#Needs a job -> No transportation to get to said job and being both under and overqualifies

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

"I'll write when I'm done," Said the guy who'd rather go comatose for a month minimum.

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Once upon a time, a man turned himself into a demon for the sake of his husband's soul. It's been a long time since then.

-

Demons don't really need to sleep, but Roier likes to do it, anyway. It's relaxing, and it reminds him of better times back when he was human and his husband wasn't... well.

Well.

Jaiden doesn't get it, but that's because she's never known what dreams are. Because demons don't sleep and, unlike Roier, she was born a demon. Her and Bobby both were, leaving Roier as the odd one out.

...That's fine! Their loss! Because sleep? Great. Dreams? Even better.

Because, in Roier's dreams, he sees him.

-

(They're in bed, because that was Roier's favorite place to be. He's on his back with his husband laying next to him tracing patterns into his shirt with one finger. Rain patters on the ceiling, and some leaks through into the kitchen and lands in a pot placed conspicuously in the middle of the floor. Their blankets are warm, and so are their hearts.)

-

Roier has been married for almost 500 years. His husband has been dead for 499 of those years, give or take a few months.

They were never legally married; that just wasn't something you did back then. Didn't matter, though, because they wouldn't have been able to afford a wedding even if they could get married.

They were farmers- well, Roier was a farmer. His husband just liked sitting and watching Roier work shirtless in the fields. He'd sit with a pitcher of water waiting by his side should Roier need it, and he'd watch shamelessly for hours at a time, and he was horrible.

And now he's dead.

-

But, see, the first thing Roier asked when arriving in Hell was whether or not the Devil was cool with gay marriage.

"Uh," said Jaiden- and this was their first real conversation post-demoning, okay? So she obviously wasn't as cool as she is now. "Maybe? I don't know. I'd have to ask?"

"Could you?" Roier had asked, freshly deceased and still bleeding from the temples where his horns had just finished growing in. "I'm expecting my husband."

"Right," Jaiden tensely replied. "Your husband."

"Yeah," Roier said, and he tried saying his husband's name, but it just. Wouldn't... what was it again?

-

But that's fine, being a demon is a pretty sweet gig. All Roier has to do is go up to the Mortal Realm and do a few jobs for a few witches, corrupt a few souls. In return, he gets badass magical abilities and immortality.

More importantly, he gets his husband's soul. As soon as he reincarnates back in the Mortal Realm, and as soon as he dies again, he goes to Hell with all of the memories from his previous life with Roier intact, and they finally get their happily ever after.

It's what he would've wanted. Hell might sound terrible, but it's no worse than the Mortal Realm, and its public transportation is actually better, somehow. The busses all run on time, and the subway is free.

More importantly, Roier's husband was the one collecting all those books on summoning demons and making deals with demons and communing with the Devil. Roier just... completed his work for him.

It's the least he could've done, and it was his last chance at seeing him again.

-

Fuck, but what was his name?

-

(They're in the fields, because that was Roier's husband's favorite place to be. Roier is shirtless and bent over a row of seeds that are going to grow up to be corn in a few months, and his husband is on the ground under the apple tree watching him shamelessly. It's sunny out, and there's the smell of smoke in the air.)

-

It's been 500 years since Roier's husband died, and Roier has spent that time trying to remember the name of his husband's killer.

Because, once upon a time, there was a farmer, and there was a witch. Ah, but witches were illegal, you see. They communed with the Devil, and they brought chaos into a world of order.

All Roier remembers is that the person who tied his husband to that pole was in all-white. Not a priest, just someone boring.

That same person was the one who lit the straw at Roier's husband's feet on fire. And they smiled doing so even as Roier dove towards the flames as if he could put them out with his bare hands.

It didn't work. Big surprise there.

-

"So the Devil's fine with you two getting married," Jaiden said after a few days of dealing with demonic bureaucracy, "but I have some bad news for you."

Roier, for the first time since Jaiden slit his throat and converted him, felt fear.

"What is it?" he asked.

She let out a breath, slow, and said, eventually, "Your husband's soul isn't here. He isn't in Heaven, either. Or in any of the other gods' realms."

Roier blinked. "What."

It was not a question.

She threw up her hands. "I don't know! It's like he just... disappeared!"

"Is that why I can't remember his name?" Roier asked. "His soul is fucking gone?"

His hands shook. Jaiden reached out and took them.

"We'll find him," she promised, kind despite her whole 'Is A Demon' thing. "Even if it takes five hundred years."

"Yeah, well, it won't," he scoffed. "I'm going to find him. He promised me a wedding."

