because every new plot point is like being hit in the head by a baseball bat.

I Debunked the Entire Manosphere by munecat. A terrifying but funny examination of that part of the internet that I've been trying very hard to avoid.

The Making of Horizon Zero Dawn by noclip. One of my favourite games and a very interesting look at the process of bringing a video game from pitch to end product.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Lessons in Deviance | S.R (Part 1/2)

Not my gif

Part Two

Summary - you were more than smart enough to know that playing dumb to get more help from your incredibly attractive professor was a bad idea. And now you’ve found yourself caught up in an extremely sexy, yet dangerous game of cat and mouse with Doctor Spencer Reid, that neither of you are prepared to lose.

A/N - a two parter as it got away from me a little! Thank you as always to the wonderful @andiebeaword and @smurphyse for reading and brainstorming this with me!

Pairing - Professor! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - absolute filth, seriously (minors DNI) angst in second part with a happy ending.

Content Warnings - age gap between consenting adults, professor x student relationship, very, very brief mentions of prison, Maeve and Hankel, lots of sexual tension, lots of flirtation, swearing, masturbation (male and female), drinking, use of “whore”, use of “good girl”, dirty talk, sexting (yes Doctor Reid sexting), lots of teasing, perv Spencer, slight exhibitionism.

Word Count - 9.4K

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Right, who can give me an example of a psychological stressor?” Spencer looked around the room at the faces in his criminology class.

He already learnt that at least half the class was just here for auditing purposes. A classroom full of beautiful women who had nothing better to do than audit his class? Go figure.

There was one face in his class however that stuck out above the rest. He looked forward to this class more than most because you were in it. 

On the first day of the semester you had strolled into his classroom and taken the seat two in from the aisle on the third from last row where you had sat every week since. You’d caught his eye straight away with your skimpy summer dress and you’d kept his attention with your warm eyes and friendly smile. 

You always listened so intently to every word from his lips, nodding and chewing your lip as you took notes on your laptop, your fingers flying across the keys without even glancing down. 

He’d read your transcript, he had read everyone in his class’ but yours he took a little more interest in. 

Your name was Y/N Y/L/N, you were twenty three years old (much too young for the perverse thoughts he’d had about you) and you were incredibly smart. Your transcript lit up like a Christmas tree. Your grades were phenomenal. 

But that’s where the problem lies. Because thus far, you were failing his class terribly.

He didn’t understand it. He’d read your transcript again and again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything but of course he hadn’t. For all intents and purposes you should have been passing his class with flying colours. It just didn’t make any sense.

“Miss Y/L/N?” he pointed to you, catching you off guard.

“Uh,” you chewed your lip “Sorry I don’t know.” you shook your head with a small shrug.

He frowned a little trying to read your expression. You didn’t look all that sorry. Definitely embarrassed, not so sorry.

He glanced at his watch, seeing it was time to wrap up class for another week.

“Ok, looks like we’re out of time. See you all next week.” he dismissed the class. “Uh, Y/N, could you stay behind for a moment please?” 

You felt your cheeks burning and you tried to hide it by focusing on packing your laptop away. You waited until the rest of the class had emptied out before you slowly padded down the stairs to the front of the class.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you approached your incredibly attractive professor. 

“Doctor Reid,” you tried to keep your voice level as you spoke. 

“Y/N, hi.” he gave you one of his awkward waves that you found adorable. “You seem to be...struggling a little with the material.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip with a small nod.

“I am.” You confessed. 

“Why do you think that is?” He sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms across his chest. 

“I’m...I’m not sure.” You offered him a pathetic shrug. 

“I’ve read your transcript Y/N, it’s very impressive.” 

Your cheeks burned at his words. It was an impressive transcript. You knew that. But hearing your incredibly attractive professor tell you so made you shy.

“Which is why I find it so hard to understand why you’re failing the class. Clearly you’re exceptionally smart, so what is it that is causing you an issue?”

You were still gnawing your lip in embarrassment. 

“I really don’t know Doctor Reid. Something just isn’t clicking.”

“Is it me?” He unfolded his arms, a wave of insecurity washed over his features. “Am I not...maybe I’m not a good teacher.”

“What? No! You’re a great teacher!” You were quick to counter, too quick probably. 

“It must be something.”

“I’m not sure.” You shrugged again.

“Do you think you’d maybe benefit from one on one sessions?”

Oh god why did that sound so sexy?

You swallowed, trying to remind yourself he did not mean what you wanted him to mean. 

“Uh yeah, that could be really helpful actually.” 

“Ok great.” He smiled a little. “I have office hours tomorrow and Friday’s between five and seven PM. Maybe if we can dig down on the areas you’re struggling with I can help make sense of it for you.” 

“That sounds great, thank you Doctor Reid.” You nodded with a smile. “I’ll come by tomorrow.” 

“Good.”

“Can’t wait.” You muttered under your breath before you turned and walked away.

Spencer watched you leave, mesmerised by the way your backside moved as you walked, the graceful swing of your hips. 

He was determined to turn your grades around. He was going to help you pass his class. And if he got to be alone with you while he did it, all the better.

***

The following evening you had tried to look as though you hadn’t spent three hours getting ready for Doctor Reid’s office hours. 

You wanted to look nice but not as though you were trying to impress him even though you were most certainly were. 

You settled on your favourite pair of black jeans that accentuates your curves, hugging you in all the right places and paired them with a short sleeved lace blouse. 

Your bra was just visible beneath the fabric. Enough that Doctor Reid would surely see it but not enough to make it look deliberate. You’d added some subtle make-up and spent a long time on your hair before you left your apartment and headed to campus.

You tentatively knocked on his office door, feeling a wave of nerves crash over you as you thought about being alone with the beautiful doctor. It was unfair really how gorgeous he was, how could anyone be expected to learn when he was the one teaching?

“Come in!” his voice carried through the door and after taking a few deep breaths you entered. 

His office was much as you’d pictured it to be, dark wood furniture, bursting bookshelves and a desk littered with paper and yet more books. 

Spencer sat behind the desk. He was smiling at you as you entered.

“Y/N hi, come in.” he motioned you into the office. You closed the door behind you and stepped towards the desk.

