#I asked if they could just use their own details and inform me when necessary yesterday and now the seller has left me on read

[fierykitten2]

I’m going to see Heathers later with a group of friends and we decided we’re going to cosplay the main characters. The socks I’m wearing are so high up they might as well be tights (though they have the bonus of not stopping halfway up my legs) and it’s weird to me (it feels like my butt is hanging out. It’s not, I’m wearing a skirt over the top). Just as I finished getting into my outfit two of my Vinted orders turned up so I’m currently dressed as Heather Duke wearing yellow fingerless gloves and a mustard and turquoise cat ears hat

[reiderwriter]

🔫 Oh, Captain, My Captain 🔫

Pairing: Unit Chief!Spencer Reid x Fem BAU!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: Unit Cheif!Spencer who uses gun training as an excuse to rub up on the new member🤭

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Gun kink, dubcon, dry humping, pictures/photos, age gap, Pervert! Spencer, unprotected sex, implied cream pie, semi-public sex, boss x employee dynamic, spanking, masturbation, slight cum play, degradation (slut, whore etc), praise kink if you squint (good girl).

A/N: This is my first entry for the CM Kink Bingo challenge 2024~! I chose a lot of the prompts based on some of the smut requests in my inbox and let my TELL you I was SO EXCITED to write Unit Chief + gun kink!!! I'm so excited for this entire challenge tbh, it reminds me of the good old days on past years' Kinktober 😂🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

When Spencer Reid was made the interim Unit Chief for the BAU, he agreed with the reasoning. At the time, he really couldn't argue that he was aptly experienced, responsible enough to make big decisions, and reliable. And whilst he had been through a lot in the last two decades with the FBI, he still did value his own sense of morality. 

He accepted the job and then was assigned you as an intern, and suddenly, he didn't agree with any previous assessment of him. 

Experienced, yes, but he was still stammering and rambling when discussing simple things like the weather. He certainly wasn't responsible enough to keep his eyes off you, and he probably couldn't be relied on in the field to focus instead of thinking about your pretty, plump lips and how they would feel wrapped around his cock. 

All morality had gone out of the window after a week of working with you when he closed his office blinds, popped his pants open and took his cock in hand, relieving himself while staring at your newly printed ID card. 

He had a lot of power, during the few months Emily was away, and he was trying desperately not to use it. 

Unfortunately, with great power comes a great amount of orders to give, and since you reported directly to Unit Chief Reid, you'd become his de facto shadow for the first few weeks. You bought him coffees when you got your own, asked him for quick run downs of past cases so you could take notes and remember relevant details for later, asked him for help writing reports. 

Which caused the blinds to be drawn at least once a day as he desperately tried to keep his hands off you. 

Emily had joked when leaving him behind that she'd usually give the new boss the “don't shit where you eat” speech, especially with people in your chain of command, but it really wasn't necessary with him. Of all people. 

It didn't help that you were so damn clumsy in the office. You were usually pretty calm and collected, but since starting at the BAU, the pressure was getting to you a bit. 

You made small mistakes, you double, and triple checked your work, and you were constantly in Spencer's office asking him for opinions on topics, for background information, and for, well, reassurance. 

And you dropped stuff. A lot of stuff. 

Your analytical Monday have been perfectly suited to the BAU, but somewhere between your head and your hands, all your body parts refused to function adeptly. You'd dropped things constantly, tripped on your own feet, and constantly bumped into people even while they stood still. 

Not to mention the time your dropped your (thankfully, iced) coffee all over Spencer's lap when you'd brought him his own. 

“Oh my- Oh my god, Doctor Reid, I am so so sorry,” you scrambled, immediately grabbing tissues as he jumped up from the desk. 

“Please let me help you, god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry-” you said, patting away as his lap as he stood frozen in front of you. You dropped to your knees to mop up the traces of coffee still running down his thighs, as he stammered. 

“Y/N, please, you don't need to, I have a spare pair I can-” 

“I'll have them dry cleaned, I promise,” you begged, just as a knock sounded and the door to his office swung back open for JJ to enter through. 

“Spencer, the files for the- woah! Okay, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I'm still backing out of this room right now.” 

She laughed her way out of the room, which was when your brain finally caught up to your hands and realized the stupid position you'd put yourself in. 

You'd practically pushed your boss up against the wall, kneeled before him, and begged to touch him. 

You'd squeaked out an apology and quickly left the office, much to Spencer's relief, because even after an ice bath and semi-public humiliation, he was hard and horny and his IQ had been knocked to roughly 7. 

How he'd wanted to keep you pinned in place, to stroke your cheek as he made sure you took each inch of him down your throat slowly, filling you up so you couldn't escape. 

How he'd wanted to keep his job as well, something he'd probably not get to do if JJ had decided to walk back in, or - god forbid - bring other witnesses to his debauchery. 

You were clumsy, and he was desperately horny, and you were both complete and total messes.

“I don't see how I can help you, Y/N,” Tara held up her hands in defeat as you begged for her help. 

“I'm competent with a gun, but it's not something I can teach you. I wouldn't know where to start.” 

“I just need someone to show me how to hold it properly. There's a trick to it, right? There has to be a trick to it?” 

“Ah yes, the old aim and shoot trick, I forgot about that one,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head at your office antics. 

You'd been interning for a few weeks, and the latest in a line of ability tests was shooting. You'd pretty much aced the physical fitness test, but you'd never even held a gun before joining the FBI, and you were struggling. 

“I've put in 10 hours at the shooting range in the last week, and the closest I've got to an accurate shot was hitting the next lane's paper. Don't ask.”

Your coworkers shared a sympathetic look as you sat down at the round table, ready to hear the next case details. 

“I'm relegated to office work until I pass this certificate, and I was not made for sitting at a desk for 7 hours.” 

“Well, why don't you ask Reid for help?” JJ said helpfully, bringing her coffee to her lips to hide the meddling smile plastered there. 

“Reid?” 

“He had some issues shooting when he was a rookie as well, but he put in some hours at the range, and now he's the best shot on the team.” 

“Easy there, blondie, I'm nothing to sniff at with a gun myself,” Rossi smiled, patting himself on the back. 

“I'm sure he'd enjoy helping you,” JJ continued. 

“Who would enjoy what?” Spencer said, finally joining the team in the meeting room and pulling out the case files as everyone opened up their tablets. 

“Y/N was just saying she's having some trouble shooting, and I suggested she ask for your help?” 

He froze momentarily and stared down at you as you looked up at him, hopefully, a shy smile on your face. 

He tried to keep his eyes on yours, but from this height, he had the perfect view down your shirt, your perfect-sized breasts pressing together as you leaned towards him, giving him a generous eyeful. 

He looked away quickly and nodded his agreement, sitting himself down and attaching his eyes to the files instead so he could get his mind off of  your body, and your lips, and the begging that surely would've come out of your mouth had he not accepted earlier. His brain was tormenting him with images of you underneath him, under his desk even, his cock in your mouth as you paid for his precious time training you. He blinked away the thoughts and, for once in his life, actually had to put effort into reading and understanding each word on a page as he ignored the raging fire of his lust. 

A few hours later, the two of you were at the shooting range. 

“My main problem is shooting. The instructors said my form isn't great either and that I looked like a child playing with toys whenever I hold a gun, so if you could help with that…?” You said, putting on the goggles and turning back to look at your boss. 

“Doctor Reid?” You asked. 

“Oh, yeah. Yes, they said something similar when I was training. First, let's see what you can do.” 

You smiled at him as he watched you bounce up to the lane and pick up the gun. You calmed your breathing and got ready to take the safety off when you felt a hard hand clamp over your own and pull the gun from your hand. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, staring down at you with wide eyes. 

“You said to show you-”

“You're not wearing a vest.” 

You cursed quickly as he pulled you back over to the side of the room. The place was practically deserted, as it was past the official closing hours of the range, but Spencer had been forced to pull some strings with his new title and had managed to keep it open (and somehow unmanned) until now. 

He quickly grabbed the first vest he saw and pulled it over your head, taking the side straps and tightening them until the vest was comfortably protecting all your major organs. His hands lingered for a second, and you stared shocked up at him, somehow enjoying the way he pushed you around. 

You were a grown woman, and you could do this all by yourself, but there was something about a man roughly a decade and a half older than you controlling your movements that were entirely too dangerous. You quickly stepped away and back to the podium, whispering a quick thanks under your breath as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. 

You stretched out your neck a little as you felt him walk back behind you again, keeping his distance as he watched you shoot your first clip at the targets. 

Out of six bullets, you'd missed the target five times and had grazed just below the targets arm once, a brilliant display of your natural lack of talent. 

“Your form is wrong. You're holding yourself too rigid, which means the recoil has a higher chance to hurt you. Loosen your arms slightly.”

His advice was actually good  and you followed his instructions closely, listening clearly as he walked you through each tip. 

“Like this?” 

“A little more… here, let me.” 

You had no chance to react before his body was pressed behind yours and his hands were wrapped around your own, moving g each finger by a fraction to improve your grip, trailing up your arms slowly, leaving a field of goosebumps wherever his fingers grazed. He repositioned your elbows before moving forward his hands down to your hips, turning them slightly as he widened your stance. 

“Try now.” 

Breathless, you could only nod as he stepped back, unaware if he'd even said anything since his hands had landed on you. 

You forced yourself to breathe again and took one shot.

"Oh my god, it hit. Spencer, it hit!” 

“Do it again and we can celebrate.” 

Another five shots later, and you'd managed a small cluster of hits around the arms and one shot. 

“You're definitely veering left, so let's try and over correct by aiming to the right.”

He pushed up against you again and held the gun, moving it to the right a fraction, taking complete control of your body. 

If your breath was scarce before, it was totally gone now as you felt his crotch press up against your ass. Considering the bulletproof vests put an extra inch around your chests, he was absolutely doing it on purpose, and you were shocked to realize you were too. 

You'd pushed your ass back into him, grinding slowly on his hardening cock as he hooked his head over your shoulder, looked down the sight with you, and fired the gun. 

Straight into the center of the target. 

“Good girl,” he whispered before pulling away.  

He moved two meters away from you, and maintained the distance for the rest of the night, and even though you were both aware of his hard cock tightening his pants, neither of you said a word. 

“Same time tomorrow,” he said and grabbed his jacket to leave. It was the first thing he'd said as your Unit Chief that even vaguely sounded like a command and not an enthusiastic suggestion, and you were suddenly very excited for the rest of the week. 

“Before we start,” he said the next day, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows neatly. “Show me your posture again.” 

He gestured towards one of the dummy guns at the side of the range, the style you recognised from mission training that held small layers instead of bullets - same weight, same mechanism, no lethality. 

You'd spent the day and night worked up from the last time you'd been here with him, and a small part of you felt disappointed you were starting with the kiddy gun. Not one to miss an opportunity, though. You bent over to pick it up, making sure to bend at the waist right in front of him to show off your ass. 

Maybe you'd gone crazy, but the memory of his touch was burning you from the inside out and you needed to feel it again to make sure you weren't crazy. 

He maintained his distance, though. It was hard for him to keep his hands off you in all honesty, arms crossed to keep himself from crossing any more lines. That and he was sure that you'd be able to tell he'd spurted cum all over them in his office the night before despite him scrubbing them thoroughly multiple times, the weight of his guilt eating into him like a parasite.

“Arms up, point straight. Good.” You tried to keep still as he assessed your form, but his eyes prowled over you thoroughly, and you had to suppress a shudder. 

“You need to control your breathing, Y/N, you can't be afraid of pulling the trigger if you need to.” 

“I'm not-” 

“Shoulders back,” he said, moving to your side as he again began slightly correcting your form. 

Unlike the day before, though, this time, there were no bullets. And no bullets meant no bulletproof vest. 

That's why when his exploring hands came to your chest, he could feel your hardening nipples through the flimsy material of your dress. He could feel you pressing forward into his touch as his hands cupped your breast.

“Calm your heartbeat, Y/N. You need to stay calm so you can shoot straight, right?” 

The words sounded alien, even to him. His gaze was locked on the top of your shirt, looking down it to the slope of your chest, disappearing into your dress. He so wanted to let his hands disappear right along with them, to pull you back into his aching cock and play with your nipples until you cried out for mercy. 

He let his touch fall and played off his molestation as correction, even as your underwear grew slick with desire. 

“Grab your vest. Let's try again.” 

A week of late night training later, and you weren't sure if you were improving at all. The guns were the last thing on your mind when Spencer's hands were on you, his voice in your ear telling you how good you were for him, such a good subordinate. 

Both of you had yet to acknowledge that you were spending the majority of the session just rubbing up on each other, like teens at prom, desperate for whatever friction you could get without having to name the game you were playing. 

“Doctor Reid, if I hit the target this time, can you do something for me?” You chanced on the Friday, needing something else to tide you over for the weekend. 

“What do you need?” 

“No, no, nothing specific, just like a…a reward?"

He'd done his best to keep his hands off of you, which meant that he'd failed miserably, and he knew exactly what he'd like to treat you to as a reward. Keeping his hands of you in daytime hours had become harder and harder as the week flew by, and he felt like a randy school boy the amount of times he'd needed to excuse himself to either kill his bones or abuse his cock with his hand.

“Oh,” he said, growing quiet. You took his hesitation for rejection, and immediately began to back pedal. 

“Y-You don't have to, sir. It was really quite conceited on my part to demand a reward from y-” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“If you shoot six bullets that hit either the chest or the head, you'll get a reward.”

You smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling very hopeful. 

“But if you miss, you'll get the opposite.” 

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what they meant. Just hearing the words made him want to visibly cringe and write himself up for office misconduct. But your smile didn't fade one bit. 

“Yes, sir. I won't let you down.” 

Turning away from him, you loaded your weapon again, and he watched you put yourself into the correct position. Despite his middling efforts to actually teach you, you had seemed to have improved over the last few days. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome. 

Just as you stepped up to take your first shot, he stepped closer to you, wrapped his hands around your waist, and pushed up against you. 

Your first shot veered left, completely missing the target as you gasped. Spencer had popped open the front button of your pants and was unzipping them, letting his hand wonder down to your panties. 

“Look straight. There will be distractions out in the field, you can do this, right?” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

You tried to steady your breathing g and your hands again as he began rubbing slow circles into your underwear, your body alight with lust as you let him. 

Your second shot hit the paper. Your third didn't. 

“You can do better than that, Y/N.” 

You took another deep breath and picked up your gun again, shooting just as he shoved your underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you quickly shot your last three bullets, not caring where they went so much as where his fingers went. 

“Y/N, I expected better,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he took the gun from your hands with his spare. “You can't even handle a weapon like this.” 