-

Souls don't just die. They go to someplace that Roier has only ever heard of: Purgatory.

Once in Purgatory, souls get judged by the Eye of Justice. He asks them questions about their life, and they have to answer truthfully, or he'll feed them to his children.

There are a few options for what comes next.

One: they pass the Eye of Justice's judgement and are allowed to move on to whatever afterlife they believe in.

Two: they pass the Eye of Justice's judgement and are allowed to reincarnate into another life.

Three: they fail the Eye of Justice's judgement and are forcibly sent to reincarnate into the life of a bug or a blade of grass or something else boring and tortuous.

Roier got to skip out on Purgatory entirely because he took the direct line to Hell. But maybe, just maybe, if he had died regularly, he could have seen his husband in Purgatory, and they could have reincarnated together.

...Ugh. Hindsight is a bitch.

-

(Roier is visiting his grandfather when the church bells ring.

"A witch!" he hears a woman scream, and his stomach fell right into his shoes.)

-

It's been 500 years, and Roier has gotten a bit of a reputation among modern witches for being one of the easier demons to work with. He'll help with their problems in exchange for information on a certain lost soul: if they hear from his husband's soul, they summon Roier. Or he'll help in exchange for some book recommendations for his son; Hell has many things, but it does not have a public library.

He isn't a particularly strong demon despite what his only angel friend, Etoiles, might say. Etoiles is just a silly little guy, don't listen to him!

-

(He never even got to say goodbye. They locked eyes as the flames rose, and Roier screamed his name one last time, and he hasn't been able to feel anything since.)

-

Jaiden was the first demon that Roier had ever met.

He was on the floor surrounded by the ashes that used to be his home. His husband's books were in charred tatters around him, but one managed to survive the fire. It was almost supernatural, but, like, yeah. Demon book, of course it was fireproof.

He was bleeding. He had offered his blood, and his soul, to the demon in exchange for his husband's life back.

She sat on the floor with him.

"I can't do that," she gently told him. "Demons can do a lot of things, but we can't perform miracles."

Roier's throat burned: smoke inhalation and grief.

"Oh," he said, small-sounding.

"But I can get his soul to Hell," she offered. "In exchange... you have to go to Hell."

His answer was immediate: "Yes."

She blinked. "I wasn't finished?"

"The answer is still 'Yes'. As long as I'm with him again, I don't care what happens to me."

"You'll have to turn your life over to Satan. You can't just go to Hell. That isn't how it works."

Roier shrugged. "That's fine."

Jaiden gawked for a moment before nodding and standing and extending her hand.

He took it.

And then he died.

-

But it's been 500 fucking years, and now Roier is being summoned by another witch for another deal. He'll probably have to help supply additional magic for some big important spell, that's basically all he's used for these days. He's more than a battery, thanks! He's a demon, he should be out, like, stealing souls and shit.

He goes, anyway, because he has to. If he doesn't, his contract is void, and he won't get to see his husband because he himself will be sent to Purgatory to be judged and, really, he does not want to deal with that. (The Eye of Judgement is fucking creepy, okay?)

There's the familiar pull at Roier's core, and the familiar blinding burst of light as he's yanked into the Mortal Realm, and the familiar smell of brimstone and evil that follows him wherever he goes outside of Hell.

The room is filled with blood red smoke as he appears- his trademark.

(The most important thing to a demon these days isn't evil, it's marketability.)

The witch in front of him, nothing more than a shadow hidden behind the smoke, coughs and wheezes and fans their hand in front of their face.

They're kneeled on the ground in front of a pentagram drawn in... what the fuck is this, strawberry jam?

Roier crouches and sticks a finger into one of the circle's markings. Careful not to break the circle, he pulls his finger out and licks the red stuff on it.

Shocked, he looks at the witch, and he asks, "Dude, what the fuck? Is this blood?"

What happened to chalk!?

The witch coughs at him indignantly. "I needed to make sure I got someone powerful."

Roier rolls his eyes and plops fully onto the ground, criss-cross applesauce. He wipes his blood-covered fingertip on his jeans. Newbies...

"Well, you got me," he says, humble to the core. (He may be a super evil demon now, but he isn't a dick.) "So... what's up? What do you need?"

The smoke in the room slowly starts dissipating, revealing the witch to be a man in what have to be the previous day's clothes. His head is still ducked, and his face is still hidden in his elbow as he coughs, but Roier could almost call him objectively handsome. Shame Roier's married, this guy would be fun to mess around with.