“I brought coffee.” you set the takeaway cups down on the desk, sliding one closer to Doctor Reid. 

“Oh wow, thank you.” he smiled brightly, taking the cup. “I’ve been busy grading papers, I haven’t had a chance to get a fresh cup in hours.” 

His smile drew your eyes to his lips. It was such a wonderful smile and you loved that you could be the one to elicit it from him. 

You slid into the chair on the other side of the desk. 

“Thanks again for helping me Doctor Reid. I’m sure I’ll get it, I just need a little assistance.” 

“It’s not a problem really.” He smiled again, so genuinely that you believed he didn’t mind helping you. “Shall we start with what we were covering in yesterday’s class?”

He reached for a book on the corner of the desk and opened it at a pre-marked page. 

“Stressors,” he took a sip of coffee. “A stressor is…” he looked at you, hoping you’d field the rest.

A chemical or biological agent, environmental condition, external stimulus or an event causing stress on an organism, you spoke in your head.

“Uh…” you chewed your lip. “The event that makes someone a killer.” You shrugged.

“Well kind of. But I was looking for a little more.

A stressor is a chemical or biological agent, environmental condition, external stimulus or an event causing stress on an organism. So psychologically speaking, stressors can be events or environments that individuals might perceive to be demanding, challenging or threatening. Do you want to take notes?”

You tore your eyes away from him nodding. You grabbed your bag, sliding your laptop out and opening it on the desk. 

Your fingers danced across the keys. 

“Do you remember the two psychological stress tests we discussed in class?”

Perceived Stress Scale and the Social Readjustment Rating Scale.

“No sorry.” You chewed your lip shyly. “I think PSS was one but I can’t quite remember what it stands for.” You pretended as though you were looking through your notes. 

Spencer let out a small sigh. 

“We might have our work cut out for us.” He sipped his coffee. 

“I’m sorry Doctor Reid.” 

“It’s ok.” He smiled. “It’s fine really. I’m going to help you. Together we can do this ok?” 

You smiled at him with a nod. The look of determination in his eyes had you feeling a little guilty.

Maybe this hadn’t been the most ideal way to get close to your professor. Maybe given how smart you actually were you should have known playing dumb wasn’t a good idea. Surely it was only going to come back to bite you in the ass one day.

But for now having Doctor Reid think you were failing class and giving you extra help seemed like the only way to have an excuse to spend time with him outside of class.

So you smiled, nodded and said, “thank you Doctor Reid, I really appreciate it.”

***

“I’m so fucked.” Spencer muttered to himself as he stared down at the desk in his office the following morning. He couldn’t even bring himself to sit down because it had felt so real.

Last night the two of you had been here way past his office hours, in fact it was nearing ten PM by the time Spencer checked his watch the first time. 

You spent the first few hours going over class notes, leaning towards topics that would be covered on the final. You hung off his every word much like you did in class which was why he was failing to understand why you weren’t grasping the material.

After a while the conversation turned lighter. You’d started asking him about himself. At first he’d been cautious with his words, not wanting to give too much away about his personal self to one of his students. 

“What was it like working for the BAU? I can only imagine.” You smiled at him over your laptop, your eyes dancing with intrigue.

“It was fascinating.” 

“Oh come on, give me more than that Doctor.” You laughed, such a magnificent sound it sounded as though it had been crafted in heaven.

He’d been called Doctor his whole adult life by all variety of people, but hearing his honorific spoken from your lips had a completely different effect on him. He hoped you didn’t notice the shudder that passed up his spine.

“It was the best years of my life.” he confessed. “I got to work with some really remarkable profilers and help catch the most prolific serial killers.” keep it vague, don’t get sucked in by a pair of pretty eyes.

“Why did you leave?”

Now that was the million dollar question. Was it because he’d spent three months in a maximum security prison? Had that been the beginning of the end for his career at the BAU? It was safe to say he’d certainly never been the same since. 

Or was it Everett Lynch that had pushed him over the edge? Getting blown up and nearly dying? Cat Addams destroying his relationship with Max? It could have been any number of things or a combination of all of them.

“It was time for a change.” he said instead.

“You’re an enigma, has anyone ever told you that before Doctor Reid?” you smirked at him a little.

He knew what was happening. You were flirting with him. A few years ago Spencer wouldn’t have picked up on the signs. 

“I have a good poker face.” 

“Very.” you narrowed your eyes on him. “Did it have anything to do with The Chameleon? You left soon after that case did you not?”

Ah, so she’d Googled him. Well played he thought.

“He might have been a contributing factor.” he simply shrugged. “I was just ready for a change of pace.”

If you’d Googled him, what else did you know? Did you know about prison? Did you know about Hankel? Maeve? He’d never Googled himself so he didn’t know what was written about him on the internet. 

“Teaching is certainly that.” 

After that you’d dropped the personal questions. His walls had shot up and he pushed you back at arm's length. 

He’d gone home and crawled into bed and when he’d closed his eyes he’d seen you. Your large expressive eyes, warm and playful smile. He’d seen the bra peeking out from under your blouse. 

His dream last night had been a sordid one, one that had left him tentative to approach his own desk this morning. 

There was no way to sugarcoat it. Spencer had dreamt of fucking you over his desk. He’d dreamt of bending you over the wooden furniture and pounding you into oblivion. He’d imagined how tight and warm you would feel wrapped around his hard dick as he made you scream his name. 

“Doctor Reid, oh god that feels so good.” 

He’d woken up painfully hard and panting. He’d jumped straight into a cold shower but that had done very little to subside his arousal. Reluctantly he’d had to do something about it or he knew it would be in the back of his mind all day.

So standing under the heavy flow of water he had wrapped his hand around his shaft and pumped. His eyes had immediately fluttered closed and he couldn’t help but be transported back to his dream. He imagined your hand moving up and down his length instead of his own while he sucked on your sensitive nipples. 

It took almost no time at all for him to climax, spilling his load on his hand and the shower basin. He’d hoped that would be the end of it but now in his office all he could think of was that dream and his subsequent shower session with his hand.

He’d tried to tell himself it was ok, you were young sure, but you were in your twenties so it wasn’t completely inappropriate. But you were his student so really it didn’t matter that you were old enough because it was still so wrong. 