He kept his fingers pumping shallowly inside you, as he inspected the gun again. 

“Maybe you'd learn better under duress. I did, too. It's easy to learn when there's a gun pointed yo your head, right?” 

He quickly turned the gun on you  pushing it to your temple as his other hand shoved your pants down. He angled you forward with a press of his hips as his fingers returned to your cunt and slipped deeper inside. 

“S-Spencer, fuck-” 

“You missed all six bullets, so punishment it is.” His fingers gained speed as you stood, flushed and spreading your legs for him. You wanted to bury your head in your arms and scream out your moans, but the gun to your head kept you quiet and in place. 

“You may not be able to shoot a gun, Y/N, but that doesn't mean you're not enjoying them. You're so wet for me.” 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt your climax build and build, chasing the high you'd been searching for with every unprotected touch. 

You were letting your boss touch you, letting a man almost old enough to be your father hold a gun to your head, and you were going to squirt all over his fingers very soon. 

“Spencer, Spencer, please- please….”

“Shhh, it’s okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You just needed some more help learning. You can cum now, princess. It's okay, let go.” 

You tried your best to hold back, but your body had a mind of its own as your orgasm hit you, the cold metal of the gun finally moving away from your head. 

With one hand around your waist, pinning you to the side so you stayed upright, Spencer carefully placed the gun back down before dragging your pants back up your legs. 

Taking your elbow in his hand, he walked you to the door as you blinked out the daze in your eyes. 

“We're going to my office now. To talk about your recent performance.” 

You couldn't have cared less what he'd said as long as his hands were on you, stretching your head back so it rested on his chest and pushing up until your lips could connect with the bare skin at his neck. 

“Hands off. We're going to walk all the way back to my office, and you're not going to let anyone know what just happened, okay? Not with your words, or your expressions or body language, okay?” 

You nodded, but he kept a hand on your elbow, gesturing yourself forward. 

You weren't sure how you were even able to walk after what had to have been the most intense orgasm of your life, but the promise of more likely carried you all the way up the stairs until you were comfortably enclosed in Spencer's  office. 

Like he'd found himself doing multiple times a day this month, Spencer closed the blinds, pulling you down to the sofa with him as he sat. 

“When I was your age,” he started, making sure your ass was facing up as he pushed your head into the cushions gently. 

“When I was your age, I couldn't shoot well. My Unit Chief had to kick some sense into me. I think you need that as well, right, Y/N? You need someone to beat some sense into you?” 

You nodded as he stroked your hair, and he thanked you for being so open to him. 

He made quick work of your pants and underwear, and in a quick hot burst, his hand came down on your ass. 

“Fuck, more. Please more!” 

He did it again and again as you squirmed in his lap and moaned, begging him to keep brutalizing you. 

“That's it, show me how pathetic you are, show me how much you're craving my attention.” 

He pushed your legs off of his lap until you were kneeling on the floor underneath him. He pulled up your arms and pulled your shirt over your head, similarly discarding your tank top and bra until you were totally bare on the floor in front of him. 

Instead of stripping himself yet, he pulled out his phone, palming himself through his pants. 

“Show yourself off,” he said, pointing the camera at you. 

You followed his directions quickly, hands flying to your tits to fondle them while he took pictures of your fucked our face. 

With his foot he gently nudged you down onto all yours, letting you know to turn around so he could flash a picture or two of your sloppy cunt as well. 

Your hips rocked back and forth in the air, unconsciously searching for something to rub against, some relief from your frustrations. 

He kept snapping pictures. 

Deciding that you needed his attention and stat, you let your chest fall to the floor, face flat too as your hips lifted higher in the air. Your hands found your ass cheeks, and you spread them slightly, giving Spencer an even better view of how much you needed him. 

He took one last photo, and then he knelt behind you faster than you could expect. 

In a heartbeat, his pants were down, in two his cock was buried deep inside of you. 

“So…tight, shit. You're such a precious little slut, you kept this little pussy nice and fresh just for me, right?” 

It was all you could do not to cum right there, and when he started moving you were a goner. It had always been easier for you to cum a second time than it was for you to cum a first time, and considering how quick he'd made it happen earlier, you really should've been expecting it. 

Your body convulsed around his cock as you screamed into the floor, hands still spreading yourself wide for him as he rutted into you. 

“That's it, milk my cock, Y/N. Milk your bosses cock, let me blow my load inside you.” 

Your nipples rubbed painfully against the carpet, only adding to the storm of stimulation you were experiencing. 

His hips faltered as he collapsed over your body, holding tight as his muscles locked him into place with his orgasm. He came inside you with a grunt, and he felt your cunt still clenching around him, making sure to take every last drop. 

“That- was much - preferable,” you said, gasping for breath. “To shooting - any gun.” 

He rolled off of you as you laughed, body satiated now for the first time in what felt like forever. 

“You still need to work on your gun skills,” he said after you'd detangled yourself, but before either if you had worked up the courage to leave the floor and get dressed. 

“Why?” You said, turning your head to look at him  lying on the floor next to you. 

“It seems I can fire pretty accurately already,” you said, as your hand snaked down to his cock one more time. 

[tanaor]

Want to worldbuild like a pro??

(📖 Master tips and everything I know📖)

Hello writers! You don't know how to worldbuild? Don't know where to start explaining the world you have created? Don't worry, you are in the right place! I have been there myself, and after many research (and even more trial and error) I have put together a list of the best worldbuilding tips I have encountered, and also created some of my own. (I know the first one is kind of overheard, but trust me).

Don't start right away with worldbuilding. A long paragraph about how your world works and its history might overwhelm new readers. A lot of other writers suggest waiting and learning about the world at the same time the protagonist does, or if that doesn't work for your story, dropping bits of information while the story moves forward. However, if you want to give a sense of how your world works from the start...

Exposition through action. This is my favorite method, and it helps a lot if you don't want to pause your story to info dump about the world you have created. Instead, this method relies on explaining the world and its dynamics while you continue with the narrative, briefly. For example: "As always, you couldn't see any trees in the meadow. The king had ordered years ago to cut each one of them because of a prophecy that foretold that the last dragon egg would lay in an oak."

Use expressions that reference normality or routines. In the last point, we used "as always", but there are tons of expressions you could use in your writing. This helps the reader understand what is the norm in this new world and what things are common, to later detect something that is not within that norm (or sometimes just to understand the world and its traditions better).

Use flashbacks when necessary. If you need to explain a very specific or detailed topic, I suggest using a flashback scene, that will help the reader understand with the narration and dialogue, instead of just explaining it to them. It makes for a more dynamic learning experience. But, at the end...

Do whatever will intrigue you. Some readers even like info dumps, and there is not one correct way to show your world. If it would make you curious, go and do it, wether people say it's correct or not. There are a lot of successful books that randomly stop to explain something about the world, and there is nothing wrong with that if you like it.

Hope you find this list useful, and as always happy writing :)

Also, if you are interested in tips or more examples of a specific topic, you can always leave a question in my ask. I'd be glad to answer it!!

Other tips for writers: previous | next

[ravenelyx]

I love you in every timeline - Prologue: In Search of Lost Time

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst if you squint, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance (not even y/n dw), some swearing, use of 2nd person for the reader (I know I know but I promise it makes sense for the story)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is the first english fic I've written, so I'm terrified. Anyway, Trimetravel! AU with Sebastian Sallow. Some background info: Reader is not MC; Reader is a Gryffindor, MC was a Slytherin; MC was a Pureblood, Reader is a Muggle Born. Also, english is not my first language so if you find any mistakes, I deeply apologise. Not proof-read (for obvious reasons).

→ Find the rest of the fanfiction here on AO3 :)

"For we are not as faithful to the being we have most loved as we are to ourselves and sooner or later we forget her — since that is one of our characteristics — so as to start loving another." - Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

If a chasm had opened under Sebastian's feet and swallowed him all the way to the depths of hell, he would have gladly accepted his demise there and then.

Unfortunately, its mercy seemed to be out of business that day — or any other day in his life, really.

Sebastian paced the corridors, a frown adorning his face; he had just come out of the Headmaster's office due to the absolute disaster that had occurred to him just a few hours prior.

After weeks of research, he had finally found something that could help him, a breakthrough with which he could finally achieve his goal. An artefact so powerful that it could break the fabric of time and space, something that could help his poor sister live a happy and healthy life again. He did not care that they were not on speaking terms at the moment: he would find a way to talk to her so that she would take this last chance. He would force her if he had to. It was his last hope, and Merlin knows he had tried everything.

If he had known about the artefact's effects earlier, he would have thought twice before using it.

"So, Mr Sallow, could you be so kind as to tell us how you came to be in our time?" the Headmaster, who had earlier introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, had asked him.

Truth was that not having stopped dwelling with the Dark Arts in search of a cure for Anne had led him to find himself in another timeline instead. His face twitched: in terms of unlikelihood, the scales seemed pretty unbalanced.

It had been a brief conversation, really, with Sebastian omitting some details (like his friendship with an Ancient Magic wielder or the murder of his uncle, for which he bore full responsibility) and grimacing against his own will when the Headmaster had looked at him through his half-moon shaped glasses as if asking him, 'Why are you lying to me?'

He had pushed the thoughts away as quickly as they had come: it wasn't like he could read his mind... or could he?

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief when the Headmaster had dismissed him after giving him specific instructions on how to behave until they found a way to return him to his timeline — one of which was, "Please don't inform anyone of your condition unless it's absolutely necessary." That had seemed quite reasonable to him, so he nodded.

The artefact was damaged, as expected, and unlikely to work again unless a powerful form of magic came into contact with it and repaired it: something like Ancient Magic, perhaps, or a miracle.

"I see you're still causing trouble everywhere you fare, aren't you, Mr Sallow?" the familiar voice of Phineas Nigellus Black had mocked from his portrait, effectively startling him. Sebastian had looked up and into the eyes of his old Headmaster, his mouth falling open at the sight of him. He looked old, weary, and angrier somehow — yet, in a way, he had brought Sebastian some form of comfort, almost. A sense of familiarity.

Before he could have said anything, Black had disappeared, and a woman with severe blue eyes and long robes had escorted him out of the office.

-

Sebastian looked around at his familiar surroundings, which would have been almost comforting if not for the nameless faces looking at him with curiosity: Hogwarts students tended to recognise each other effortlessly, and anyone who didn't fit into that bundle of familiarity was to be ostracised. He remembered all too well when he was the one helping the new fifth-year find her way around those same corridors, except he didn't need guidance: this was his home, after all.

But he did have a guide, and she wasn't as charming a student as he was either.

The Head of the Gryffindor House walked right next to him, a stern expression on her face made even more prominent by the shadow of her large witch hat. The woman Sebastian had come to know as Minerva McGonagall was also the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress, at least it seemed that way, which was no doubt why she was accompanying him rather than the Head of his own House.

Sebastian decided not to ask himself any questions and do what the Headmaster told him to: attend class, fit in, and pretend to be either a transfer student or someone with a complex background — he hadn't decided which story to tell yet (and both, in a way or another, would be true).

The clacking of Professor McGonagall's shoes stopped so abruptly that he almost would have missed it if she hadn't started speaking.

"You're about to meet two of your new classmates. Prefects of the Gryffindor House." She raised her left arm in their direction, and his eyes followed it to two red and gold robes leading into warm faces.

"I am pleased to introduce you to Ms Hermione Granger—" she gestured to the girl with curly hair to her left, who wore a friendly smile all while maintaining a serious and clean look, "—and Mr Ronald Weasley." Sebastian's eyes shot to the boy to his right when he heard the familiar name, and to be honest, he might not have needed an introduction at all: the red-haired boy gave him a wry smile, his freckles standing out even more in the natural light. He would have recognised those features anywhere.

Finally, Sebastian noticed their uniforms. He didn't pay much attention to the boy's — he himself also wore a very similar one, uncomfortable and informal as it seemed to him — for his eyes were fixed on the girl's. She was wearing a grey cardigan with red and gold trim, the colours of her House, and her skirt was much shorter than he remembered, with black denier tights covering the rest of her legs. Sebastian felt himself blushing slightly and averted his eyes.

He wondered why the Slytherin prefects were unsuited to the situation: at the end of the day, he was a Slytherin, too. Sebastian didn't undergo the Sorting again — the Professors didn't seem to deem it necessary, not to mention the Hat had recognised him from his shelf, too. He didn’t forget easily.

McGonagall turned back to Sebastian and briefly adjusted his robes, her face softening slightly, "For the time being, it is best if you don't draw attention to yourself. We will find a solution," she straightened her posture and nodded at him, "Welcome to Hogwarts." She turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him with the two Gryffindors.

He studied their faces for a moment, searching for the right words to say, deciding on which story to tell, but the only thing he could muster was: "How come you're Gryffindors?"

The two students stared at him, appalled, and he mentally slapped himself. He wanted to correct his statement and explain his intention, but the girl stopped him before he could even form a coherent thought.

"You're wondering why they asked us to guide you and not the Slytherin Prefects, am I right?"

Either his question wasn't that unclear, or the girl had excellent deduction skills, and judging by the epiphany on the other boy's face when he understood the meaning of her words, it was most likely the latter.

Sebastian sighed inwardly and nodded, mentally promising not to stumble over his words again.

The boy — Ronald, Sebastian recalled — chimed in: "Because otherwise you'd have to deal with Malfoy, and he's an idio—" the girl slapped him on the arm and gave him a warning look before turning back to Sebastian.

Malfoy, Sebastian thought. A family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It was clear why a Weasley would want nothing to do with him.

Sebastian wondered if they still held the same values as in his day: if the Malfoys were still blood maniacs, and so was the person they spoke of, or if he wanted to distance himself from his family as Ominis did. Judging by Ronald's opinion of him, Sebastian did not think that was possible, but then again, he did not know the fellow. Maybe, Sebastian thought, things had moved on after a century: no blood wars, discrimination or superiority complexes. Perhaps this was all just a simple rivalry between two students from different Houses.

"Professor Dumbledore thought us to be best suited for this difficult situation. No other student but us knows about your... misadventure," said Hermione.

To call it a "misadventure" would be an understatement , Sebastian wanted to say. As it turned out, however, he didn't need a story to tell. He didn't know whether to feel betrayed by the Professors who had decided to disclose that information or relieved that he didn't have to go through it all alone. A beat of silence followed, in which Sebastian could only nod at the girl's words, and then it was interrupted abruptly.

"Where have you been?" called a voice from the end of the corridor, directly behind Sebastian.

He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him.

He definitely didn't have to go through it all alone because there she was. Standing a few feet away from him, looking straight at him, was the person who had accompanied him on all his adventures.

She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe.