"I need to- fuck-"

The witch coughs one last time before finally managing to get a lungful of clean air. He raises his head, and Roier finally gets a look at his face, and-

"I need your help," the witch says, voice rough and rugged and absolutely heartbreaking. "I need to kill someone, and I need your help to do it."

"Okay," Roier agrees. He doesn't have a choice, being a summoned demon and all, but he doesn't think he could turn this witch down at all, because...

-

("Cellbit!" Roier screams.

He can see his face in his husband's glassy eyes, and then he sees nothing but the flames as they rise over Cellbit's head and drown him whole.)

-

The man with his husband's face frowns, suspicious.

"What," he asks, "just like that?"

Roier grins, fangs and all. "Just like that."

After all, he doesn't think he'll need any payment for this one.

He's finally found what he's been looking for.

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading. This chapter contains violence and sexual content.

FIVE SEVEN

SIX (+18)

A few days later, after several visits to the hospital pretending to be Steve Rogers' wife, he is finally being discharged today. His recovery has been remarkable; he no longer needs support for his arm, only a brace. Naturally, you came to pick him up from the hospital, ready for your last performance as his wife and to return his car that you've been using. Sure, you have your own car, but it doesn’t quite compare to Steve’s. As soon as you walk into the hospital, you spot your fake husband bidding farewell to the medical staff.

"My beautiful wife, light of my life. Come and thank these wonderful people with me for the excellent job they did taking care of my arm and ensuring I’ll never have financial stability again," Steve says playfully, as he bids farewell to a group of nurses escorting him to the hospital entrance. You laugh as you approach him, and he pulls you into an embrace. You nestle gently against his chest, placing his arm around your shoulder so he can lean on you for support.

"Your husband is a very kind man, we’re going to miss him; he has some great stories," one of the nurses says, sounding quite interested in Steve. You smile faintly, imagining the nonsense Steve must have shared while he was either drugged or simply bored.

"He really is great at telling stories. Thank you all for taking such good care of him, I don’t know what I’d do without my precious husband," you say, placing a lingering kiss on Rogers' cheek. He looks into your eyes, as if you were a forbidden fruit he longed to taste. After the goodbyes, you both head to the parking lot.

"Where did you leave your car?" Steve asks, his arm somehow still draped around you. You smile a bit sheepishly and point to his car, just ahead of where you stand.

"As your wife, I had to borrow something personal of yours, you know, to make it seem real," you explain, trying to justify yourself as you watch Steve pull away and rush to his car, checking it over to ensure everything’s intact.

"No one would’ve known that your car belongs exclusively to you, my dear fake wife. But since there’s no damage, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now hand over the keys," Steve says confidently, as if he's ready to drive. But you shake your head, denying him the keys.

"The doctor said yesterday that you need to rest your arm for the next few days, and that’s why I came to pick you up—to take you home. After this, I suggest you call a ride service, a taxi, or use public transport," you say, opening the passenger door for him. He gives you a reluctant look, clearly displeased with not driving. Yet something in your fierce gaze and impatient grunt convinces Steve to get into the car, and soon enough, feeling victorious, you get in as well. In no time, you’re driving toward Steve’s house.

"My house is nearby. You must be wondering how I'm already living in a place, considering I just got back to the city," Steve says, fidgeting with his fingers, his voice a little slurred as if still under the influence of painkillers. "I'm staying in Bucky's old place. He's probably furious that he can't go back there—it would’ve made a good hideout. Maybe that's why he shot me. Or maybe it was Natasha's idea." He mumbles some of his words, and you try to keep a neutral expression, knowing full well that he’s aware it was either one of them who shot him.

"How do you know it was one of them? It could've been anyone. And if you don’t mind me asking, who is Natasha?" Your award-worthy performance of feigned ignorance seems almost convincing even to yourself. You watch as Steve stops fiddling with his fingers—despite the brace—and looks at you, as if carefully considering his response. He lets out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"As for the shot, you already know. Even when I’m not all here, I can still tell when you're lying. But Natasha... she was Bucky’s partner before he started working with the wrong people. They had a pretty close partnership, you could say. It was the first time in years I thought Bucky could actually have a healthy relationship with someone. They loved avoiding unnecessary emotions, obsessed with fieldwork, and even today, they’re both still great marksmen."

Steve pauses, his frustration palpable, and continues, "Their partnership ended when Bucky took on an undercover mission that was too dangerous for Romanoff. She didn’t want to lose herself in the disguise. I’m betting he ran straight to her for help, and that pisses me off. He could’ve come to me—I would’ve helped him. Now it’s my job to bring him in for questioning." His frustration boils over as he bangs his braced arm against the car's dashboard, letting out a grunt. You can’t quite tell if it’s the pain or the possibility of a scratch on the car that bothers him more. As he speaks, you finally start piecing together the puzzle of Barnes' past life and who Natasha is to him, though only on a surface level.