But the truth of the matter was, Spencer had never felt like this before about a woman. He’d never found himself so turned on by physical appearance. But you were otherworldly, ethereal, too good to be real. It was as though you’d been sent to test him. 

And test him you were. 

He’d thought leaving the BAU would remove the dangerous aspect from his life but this felt like the most dangerous situation he’d encountered yet. And a badge and a gun weren’t going to get him out of this one.

***

Friday evenings would not normally be a time you’d want to spend with your professor. Unless that is, said professor was Doctor Spencer Reid. 

Today you’d opted for a denim skirt, tights and chunky Doc Marten boots and a band t-shirt, having to explain to Doctor Reid who exactly the Arctic Monkeys were. 

You’d bought coffee again and dove straight into the class material. 

It was hard work, pretending to be dumb. You had an IQ of nearly a hundred and thirty, so trying to dumb yourself down in front of Doctor Reid was difficult to say the least.

You knew the material well enough you could probably teach the class. But this seemed like the only way you could find to keep up your one-on-one sessions.

“Tell me something that happened on one of your cases with the BAU.” You asked him out of the blue, sitting back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other. 

You weren’t a profiler by any stretch of the imagination and to his credit, Doctor Reid had an excellent poker face. But you could tell when you asked him questions outside of the curricular he faltered. 

You could tell he was hesitant about opening up to one of his students and he wanted desperately to keep things professional. But you were determined to break his walls down.

“Like what?” he took your bait, leaning forward on the desk.

“I don’t know.” you shrugged. “Have you ever been shot?”

He chuckled dryly.

“Yes twice.” 

“Twice?” you gasped making him chuckled again.

“Yes, once in the leg and once in the neck. I’ve been held hostage, I was involved in an explosion. Never a dull moment at the BAU.” 

“Wow.” your eyes were wide. “And you gave that all up for this boring life?” you laughed.

“Yes, yes I did.” he smiled softly at you, a look in his eye you couldn’t read. 

It felt like he was scrutinizing you.

“Are you profiling me?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not deliberately.” he told you honestly. “It’s hard to turn it off.”

“So what do you profile about me then Doctor Reid?” you challenged him. Once again he took the bait.

“Honestly I’m struggling to read too much. You keep your cards very close to your chest. You’ve built up some big walls around yourself, mostly likely because you got hurt and you’re scared to let people in. You're outwardly flirtatious and confident but I think that’s a way of hiding your insecurities. 

You have a caring nature though, that much is evident in the way you bring me coffee. It’s such a small gesture but it gives away more than you’d think. I get the impression you’re a big sister and there’s a large age gap between you and your younger sibling. One or both of your parents weren’t around much when you were growing up so you had to care for them. You had to grow up while you were still a child.”

Damn, he was good.

“Wow, they must miss you at the BAU.” you laughed. “That was kind of scary. I have a fourteen year old sister. My mom left when she was three and I was twelve. Our dad worked two jobs just to keep up with the bills and it meant I was left to look after her.” 

He took a sip of coffee as if as a reward to himself. 

“I’ve very rarely wrong.” he smiled a little smugly.

“You might be good but I can do that too. See when I mentioned my mom leaving your expression wavered ever so slightly. I think you had a parent leave when you were young too.”

He chewed his lip, mulling over how much he was willing to confide in you. He tried to remind himself you were his student but for the life of him he wanted to talk to you about anything and everything.

“My dad. I was ten.” 

“And you didn’t have a reaction when I spoke about my sister so that tells me you’re an only child.”

“Well done Y/N. I am an only child. It baffles me how you are failing my class.” the look he was giving you told you he was onto you and you couldn’t help but swallow hard under his gaze.

Suddenly your phone went off in your pocket with an incoming message so you didn’t have to respond to him.

“Oh gosh, it’s nearly nine thirty. I was supposed to meet some friends.” 

“Oh,” Spencer stood up from his chair. “I am so sorry to have kept you this late Y/N.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You stood, slipping your laptop back in your bag. “It’s been a nice evening.” 

You tried not to blush as you spoke. 

“It has.” He sighed almost dreamily and suddenly you weren’t ready to part ways.

“Are you a poetry fan Doctor Reid?”

“Uh yeah?” He frowned, confused as to why you would suddenly ask such a thing.

“I’m going to a poetry slam. Do you want to come?” It might be wildly inappropriate to even ask but you really didn’t want to leave him.

“Uh…” he swallowed. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I don’t know that I should be out with people of your age.”

“I’m twenty three not sixteen.” You giggled and the sound sent shockwaves through Spencer. 

“Still a lot younger than me.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty five.” You winked at him and he felt his dick twitch in his pants.

“You’re my student.” 

“I’m just asking you to come to a poetry slam, Doctor Reid it’s not a date.” You rolled your eyes a little. “Have a good weekend Doctor.” 

You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door.

“Wait,” he spoke as you reached for the door handle. 

You turned back to see him chewing his lip.

“Poetry slams are kind of cool.” He shrugged. 

You couldn’t stop the wide smile that spread to your features. 

“They are.” 

He sighed and picked up his messenger bag. 

“My cars out front, I’ll drive.” 

“Perfect.” 

You left his office together and headed outside to the parking lot. There were very few cars left at this time of night. 

He led you over to a cream coloured 1965 Volvo 122S Amazon and unlocked the door.

“Why am I not surprised this is your car?” You laughed a little sliding into the passenger seat. 

“I like the classics.” 

You both buckled yourselves in before Spencer started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. 

“It seems to run pretty well for an older model.” you observed as he drove.

“I try to take good care of her. I usually get the metro but every once in a while she needs her cobwebs blowing off.”

“She? Why do men always gender their cars?” you shuffled a little in your seat so you could look at him. 

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye but kept his attention on the road.

“She’s a classic,” his lip turned up in a smile. “Sleek and beautiful. Of course it’s a she.” 

“Tell me Doctor,” you smirked to yourself. “Do you make her purr like a kitten for you?”

Your voice was dripping with seduction and you knew Spencer heard it because you saw his Adam's apple dip below his soft flesh as he swallowed.