He felt his lips twist into a grin, and he beamed at the sight of her. Had she been looking for him?

He frowned a little as he noticed her expression: she seemed annoyed, almost angry. Perhaps she had no intention of following him and had just ended up here for no reason? Were the two of them connected on a deeper level than he thought? Or perhaps she was just worried for him and angry he didn't look for her too?

The girl started to walk towards them, and his smile widened even more the closer she got.

She was almost there when he realised she wasn't sparing him a glance.

Instead, her eyes were focused on the red-haired boy next to him, who was staring at her in horror, looking completely terrified.

Sebastian looked back at the girl, finally noticing the red and gold tie around her neck where a green and silver one usually belonged, a crease in her eyebrows that wasn't there before, and her eyes were a different colour than he remembered.

What the hell is going on here?  he thought, staring at her wide-eyed.

"Ron, for God's sake, I've been looking all over for you! Do you intend to give me back my book before class starts, or should I pull a new one out of a hat because you can't use your own?" she threw her hands in the air disapprovingly.

Ron stuttered briefly before hesitantly pointing at the Slytherin boy next to him, "I've just had too much to do. Prefect stuff, you know."

The girl scowled at him before turning to the said boy, her eyes softening slightly. "Oh! You're the new fifth-year!"

Sebastian's eye twitched. How bloody ironic.

"I'm Sebastian Sallow," he replied feebly, body stock-still like marble.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled politely.

And then she introduced herself.

His breath caught in his throat. Sebastian could have recognised that surname anywhere, but her name fell completely deaf on his ears.

You weren't her.

--

→ Chapter 1

[nobie]

Neil Gaiman.

I want to say a few things from a journalist perspective. I'm a journalist myself, I needed to get as much information as I could about this news with as much objectivity as I can have.

Tortoise is a UK based media group. They do a lot of multi media investigative reporting (not traditional mmj though more like scripted podcasts, regular podcasts, videos etc.). Their motto, I guess you could call it, is “Get the news not when it happens, but when it’s ready.”

It’s a fine model from a business standpoint, but in the journalism industry, being fast and accurate is what most news organizations strive for. But never hit the mark to be honest. Heavy on the accuracy part. Tortoise is comparable in America to NPR, but NPR is on a far larger scale since Tortoise is still new, being founded in 2019.

The SA allegations became a story from the ground up. There was nothing said about it before yesterday because this story came directly from the women he allegedly assaulted. I know using the word "allegedly" seems like a cheap shot, but it has to be used because none of it has been confirmed by Gaiman. Only that he did in fact have relationships with these two women. But the SA allegations continue to be denied. The reporters and producers at Tortoise media have written an article and created a full four part podcast. They detailed their stories from both women, spoke about SA misconceptions, and gave background on Gaiman and his relationships (relationships meaning sexual and non con acts happening with them so be aware of that).

The podcast, I'm not entirely fond of because a sensitive subject should not be made into a form of "entertainment." But it did give me more information and different perspective on the story. And from the way this podcast is produced you can tell this story was not investigated lightly. It is a bit distasteful, but it has been done before. This is a full production mind you with a beginning, middle, and end. Plus sound effects and dramatic music, so thats why I say I'm not really fond of the idea. Just reporting the entire story with quotes from the victims would've been enough. I can only hope the reporter and producer did their job ethically as to fully understood the allegations and weight of the subject. (They do mention that in the podcast as well, but as a journalist all I do is ask questions so I def had questions.)

Now this goes without saying, but there should never be any doubt that SA is unjustified and horrifying. And one should never disregard the feelings of the victims. Saying anything like "well they shouldn't have put themselves in that situation," is what I mean by disregard. Why would anyone put themselves in that situation?

That line of thinking is why SA is one the biggest ethical topics in media. Should it be reported? Should it not? How do we go about reporting such a sensitive subject objectively? Do we name the victims? Do we name our sources? Have we considered all of the code of ethics in our reporting? What about our personal values?

Journalism code of ethics: Minimizing harm, seek the truth, act independently, take accountability and be transparent. This might be the first time you're seeing these and I know historically it feels like none of this is considered, but I always consider them.

It’s been a battle of my own personal values to have to report events like this with no bias, but it’s necessary for accuracy and integrity in my reporting.

Ethically, as a journalist, I can't choose sides I need to look at it from all sides. But personally, as a human, I can't condone these actions. Nor will I ever condone it. All kinds of things are being said about this news, and everyone is allowed their own opinion. I only wanted to put my perspective out there because it should be another side of the story to understand, considering this came from Tortoise investigating the allegations.

Here is the article and other news sites that have talked about the story from Tortoise. Also gonna link SPJ code of ethics in case you want to read through them.

Tortoise

The allegations against Neil Gaiman (ep.1 on spotify but you can listen anywhere they have podcasts)

The Telegraph

Daily Mail

The Rolling Stones

SPJ Code of Ethics

Also to the Good Omens fandom, I know this is tough news, but you are allowed to still enjoy Good Omens. I know the guilt/shame of enjoying things that are against your morals, but be kind to yourself.

none of this edited so i apologize for any mistakes.

[qin-qin16]

XPRESSO

I want to thank, first of all, @inkblottzz for drawing an fanart of this ship! Thanks to them, I have a favorite ship now! I will make a part two of this, I promise!

Okay, okay, what is xpresso? Simple: it's the ship name for Cross and Ccino— Okay, okay! You can stop booing and throwing tomatoes at me! I KNOW THEY'RE A RARE SHIP, I KNOW! BUT READ MY HEADCANONS FIRST BEFORE YOU START THROWING STONES TOO! (I mean, it's like a headcanon/oneshot/my version of how they met??? Anyway, enjoy!)

Cross met Ccino after Killer insisted a lot and dragged him to FluffyTale's Cat Cafe — with a line about it being a neutral universe that wasn't hostile to outsiders and other details that Cross didn't think were necessary to pay attention to;

What he didn't expect was to keep going back there again and again under the excuse of liking the cats — all just to distract Killer and get him to go to the café with him so Cross could admire the barista from afar.

Of course, Killer wasn't an idiot (he just took advantage of the excuse to play with the kittens), and he soon figured out Cross's scheme — especially since the skeleton never paid attention to the cats, always with his white pupils focused on following Ccino.

“So? Aren’t you going to talk to him?” Killer asked one time.

“ No.” Cross replied so quickly that Killer couldn’t hold back the laugh that came out through his nasal cavity.

For many days, it went on like this: with Cross following Ccino from afar with his gaze, like a dog wanting attention but not knowing how to ask (Killer could swear that Cross's little tail wagged much harder every time Ccino waved in their direction with a friendly greeting);

It got to the point where it was painful to see the two interact only with waves — Cross wouldn’t even place his own order for fear of stuttering in front of Ccino!

No one in the café could stand this tension anymore (especially Killer, who seemed to be the third wheel every time he went to the café!). Tired of it and wanting Cross to finally make some progress, Killer decided to give an ultimatum — of course, without informing Cross first;

“I’m going outside for a bit, stay here and order a hot chocolate for me, okay?”

“Wait, wait! You don’t even like hot chocolate!” But Killer had already left, waving too slowly to be considered friendly.

Surrounded by cats and nervously bouncing his leg under the table, Cross used all his self-control not to run away when Ccino started approaching the table — with a small notepad and a pen in his hand.

Cross actually did pretty well (at least he managed to order a hot chocolate without stuttering too much), despite his skull dripping with sweat and his hands clenched into a trembling fist. He was fine, seriously, everything was going smoothly—

“Alright, I’ll be back with your order, pup!” If Cross wasn't purple before, then his entire skull must have been vibrating in violet now.

Ccino wasn’t much different; the only difference was that his blush was orange. And like Cross, he stuttered as he apologized, saying he didn’t remember Cross's name and that he looked like such an anxious puppy every time they locked eyes.

“It’s Cross!” He might not have needed to almost shout his name, but it was enough for Ccino to smile again, repeating Cross's name as if he were savoring something sweet.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” And he went back to the counter.

Cross could have died of embarrassment at that moment, but he couldn’t help but notice his own tail wagging happily at this small interaction (Ccino knew his name! And he smiled at him!).

They seemed to have a long journey ahead, but apparently, they had already started off well.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Hey, Frost! Congratulations on reaching 200 followers!!

This is Carol (@clonethirstingisreal), just asking on anon rather than my main account.

For my request, I was wondering about a fic focusing on Hunter & Omega with a father & daughter vibe (or just siblings is fine too.) I really don't have anything specific in mind. It could be after everyone (including Tech) is living safe on Pabu. Maybe Hunter comforting Omega about something...or vice versa. I don't know...sorry! If you need more to go on, let me know. I'm blanking...

Thanks!

New Night Routines [Hunter and Omega Family Fic]

Warnings and Information: Officially settling into island life after everything they’ve been through since the emergence of the Empire will take time, Hunter knows that. Patience is paramount in times like these, and the people of Pabu’s limitless generosity and neighborly nature make light work of helping all six members of Clone Force 99 lay down roots. Now, the biggest battle for him, his brothers, and Omega is getting a good night’s sleep.  TBB AU where everyone gets to live happily ever after. Reference and allusion to canon-typical injury and violence. Mainly fluff and feel-good family moments. Minimal Star Wars and real-world swearing. Limited Mando’a. Fictional sea creatures. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. 

Word count: 4,020

When the decision had been made to carve out a comfortable life for themselves at long last, Shep Hazard was all too happy to provide the Batch with a proper Pabuan house. He’d been insisting upon it for some time now, but the offer had always been turned down, saying the same thing each occasion.

“There’s still a lot to sort out. We need more time to come to a proper decision.”

They had the Empire to contend with. Brothers to help. Sowing the seeds of a growing rebellion.

So when the time finally came, Hunter was thrilled to take Shep up on the next offer. No more living on the run. No more sleeping and living out of the attack shuttle. They would have a safe roof to sleep under, and a steady supply of surf and sun to fill their days. The island community came together when news broke that they were here to stay, rolling up their sleeves to repay a multitude of favors from repairing Lower Pabu following the last sea surge. 

Without the whip-smart fishermen, rewiring the house would have taken Tech many long weeks of steady work in order to bring everything up to his standards on his own. 

Wrecker had the help of the community’s woodworkers in replacing anything suffering from wood rot and constructing newer, sturdier furniture. 

Artists pooled themselves together and slung paint in every room of the house under Crosshair’s watchful eye; by lunch every room had been given a base coat, and by dinner, detail-work began once it was agreed who slept where, giving those spaces tailored touches. 

Echo, though he would often be away assisting Captain Rex and the Clone rebellion, found ways to contribute to construction, incorporating hidden compartments and caches in their eventual living space for safekeeping their old armor and weaponry. 

Omega had grand plans to decorate not just the room she had all to herself, but the whole of the house all on her own if Hunter didn’t insist upon helping between his own odd jobs. The prospect of having more than just the barest of bare essentials, but now the ‘basics’ was entirely thrilling to Omega, and perhaps more than a little overwhelming at times for Hunter. 

There’s just so much… stuff.

Blankets and pillows had been small familiarities with the GAR, but patterned bedding and special linens? Decorative pillows? Was that all really necessary?

Maybe not to him, but making sure Omega felt like an equal contributor to putting together their home meant entertaining her enthusiasm in other ways when there were no tasks suitable for her to assist with. If there were heavy shelves to hang, Hunter helped her find the best baskets offered by the island’s artisans to use for storage. When the sturdier bed frames were carefully squeezed into the house, he went with Omega on a walk to collect the blankets that had been set aside for them by the many fibercraft artists. 

And every evening after dinner, Hunter promised to do whatever she wanted for an hour to reward her for being so patient throughout all of this. Occasionally, one hour often bled into two, sometimes three before both would be thoroughly worn out and ready to turn in for the night. 

Sometimes she wanted to sit under the weeping maya tree, gazing at the star-crusted indigo skies together. Other nights, Omega wanted to roam the Archium and proudly show off all she had learned from Phee, or Layana, or Tech about each of the valuable items stored here. They’ve crawled through several of the island’s coves in the growing twilight, collecting enough sea glass that Phee offered to find a jeweler who could turn the frosted fragments into beautiful sun-catchers for them. 

Enjoying this nightly routine with her, Hunter considered making this a weekly thing once the house had been finished, which wouldn’t be much longer now. While he and his vode were accustomed to sleeping in the Havoc Marauder during the Clone Wars, he was growing tired of it long term. 

Maker, he couldn’t wait to get into that house. 

As hard as it could be to accept, her brothers knew Omega wouldn’t stay little forever. She was a growing girl who needed more room to grow, to decide what kind of life to make for herself, to simply live. And a gunner’s mount was no place for any of that. 

Laying down roots on Pabu would be good for her. 

For all of them. 

After two weeks of continuous construction and regular after-dark adventures, the morning finally came that the Batch’s new house would be complete by lunch time. Perhaps even before, depending on how many members of this selfless community came together to help the vode furnish each room. 

Omega woke shortly before dawn, too excited to sleep, or think about trying. 

Hunter found himself roused from a comfortable slumber by a bright-eyed pre-teen, her pale, curly hair an adorably bedraggled mess as she gingerly shook his arm. 

“Hunter. Hunter!”

Crosshair, ever the light sleeper, began to stir in the bunk across from Hunter’s just as the other began to sit up and work feeling into his limbs. They had all promised her long ago that if she ever needed anything, and they meant anything, from one of them for any reason, she never had a reason to hesitate waking her brothers.

“What’s wrong?” 

Hunter tugged the blanket over the sniper’s head, chuckling warmly. “Go back to sleep, Cross. I’ve got it handled.” He didn’t even know what it was, but it didn’t matter. By nature of his engineering and training, Hunter had a life’s worth of experience in waking up suddenly and quickly. Alert in just a short time, he came up with something to do to let the others get as much sleep as they could while tugging on his boots. 

“Think we can find something new in our favorite tide pools that Tech hasn’t seen before?”

It should be enough to keep them occupied for an hour or two before joining the others in putting the finishing touches on the house. 

Omega nodded, enthusiastic and eager. 

“Atta girl.” 

Hunter ruffled her hair before sending her up to the cockpit to collect the beach bag Lyana had gifted her. This would give him more than enough time to shimmy out of the shirt he slept in and into something different. Once dressed, he rounded up a few more things around the Marauder he thought they might want - a drybag for when Omega inevitably wanted to splash her feet in the water, the datapad she used for her studies, and laid a change of clothing out for each of them at the foot of his bunk. Just in case. 

They met at the gangplank, Hunter keying in the appropriate sequence to lower the ramp. 

“All set, Havoc Five?”

Omega grinned, giddy and full of energy. “Ready, Havoc One!”