"Surely he must have had a good reason for not reaching out to you. As for him being your possible shooter, it seems foolish to believe there's any justification for him to have put your well-being at risk. Maybe he’s no longer your best friend; perhaps he’s just a reckless man." You speak, carefully holding back your true thoughts. This might be the perfect moment to reveal everything you know to Steve Rogers, to make it clear that you’re aware of much more than you let on. But you can’t bring yourself to do it. You feel like a pathetic fool, unwilling to risk your crush being put in jeopardy.

"You two had a fight while I was in the hospital, didn’t you? Your words are so sincere; you must really believe Bucky is an idiot for shooting me. Well, know that he isn’t. The shot was practically perfect, it didn’t do much damage. He’s just trying to keep me away. But he’s not a cruel or reckless man." Steve says, looking at you as if searching for a reaction that confirms his suspicions. You park the car in front of the address Steve gave you and lean closer after unbuckling your seatbelt, then do the same for him.

"Mr. Rogers, understand once and for all that your friend and I have nothing. Why would a man with such a dangerous life want anything to do with a mere bakery owner? It doesn’t make sense. But I hope things get clarified between you two soon. Now let me help you to your house, and then we’ll part ways and never see each other again," you say, locking eyes with him as you undo his seatbelt.

Steve's face, which was almost smiling, turns serious. "I want another date; our last one was definitely interrupted." He leans in slightly closer, your faces mere inches apart. You’re taken by surprise, trying to fathom what Steve could possibly want from you now.

"Let's get inside your house quickly; the painkillers must be talking for you. In case you don't remember, your only interest in me is to know about your Bucky, nothing to do with wanting my company," you say firmly, noticing him staring at your lips as he contemplates his response.

"That was before you saved my life. Now my interest in you is personal. I promise to try not to expose your lies on this second date. How about I pick you up in a week when my doctor says I can start putting effort into my arm again?" Steve replies, a hint of determination in his eyes.

"You just said that whoever shot you didn't intend to kill you, Mr. Rogers. I merely took you to a hospital," you say as you exit the car, then open the passenger door and lean toward him. "And I don't understand the need for your arm's recovery. Now, put your arm around my neck, and let's go inside; it's getting cold out here." It really is getting colder since you left the hospital. He leans on you, remaining silent, likely fearing that you might let go if you get annoyed or uncomfortable with something he says. It’s only when you both enter his house with some difficulty, and you lay him down on his large, comfortable sofa, that he grabs your hand before you can step away.

“I need my good arm to be free so I can give you all the fun and pleasure a real date with me could offer. Give me that chance, and I promise I won’t bother you again,” Steve says, smiling as he looks up at you.

You contemplate his face for a few moments, considering whether you truly want to go on a date with Steve. Gently, you caress his hand before moving it away from your arm.

"Next week, make that proposal to me again—with your arm fully recovered. Let’s see what my answer will be then. For now, I'm going home. Take care of yourself, Mr. Rogers," you say as you watch him give you a victorious smile. Before leaving Steve’s house, you place his car keys on the kitchen counter.

As you hear him shout a "See you next week," you take a rideshare back to your apartment, eager to rest. However, upon arriving at your door, a sense of alertness washes over you. Given the recent events, you had decided to keep a can of pepper spray in your bag for self-defense. If some thug were to try to rummage through your things or rob you, they would certainly regret it. Without hesitation, you slowly open the door and spray pepper spray at the first figure you see in front of you. Barnes lets out a grunt of pain, murmuring "fuck, fuck, fuck" repeatedly as he covers his eyes.

“What the hell do you think you're doing? This stuff got in my eyes!” Barnes growls, writhing as he tries to rub the pepper spray out. Without hesitation, you rush to the kitchen, grabbing cold water and a cloth.

“Hold still, I’m trying to help,” you say, but he pulls back sharply, resisting your touch. Your patience snaps. Pushing him against the counter, you press your body firmly against his, taking control of the situation. You pull his hands away from his face with swift determination and begin gently wiping his eyes with the cold, damp cloth. As you carefully clean the remaining spray, his tense frame finally stills, allowing you to tend to him without further protest.