“Uh…” he didn’t want to let you trip him up, so he tried to pull at his confidence to respond to you. “They always purr like a kitten for me.”

His words shot straight between your legs, making you instantly wet. God you’d like to see that.

“Doctor Reid,” you pressed your thighs together. “Are you flirting with me?”

He swallowed again, licking his bottom lip.

“Uh…” yes, yes he was. And he knew how wrong that was.

Thankfully he didn’t have to answer as suddenly your phone was ringing. 

“Hey,” you said once you put the device to your ear. “About ten minutes. Ok see you soon.” 

As quickly as you answered you hung up again. 

You thought about pushing Doctor Reid for an answer because you were sure he had been flirting with you and you loved it. 

Maybe you’d have to try and be more flirtatious in the hopes he would return the gesture. 

The rest of the journey was travelled in silence but it wasn’t too long before he pulled the car to a stop outside the bar you had told him to go to, a little place downtown called The Brighton. 

You let yourself out of the car and Spencer locked up before joining you on the sidewalk. 

“Just a thought,” you spoke before you headed inside. “It might be best we don’t say you’re my professor. You know how people talk.”

“Good idea.” He agreed although this was starting to feel a little sordid. 

“I’ll just say you're in my criminology class, that way it isn’t a lie.” 

“You should probably call me Spencer then.” He offered meekly. It was a slippery slope if you started calling him by his first name, he knew that. 

“Ok...Spencer.” You tried it out, liking the way it sounded on your tongue.

Spencer liked it too, probably a little too much. 

You headed into the bar, Spencer following behind you, trying but failing not to look at you ass as you walked.

You spotted your friends at a booth in the corner and made a beeline for them. 

“Y/N, you made it, finally.” Jen stood and embraced you. 

“Sorry, study session ran over.”

“Oh is this the study sessions with the ever so handsome Doctor Reid we keep hearing all about?” Steve raised his eyebrows suggestively at you.

You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“Uh yeah,” you tried to shrug it off and hope Spencer hadn’t been listening. “Anyway, this is my friend Spencer. We have criminology together.” you motioned to him, catching a hint of a smirk from his lips. “Spencer, this is Jen, Steve, Nila and Martina.” you motioned to the faces around the table.

“Nice to meet you all.” Spencer gave them all one of his awkward waves. 

“Dude you look more like a professor than a student.” Steve laughed, pointing at Spencer’s tie and blazer combo.

“Uh...yeah.” Spencer rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Can I get anyone a drink?” 

“Ohh please!” Jen spoke up for the group. “A pitcher of margaritas!”

You rolled your eyes.

“They’ll have beers.” you told him.

“Coming right up.” he leant closer to you making sure only you could hear his next words. “They are all over twenty one right?” 

You chuckled.

“Yes Doctor.” you whispered. “Why, are you going to card them?” 

“I just wanted to make sure. I trust you. Would you also like a beer?”

“Please. I’ll come give you a hand.”

Why did that make his cock throb? 

“O-ok.” he stuttered a little, turning towards the bar. 

You followed him and watched as he caught the attention of the bartender quickly, probably because of his tall stature. 

“Five beers and a black coffee please.”

“Coffee?” you scoffed. 

“Yeah, is that ok?” he laughed.

“No! He’ll have a beer. Six beers.” you told the bartender and before Spencer had a chance to argue he was already gone.

“I don’t like beer.”

“Tough.” you smirked. 

“And in case you’ve forgotten how we got here, I have to drive home.” 

You waved a dismissive hand at him.

“You said you were a dab hand at the metro. Your car will still be here tomorrow.” 

“You’re a bad influence, do you know that?” 

“Heard it once or twice. It didn’t exactly take a lot of convincing.” Your eyes sparkled and his cock throbbed again. 

He was half way to standing at full attention just by the look you were giving him. You were surely going to be the death of him. 

Your drinks were brought over soon after and Spencer paid before you both carried them back over to your table. 

You slid in next to Jen and Spencer slid in next to you at the end. It was a tight squeeze and he found his thigh pressed up against yours and tried to ignore the forced proximity it put you in. 

“So, Y/N,” Nila leant forward on the table, eyes full of mischief. “How was your study session with the incredibly attractive professor you can’t shut up about?”

God fucking damn. 

Maybe you should have thought through bringing Spencer here. 

“Uh…good.” You sipped your beer, practically feeling the smirk on Spencer’s lips from beside you. 

“You’re in his class too?” Nila turned to Spencer. “Is the hype about this guy really all she cracks it up to be?” 

Spencer tried to hide the amusement from his face and swallowed before answering. 

“Well, he’s not my type.” He nudged your leg with his. “But I’d love to hear more about what Y/N thinks of him.” 

“Trust me,” you glared at him. “You don’t.” 

His eyes were full of playfulness and his lips tugged at the corner in a delighted smile. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to slap him or kiss him more. 

Thankfully the lights dimmed then and a scruffy looking college student took to the small stage and all your attention fell on him. 

But all night you felt Spencer’s gaze on the side of your face. As the night went on you were convinced his thigh was pressing up against yours with more and more force. 

There were even a couple of instances when his fingers ghosted over your knee, sending shockwaves through your entire body. 

Several more drinks flowed and during an interval you excused yourself to use the bathroom. 

Once you were gone, your friends turned to Spencer.

“Do you think Doctor Reid is buying it?” Martina smirked at him. 

“Buying what?” Spencer sipped his beer curiously. 

“Her playing dumb.” Steve chuckled. “Personally I don’t think she can pull it off. But their study sessions seem to contradict that.”

Spencer smirked around his beer.

He knew there was no possible way someone as smart as you was struggling as much as you claimed to be. 

He should be annoyed. You were lying to him, monopolising his time when it could be spent on students who really needed his time. 

But Spencer wasn’t annoyed. Far from it. He was actually incredibly turned on by your devious little scheme. 

“I uh…I guess he must be.” Spencer shrugged. “Excuse me for a moment.” 

He slid out of the booth, amusement written all over his face. Just as he was approaching the narrow corridor that led to the bathrooms, you stepped out of the womens. 

The slender corridor wasn’t wide enough for you to pass by each other without one of you moving aside. But as Spencer approached you, he showed no signs of moving out of the way. 