“Good,” Hunter returned the smile with one of his own. “Race you down to the water, then?” 

Scuttling down the ramp together, Omega tore off in a burst of gleeful giggles, Hunter close behind. 

Having been on the run for so long, living hand-to-mouth and facing peril after peril with the bravest of faces, Omega had begun laughing less and less. As their arrangement with Cid crawled to a boiling point, tempers flaring in the backroom of the Parlor, Bolo and Ketch found less and less success in making the adolescent laugh. After their treacherous ordeal on Ipsidon was met with complete apathy, it wasn’t much longer that the Batch parted ways with the Trandoshan without so much as a word. 

Phee selflessly sharing her safe haven had given Omega back her laugh. 

Pabu and the generosity of her people were giving Omega a chance at a normal life, with normal experiences. Making friends her own age exposed her to many new things. When Lyana and other girls their age invited her to her first sleepover, Tech helped her prepare for it the day before with research and reassurance. 

“If, in the event you miss us, just remember that you have Lula. She’s been with the team for a long time. She’ll help you be brave, Omega.” 

It wouldn’t be beloved tooka dolls alone that brought Omega her new-found bravery here in Pabu’s safe harbor. It would be her brothers, too. 

Patiently learning to act less like a team, and more like a family, they were navigating this new life together. Hunter would certainly never take this for granted after everything the Batch had been through to get to this point. 

Just as Omega claimed she was going to reach the beach first, Hunter would catch up in a burst of speed and swoop his sister into his arms. Both of them would reach the beach at the same time this way. The laughter shared between them felt good. Freeing. Racing down to the water without a care in the galaxy, still new and novel to each of them, would become a memory more valuable than any vault of credits he could ever imagine. 

He had wanted that kind of life, once. As a cadet, likely younger than Omega had been when they first met, the prospect of living lavishly with his rowdy band of brothers after the war had been among the grandest dreams. A distraction, really, from the growing pains that plagued him and the endless hours of rigorous training, testing and tweaking of his enhancements. 

Now, settling into an easy life from the Imperial forces that poisoned a predator with fear and slowly turned him into prey was his dream. A dream free of being faced with situations so dire and desperate he would be forced to gnaw off a part of himself to escape, or keep Omega safe. 

Safe to create new routines of poking about the deeper tide pools for shells and strange, quad-eyed crustaceans with her brothers, her family. 

“Look at this one!” 

Omega carefully plucks a large crab out of the saltwater pool, keeping her hands behind its largest claw. She holds it out to Hunter, showing it off like a trophy with the proudest of smiles that she could catch one. They were often lightning-fast, scuttling down to the surf in a flash. Crosshair had figured out how to catch them to make it less challenging for Tech to study them, but not without several pinched fingers, first. 

Once he’d mastered the technique, Cross taught it to Omega and encouraged her to show Hunter the next time he and Omega went down to the cove for their after-dark adventures. (Probably in hopes of scaring the hell out of Hunter, the little shit.) Crosshair had always been talented at finding ways to catch things that didn’t like being caught. It had been a useful pastime during the war. 

“Looks very nice.” Hunter said, verbally applauding her accomplishment. “Can you tell what it is, Megs?”

“This is a false flotsam crab!” she declared, indicating the lack of splinter-like spikes lining the smallest claw. 

Hunter had to stifle a chuckle over how much she sounded and acted like their bespectacled brother. After the sea surge, they had seen a lot of flotsam crabs and the pretenders in the wreckage of Lower Pabu. Upon identifying them, Tech declared both species were perfectly edible - though they would want more of the flotsam crabs than the false ones - and basketfuls of these crabs were collected. People may have lost their homes, but there would be enough food to prevent anyone from going hungry. 

It was like the sea’s way of apologizing. 

It was also the first time the Batch had seen the scale of Pabu’s generosity, and resilience. No wonder they had fled the Empire and come to Pabu; these were good people. Good people who were helping him give his sister a good life. 

Omega brought the false flotsam closer to her brother, holding it out to him.

“Do you want to hold it?” 

Hunter shook his head, smiling. “That’s okay. Maybe another time, Omega.” There would be plenty of chances to catch crabs in the future. Endless opportunities to splash in the cool coastal waters, and bask in the salt-laden breeze and island sun. 

Placing the cranky creature back in the water, Omega returns to the task of finding something new to show Tech before they return to the others, where together, they’ll make their house a proper home. 

When the sun has risen high enough, Omega leads the way to their new house, a large shell clutched tightly in her hands. Wearing her pack, Hunter follows behind, listening to her excited babbling of all the things she thinks her prize find could be. 

Found further down the beach by his sister, it had recently washed ashore, glimmering in the young sunlight of dawn the way Hunter had heard rumors of the appearance of kyber. Opalescent, clearer than ice. Some surfaces were smooth to the touch. Others, jagged and unpleasant. It was unlike anything the siblings had seen before. 

Omega called out their return the closer they were to the house. 

“Tech! Look what we found!” 

Hunter thought ‘we’ was being generous, but he did nothing to correct her. Tech, putting away his tools, takes the shell and examines it for all of ten seconds before announcing what they found. “Another glacial turban. That’s a rather remarkable specimen, Omega.” Omega pouts in disappointment to hear that they did not find something new, but it is soon forgotten as Tech spurs her youthful curiosity with a simple question. 

“Would you like to know what makes it so remarkable?”

“Yes!”

He asks her to wait there while he ducks inside a moment, collecting his datapad, most likely. When Tech returns, he has a second shell in hand rather than his trusty technology. “This is also a glacial turban.” he explains, kneeling beside her. Comparing the two together, he shows her how the first shell has far more opalescence and clarity than the other, and the color is stronger. 

Textbook perfect, he calls it. 

The others have crowded around to see, only opting to hold it once Omega says it’s okay. “S’beautiful, kid,” Wrecker says, carefully turning the turban over in his hands, “A real keeper!” Once he’s had a good look, the turban is passed to Echo, and the ARC trooper says the shell’s a real stunner. Crosshair says nothing, but the way he smiles as he studies the way the light warps and shifts on the surface explains more than enough. 

A teasing smile works its way free when Omega takes the shell back from him. 

“So? Do you like it?”

“Can’t get any better than textbook perfect, I suppose.” he replies, smiling wryly around a toothpick. 

Hunter lays a hand on one of Omega’s shoulders, looking down at her with a soft smile. “Sounds like we should find a special spot for you to show it off, then, Megs.” Now, looking up at his brothers, Hunter says the three words they had become very familiar with before all hell broke loose, once upon a time.

“You boys ready?”

Many hands make light work. Taking it room by room, they lay down rugs, make the beds and fluff up the pillows, and wrestle furniture into place. It would go a lot quicker if there was less fooling around, but making these new memories on what will soon be their first official day in a new house trumps efficiency. 

Phee drops in around mid-morning to check on their progress, finding the six of them piled on the floor, taking a short break in Tech and Wrecker’s room. “Getting tired? Neighbors have said you guys sound like you’ve been having a great time for several hours now.” Arms folded loosely against her chest, their friend is all smiles as Phee gives her report.

Tech adjusts his goggles before he replies. “Decorating a domicile has been more fun than I anticipated.”

Omega’s room is left for last out of the bedrooms, and every item within is a testament of love the people in her life had for her.

They started with the gifts from Phee and Lyana first. The sea glass sun-catcher was hung in a corner of the window, and a soft moon-yo toy was added beside Lula and her trooper doll on the bed. Next, each brother helped Omega fit his contribution to the room in only the most perfect places. 

The traditional telescope Crosshair had found and restored was tucked by the window, alongside other tools for stargazing. The bed frame that Wrecker had worked on longest of all was well worth the splinters when Omega lovingly awed over each embellishment that had been added by hand. The beaded curtains hung around her bed had been fashioned by Echo, worked on each night after she had gone to sleep. Tech gifted her a small set of shelves to display the special specimens she had collected in their travels. And adorning the bed laid the quilt Hunter had commissioned from one of Pabu’s reclusive-yet-crafty artisans, combining the common gray and red tones of Clone Force 99’s armor with the brighter hues found in Omega’s favorite colors. 

In spite of her excitement over her first proper bed since Kamino, Omega avoided climbing on it for fear of getting sand in the freshly-laundered sheets. Besides, they still had parts of the house to finish, chiefly the kitchen and living area, and Omega didn’t want them to lose the current momentum. If they wanted to have things finished by lunch, then they had less than an hour to do it. 

She would have the chance to find out just how comfortable the sleeping arrangements would prove at bedtime. 

Since the two of them had gone down to the beach before dawn, Hunter and Omega opted not to do a part of their nightly routine in favor of making their first night in a proper house an early one. Instead, they stayed with the rest of the Batch, playing a few short rounds of Sabbac or doing other things while waiting on their turn to shower. 

Wrecker would kindly offer to help Omega finish getting ready for bed while Hunter had his turn, but she declined. Her answer was less surprising than she might have expected; Hunter was already halfway to the refresher to get the water going before she had the chance to finish.

“I wanted to ask Tech to help me organize my specimens while waiting for Hunter…”

In good humor, Wrecker chuckles warmly before offering his sister’s hair a careful ruffle. 

“Alrigh’, ad’ika.” 

Ordinarily, Hunter never took long to wash up, but tonight he dawdled a bit more than usual to give Omega and Tech the opportunity to make decent progress. By the time he had dried, dressed, and detangled most of his hair from itself, he found the two of them sitting in the middle of Omega’s room. 

She had changed into a fresh pair of brushed-cotton sleepwear at some point, and was now allowing Tech to finish her haircare for the night. Joining this rather sweet scene, Hunter waits by Omega’s bed, quietly listening as they talk over her collection. Tech, kneeling behind her, is mostly focused on the instructions he is reading over her shoulder on how to start taking better care of the hair-type they have inherited from Jango Fett, the Clone template. 

“This appears to be mostly in chronological order, now. But a few items appear to be… missing.”

“I think some of them are still in your footlockers.” Omega replies, patiently enduring an unpleasant tug from the brush as Tech finds a rather stubborn knot. 

Promising to help her take care of getting the missing items in the morning, Tech asks Hunter to carefully set everything aside on the desk for the time being while he finishes up. He obliges his brother’s request, working quickly as both of them can see how drowsy she’s becoming. Being up before dawn will do that. Once he’s finished, Hunter lifts Omega from the floor, carrying her to bed.  

“C’mere, Megs. Bedtime.” 

He tucks her in, pulling the quilt up to her shoulder after making sure Lula is secure in Omega’s arms. It shouldn’t be long before she’s asleep, so Hunter and Tech don’t linger longer than it takes to say goodnight and shut off the light. 

“Jate ca, Omega.”

There’s little more than a sleepy hum in response. She is well and truly tuckered out. 

Omega sleeps soundly for about an hour before being stirred awake by something outside her window. It’s nothing more than playful moon-yo chatter outside, thankfully. Once they scamper off, she settles back down, but something feels… off. Not necessarily the room itself, but how quiet it is. After living on the run for so long, little more than a curtain between her and her brothers, the utter silence of the room is uncomfortable. Unsure what else to do about failing to fall asleep, Omega climbs carefully out of bed, and slips down to her brothers’ room. 

Hunter stirs before she’s gotten farther than the foot of his bed, waking easily with his keen sense of hearing. “What’s the matter, Megs?” His voice, low and sleepy, is partially muffled by his pillow before sitting up to address the situation. 

“It’s… it’s too quiet to fall back asleep. It’s making me feel uneasy.” she admits in a whisper, squeezing one of Lula’s paws to try to soothe herself. 

“... too quiet?” 

Hunter furrows his brow, wondering why a room being too quiet would make it hard to sleep when you’re sharing a room with someone. Then he remembers that she’s not sharing a room with anyone. She’s been given her own room, and she’s likely not used to being by herself anymore. Of course. All of them, for one reason or another, had forgotten to consider what might happen when she would be sleeping on her own for these new night routines… 

That was their fault, his fault, more than her’s. 

“C’mere, ad’ika. I have an idea.” 

Pillow under one arm and Omega in the other, he carries her back to her bedroom, giving her a choice. “Until we can find a sound machine to help you sleep, I’ll stay with you to help you get used to your room. Now, where do you want me to sleep?” Unsurprisingly, Omega quickly makes space so he can share both her bed and new quilt.

As she pulled it over them, she noticed the backing wasn’t just any old material. Her brothers had taken portions of their old bodysuits, carefully washing the material before donating these pieces to the blanket. Designs dear to them had been stitched in contrasting thread so she would know who particular patches came from. 

In the dark, fingers traced out the words “We’ll always have your back” at the very top of the blanket. The artisan’s neat work made her brothers’ collective loyalty and a promise all the more tangible.

As Hunter lay next to her, it wasn’t long before she was able to settle down again. Holding her close, he listened as her breathing evened out, eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Omega would be asleep before long, but not before she had one last thing to say. 

“Thank you, Hunter…”

“You’re welcome, Omega. Sweet dreams.”

Once she had drifted off, tucking her head under her brother’s chin, Hunter would carefully lay a kiss in the crown of her hair, bidding her to sleep well for the rest of the night. He listened to her for a while longer, quietly grateful that this instance of being unable to sleep was so easy to remedy. Grateful too, in a sense, that that was now among their biggest battles. 

Until their roots were firmer, settling down on Pabu would have a few growing pains. Adapting to change could be hard. Adjusting to new routines could be hard, too. 

But they didn’t have to be, so long as the Batch had each other’s backs.

Thank you for making such a sweet request for this little event Carol. I tried to include most of your ideas without rambling too too much, haha. I hope you enjoyed it! 🩷 (And apologies if the pacing feels a bit "off" in places as things were cut for brevity!)

Fic taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636

[Masterlist] [TBB Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: OPEN]

[nightghoul381]

Robin Doesn't Know the Evil Hiding in the Shadows ~ Ellis Twilight ~ Chapter 2

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

Jude said he was going to meet the victim’s classmate and I got into the carriage with Roger.

Roger: “We’re visiting a former medical school teacher. He was apparently the mentor of the murdered doctors.”

Roger: “Maybe he’ll know something they have in common that we haven’t found yet.”

We arrived by carriage in a quiet residential area.

And when I saw someone emerge from the house where the former teacher lived… I was a little surprised.

Ellis: “You…”

Haggard man: “Oh… You’re the man from this morning!”

Roger: “What, do you know each other?”

Ellis: “Just a bit, we met at the cake shop today.”

Feeling a strange connection, we told the man about the details of the incident.

Haggard man: “I see… I had no idea such an incident had occurred.”

Haggard man: “By the way, you don’t seem like police, but are you trying to catch the culprit?”