"Apparently, you must have suffered some kind of brain damage if you think trying to shoot me compares to me simply defending myself from an intruder. We're nowhere near being even, Barnes." You place the cloth down on the kitchen counter and turn to take in your apartment. Bucky had brought a bouquet of roses, most likely as a peace offering.

"I missed having you around, even when it feels like you want to hit me," Barnes says, his gaze fixed on you. You immediately turn to face him. You so dearly wish to trust his words, but lately, it seems as though he’s been toying with you.

"There’s no need to come at me with your charm, trying to use me again. I have no intention of continuing to be manipulated by you," you say with firm resolve, attempting to distance yourself from Bucky, though you don’t truly wish to. Yet, he pulls you closer, pressing you against the kitchen counter before lifting you onto it. He positions himself before you, standing between your legs. You lock eyes, both wearing expressions of seriousness.

"As if much evidence were needed to reach that conclusion. You hid in my restaurant because you had likely already noticed my little crush on you. Then, you must have used me to provoke your partner, with whom you had a relationship—so much so that she thought it necessary to nearly shoot me. And finally, you are using me to distract Steve. It's all clear now: I’m just a simple woman you decided to manipulate because I’m naïve enough." You spill your conclusions, struggling to contain the sadness welling within you. He shakes his head as if to deny everything, his body language betraying his discomfort under the weight of your accusations.

"You must think I’m a monster. If you believe I’m manipulating you because you’re an easy target, you’re sorely mistaken. You simply fail to see what’s right in front of you," he says, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself. He is clearly irritated, yet there is a hint of sadness in his expression. "The day we met, you asked me how my day was going. I told you I was having a tough day. You said everything could be fixed with a cup of coffee and then handed me one. I sipped your bitter coffee and told you it was delicious. Do you know why? Your eyes—they told me you were worth the effort of pretending to enjoy it. I don’t live near your bakery; I was there while working undercover, and even then, I used my real last name because I didn’t want to lie to you. I fought against the urge to ask you out for months because I knew I would have to deceive you. But I returned almost every day to your bakery because I wanted to see you. To drink your bitter coffee and taste your new recipes. Because seeing you made me feel normal," he confesses, his face just inches from yours. For a moment, you feel a pang of guilt, realizing you may have crossed a line.

"I want to say that I don’t trust a word of what you’ve said, but the truth is, even if you’re using me, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. And if my accusations have offended you, I apologize. It’s just that you’re not sincere with me. You didn’t tell me about Natasha, and I…" You pause, contemplating your next words. Should you admit that you feel somewhat jealous? Or that you’re considering accepting a date with his best friend? At this moment, everything feels so confusing to you.

"You’ve drawn your own conclusions. I don’t blame you, but I can’t reveal more than what you already know. So, in the end, you’re right to conclude that I’m using you. What other justification could there be for all of this, right?" Bucky’s expression and tone reflect a certain weight, a gravity that hangs in the air. It’s amusing how you find yourselves engaged in this relationship discussion that doesn’t truly exist, all while so close to one another. He continues to occupy the space between your legs, positioned right beside your body, as if holding you in place. The question remains: do you want him to step back?

"If that is all you have to say, then you had best leave," you reply, unsettled by the casual way he speaks, as though he isn’t erecting a wall between you. Yet, instead of stepping away, he draws closer, a tension growing between you that had not fully existed before. His hands gently cup your face, and you close your eyes, trying your best not to give in just yet.

"Do you truly want me to leave?" Barnes asks, his fingers brushing over your cheeks, then tracing your lips. You open your eyes to meet his gaze—those blue eyes, the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, fixed intently on you. You shake your head no, still watching him, unable to look away.

"I want you to want me. But nothing suggests that we’ll cast aside reason and embrace this mutual attraction," you say softly, as though too shy to openly admit your desire for him.

"To hell with reason," Barnes replies, pulling you toward him. His lips, possessive, devour yours as though he were savoring your taste. You return the kiss, urging Barnes to press even closer to you. Your hands explore his body while he holds your face, deepening the kiss with fervor. Your hands trail down Barnes' back, when you reach his rear, you squeeze his ass. He lets out a drawn-out moan near your ear as he starts to reach for the opening in your pants. With impressive agility he manages to help you take off your pants while holding you closer to him.

"Fuck me on the couch, Barnes. I want a reminder of you every time that I sit on it," you say with your mouth still pressed against his. He immediately picks you up, carrying you to your couch. You let out a little laugh, as if you were getting nervous but at the same time excited. Which was true, she'd wanted to have this moment with him for so long her mind was almost exploding. Barnes leans you against the edge of the couch as if he wants to support you there to continue where you left off. You reach for the hem of his shirt, ripping it off his body immediately. He's definitely as ripped as you'd expect him to be. Gently, you begin to kiss his belly, from bottom to top. When you kiss near his neck, he holds your face; pulling you in for a kiss. A slow kiss, as your tongues find each other's rhythm. He only breaks the kiss when he realizes that you still have a lot of clothes on.