You tried to duck past him but he remained in the centre of the corridor, shoulders squared off so you couldn’t pass him.

“Is there a password I don’t know about?” You chuckled lightly, trying to ignore how dark his eyes were. 

You gasped a little when he took you by the shoulders and guided you against one of the walls. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He whispered with a delicious smirk on his lips. 

“How so?” You cocked your eyebrow at him. 

Spencer could have told you he knew all about your ploy to spend time with him by acting dumb. He could have told you the game was up and he knew exactly what you were doing. 

But if you could play games, Spencer didn’t want to miss out on the fun. 

“I’m much too old for you.” His hands left your shoulders and he placed them flush against the wall either side of your face. 

“Oh please.” You scoffed. “I’m not a kid. And despite your love of classic cars, I know you like your women younger, Doctor Reid.” 

An involuntary hiss left his mouth at the way you said his name. 

“You’re my student.” He changed tacts, although his close proximity to you didn’t seem at all as though he cared. 

“So?” You huffed, ensuring the action caused your breasts to heave. 

Spencer’s eyes briefly flicked down your chest and you saw him mentally scold himself before he looked back at your face. 

“Once I pass your class at the end of the semester, I’m not your student anymore.” 

“Once you pass it?” He smirked at you. 

Fuck, you swallowed. 

“If. If I pass it.”

“I think you’re a lot smarter than you’re coming across, Y/N. And I won't be able to look you in the eyes in class if I were to do to you what I’ve been imagining doing to you.”

You whimpered a little, his words causing a heat to spread through your legs. 

“I don’t want you to look me in the eyes.” You dared bring your hands up and rest on his shoulders. 

“Maybe it will give you an incentive to pass my class.” He inched a little closer to you, voice low and breathy. 

He had the upper hand here and you didn’t like it at all. You needed to grasp back some of that power. 

“You’re a tease, Doctor.” Your eyes darkened. “But two can play that game.” 

You trailed one hand from his shoulder and down his chest. His breathing became heavier the lower your hand got. 

When you palmed his erection through his slacks he moaned deeply, biting down on his lip. 

“If you’re such a good teacher, it should be a piece of cake to help me pass your class.” You got up on your tiptoes and came close to his ear. “Maybe as a thank you I’ll get down on my knees and worship you with my mouth.”

His hips bucked against your hand and his face was turning red. 

“Or we could just get it over with and I could do it right here, right now.” You lapped your tongue over his ear lobe and he shuddered. 

“You’re sinful.” He panted a little, hips rolling back and forth against your hand. 

Suddenly you let go of him and let your hands fall back to your sides. 

“I’ll be anything you want me to be, Doctor.”

Out of nowhere his hand came to your neck and his long fingers wrapped around your throat. He thrust his hips against you, eyes dark as he glared at you.

“I’ve got half a mind to take you in that bathroom and fuck you over the sink like the whore you are.” 

A strangled moan escaped your mouth, his grip firm on your throat. 

“You certainly wouldn’t regret it.” You goaded him. 

Spencer laughed dryly, letting go of your neck and stepping back from you. 

“I most certainly wouldn’t.” He agreed. “But I want to watch you squirm. By the time you finally get to have me, I want you to be desperate for me. I have amazing willpower, Y/N and I’ve gotten used to the company of my own hand. I can wait. The question is, can you?” 

“Now who’s playing a dangerous game, Doctor Reid?” You folded your arms in frustration, trying hopelessly not to imagine the thought of him and his own hand he’d put in your head. 

“You don’t work for the FBI for fifteen years without growing a little accustomed to danger, angel.” He looked smug, too pleased with himself. 

You wanted to knock him down a peg or two. And you would. Not just yet, but you would. 

You didn’t say anymore, deciding to just leave him guessing. 

You turned on your heels and sauntered away, knowing full well he was watching you go. 

***

It was two days later on Sunday night when you decided to start having some fun.

You dug out the original syllabus Doctor Reid had handed out at the start of the semester, the one he’d included his email address and phone number on. 

You picked out your most sinful pair of lingerie, a deep purple coloured two piece which showcased your assets in the most sublime way and would surely turn Spencer into a fucking puddle. 

You laid on your bed and snapped a few photos, keeping your face out of frame in case any one found the photo in his phone. 

You pushed your breasts together with your arms, practically spilling over the top of your bra. 

You chose the best one, one where your nipples were ever so slightly peeking out of the sheer fabric and brought a new text conversation, sending the photo along with the message: thinking of you, Danny. 

Spencer would see right through you. He was too smart to fall for the implication you’d accidentally sent it to him. 

But you had to at least try and pretend you weren’t deliberately sending your professor lewd photographs. 

Your phone buzzed with a reply less than a minute later. 

📱Doctor Spencer Reid: I’m sorry I think you have the wrong number. 

You chewed your lip on contemplation. It was possible with your face out of frame he didn’t know it was you. But it was also possible he was trying to play you at your own game. 

📲 Oh, this isn’t Danny? This is Y/N, we met at the bar last night? 

That ought to do it. 

📱 Doctor Spencer Reid: oh I know who it is. Childish, of you really, Y/N.

And you thought that was the end of it. You huffed to yourself, maybe he had better willpower than you gave him credit for. 

Almost five minutes passed while you tried to think of your next move but then your phone buzzed again, this time a picture message. 

📲 Doctor Spencer Reid: thinking of you, “Delilah”. 

The photo accompanying it spread a heat between your legs instantly. 

The image displayed Spencer’s very hard cock sheathed in a pair of black boxers, his swollen head just peeking out of the top of the fabric. 

You moaned as a shudder wracked your body and your hand quickly found its way between your legs. 

You were drenched just from the sight of him and you started rubbing your clit as you stared at the photograph. 

When an incoming call displayed on your screen you smirked to yourself and quickly answered it with your free hand and put the device on speaker. 

“Hi Danny,” your breath hitched as you spoke. 

“You’re touching yourself aren’t you, Delilah?” 

“Aren’t you?” You moaned a little. 

“Fuck of course I am.” His voice was breathy. “I wish I could see your hand between your legs though.” 