Ellis: “Yeah… I also wanted to talk to the culprit if possible.”

Haggard man: “Talk?”

Ellis: “Someone important to me mentioned it.”

Ellis: “If there wasn’t deep anger, no one would do something like this… that’s why I wanted to understand the mind of the perpetrator.”

Ellis: “There must be a reason behind this heinous act.”

Haggard man: “…I see.”

Haggard man: “Pardon me for asking… What would you do if the dignity of someone you care about was violated?”

I was surprised by the sudden question, but the man’s eyes were extremely serious and menacing…

There was an indescribable force that made me feel like I had to answer the question.

(If Kate’s dignity was violated…)

It’s a word that carries with it all kinds of possibilities, including physical and mental harm.

I don’t want to think about it, but as long as I’m in Crown, it’s a constant worry.

Ellis: “If something like that were to happen… first of all, I’d stay with Kate.”

Ellis: “I’d stay by her side until her wounds heal. And then—”

Ellis: “I don’t think I could forgive the people who hurt her.”

The man’s expression softened at my response.

Haggard man: “Ah… that’s correct. Me neither.”

Roger: “…I guess from the question you just asked,”

Roger: “You think the victim incurred some kind of grudge …and was murdered in revenge?”

Haggard man: “If the body was disfigured more than necessary, I think it’s definitely a case of resentment.”

Haggard man: “However, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it was revenge for an injury to one’s dignity, as I had asked.”

Ellis: “So, do you know anything about what the victims have in common…Any problems they had?”

Haggard man: “No…I can’t think of anything in particular. I think they were all diligent and excellent students.”

Ellis: “Yeah…”

Roger: “…”

I asked him a few more questions after that, but I couldn’t get any useful clues from him.

Roger: “Thank you for today. We’ll be heading back now, Ellis.”

Ellis: “Okay… Oh, one last thing.”

Haggard man: “…?”

Ellis: “I would never forgive anyone who hurts her. But—”

Ellis: “…I’ll protect her before she gets hurt.”

As soon as I said that, the man’s expression, which had been mostly calm up until then, became distorted for the first time.

Haggard man: “Protect…? No matter what, someone can’t always be protected. Not by anyone.”

The man’s words carried weight, as if he had actually experienced the dignity of someone he cared about be violated.

Afterwards, we tried to interview the victim’s family and friends, but our efforts were futile.

When Roger and I returned to Crown Castle, we were informed of a new victim--.

Jude: “Those classmates of the victim that I was plannin’ to interview were all murdered.”

Jude: “…Also, last site I went to I found this note.”

“My revenge is over. Tonight, many will die from the poison I brought.”

“If you can stop it, try to stop it.”

Ellis: “Is this… a confession letter?”

Jude: “He ain’t left anythin’ behind ‘til now, so I wonder what changed his mind this time.”

Roger: “…All the crime scenes so far have been in the same vicinity.”

Roger: “It says ‘if it can be stopped’ so the next one will probably happen somewhere near there.”

Ellis: “A lot of people are gathering around there tonight…”

Ellis: “…The venue for the event Kate is participating in is in danger…!”

I ran off to get to Kate right away,

Jude tried to kick me away--but I dodged it with a sidestep.

Ellis: “…What do you want, Jude?”

Jude: “That’s what I was tryin’ to tell ya, idiot.”

Jude: “Let’s put off rushin’ to the princess’s side. There’s still time ‘til the predicted night.”

Ellis: “But…”

Jude: “Yer goin’ even though ya ain’t found any information ‘bout the culprit? That mean yer only gonna save yer beloved princess?”

Ellis: “…, …”

(If she’s the only one who survives, Kate will surely be hurt.)

Roger: “Plus, Ellis. She was looking forward to today’s event, wasn’t she?”

Roger: “Well, then, let’s make sure she can enjoy it to the end… and take care of it before she even realizes it.”

Ellis: “…I understand. I’ll hold off on rushing to Kate’s side until the very last moment.”

Ellis: “But, where should we start to find the culprit…”

Roger: “Why don’t you go to medical school the victims are from?”

Jude: “What, somethin’ botherin’ ya?”

Roger: “Yeah. You heard it too, Ellis, about the former teacher.”

Roger: “The victims were ‘excellent students’ and ‘killed out of resentment’… don’t you think that’s strange?”

Ellis: “Indeed, if we suspect that the murder was motivated by resentment, we can’t say that there is nothing wrong with the students.”

Roger: “…Yeah. There’s something fishy going on.”

Roger: “Let’s look into whether there was any trouble around the victims.”

We then visited the medical school in London that the victims attended.

Medical school teacher: “Was there anything unusual happening around the victims?”

Ellis: “Yeah. Even something trivial is fine. Can you think of anything?”

Medical school teacher: “Now that I think about it… there was a tragic incident last year. I can’t speak about it too loud, though.”

Medical school teacher: “That day, the corpse brought in for the anatomy class turned out to be the teacher’s wife.”

Ellis: “…The teacher used his own wife in class?”

Medical school teacher: “No. On that day, a student had hired a company to prepare the body, but the it turned out to be a dishonest company…”

Medical school teacher: “They were grave robbers and dug up other people’s graves without permission and sold the bodies.”

Roger: “…London has a good number of medical students, but not many corpses to use in anatomy classes.”

Roger: “The imbalance between supply and demand has been a problem for a long time, and I’ve heard of people robbing graves from time to time…”

Roger: “And then they end up taking the teacher’s wife… what a tragic twist of fate.”

Medical school teacher: “Yes. I don’t think the teacher ever expected his wife to be brought in…”

Medical school teacher: “It came as such a shock to him… and he retired last year.”

The name of the teacher he spoke of was the same as the man Roger and I had gone to talk with.

(Is that what prompted the murders?)

(Then the culprit is--)

--Flashback—

Haggard man: “Thank you. Today is the anniversary of my late wife’s death...”

Haggard man: “She was sick and before she died, she wasn’t able to eat her favorite foods, so I really wanted to buy them for her.”

Haggard man: “Thank you so much.”

--2nd Flashback—

Haggard man: “Protect…? No matter what, someone can’t always be protected. Not by anyone.”

--End Flashback—

(…it was that man.)

Jude: “…Oy, ya listenin’?”

Jude: “—Ellis!”

Jude’s sharp voice brought me back to my senses.

Ellis: “Sorry…What?”

Jude: “What’s goin’ on? Didja remember that ya were in charge of the criminal search area?”

Ellis: “Here and… here, right?”

I pointed to the floorplan of the venue that Jude had spread out.

Jude: “What’re the precautions?”

Ellis: “There were traces of poison being processed in the perpetrator’s room. There’s a high possibility that he has it in his possession, so be careful.”

It seemed like I was right, because Jude didn’t say anything more and just clicked his tongue.

Roger: “Thoughts before the mission?”

Ellis: “Yeah… I just imagined it and it made me a bit anxious.”

Ellis: “What would I do… if Kate and I’s eternity was destroyed like that?”

I thought that the moment we took our last breath, time would stop for us and we would be happy forever.

But…

(What if Kate’s body is harmed in an unwanted way?)

(It feels like a shadow has fallen on… the happiness we were meant to have.)

With that in mind, it’s easy to understand why the perpetrator committed this heinous act,

Jude: “Yer free to sympathize with the perpetrator ‘n feel sentimental, but don’t go crazy.”

Ellis: “…It’s okay.”

Ellis: “I feel sorry for the perpetrator, but if he’s allowed to go unchecked, he’ll bring harm to Kate.”

Ellis: “I will not forgive anyone who gets in the way of our eternity.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"Bonjour, dear Headmage!" Rook's voice resonates before the hunter appears out of seemingly nowhere, like usual. "Don't mind me, I just couldn't help but need to sate my curiosity. After all, for how long you've been here, not much is known about you. Where you're from, what's the extent of your powers, ce genre de choses (things like that). I'm not the only one curious, even: a little rose mentioned something along those lines during an impromptu visit of yours truly to his Alchemy class."

I believe the asker is referring to a voice line that Riddle has when Crowley drops into Alchemy for a Special Lesson. He wonders what kind of magic the headmaster must use--though knowledge of this line isn't necessary to enjoy this interaction.

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

It's odd, Rook had concluded, that he cannot discern anything meaningful about Crowley. It’s unlike the huntsman to be lacking in information, in details—but when it came to him, it became a jumbled mess. Unknown birthday, unknown home country, unknown past and powers. No records in any textbooks or formal documentation he could find.

All that was known was the name, occupation, height and weight. The bare basics. Hardly anything to work off of.

Rook regarded Crowley with curious eyes carved into emerald crescents. He provided his brightest smile, his warmest voice. He was a hunter laying out a nasty snare for his prey.

“By all means, I invite you to elucidate. I would personally love to learn more of our dearly beloved headmaster and his long and most illustrious career.”

“It seems as though my students have been gossiping about me once again… even my most studious boys!” Crowley mumbled to himself. (Rook’s hypersensitive ears had no issues picking up his words.) “Dear me, I’m too popular for my own good!!”

Then, addressing Rook in full, “I understand that you are all dying to know more about your dashing, intelligent, highly competent headmaster—however, prying into the personal matters of your teachers is not necessary to your pursuit of a magic education. I ask that you grant your instructors and myself our much-needed privacy.

“Adult matters are just that: adult matters! One day you will understand when you, too, get to be of that age.”

Rook's brows pinched ever so slightly. It's as though the briefest of clouds has passed by the sun, drowning out its light--but it returned, the momentary shift imperceptible to the naked eye.

“Je suis désolé,” he said, lowering into an apologetic bow. "I will mind my words when speaking to my superiors."

"Good, good! I shall be off, then. There are important snacks--" Crowley stopped and hurriedly corrected himself. "Erm, I mean important paperwork in my office which I must attend to. Enjoy the rest of your day, my student!"

The headmaster turned and started to make his way out of the courtyard. His back, exposed.

When the arrow came flying at his head, Crowley didn't flinch, didn't move--didn't have to. It froze midair, nowhere near its intended target, then dropped to the ground. A second later, a crystalline shield flickered into view, then vanished again.

Oh là là!

Rook's heart leapt with excitement. His interest, piqued.

Crowley craned his head back at him.

"Oops! Slip of the hand," the huntsman chuckled, not sounding so innocent with his excuse. He made no effort to hide the bow and a quiver he had somehow produced from his robes.

Bait left out to lure him in.

“Careful, Hunt-kun,” Crowley tuts, wagging a finger. “I may be a kind man, but even my kindness has its limits. I assure you, you do not wish to incur my wrath."

The headmaster--it was the same headmaster, harmless as ever, but... His shadow, it seemed to stretch along the path, taking on a new sinister shape. A monstrous raven, beak full of dagger-like teeth and blood-red eyes.

A chilling thrill bolted through Rook.

"That man seems so preoccupied with trivial matters," Riddle had once said. "It's difficult to believe he is a formidable mage."

Non, Roi des Roses. It appears that our headmaster is, in fact, quite the formidable mage indeed.

"... Bien sûr." Rook knelt, laying his bow and arrows on the ground. "You have my word. No more trickery or deception, fufu."

"Excellent! I'm glad we understand each other," Crowley chirped with the twirl of his cane. "Because I am so very generous, I shall overlook this transgression and allow you to be on your merry way."

He taped his lips together and whistled as he walked off. A cheery tune lifted up into the air like a bird taking flight.

Rook silently marveled at the beauty--and horror--of it.

[weaselle]

What'd your boss do, if you don't mind?

oh dear. trap card activated

ok. ok. There is a lot more behind me reaching the end of my rope. But the final straw was this:

I have next week off (my first week off in 3 years). She said she needed a report. She explicitly told me the reason she needed the report was so she could cover my shifts while i am off, citing problems covering when one of our clients gave me covid a month ago.

She said she needed to know what order I was doing pick ups and drop offs, and she needed to know procedures for the new clients (about half of our clients are new enough that she has never worked directly with them).

She gave the specific example of not knowing to go to the side door of one client's house instead of the front door. She said she also needed to know who had timing expectations, saying when she covered for me clients were "blowing up her phone" because she didn't know when clients expected me and which clients i typically texted an arrival time, again giving a specific example of "like the way you text [client she is familiar with] from the bottom of the hill on your way to her house"

I clarified by using two more examples "oh like how I always let [client's dog] stop to pee right before putting him back in the house, and how I always text [other client] when i am 15 minutes from her house?" and she confirmed that was the information she was asking for. She said to just write it down at each house along my route as i worked each day of the week.

At the end of Monday I told her writing all that down was making me late to client's houses, so i was just going to write it all up on the weekend. I also pointed out that since i was writing so much of it down anyway, i might as well write it not just good enough for her, but complete enough that any other employee could cover a shift of mine if needed. She agreed.

Since i was volunteering to do more than was strictly asked, and since i have been trying to showcase how i go above and beyond because she promised to make me a manager but hasn't, i wrote up this report in my own time, unpaid, over the weekend.

Now I only wrote a short paragraph for each client. But I service about 20 clients each day. Many of those clients are repeat clients throughout the week, so there was a fair amount of copy/pasting, but it was still a hell of a report to write up.

Because it was so long, I spent extra time making it super organized and easy to read, formatted so it's not just a wall of text, easy to skip over parts and find specific information as needed.

I turned in to her a 26 page 14,000 word document, which contains the necessary information for any employee to cover my specific client routes. It took me 7 hours.

Her response?

"This isn't what i asked for"

BUT IT IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE ASKED FOR.

I confirmed that it was what she asked for. It IS a little more detailed than she strictly asked for, but I TOLD her I would be doing that and she spent four days knowing I was preparing to do that and she didn't say a thing about not doing that.

So I'm like "well, what do you need that's not in there?"

And she says "i need to know the exact order you are doing your route, not just pick ups, but slotting the drop offs in-between the pickups too"

So i'm like "that is exactly how that report is written"

And she says "I need to know the times clients expect you to be picking up and dropping off, and when you are doing the walks and when you are taking breaks"

And i go "every client that has a timing expectation is noted in that report, my break times and the walk times are also included."

And she says "it's more information than i need, I need just the stuff i personally need, like the cliffs notes version of your report"

And i'm like "the cliffs notes version, the lines containing the specific information you personally need, are done in bold so you can easily skim through and find it."

and after going around and around like this, it finally comes out that what she ACTUALLY wants is a minute to minute log of how i am spending my day because she's paying me about 6 hours a week of overtime and she's mad about it.