"I hope to make you have a pleasant memory of our time together," he kisses your neck as he removes the rest of his clothes and yours. When he lowers the strap of your bra, he places small kisses on your shoulder. While with one hand he opened the clasp of your bra, as it fell to the floor, he massaged your breast. His cold fingers made contact with the tip of her breast, pulling it lightly. Then he ended up grabbing the other breast while massaging the other. His warm tongue sucking your left breast while his cold fingers pinched your right breast. Between your moans and his grunts, you were being deliciously explored by Barnes.

"I want your cock, Bucky. Inside me, fucking me; I want to feel you," you say almost as if you were pleading. The smug smile Barnes gives you makes you almost regret what you said.

"Your wish is my command," Barnes says, stopping whatever he was doing and spreading your legs, positioning himself at the entrance to your pussy. "Tell me how much you need me, Y/N. Tell me what you want from me," Barnes whispers as he teases you by lightly thrusting his cock into your pussy. His fingers stimulating your entrance too, massaging your pussy that is already wet, by the feeling of almost having his dick there.

"I've wanted you since I laid eyes on you, I want to feel you deep inside me," you say almost as a mumble. Your fingers scratch Barnes's six-pack, making him let out a groan. His eyes light up the moment he looks at you and finally, he penetrates you. His cock is completely inside you almost as if it were throbbing with pure lust. You let out a loud sigh, grabbing his bare ass with your hands. You help him with the movements, while he thrusts into you. The feeling of grabbing his ass while he puts his dick in you, it's almost divine. Your moans increase with each thrust of his, as you feel an explosion of pleasure take over you. At this moment it doesn't matter that your ass is hurting a little, that your back is in a almost uncomfortable position. The pleasure of being fucked by James Barnes is far greater than any momentary discomfort.

"Hold on to me, princess. My body is yours to do with as you please," Bucky speaks and you grab his neck, scratching him as you feel your orgasm form as Barnes continues to thrust his cock into you. As if he notices that you are about to cum, he starts thrusting more slowly, as if he wants to prolong the moment. You hold him close to you, nibbling on his ear and then kissing him. Finally you both come, almost in sync. You melt in his arms, not feeling strong enough to pull away from him.

"How about we take a bath together and then we can go to bed?" Bucky says while you don't even have the strength to answer him.You just nod your head and let him carry you to the bathroom.

You wake up in bed, uncertain whether what happened on the sofa was reality or merely a figment of your desire. Yet, your body confirms that you and Barnes truly slept together. But the other side of the bed is empty—he left while you were still asleep. Perhaps it’s for the best; this way, you won’t foster false hopes. Maybe it will hurt less if you pretend it was just a dream. You rise, though standing proves a bit difficult, and upon seeing the time, you rush to open the bakery. After a refreshing shower, you slip into a loose dress, tie up your hair, and hurry out to open your bakery.

But something feels off—you sense that someone is following you. Perhaps it's paranoia, yet the feeling lingers. Just before grabbing the keys to open the bakery, you turn around. It turns out you weren’t paranoid after all. A strange man, wearing a cap and dark sunglasses, stands right behind you. He pulls a knife and thrusts it into your stomach. The force of the blow causes you to stagger slightly as you lock eyes with him.

"Tell Barnes he can’t hide forever. Tell him Alexander Pierce sends his regards," the man sneers, twisting the knife deeper. "Hail, Hydra!" he exclaims before yanking the blade out of you and running off.

It feels as though your world has stopped, your life flashing before your eyes. All the times you wanted something but let it slip away, all the moments you couldn’t be who you were meant to be. The mistakes made, the victories earned. Your eyes grow heavy as you clutch the wound, feeling your blood spilling from you. Then, through the haze, you see a figure rushing toward you, and you recognize him instantly. A weak smile forms on your lips.

"I knew you'd be my hero," you whisper, as the strong arm of the man holds you steady. "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you," is all you hear before you lose consciousness.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Uncanny Valley: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Therapy isn't something you're taking too well, but if you want to keep your job, you'll continue to go. you're forced to confront thoughts and memories of your own family when you come across the father of the unsub.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

As soon as the plane lands, Derek and Emily talk to both victim families. They were confused as to why they needed to bring pictures of their daughters but they followed the rules regardless. The loved ones of the victims didn't understand the importance of the pictures but it's because the unsub is looking for a specific body type.