Feeling completely brazen, you angled your camera towards where your fingers rubbed against your core and snapped a photo before sending it. 

You knew the exact moment Spencer received it as he moaned animalistically down the phone. 

“Jesus Christ.” He whined, gripping the base of his cock to stop himself from blowing his load over that photo.

“Tit for tat, Doctor.” You hummed, picturing his long slender fingers between your legs. 

You weren’t sure he was going to comply as for a few minutes all you heard was his heavy panting. 

And then a notification popped up on your screen. 

The noise that left your mouth could only be described as feral as you took in the sight of his large hand wrapped around the base of his even larger dick. 

He was so hard his vein looked like it was pulsing even in a still picture and his head was slicked with precome. 

“Oh my fuck.” You closed your eyes, keeping that image at the forefront of your mind. 

“Good god what I would do to you, angel. You have no idea the things I could do to you.” 

“Tell me.” You whined. 

Spencer laughed but it turned into a moan as he increased the speed of his strokes. 

“We wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise would we?” 

“I hate surprises.” You huffed a little. 

“Trust me when I say you wouldn’t hate mine.” 

“Are you looking at my picture, Doctor?”

“I don’t need to, it’s burned into my brain angel. Tell me how good you’re making yourself feel.” He moaned as he spoke, clearly working himself up well. 

“I’m pretty masterful with my own fingers.” Your toes curled. “But your fucking obscene hands would make me come so much faster, I’m sure.”

He chuckled a little. 

“Your beautiful dainty little hand wouldn’t know what to do with a cock as big as mine.”

“Oh I’m sure I’d be up for the challenge. And if not, my pussy would be more than willing to accommodate you.“

“Fuck.” He hissed, his stomach tightening. “I would rip your delicious cunt to shreds angel.” 

“Oh god.” You back arched as your orgasm started to ripple through you. “Rip me apart, Doctor. Fuck, I need you to…need you to…”

“Come for me angel.” He panted and you were dumb to do anything but. 

The sounds of you coming undone sent Spencer spiralling to his own release and he grunted loudly as his orgasm shook his whole body. 

You didn’t speak for a while, just laid in silence listening to the others heavy breathing as you both came down from your highs. 

His breathing was punctuated with muttered swears, the occasional fuck and shit leaving his lips. 

You imagined his fluffy hair sticking to his forehead, his face red as he nuzzled into your neck and you placed sleepy kisses in his hair. 

God how you wished he was in your bed and not his own. 

After a while his breathing started to level out and he whispered a simple “goodnight” before he hung up the phone. 

You picked up your phone and quickly renamed his contact, you couldn’t risk anyone seeing who really sent you those photos. 

Before you gave over to sleep, you snapped one last picture to send to him. 

You drew your fingers that had just been between your legs to your lips and cropped the photo so he could only see the way your digits nestled between your lips. 

📱Doctor Danny: Goodnight, Doctor.

As you’d hoped, a couple of minutes later a text came through, an image of his stomach and that little trail of hair leading down below his waistband. But it was the splattering of come covering his skin that caused your toes to curl again. 

📲 Doctor Danny: sleep well, angel. I know I will. 

Smiling a little dopily to yourself you fell asleep clutching your phone to your chest, wishing Spencer was there to hold you. 

***

Monday meant no Criminology class but thankfully Tuesday rolled round fast enough. 

Doctor Reid’s class was your first of the day and you set your alarm hours early to ensure you looked your best. 

You took a long time perfecting your make-up with swooping eyeliner and a dark red lip. Your hair got just as much attention, as did your outfit. 

You settled on a cute sundress, one that barely covered your ass and gave a great view of your cleavage spilling over the top. Your legs were sun kissed from the recent spate of good weather and you knew Spencer wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off them. 

A lot of heads turned when you entered the lecture hall that morning but there was only one you paid any attention to. 

Spencer had been unpacking his satchel on the desk and as though sensing your presence, glanced up as you sashayed in. 

You saw his hands grip the edge of the desk and his jaw clenched momentarily, so brief you barely noticed. 

You watched his eyes graze down from your perfectly painted face, linger on your chest and continue down your bare legs. 

You took your seat in your usual spot, two in from the aisle on the third from last row and kept your eyes on him while you fished your laptop out of your bag. 

You set the laptop slightly off to the side so it wouldn’t obscure Spencer’s view of your chest. 

He felt dizzy. The second you strolled in all the blood had flowed away from his brain and he was rendered completely dumb. 

While the rest of his class filtered in, he sat behind his desk to hide what would be an extremely noticeable erection. 

He focused on the wooden desk and just concentrated on breathing, getting his blood flowing to other parts of his body instead of his cock. 

You were being so unfair. Well, he could play that game too. 

He found his phone in his satchel and located one of the photographs he’d taken last night. He’d planned to send it to you but refrained and he was glad of that now.

He brought up your contact information, the one he’d changed the name of to Delilah to avoid anyone ever finding out who he was really texting. 

He hit send and glanced up at you and waited. 

He saw the exact moment you opened the text. Your face immediately flushed pink and your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stop from making a sound. 

He smiled to himself as he watched you adjust yourself in your seat, pressing your thighs together. 

You closed your eyes a few times feeling that familiar heat flow through you as you stared at the photo. 

You would assume it was taken in a shower but you could only see the lower half of his body. 

His hand was wrapped around his hard dick and his skin was covered in water droplets. Beneath his feet looked to be the porcelain of a shower tub. 

You had to lock your phone before you got too excited and glanced back at him only now he was standing with his back to you as he wrote something on the white board. 

How the fuck were you supposed to concentrate now? 

“Today we’re going to be discussing the four primary perspectives on the sociological theories of crime.” He turned back to face the class but he didn’t look at you again. 

Wise move, Doctor. 

“The four primary perspectives we’ll be covering are structural functionalism, social strain typology, conflict theory and labelling theory. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but this will be on the final so if there was ever a time to take notes…” 

You let his voice caress you, melting into his dulcet tones. 

You knew all about the four perspectives so you didn’t focus on his words, instead on his changing tone and intonation as he spoke. 

You could still hear his moans and heavy breathing as he came down to the phone the other night. 