Which i'm happy to provide a log of my time on shift, but if she wants to know why there's overtime, i can tell her in 2 minutes instead of wasting my time on this logging project, IN FACT I DID TELL HER WHY THERE WAS OVERTIME, ONCE WHEN CHANGES TO THE SCHEDULE MADE IT SEEM LIKELY, AND AGAIN TWO WEEKS LATER CONFIRMING THAT WAS WHAT HAD HAPPENED

But really it boils down to me bending over backwards to help her grow her business while she has failed to make good on every single promise she's made me.

Like, I was her only employee for two years and she promised she would make me a manager (i'm interested in a promotion for both the monetary compensation and the job title for résumé reasons) and i worked my ass off to build up the client base so we could hire two more employees and make that happen...

but she did not have me sit in on the interviews, she did not have me shadow her doing the intake process, nothing. She clearly either does not intend on making me a manager or doesn't know how.

i tend to gravitate to small, owner operated businesses, partially because i have a real soft spot for being truly needed, and partially because it's a way to study the dos and don'ts of how to open and run my own business one day.

I understand she is a small business with small business problems, and i have been very patient because she's a single mom with a lot going on in her personal life.

But the thing about me is, while I am very very patient and very very loyal... i need a bare minimum of return on that to replenish it. Tell me what a great job i'm doing every now and then, show appreciation for what i do, listen to me when i say things, etc, and if you NEVER do any of that, my vast reserves of patience and loyalty will dry up.

And once you use up my patience and loyalty? That's it. It's gone.

And I, well, i have been all used up.

also she pays me like half what she should, which i was letting slide because i was going to get a big raise with my promotion to manager, but that is looking like it will never happen, so ... fuuuuuuck this shit i'm out

"so i can open and run my own business one day" has arrived

[acourtofthought]

Contains TOG series spoilers

It really frustrates me when certain readers ignore that SJM wrote how Elain is bothered by cruelty and claim she'd be fine with Az's torturing:

Chaol cleared his throat. She knew he hated this. When she’d gone on her first mission—to an estate up the coast in Meah—he’d paced so much before she left that she honestly thought he would ask her not to go. And when she’d returned, severed head in tow and rumors flying about Sir Carlin’s murder, it had taken a week for him to even look her in the eye. But what had he expected?

Whenever the princess or Chaol or even Dorian looked at her like that, it was almost too much to bear. But they had to believe the lies, too. For their own safety.

Chaol watched blood bubble out of Archer’s lips as Celaena let him slump to the stone floor. She stared down at the body, her final words to him hovering in the air, running claws over Chaol’s already chilled skin. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back as she took a long breath—as if she were embracing the death before her, and the stain it left as payment for her vengeance.

For a month now, it had been the same dream. Every night, over and over, until Chaol could see it in his waking hours. Archer Finn groaning as Celaena shoved her dagger up through his ribs and into his heart. She embraced the handsome courtesan like a lover, but when she gazed over Archer’s shoulder, her eyes were dead. Hollow.

Chaol was a soldier who killed when it was necessary for duty, he even killed Cain to protect Celeana (something he also had nightmares over). Yet even he struggled with the idea of Celeana as an assassin. He loved her while still having a difficult time accepting the violence in her.

Chaol and Celaena are not exactly like Elain and Az but SJM tends to stick with certain themes throughout her writing and one character not being able to fully embrace the darkness within another character pretty much guarantees that ship will sink. There's a reason Elain was not present during Az's torture scene, with SJM later telling us cruelty bothers her then later having Az tell us Elain had no idea the things he'd done. The author is telling us that even if Elain and Az were to become a thing, Elain wouldn't be fine with his methods, that she'd never fully accept that darkness in him just as Chaol could never fully accept that side of Celeana. SJM shows that "love" still isn't always enough for two characters when their values don't align (not that E/riel is even in love) and Az actively hides that side of himself around Elain because he knows she's not the kind of person to accept the torture of their enemies.

Which is another thing that doesn't bode well for a romance in her worlds

Characters hiding who they are from the other. Celeana lied to Chaol about who she really was, and while her reasons were completely understandable, he fell in love with her without truly knowing her.

But he thought of all that she’d told him, all the secrets she’d revealed, and knew he needed time to comprehend it all. He could tell that she had left out information. She’d told him only the vaguest details; and then there was the matter of her Fae heritage.

But I had to get her out of this castle. Because it was too dangerous, and she was … what she was becoming …” “She was not becoming anything different from what she always was and always had the capacity to be. You just finally saw everything. And once you saw that other part of her …,” Dorian said quietly. / “You cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love.”

SJM endgame pairings tend to show their worst to one another from the start.

Rhys played the villain in front of Feyre very early on, showing her the lengths he'd go to in order to get what he wanted. He basically called her human trash at one point then twisted a bone in her arm at another.

Nesta showed Cassian her claws and teeth from their very first meeting.

SJM had Elain first meet Lucien in the worst possible situation. Lucien is actually a really good guy but the author set it up where if there was ever a reason for her to be angry towards Lucien, she put it out there right from the beginning. There is no more "bad" or "dark" that Lucien is hiding from Elain, that was the worst of him that she's ever going to experience but is in line with endgame couples seeing the negative right away.

Gwyn saw Az slaughter an entire group of people before her eyes. I don't think she's seen the darkest parts of Az just yet however her first experience of him was seeing him have absolutely no mercy, a storyline SJM retconned just for Gwyn.

Rowan saw Aelin falling down drunk, knowing who she was while she herself hid from it, knowing what she had done before. He saw her at her worst from the get go.

Az shows Elain the parts of himself he thinks she wants to see. He's gentle and polite in her presence while hiding really major parts of who he is from her, he's someone entirely different when she's not around and that's not a good thing in these books.

Elain can't have real feelings for Az because she's never seen the real Az.

I'm sick of seeing "she does know Az and she's fine with what he does, she understands he has to do it!"

There is ZERO evidence of this because there are no canon scenes proving this.

She wasn't in the High Lords meeting where he attacked Eris. She wasn't in the room when he disrespected Feyre's orders. She wasn't in the room when he said she shouldn't search for the Trove. She wasn't in the Hewn City while he tortured Autumn's soldiers and Az says he's been avoiding her and that she doesn't know the things he's done.

Elain killing the king to save Nesta and Cassian, a one off occurrence that was not premeditated is in no way comparable to what Az regularly does and torturing is not even comparable to fighting in a battle, it's on a whole other level. His torture is something even Feyre struggles with, Feyre who is mated to the High Lord of the Night Court.

This is why Chaol was never going to be right for Celeana / Aelin:

He had seen Aelin do terrible things. He still dreamed of her gutting Archer Finn in cold blood. Still dreamed of what she’d left of Grave’s body in that alley. Still dreamed of her butchering men like cattle, in Rifthold and in Endovier, and knew just how unfeeling and brutal she could turn. He had quarreled with her earlier this summer about it—the checks on her power. The lack of them.

This is why Rowan is:

Rowan was a good male. Utterly unafraid of Aelin, her magic.

And that's why Chaol ended up with Yrene, who said:

So I may not be a warrior waving a sword about, may not be worthy of your glorious tales, but at least I save lives—not end them.”

Chaol was a warrior but only killed when necessary in order to protect just as Lucien is a warrior but only when necessary, just as Elain only stabbed the king to protect.

Even though he'll kill to defend, Lucien does not seek out revenge and is bothered by extreme violence as it's a reminder of what happened to Jesminda and his experience with Amarantha.

Is Elain's character more like Celeana's or Yrene's?

If Chaol, a character bothered by extreme violence, was best matched with Yrene (a healer) and not a match for an assassin, then I think it's pretty obvious that Elain (who is more like Yrene) is going to be better matched with someone like Lucien than a torturer.

[mbti-notes]

with regards to learning it may be important to know about IEOD(illusion of explanation depth) which may sometimes lead us to believe we understand more about the world than we think this can be especially true for those with an intuitive preference i write this because I've fallen for it too I hope this helps

I have discussed such learning problems in previous posts. After spending many years teaching, tutoring, and coaching students from a variety of backgrounds, in a variety of subjects, it never ceases to amaze me just how little people understand about learning. I believe that basic knowledge of learning theory is necessary for optimizing the learning process, if one hopes to be a good student of anything.

With so much information at the fingertips, it's more important than ever that people are mindful about how they learn. Being in the role of "student" is hard because you're a newbie and you're ignorant and you don't know the best way to tackle a big subject. Without a good teacher or an expert to guide you, you might come to rely on dubious sources of information, misinterpret what you read, misapply the ideas, or hit a seemingly insurmountable block/plateau.

Unfortunately, there are not enough good teachers to go around. Unfortunately, many teachers in public education are tasked with "babysitting" rather than teaching, to the detriment of learning. As a result, too many students get to high school, i.e., into adulthood, without a solid foundation of study skills.

Just recently, I was helping a twelfth grade student with essay writing. Being a good student, they couldn't understand why they kept getting low marks in writing despite putting a lot of effort into the assignments. Turns out, they kept submitting summaries of the literature when the teacher was explicitly asking for analysis of the literature. When I brought this problem to their attention, they were even more confused, because they thought they had been doing analysis all along. They had no clue that there was a difference between summary and analysis, so they were incapable of getting to the level of depth that the teacher was demanding.

One of the first things I often have to do with students is explain the difference between lower order vs higher order learning. Lower order learning is usually enough to pass the class throughout K-12 or achieve basic competency. Higher order learning moves people into expert territory. Without a clear vision of what they should be aspiring to, students tend to get stuck in lower order learning.

The difference between lower and higher order learning is neatly summarized by Bloom's Taxonomy, a conceptual framework for evaluating cognitive/intellectual ability. It breaks down the learning process into six categories/levels: 1) remember, 2) understand, 3) apply, 4) analyze, 5) evaluate, 6) create. Since it's hard to quantify exactly what's happening in a student's mind during learning, this framework helps by asking concrete questions about what the student can or cannot do.

My student got stuck at level 2 when the average requirement for the class was 4. They gave me a sample essay that their teacher considered to be "excellent" and it was easily at 5. While they could "feel" that there was a difference between their own essay and the excellent essay, they weren't able to articulate the difference at all.

One learning problem that people, Ns especially, often suffer is that they tend to get ahead of themselves, which is related to illusion of explanation depth. It's basically trying to run before walking. For example:

they believe "gist" is enough and dismiss details

they conflate knowing (theory) and doing (real world)

they judge/conclude without proper analysis

they try to create without mastering the basics

The above problems arise when a person doesn't realize how much they don't know (and in the case of an unhealthy personality, they refuse to acknowledge it). My student (N) is a good example. They believed that being able to do level 2 stuff (paraphrase, summarize, interpret, give examples) qualified as level 4 "analysis" and that this meant they had "mastered" the material. They simply didn't know any better or that more was possible. It wasn't until I explained to them the differences between lower and higher order learning that they began to realize how low-level their writing actually was.

I've talked before about the differences between a good student vs a good learner. A simple way to think about it: A good student is preoccupied with proving how much they know, so they are mainly motivated by extrinsic rewards or egotistical gain. By contrast, a good learner is preoccupied with how much they don't know, so they are mainly motivated by intrinsic rewards or intellectual humility that naturally breeds intellectual curiosity.

[pocket-lad]

CH 7- A Snowball Effect

Prev

Adelaide didn’t know Oliver very well. She had only briefly met him once or twice, and they never really had a proper conversation. Regardless, he was a kid. A small kid at that. To think of him alone and lost in the walls was terrifying. She didn’t know how expansive their wall system was, and if they hadn’t taken the time to meticulously comb through every nook and cranny, there were an infinite amount of dangerous pitfalls for the boy.

Pests were the biggest problem, but there were also tight spaces, weak wood that could collapse from underneath or on top of them, leftover chemicals or pesticides or other dangerous things to inhale, sharp nails sticking through the floor or walls, or even just massive holes that are hard to spot in the dark.

Adelaide knew Dane would've checked every place he could possibly think of, so she didn’t bother asking. “I haven’t seen him, but I can ask Ian. I doubt he has, either - I was just talking to him, but it doesn’t hurt-”

“Absolutely not,” Dane said. “I won’t reveal mine or Oliver's existence unless absolutely necessary. For now, if you wouldn’t mind looking-”

“Um…dad?” Ollie whispered.

He turned, and when he read the expression on his daughter’s face, he paled. “Olivia, what did you do?”

“What I did is not important. What’s important is that the Bean does know about all of us and what’s more important is that we need to find Oliver. Adelaide and I can go ask while you continue to look.”

Dane’s face hardened. He looked furious, but due to the situation at hand, he held back the major outburst already bubbling to the surface. Adelaide knew she would hear about it extensively later. For now, it looked like he was going to let them off the hook, if only for the sake of his son.  If he were to say anything, he would probably start yelling, so Ollie took that as their cue to leave. She and Adelaide raced to the kitchen as fast as they could.

***

To Ian’s surprise, it was not Adelaide on the counter. Nor was it Ollie. In fact, it was a completely new tiny person that he hadn’t seen before, though if he had to guess, he could only assume it was Ollie’s brother.

The kid was incredibly small. Adelaide was already so small. Ian never thought about the fact that a child borrower would be even smaller. He had a hard time making out the details on his face, but the kid stared up at Ian, completely unmoving.

“Um…hello,” he said, checking to make sure no other borrowers were nearby. They were in fact completely alone.

The kid didn’t say anything.

“Are you lost?” Ian asked.

The kid didn’t say anything.

Slowly, Ian pulled a chair to the counter and sunk into it, eyes trained on the boy in case he did something risky. But he didn’t even flinch. He didn’t back away, didn’t scream, didn’t pull out a knife. All he did was stare.

“You’re kind of - you’re kind of freaking me out here. Can you talk?”

“Yes,” the boy said. His voice was quiet, but not in a way that was shy or scared. He was just that small. Ian wondered how much Adelaide projected her voice on a daily basis just to talk to him.

Because of this, Ian leaned in a little. The boy backed up a couple steps on instinct, but otherwise didn’t show any signs of fear.

“I’m Ian Malcolm-”

“I know,” the boy interrupted.

Ian tried to remain unbothered by that. “Of course you do…Do you have a name?”

“Yes.”

Pulling information out of this kid was like pulling teeth. “...What is it?”

“Oliver.”

“Ah.” That confirmed it. Ollie and Oliver? Clever. “Oliver, what are you doing out here?”

Oliver didn’t respond.

“You’re not in any trouble. At least - at least not with me. Does anybody, um, know you’re here?”

Oliver shook his head no.

“Great,” Ian mumbled. He was just learning how to get along with borrowers, and he was just learning how to get along with his own human kid. Now he had to get along with a borrower kid?

Ian considered knocking on the walls to get somebody’s attention, but he didn’t want to upset Adelaide any more than she already was. Somebody would probably come looking eventually, anyway.

“You’re kind of scary,” Oliver said.