Stacia went to the gym about three times a week because she took pride in every aspect of her appearance. She often went to high-end boutiques that were very expensive but because she was so tiny, she had to have everything tailored to fit her right. When presented with her death photo, Stacia's mother explicitly stated that Stacia would never wear something like that.

Rita worked out just not as much as Stacia. She liked to shop around but only in thrift stores. She and her husband didn't have a lot of money so she tried to save as much as she could where she could. Her husband didn't notice if she ever tailored her clothes to fit her better, but he took one look at her death photo and immediately told Derek that she'd never wear that dress.

Not only is the unsub dressing them how she wants them to be dressed, but she's also posing her victims in a place that represents childhood and innocence. Most serial killers don't particularly have a happy childhood. Your guess is she wants them to have the fun she never got to have.

Despite finding a potential motive, how is she getting these women from her car to where she dumps their bodies? It has to be in the middle of the night so she doesn't get caught, and she must need a vehicle that can give her the privacy she needs like a van or an SUV. Still, that's a lot of ground to cover once she parks. Even if those women are light, she risks getting caught carrying a corpse.

If she has a medical background, she might be using a wheelchair to transport the women from the car to the dump sites. If she has a wheelchair, that means her van or SUV has a lift. If it has a lift, then she has to have a handicap placard. That placard would give her the closest parking spot which means less ground to cover.

Spencer has been so patient with you but you feel like you're not doing enough for him. You're constantly nervous but being with him helps even if it's just a little bit. With gloved hands, you touch the hair of both victims to try and connect with the unsub's energy. What you do gather isn't good.

"She's seriously mentally ill, Spencer."

The ME scoops Rita like a bride from her morgue bed and lays her on the examination table.

"Once I have the knees bent, I can get leverage under her. Normally, an assistant helps me but I can do it by myself if I need to."

"I'm assuming the unsub would have this training, too. Let me ask you this, is there anything specific about it?"

"No, any caregiver out there can do this like doctors, nurses, and orderlies."

"Where do you think she's getting the drugs that she's using? Do you think she could be manipulating a doctor or a pharmacist, maybe?"

"He'd be criminally negligent if she was."

"It's possible, though, right? Doctors order things through residents, nurses forge signatures, and prescriptions fall through the cracks."

"That's a lot of drugs and a lot of cracks. She keeps these women paralyzed for two months."

"Your report said both of them had hair extensions clipped in, right?"

"Yes, to hide the fact that clumps of their real hair had fallen out."

"If they were fed through an IV, their hair flailing out wasn't from malnutrition. Why did it fall out?" you ask.

"You see this a lot in bedridden patients. Loss of motor function especially in a young woman like this."

"Of course," Spencer says and looks at you. You have your thumbnail in your mouth which you are nervously chewing. "Psychic shock. The mental effects take a physical toll." Spencer grabs your hand that's by your mouth so you're not ruining your nails. "One last question. In your professional opinion, do you think the hair extensions were clipped on before or after death?"

"Before. You know the old wives' tale about your hair and nails growing after death? What's really happening is that dehydration is shrinking your skin and pulling it back. Based on where she put these extensions, they were definitely still alive."

"Thank you. We should get going." You two leave the ME's office and back to the car. "How are you doing?"

"Better when I'm with you."

You lean up and kiss him, holding onto that feeling of hope. He is everything you need and you don't want that feeling to go away. He takes you back to the station and meets up with everyone. Once everyone explains what they found, you can discuss the next steps.

"Now, we know this unsub is stuck in a rich fantasy, right? An incredibly detailed delusion. We don't know what the delusion is, but we know that it involves remaking these women and it begins the moment she has them drugged."

"So, she has them paralyzed and she can do whatever she wants? Why is she killing them?"

"Maybe they don't fit her idea of beauty," you say. "It looks to me like these women are dolls that she wants to dress up. I don't think she means to kill them. The brain is a machine designed to respond to stimuli. If you keep the brain awake but the body immobile, it breaks down and loses its hair. After two months, it eventually strokes out. Death isn't the unsub's goal. It's just an unfortunate side effect."

Derek and Emily come back, eager to tell everyone what they found.

"What did you find?" Hotch asks.

"Both Rita and Stacia were clothes hounds, but because they were petite women, they had a lot of their stuff altered. It could be how our unsub is finding her victims. She gets her hands on their measurements, but we've exhausted tailors and alteration shops. There's no overlap."