You mind wandered, dancing over fantasies of him pulling you up to the front of the class and fucking you over his desk in front of everyone. 

After class while he was occupied talking to a couple of other students, you snuck down to the front and left the brown paper bag on his desk, disappearing before he even had a chance to notice. 

***

The red lipstick mark on the bag was the first sign of who had left it and he stuffed it in his satchel until he was alone in his office at lunchtime. 

He locked his office door because he already knew whatever was inside the paper bag was going to be something for his eyes only. 

The first thing inside the bag was a simple sandwich wrapped in cellophane with a little post it stuck to the top. 

Make sure you remember to eat, Doctor ;) 

Another lipstick mark signed off the note. 

His hand was shaking a little as he reached inside the bag again, this time pulling out the pair of dark purple panties you’d been wearing during your phone escapades the other night. 

Without meaning to, Spencer brought the fabric to his nose and inhaled. He moaned when the smell of your arousal flooded his senses. 

He was hard in an instant, painfully throbbing inside his pants. 

He checked his watch, he had a half hour until his next class and nowhere else to be. 

So with your panties still under his nose, he freed his aching cock and started stroking himself. 

It was sordid, he knew that. You were dragging him into an extremely dangerous game and he felt like a pawn in your own amusement. 

He was going to get you back for this. He was going to regain his control and take back the upper hand. 

Just as soon as he was done masturbating over the smell of you. 

He came over his shirt, cursing himself for wearing black today as the stain was exceedingly noticeable. He’d have to button his jacket all day to hide it. 

He hid the panties away in his satchel and tidied himself up. He consumed the sandwich you’d made him and calmed himself down just in time for his next class. 

***

Spencer knew if the two of you were to have your study session in his office that evening, he would not be able to keep his hands to himself. 

There was no outcome where you’d flounce in here in your slutty little summer dress and he wouldn’t pound you over his desk. 

So he’d text you to meet him at a late night coffee house instead. At least if there were people around you’d both be forced to be on your best behaviours. 

Or so he thought anyway. 

Spencer knew that realistically, he’d already crossed the line. You photographs weren’t exactly innocent but he kept trying to tell himself it was another thing entirely if he actually fucked one of his students. 

He was determined to keep a level head around you, at least until the end of the semester. But once you weren’t his student anymore, the things he planned on doing to you were beyond sinful. 

You arrived late as he expected you to, deliberately keeping him waiting. He’d already ordered you a coffee which you smiled in thanks for as you slid in opposite him. 

“Can’t trust yourself to be alone with me, Doctor?” You leant forward on the table, giving him the perfect view right down the front of your dress. 

“You’re in over your head. I don’t think you can handle being alone with me.” He leant forward too, smirking at you. “I’m not some young, inexperienced college kid you’re used to spending your time with, Y/N. I know exactly how to pleasure a woman until she’s putty in my hands. I would ruin you for anyone else.” 

He watched as you sat back, a shudder passing down your spine. He could tell you would be pressing your thighs together under the table. 

“To be ruined by you, Doctor Reid, would be a fucking pleasure.” You quickly corrected yourself, not letting Spencer beat you at your own game. 

He narrowed his eyes on you before leaning further across the table. 

“Come here.” He curled his finger to motion you towards him. “Sit with me.”

You chewed your lip and took a few shaky breaths before pushing yourself up and rounding the table. 

You slid in next to him and his hand immediately clamped around your thigh. 

“What are the four primary perspectives we talked about in class?” He knew you knew the answer and now he knew you were just playing dumb, he was curious to see how far you would take it. 

His hand on your bare thigh was causing your brain to short circuit. At that moment you didn’t need to play dumb, you were dumb. 

“S-structural fun-functionalism.” You kept your eyes on his, his fingertips lightly grazing your inner thigh. 

“Good girl.” He praised you. 

“S-social strain t-typology.” 

“Very good.” His hand inched ever so slightly higher and you whimpered pathetically. 

You were already soaked and you wondered if it would be possible for him to make you come just touching your leg. 

“Con-conflict theory.” Your cheeks were turning pink.

“That’s it, good girl. One more.” He inched his hand higher still, so close to your core he must be able to feel the heat emanating from you. 

“Labelling t-theory.” 

“See, such a smart girl.” His fingers grazed the outside of your lace panties and it was absurd how close you felt to coming. 

His eyes were dark as he watched you squirm, trying desperately to keep your composure.

The idea of coming here was so he would keep his hands off of you, but clearly that had been a fruitless idea. 

He could feel how wet you were through your underwear and it caused him to grow hard. You were so warm and damp and he wanted nothing more than to dive his fingers beneath the fabric and finger you under the table. 

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. 

“Tell me about structural functionalism.” He whispered, fingers still grazing between your legs and you had never wanted someone to touch you more in your entire life. 

“S-structural functionalism argues that dev-deviant behaviour plays a constructive part in s-society as it brings together diff-different parts of the population within society.” 

“Hmmm. So smart. Tell me more.” 

“F-fuck.” You stuttered out a shaky breath. “It’s the t-theory that deviant behaviour can contribute to social stability in the l-long term because it challenges norms while promoting social co-cohesion.” 

“Why am I not surprised you know all about deviant behaviour?” He smirked, pressing his digits right against your clit. 

You had tears gathering in the corners of your eyes and it was killing you not to let your moan rip through you. 

“One would argue,” you swallowed. “You are the one with the pen-penchant for deviant behaviour, D-Doctor.” 

“You’re close aren’t you, angel?” He smirked, ignoring your comment. 

“Yes.” Embarrassingly so. 

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart.” He leant in close to your ear so you could feel his breath fanning across your face. “Why don’t you come for me? My little deviant.” 

You mewled, biting down hard on your lower lip to silence yourself. 

He pressed against your clit again, rubbing you through your panties. The friction from the lace fabric was adding to your arousal and when Spencer placed the softest kiss to your temple, it pushed you over the edge. 

You pressed your thighs together, clamping his hand between your legs and coming silently while he watched you. 

Your chest heaved with your heavy breaths and Spencer felt fucking dizzy. 

“Oh angel, you are so good.” He slowly dragged his fingers back down your thighs and brought his hand to rest on the table. 