“Thank you.”

At that, Oliver giggled. “That wasn’t a compliment!”

“Oh! My mistake. In that case…I beg to differ.”

“But you’re so big…and fast! Dad says Beans snatch us up and take us away from our families and do bad things to us.”

Ian hummed. “Does he now?...Well, this Bean doesn’t - doesn’t do that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t see any reason to.”

“Why?”

“Because uh, people shouldn’t be taken away from their…families?” Ian guessed.

“Why?”

“Yeah, I’m not - I’m not playing this game. Oliver, do you like chocolate?” That always seemed to work with Adelaide.

Oliver shrugged.

“Right, you wouldn’t know-…Here.” Ian leaned back in his chair, snatching a Hershey’s Kiss out of a glass bowl on the table. He let the chair fall forward with a thud and set the Kiss in front of Oliver. “That’s for you,” he clarified.

Oliver looked between Ian and the candy as if he couldn’t believe it was all for him. Ian nodded in confirmation, so Oliver tentatively approached it. This exhibited all the signs of a trap, but the food was right there! And Ollie talked to the Bean, so he couldn’t be all that bad.

Just as he realized the aluminum foil wrapping might prove troublesome, rustling from behind caught Oliver’s attention. He turned to see Ollie and her new friend burst through the walls. Ollie’s eyes went wide with relief and shock as she sprinted toward Oliver and pulled him into a tight hug.

Ollie let her heartrate fall and eyed Ian suspiciously. She doubted he actually kidnapped Oliver, but leaving her little brother alone with a Bean was unthinkable.

Adelaide consciously slowed her breathing after their desperate run, glad everyone was okay. She also gave Ian a look, but he shot her one right back. What was he supposed to do? In fact, he was pretty sure he did everything right in this scenario.

“I’m okay, everyone,” Ian assured them sarcastically, a cocky smile spread across his face. The borrowers ignored him.

“What did you think you were doing?!” Ollie yelled at Oliver.

“You talked to the Bean. I wanted to talk to the Bean,” he shrugged.

“And it was a rousing discussion,” Ian laughed. The boy hadn’t said much at all, really.

“You have to tell somebody. You know you’re not supposed to go anywhere in the walls alone,” Ollie continued.

“I’m not in the walls, though.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Can I still have the candy?”

Adelaide and Ollie seemed to notice the chocolate sitting on the counter for the first time. “You offered him candy?!” Adelaide asked incredulously.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I lured him right - right into my trap.”

“Don’t move,” said a new, commanding voice. Every head whipped around to see Dane standing in the entrance to the walls, posture tense and knife drawn at his side.

Adelaide wondered how this could snowball any further. And then Ian spoke.

“Ah, you must be…” he paused, trying to recall if he’d ever heard a name from either of the borrowers. His pinched brow made Dane tense up even more. “I apologize, I uh, I don’t know your name. But you must be Ollie’s father. I’ve heard so much about you,” he lied. “Good things, of course, of course.”

“Let them go,” Dane seethed through gritted teeth, slowly inching closer. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead.

“Woah, I’m not holding anybody hostage, let’s make that one - let’s make that one crystal clear.”

Dane's eyes flickered over to the Hershey's Kiss, an obvious trap. The Bean even said so himself. “Olivia, Oliver. Get back here,” he ordered.  They obliged.

“No, wait, wait, hold on, I was-” Ian said, simultaneously trying to defend himself and mend the situation. Adelaide imagined his thought process as, Hmmm. How can I make this worse?  “I’m not the bad guy. I’m tired of being treated like the uh, like the big bad monster, like a scary, man-eating giant. I’m just a simple man! I’m like you! Just…you know, six feet taller.”

“You’re nothing like me, Bean,” Dane spat.

“No, you’re right, I don’t have a-” Ian started, but in a rare moment of clarity, didn’t finish his sentence. Whatever he was going to say, Adelaide was glad he didn’t say it. But then, his face lit up as a new thought occurred to him. “Is the word ‘Bean’ a…Is ‘Bean’ derogatory? I never even thought…” When all he received was blank looks, he pushed forward. “Nevermind. We got off on the - on the wrong, uh…foot. My name is Ian Malcolm. What can I do to get you to trust me?”

“You can leave us alone.” Dane turned to point his knife at Adelaide. “And that includes you, too.”

Adelaide stepped back with her hands up, Ollie shouted at him to stop, and Ian leaned forward protectively. This caused Dane to turn back to Ian, his knife raised even higher. Adelaide shouted at Ian to stop and Ollie tried pushing her dad into the walls, but he wouldn't budge.

Everyone froze, holding their breath, waiting to see who would make the next move. The silence stretched for an eternity, but then Sarah Harding rounded the corner.

Everyone was too caught up in the fray to hear her enter, and it was hard for her to miss the commotion going on in her own kitchen. Sarah wasn’t sure what she expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. A million jumbled questions raced through her mind and eventually one spilled out. “There are more of you?!”

It took a moment for Adelaide to realize the question was directed at her, too preoccupied with the somehow ever-worsening situation. Just when she thought nothing else could possibly go wrong, another Bean entered the equation. A curious one. A scientist. There was no doubt Ollie, Dane, and Oliver would recognize Sarah, and that wasn’t a good thing.  Even Ian seemed to realize that this would put a wrench in his plans to charm every single borrower that stood on the counter.

Before anybody could answer, Sarah plowed forward to get a closer look. The borrowers flinched back, including Adelaide, at the sheer speed with which she moved. The small family froze, and Adelaide could see the terror in Ollie’s eyes.

“Get back,” Dane threatened, his knife still high, never wavering.

Sarah either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. It was likely she heard him but didn’t process the words. Or maybe her fascination was just too strong.

“Where did you come from?” Sarah asked. She looked behind them to see the small, concealed hole in the wall and put it together. “You guys live here!”

Ollie looked like she was going to faint. Adelaide had to take charge. She ran forward, putting herself between them as a tiny shield. “Sarah. Yes. Hi. Um. Yes, they do live here.” Adelaide cringed, hating to be the one to give up that information, but she was only formally putting it into words. It was clear Sarah had them figured out. “BUT. I told them that you’re really cool and you’re not the type of person to go seeking them out and you definitely wouldn’t hurt them…Right?”

Sarah finally seemed to register their fear. “Oh! Yeah, no. God, no, I wouldn’t hurt you. But-”

Ian interrupted, shooting to his feet and making the borrowers flinch again. “Nope. No ‘but’s’, honey.” He was sure she was going to say something along the lines of, But I’m so curious about-, or, But it’s so fascinating how-. That was all fine and well, but the borrowers wouldn’t see it that way. He gently grabbed her arm and ushered her backwards out of the kitchen. “No but’s. You won’t hurt them. I won’t hurt them. They’re safe inside these walls...and out.”

Sarah got the hint, but she frowned anyway. She only got two answers out of her one billion questions, and she wasn’t sure when (or if) she’d get the chance to ask again. She gave Ian a look that said, This isn’t over, and left the room.

Ian turned back to the counter. They were all just…so small. He noticed the way he towered over them and he noticed the way they noticed it. So, he sat back down. “That was…eventful.”

The whole time, Dane had been weighing when he should make a break for it. There were times when the Beans were distracted, but he was simply too far from the walls to guarantee they’d make it without notice. They only had one shot and he was not going to blow it.

Something shifted when the male Bean pushed the other one away, though. Almost as if he was doing it for them. Dane had to admit that this Bean was kinder and more relaxed than any Bean he’d ever seen before. But that was something to evaluate once he and his family were back in the walls, safe and sound. Not out in the open.

“You can say that again,” Adelaide said, trying to break the tension.

“That was eventf-” Ian repeated, but Adelaide cut him off.

“So we should probably be heading back into the walls now.” She knew she should’ve declared this way earlier, but a small part of her hoped they’d work it out, or at least come to some kind of an understanding. That was selfish of her, she now realized. Ollie, Oliver, and Dane were scared, and it was mostly her fault. She had to call it off before it went any further.

“Wait a second,” Ian said, and Adelaide gave him an incredulous look. Dane was already so concerned about whether Ian would let them go. Ian had to have known this and yet he chose to say the complete wrong thing.

He repeated his motion from earlier, leaning back in his chair and snatching another chocolate from the bowl. He let the chair fall forward as he set the Hershey Kiss in front of Ollie and her family. “There. A peace offering. You’ll love it. It’s-”

Ian moved too fast for Dane to comprehend what he was doing so, taking no chances, he slashed his knife toward the enormous hand that skyrocketed toward him and his family. He would not let the Bean hurt them.

Ian winced and yanked his hand back. He looked at Dane. “Come on,” he whined. The cut was barely visible and it didn’t even bleed, something akin to a mild papercut, but it still stung. And it was more so about the principle of it all, anyway.

Dane knew it was now or never. If he didn’t leave now, the Bean might lash out and then he’d never escape. He ushered his children in front of him as they sprinted toward the walls.

Adelaide and Ian watched as they did so. Ian could have easily stopped them, but he wasn’t going to do that. Not when they were already so scared.

The two sat in silence for a moment, processing the last ten minutes of their lives. Adelaide broke it. “You shouldn’t have reached for-”

“I know,” Ian cut her off. The silence persisted, louder this time.

Adelaide looked up at him, and he genuinely looked upset. “You did everything you could. I just don’t think Dane’s ever going to trust a Bean. The harm you guys can cause is repeatedly drilled into us from the moment we open our eyes. Dane’s lived his whole life with that assumption, and so has everyone he’s ever known. You can’t win them all.”

In the time it took Adelaide to finish speaking, Ian had already regained his confidence. “Oh, just you wait, Della.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Adelaide asked nervously. That didn’t sound good.

“Oh, but I can win them all. I’m Ian Malcolm.”

Before Adelaide could ask him to clarify further, Sarah peeked her head around the wall. “Is it safe to come out now?”

Ian chuckled. “Yes, it’s ‘safe’.”

Sarah waltzed over to the table and sat in the chair adjacent to him.

“How was your day?” Ian asked.

“Oh, no. We’re not doing this. You’re going to explain to me what that was about.”

“I made some friends.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sarah knew what she saw, and it looked a lot like the opposite of a friendly conversation. In fact, it looked actively hostile.

Adelaide butted in despite her instincts telling her to keep quiet after such a tense situation, especially one that involved giants. “To pick back up where we left off - yes, they do live in your walls. They have for some time. I don’t know exactly how long, but a lot of borrowers aren’t like me, Sarah.”

“How so?”

“I know I seem relaxed around humans-”

Sarah suppressed a laugh. Relaxed wasn’t a word she’d use to describe Adelaide. The Adelaide she knew was stubborn and skittish and very high-strung.

“-but that’s not normal. Exercising extreme caution around Beans is a way of life for people my size. It’s just too easy for you guys to take advantage of us.”

Sarah studied her with bright eyes. The way Adelaide’s posture was so defensive, the way she looked like she would spring off at any second, the way her eyes bounced away every so often. Sarah recalled Adelaide exhibiting this behavior a number of times before, but she’d been too focused on other things to truly analyze it. Adelaide was nervous. Constantly. Sarah was the last person to preach about mental health, but there was no way that could be healthy.

Sarah also thought about the three people she briefly met. She wondered how much they knew about her and, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she was a bit uncomfortable at the thought of being spied on in her own home. At the same time, could she blame them?

“So how do I get them to trust me?” she asked.

Both Ian and Adelaide laughed, recalling the way Dane reacted when Ian asked that question earlier.

Adelaide debated her answer. “Uh, I don’t know. I guess…I guess my question is, why?” There were only a few answers Sarah could give that would make Adelaide comfortable divulging that information. If her intentions were anything other than friendship and innocence and sunshine and rainbows, she wouldn’t say anything.

Sarah noticed Adelaide shift from foot to foot and she too thought about her answer. In all honesty, she wanted to study them (in a completely anecdotal way), but she didn’t know how to phrase it so that it wouldn’t come off poorly. “I want to get to know them,” she shrugged, on the verge of elaborating but knowing she might dig herself into a hole if she did.

That wasn’t super reassuring, but Adelaide supposed a little bit of vague information wouldn’t hurt. “Honestly? Leave them alone,” she said tentatively, gauging Sarah’s reaction before she continued. “The less interest you show, the safer they’ll feel. I was just telling Ian I don’t think Dane will ever trust a Bean, but Ollie’s friendly if you’re able to get through to her. Just…be patient, I guess.”

Sarah nodded. She’d take it. It was as good a starting point as any.

“But really, it’s not my business to tell…Anyway, I should go check on them now. They’re probably gearing up to move out again, and I don’t want them to have to do that, so…” Adelaide was deeply aware that she was the smallest person in the room right now. She thought she was used to it, but after being surrounded by so many people her own size moments ago, she suddenly felt very, very small up on the counter all by herself.

However, neither Bean was looking at her anymore. Confused, Adelaide turned around to see what they were looking at. There, not a foot in front of her, stood Ollie.  Adelaide was shocked she returned so soon. She was even more shocked her father let her, though it was likely Ollie slipped away when he wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t hard to tell Ollie didn’t want to be here. She tried to look at Adelaide, but her eyes mostly stayed focused on the Beans, particularly Sarah.

Sarah seemed delighted and Ian indifferent. Neither was going to say anything - that was for sure. So Adelaide asked quietly, “Is everything alright?”

Ollie jumped and brought her eyes back down to Adelaide, as if she forgot she was there. “Um, yeah. Yeah, everything’s…fine.” Just when Adelaide thought she had Ollie’s attention, her eyes returned to the Beans.

“Hey,” Adelaide said, closing the distance between them and grabbing Ollie’s hands. This time, Ollie really looked at her. “What’s up?”

“My dad…my dad wants to have a talk.”

.

Next

[mystichanjumin]

Cynefin - Diavolo x reader

Pairing: Diavolo x F! Mc (Reader)

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions

Summary: Diavolo has been busy the past few days, meaning that Mc has been left to worry about the young prince in silence. However, when she gets a call from Barbatos requesting that she visits the castle in order to make Diavolo take a break she eagerly agrees. As the pair take a stroll through the castle garden Mc (accidentally) reveals how deeply she cares for the young prince.

Cynefin: (n.) A place that feels like home

            Mc knocked on Diavolo’s office door and waited for a response. Mc pressed her ear to the door, ignoring Barbatos’ look of amusement, and listened for any movement from the other side. She heard pacing and what sounded like the young prince muttering to himself. Mc knocked again, this time calling out to the young prince, “Dia, it’s me, can I come in?”

            Mc waited again, and when it seemed like he wasn’t going to answer the door she raised her fist to knock a third time, but it wasn’t necessary. Diavolo opened the door just as her fist was about to make contact.

            She noticed the slight blush dusting Diavolo’s cheeks and the tips of his ears but decided not to comment on it. “M-Mc, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you but this is unexpected. Was there something you needed? Is everything alright?”

            “I haven’t seen you in a few days and Barbatos said you were busy, so I wanted to stop by and see if there was anything I can help you with,” she smiled at the man before her and was sure that her own cheeks mirrored that of his. She hesitated before continuing, “I also wanted to make sure that you were okay. I was getting worried when I didn’t see you and you weren’t answering my texts or my calls…not that you have to or anything, but you usually do.”

            Diavolo looked stunned, the slight blush now a deeper color, and cleared his throat before responding, “I apologize, Mc, I didn’t mean to ignore you I’ve just been very busy these past few days,” before she could interject he continued, “but it looks like I’m in a good enough spot to take a break if you would like to join me for a walk in the garden?”

            “I would love to,” she smiled.

            “Excellent,” Diavolo smiled. “Barbatos, do you mind preparing tea for us once we’re done with our walk.”

            Mc glanced at the butler with a sheepish look, she had forgotten he was there once Diavolo had arrived. However, from the bemused look he gave her, it didn’t look like Barbatos minded. He bowed at the prince, “As you wish, young prince,” and took his leave.

            Now that the pair was alone Diavolo’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but it was clear that the man was distressed. It wasn’t uncommon for Mc to see Diavolo stressed, he was the ruler of a realm for heaven’s sake, but this was on another level. For the first time, Diavolo seemed like a millennium-old being and it made Mc’s heart sink. No matter how much she tried to understand him there would always be a part of him that she couldn’t access, and that realization hurt.

            Seeming to take notice of Mc’s change in demeanor Diavolo stepped out of his office and shut the door. He offered his arm to her with a smile, “Shall we?”

            She pushed aside her feelings; she was here to make Diavolo feel better and that is what she chose to focus on instead—she can drown in her self-pity later. Mc snaked her arm through his and flashed him a bright smile, “Let’s go!”

            As the pair made their way to the garden Mc could feel Diavolo unwind as they spoke. Mc detailed the past few days and Diavolo hang onto every word. It had become commonplace for the two to share a phone call at the end of the day to inform each other about their days. If anyone asked Diavolo would say that it was his duty to ensure his exchange student’s comfort and safety, but that was only partly true. They enjoyed each other’s company, even if it was only through a phone call.

            Once they reached the garden Diavolo let out a deep sigh, “It feels nice not being in my office.”

            “I bet,” Mc laughed. “You don’t have to tell me if you told want to, but what have you been working on? Maybe it would help you if you talked about it?”

            Diavolo ran a hand through his auburn hair, “It’s just—you know that my father’s been rather absent for some time regarding ruling the Devildom, and I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m doing with no guidance. I also have no worldly idea on how to get the people under my rule to like me—”

            “They like you,” Mc interrupted.

            Diavolo shook his head, “They fear me. That is not the same as them liking me or thinking I’ll be a good king.”

            “You’ll be a great king,” Mc stopped and faced Diavolo directly. “You care and you’re doing something no one has ever thought of because you think it’ll be good for everyone in the three realms. You’re amazing and if they can’t see that then they’re…idiots.”

            Diavolo’s eyes softened as he looked at her. Lucifer had once said that Mc was the only one Diavolo looked at this way, and Mc hoped now more than ever that it was true. He took her hands into his, “You have no idea how much that means to me, Mc. Thank you.”

            “Anytime you need to be reminded of how amazing you are, just let me know,” she joked.

            A moment of comfortable silence passed between the pair, “I’m so happy you came. I’m sure it wasn’t easy getting away from the brothers.”

            “Nothing was going to stop me from coming to see you,” Mc looked up at Diavolo and felt herself flush with embarrassment. She meant what she said, but she hadn’t meant to be so blunt with the prince.

            Mc looked into his eyes, searching for anything that would hint at any form of discomfort, but when she found none; she decided now would be as good of a time as any to express her feelings to the red-haired man. He deserved to know that there was someone who thought the world of him.

            She steeled her nerves and spoke through the lump in her throat, “You don’t have to say anything and I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable.” She couldn’t find it in herself to look him in the eyes, so she took to staring at their still conjoined hands, “I care for you so much, Diavolo. I know that I’m a human who could never understand the millennia you’ve lived but I want to try. I want you to feel like you can share anything with me, and I don’t want you to disappear for days because you think no one will understand. Even if I don’t fully understand or if…I’m not the person you want to share your feelings with I want you to let someone know how you’re feeling.”

            “I love you, Diavolo, and you don’t have to say it back or anything like that. You are going to be an amazing king because I know you and you’re the most amazing being in all three realms. I know I’m just a stupid human and my feelings for you must seem so…insignificant compared to all the lifetimes you’ve lived, but I had to let you know that someone thinks the world of you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable—."

            Diavolo silenced her rambling with a kiss. It was urgent and desperate as if he had waited his whole life for this. Mc returned the kiss with fervor. She cupped his face as Diavolo pulled her closer to himself.

            Diavolo pulled away and rested his forehead on Mc’s, “I have loved you since the first week you arrived at Devildom. You were thrust into an insane scenario, and you remained so levelheaded and brave. At every turn you defied every expectation placed upon you and you did so with grace and kindness in your heart. It would have been selfish of me to not only take you from the mortal realm but to then ask you to love me in return so I said nothing as I watched those brothers fawn for your affection. It's true that I have lived countless lifetimes but never have I ever met a being like you. You are the most beautiful being I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes upon. To be able to love you would it be the greatest privilege of my immortal life. If you will have me, I will be yours until the day all three realms fall.”

            “I am already yours,” Mc whispered before returning her lips to his. Wherever Diavolo was, Mc knew that she had found the place she belonged—she was home.

[arcaneorphic]

Cynefin - Diavolo x F! Mc (Reader)

    

Pairing: Diavolo x F! Mc (Reader)

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions 

Summary: Diavolo has been busy the past few days, meaning that Mc has been left to worry about the young prince in silence. However, when she gets a call from Barbatos requesting that she visits the castle in order to make Diavolo take a break she eagerly agrees. As the pair take a stroll through the castle garden Mc (accidentally) reveals how deeply she cares for the young prince.

Cynefin: (n.) A place that feels like home

            Mc knocked on Diavolo’s office door and waited for a response. Mc pressed her ear to the door, ignoring Barbatos’ look of amusement, and listened for any movement from the other side. She heard pacing and what sounded like the young prince muttering to himself. Mc knocked again, this time calling out to the young prince, “Dia, it’s me, can I come in?”

            Mc waited again, and when it seemed like he wasn’t going to answer the door she raised her fist to knock a third time, but it wasn’t necessary. Diavolo opened the door just as her fist was about to make contact.

            She noticed the slight blush dusting Diavolo’s cheeks and the tips of his ears but decided not to comment on it. “M-Mc, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you but this is unexpected. Was there something you needed? Is everything alright?”

            “I haven’t seen you in a few days and Barbatos said you were busy, so I wanted to stop by and see if there was anything I can help you with,” she smiled at the man before her and was sure that her own cheeks mirrored that of his. She hesitated before continuing, “I also wanted to make sure that you were okay. I was getting worried when I didn’t see you and you weren’t answering my texts or my calls…not that you have to or anything, but you usually do.”

            Diavolo looked stunned, the slight blush now a deeper color, and cleared his throat before responding, “I apologize, Mc, I didn’t mean to ignore you I’ve just been very busy these past few days,” before she could interject he continued, “but it looks like I’m in a good enough spot to take a break if you would like to join me for a walk in the garden?”

            “I would love to,” she smiled.

            “Excellent,” Diavolo smiled. “Barbatos, do you mind preparing tea for us once we’re done with our walk.”

            Mc glanced at the butler with a sheepish look, she had forgotten he was there once Diavolo had arrived. However, from the bemused look he gave her, it didn’t look like Barbatos minded. He bowed at the prince, “As you wish, young prince,” and took his leave.

            Now that the pair was alone Diavolo’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but it was clear that the man was distressed. It wasn’t uncommon for Mc to see Diavolo stressed, he was the ruler of a realm for heaven’s sake, but this was on another level. For the first time, Diavolo seemed like a millennium-old being and it made Mc’s heart sink. No matter how much she tried to understand him there would always be a part of him that she couldn’t access, and that realization hurt.

            Seeming to take notice of Mc’s change in demeanor Diavolo stepped out of his office and shut the door. He offered his arm to her with a smile, “Shall we?”

            She pushed aside her feelings; she was here to make Diavolo feel better and that is what she chose to focus on instead—she can drown in her self-pity later. Mc snaked her arm through his and flashed him a bright smile, “Let’s go!”

            As the pair made their way to the garden Mc could feel Diavolo unwind as they spoke. Mc detailed the past few days and Diavolo hang onto every word. It had become commonplace for the two to share a phone call at the end of the day to inform each other about their days. If anyone asked Diavolo would say that it was his duty to ensure his exchange student’s comfort and safety, but that was only partly true. They enjoyed each other’s company, even if it was only through a phone call.

            Once they reached the garden Diavolo let out a deep sigh, “It feels nice not being in my office.”

            “I bet,” Mc laughed. “You don’t have to tell me if you told want to, but what have you been working on? Maybe it would help you if you talked about it?”

            Diavolo ran a hand through his auburn hair, “It’s just—you know that my father’s been rather absent for some time regarding ruling the Devildom, and I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m doing with no guidance. I also have no worldly idea on how to get the people under my rule to like me—”

            “They like you,” Mc interrupted.

            Diavolo shook his head, “They fear me. That is not the same as them liking me or thinking I’ll be a good king.”

            “You’ll be a great king,” Mc stopped and faced Diavolo directly. “You care and you’re doing something no one has ever thought of because you think it’ll be good for everyone in the three realms. You’re amazing and if they can’t see that then they’re…idiots.”

            Diavolo’s eyes softened as he looked at her. Lucifer had once said that Mc was the only one Diavolo looked at this way, and Mc hoped now more than ever that it was true. He took her hands into his, “You have no idea how much that means to me, Mc. Thank you.”

            “Anytime you need to be reminded of how amazing you are, just let me know,” she joked.

            A moment of comfortable silence passed between the pair, “I’m so happy you came. I’m sure it wasn’t easy getting away from the brothers.”

            “Nothing was going to stop me from coming to see you,” Mc looked up at Diavolo and felt herself flush with embarrassment. She meant what she said, but she hadn’t meant to be so blunt with the prince.

            Mc looked into his eyes, searching for anything that would hint at any form of discomfort, but when she found none; she decided now would be as good of a time as any to express her feelings to the red-haired man. He deserved to know that there was someone who thought the world of him.

            She steeled her nerves and spoke through the lump in her throat, “You don’t have to say anything and I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable.” She couldn’t find it in herself to look him in the eyes, so she took to staring at their still conjoined hands, “I care for you so much, Diavolo. I know that I’m a human who could never understand the millennia you’ve lived but I want to try. I want you to feel like you can share anything with me, and I don’t want you to disappear for days because you think no one will understand. Even if I don’t fully understand or if…I’m not the person you want to share your feelings with I want you to let someone know how you’re feeling.”

            “I love you, Diavolo, and you don’t have to say it back or anything like that. You are going to be an amazing king because I know you and you’re the most amazing being in all three realms. I know I’m just a stupid human and my feelings for you must seem so…insignificant compared to all the lifetimes you’ve lived, but I had to let you know that someone thinks the world of you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable—.“

            Diavolo silenced her rambling with a kiss. It was urgent and desperate as if he had waited his whole life for this. Mc returned the kiss with fervor. She cupped his face as Diavolo pulled her closer to himself.

            Diavolo pulled away and rested his forehead on Mc’s, “I have loved you since the first week you arrived at Devildom. You were thrust into an insane scenario, and you remained so levelheaded and brave. At every turn you defied every expectation placed upon you and you did so with grace and kindness in your heart. It would have been selfish of me to not only take you from the mortal realm but to then ask you to love me in return so I said nothing as I watched those brothers fawn for your affection. It’s true that I have lived countless lifetimes but never have I ever met a being like you. You are the most beautiful being I have ever had the privilege of laying my eyes upon. To be able to love you would it be the greatest privilege of my immortal life. If you will have me, I will be yours until the day all three realms fall.”

            “I am already yours,” Mc whispered before returning her lips to his. Wherever Diavolo was, Mc knew that she had found the place she belonged—she was home.

Masterlist

[fandomshatepeoplewdisabilities]

So in this amazing, sadly quite niche space opera I recently read ("The Risen Empire" by Scott Westerfeld) there are two, three if you stretch the definition a bit, disabled characters, and I want to draw art and write fic of them, maybe even nsfw stuff of both categories.

Problem is, while I am neurodivergent, I am able-bodied, and one of these characters is Laurent Zai, Captain of a spaceship, tactical genius, and lost both legs and one arm in an intensely traumatic war captivity. While yeah, thanks to the high-tech in this future his prostheses can do things real life prostheses can't do, like sending tactile information back to his brain, as far as I can tell this book avoids most of the usual pitfalls when writing amputees: They do not fully replace his limbs, there are situations where they malfunction or do not work just quite as well as his original limbs or do not work at all, they need to be carefully maintained and they have weak spots. Most of the time Zai deals with them just fine, but from time to time they are different than what he knew, and it is bothering him, and giving him body dysmorphia, and he also does deal with phantom pain.

There is a beautiful and touching and tender and sensual scene where he finally confesses his trauma to his lover, and she reassures him that it's okay when he is "broken" and lets the trauma affect him, and he lets her take off his prostheses, and they have sex. Its not described particularly detailed, but it is a beautiful scene where he finally stops fighting against his trauma and is finally able to see his body as a source of joy and pleasure again, not just a tool he uses or a source of pain.

I am specifically thinking about making fanworks about that scene, but I don't want to fall into this "fetishizing amputees" trap, like the disgusting ableist "art" I once accidentally stumbled across online.

What are some things I have to look out for, apart from the obvious not depicting him as helplessly at mercy and powerless against his lover because he could not move away or fight back as well as her if it was necessary? Both small practical things like how one moves in such a situation that might not be apparent to me as an able bodied person, and more general things?

So I had a really hard time tracking down The Risen Empire by Scott Westerfeld. (It wasn't available through hoopla or libby at my local library). I might ask mod laina if they have some piratical hookups for it. But like I do want to boost this for our followers to weigh in on (or hey if you know any amputees that might be up for explaining a few things for us I'd also be grateful).

In the mean time I'll do my own digging and hope I can read the source material soon.

Please please boost this followers!

mod ali