You stared at him in complete awe as he sipped his coffee as though nothing had happened. 

Your heart was hammering hard against your rib cage, and your head felt like it was full of cotton wool.

“Everything ok?” He smirked at you around his mug. 

“You’re evil.” You panted a little. 

“You started this game, angel. If you can’t stand the heat…”

“Oh I can stand the heat.” You insisted. “I’m just wondering how many people would notice if I snuck under this table and sucked you off, Doctor.” 

Spencer moaned, louder than was appropriate in the current setting. 

He knew if you actually were to drop to your knees beneath the table he would be powerless to stop you. But he also knew you wouldn’t actually do it because teasing him was far more fun.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Y/N.” 

“It’s only fair of me, right, Doctor? You made me come after all.” 

“The noises you would make choking on my cock would give you away, sweetheart.” He ran his finger over your jaw. “And when you do suck my cock, I want to hear all your pretty little noises loud and clear.” 

You hissed and Spencer smiled to himself, sitting back in his chair.

“Now you’re going to get up and go and sit back opposite me. And we’re going to discuss social strain typology.”

You were dumb to deny him so you did as you were told and stood up, feeling your arousal soaking your panties as you made your way to the other side of the booth. 

“Got a good view there?” You leant on the table and pressed your breasts together. 

“Social strain theory.” He ignored you. “And now we know how smart you can be when there’s pleasure in it for you, don’t you dare sit there and pretend you don’t know.” 

He sipped his coffee, waiting for your response. 

“Social strain theory proposes that deviant behaviour can be classified by typology that’s based on a person's motivations or goals. For example, some people turn to crime for the socially accepted value of seeking to lead a wealthy life. 

Another example would be a straight laced professor using sexual deviance to advance his students learning.”

Spencer chuckled at you, shaking his head. 

“My dear, dear girl.” He placed his mug on the table. “If you think I’m straight laced, you don’t know me at all.” 

“But that’s how you like to come across. In your sweater vests and your sweet doe eyes like butter wouldn’t melt. But really, you’re the biggest deviant of all.” 

His smirk grew, stretching all the way across his face in amusement at your assessment of him. 

“You’d make a good profiler.” He mused. 

“I’d make a great profiler.” You scoffed. 

“Tell me about conflict theory.” He picked up his mug again, turning the conversation back to your learning. 

And you humoured him for a while, letting him think he was in control. 

But it was all a power play. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[catcas22]

Unalloyed Epilogue Part 5

... Okay I lied, this is going to be a three-parter.

            Malenia approached the training session with an open mind. Her memories of her brief duel with Millicent were clouded by rot-madness, and she had yet to accurately take the measure of the girl’s abilities.

            After two warmup bouts, a pattern began to emerge. While Millicent demonstrated an impressive natural talent, she was very obviously self-taught. Inherited muscle memory surely played a role, but Malenia was reluctant to broach the subject even within her own thoughts. Regardless of the truth of where her memories ended and her daughter’s began, it seemed wrong to think of Millicent as a simple extension of herself.

            Malenia spent the bulk of the session reviewing the basics, simple tenants of footwork, grip, and leverage. Millicent was a quick study, and Malenia couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s obvious excitement as the simple adjustments to her technique yielded results.

            A fresh chill in the air reminded her of encroaching nightfall.

            Malenia whistled for the wolf. As she listened to the beast’s paws crunch through the snow, she shrugged off her cape and passed it to Millicent. The girl had grown up in Caelid, after all. “Here. If I’m cold, you must be freezing.”

            The fact that Millicent accepted with hardly any protest confirmed her assumption.

            The ride back to Ordina passed without incident. But the moment her feet touched the snow she knew that something was wrong.

            Malenia had known for some time now that Millicent was not her only offspring. Her daughter had confessed the truth of the matter in Miquella’s study, shortly after he raised the possibility of a cure.

            “I... I have sisters. Four of them.” She stumbled over her words, half apologetic and half insistent. “They were raised to serve the God of Rot, but they’re not monsters, not any more than I am.”

            Malenia had reassured her at the time, agreeing that her kin would be helped if at all possible. Orders had been given to the Ordina garrison that the four should be taken alive in the event of an attack. Scouts had been sent out to scour the borders of Elphael, but for better or worse Millicent’s sisters appeared to have dropped off the face of the earth.

            Even before she heard Millicent shout out a warning, Malenia sensed the approach of one of the wayward fragments of her soul.

***

            Malenia’s hand fell to her shoulder. With terrifying speed, her mother pulled her back and interposed herself between Millicent and the figure emerging from the falling snow. Millicent hadn’t even seen her reach for her sword, yet the golden blade already gleamed in her hand.

            The figure stumbled, hands held up. “Wait!” She drew a curved sword from beneath her cloak, only to toss it at Malenia’s feet. “Please, I swear I’m not here to fight.”

            She was closer now, close enough for Millicent to make out her features. Delving into the fragmented memories of her childhood, she managed to dredge up a name. “Pollyanna?”

            She looked awful. Blood oozed from her bandaged eye, trickling slowly over chalk-white skin. Despite the frost clinging to her clothes and hair, sweat dampened her brow. Her remaining eye fixed on Millicent, bloodshot and dilated.

            “You’re still alive?” A coughing fit nearly sent her to her knees. Malenia remained as she was, face inscrutable. “Then... Then there’s a way to stop it? If you didn’t bloom, then...”

            Millicent watched as her sister succumbed to another round of coughing, her own throat locked shut as if by a vise.

            Malenia took a careful step forward, her sword lowered for now. “It was my understanding that you and your sisters wished her dead.”

            The younger girl took several shaky steps back, bloody lips trembling. “He said the pain would end if one of us Bloomed. But... but you found another way, didn’t you?” A shudder gripped her entire body. All her words came tumbling out at once, broken only by near-hyperventilating breaths. “I slipped away from the others, I just want it to stop. Please, I don’t want to die!”

            The sword snapped back into its place alongside Malenia’s arm with a metallic whine. “Millicent, fetch your uncle.” With two long strides, she crossed the distance and scooped Pollyanna into her arms as easily as most would carry a small child. “I can’t risk a Bloom within the Haligtree. Look for us at the Ordina infirmary.”