"The tailors might send specialty items out to third parties. Dig deep into extended employment records and see who they might be subcontracting to."

JJ walks into the room with her phone to her ear.

"Garcia needs to talk to us."

"Go ahead," Hotch says once she is on speakerphone.

"Hello, my pretties. I have finished my missing persons sweep. I've got nothing on the medical vehicle, but two new matches on the clothes make the woman front. Cindy Edmundson was abducted outside a thrift store, and Maxine Wynan was last seen at the Hillridge Mall."

"Sounds like our girl. Any surveillance footage at the mall?"

"No, it was an outside parking lot."

"What's their physical type?"

"They look pretty tiny to me. I'm gonna send you pictures. Also, if it pleases the court, I would like to direct your attention to exhibit 'A', the calendar map. Both of these new victims were abducted one week ago, exactly one day before the bodies of Rita and Stacia turned up."

"She doesn't let a body go until she has a replacement," Hotch sighs.

You'd hope that the unsub got who she wanted but another report of a body turning up came through. This time, she was left on a public park bench for everyone to see. The detective on the case meets you at the park that has already been cleared out and sectioned off.

"Her name is Mary Newsome. She was abducted two months ago and found on this bench first thing this morning."

"It looks like her style," Emily says. "The fabric is Chiffon and it's sewn to fit. If she's disposed of this body, it means she's recently taken a new victim. I'll call Hotch and we'll comb through missing persons reports from the last forty-eight hours.

"I'll pull them," the detective offers.

Spencer puts a glove on and inspects Mary's head. He frowns when he sees sewing threads on the base of her hairline.

"These aren't hair extensions. This is a wig. Kanekalon, I think. It's synthetic hair. There's nothing special about it. It's used in wigs all over the world. She sewed this wig on."

Local police take over the crime scene so your team can head back to the station to discuss further.

"Hey, I think we found who was taken last night," Derek says. "Her name is Bethany Wallace. Her husband says she never came home from the dry cleaners where she stopped off to pick up some clothes."

"Did anyone at the cleaners see anything?"

"The employees were busy locking up, but they did mention that they do farm out work to tailors who work from home."

"Good. We can match records based on who worked on Bethany's clothes." Hotch's phone rings and he looks at the message Penelope sent everyone. "We just got the pictures of the two recent abductions from Garcia. "Line up the photos of the new victims next to the bodies they replaced. That might help us with the timeline."

"Do you see this?" Derek asks.

You turn to look at the photos and see similarities between the women she's taken versus the women she's dumping.

"She's matching up the victims physically one to one. She's a collector."

"I told you. She liked dolls," you shrug.

"We're ready to give the profile."

The detective collects all of his men and women so they can hear the profile. You're sitting off to the side and letting your team handle this one. Even talking is exerting too much energy for you. Hotch knows you're in pain and will do whatever he can to help you, and you appreciate him so much.

You hate how much you're hiding in the shadows lately.

"The unsub we're looking for is a woman. She's a collector. It's a psychopathology similar to hoarding. When we say collector, we're not talking about stamps or baseball cards. It's not what your kids, or even you, might pursue as a normal hobby. This is an attachment to objects that's become obsessive by someone who is antisocial and extremely introverted."

"These people attach a part of themselves to their collection. If you try to separate them from it, they will react violently, even psychotically. This unsub has suffered damage to her prefrontal cortex. That's the part of the brain that regulates basic Freudian fantasy/reality. She can still function, like drive a car, go to work, and even do her taxes. In fact, she excels at goal-oriented jobs like the precision of sewing or the details of an abduction."

"However, she's lost her ability to categorize the difference between living and dead. That has been irreparably destroyed," Rossi says.

"You're saying she's collecting women?" the detective asks.

"We think she's collecting dolls, or more accurately, replacing them," Spencer answers. "We believe that she lost the originals sometime within the last three months. This is what served as her stressor. She searched for a replacement and when she couldn't find them, she started abducting the closest possible surrogate, women of different ethnicities but of similar physicality."

"The drug-induced paralysis is part of the fantasy. She puts her victims in a position where they can't talk back so she can fetishize them like the objects she's lost."

"Look, I respect your analysis but this woman kidnapped six women and killed three of them. You're telling me this is about dolls?" the detective scoffs.

"This unsub stitched a wig onto the scalp of her latest victim. It's a technique used to attach hair to porcelain dolls. Keep in mind that collectors and serial killers do share certain traits. A lot of serial killers take trophies, attaching the same significance to them that this collector does to objects."

"This unsub's intent isn't violence," Rossi adds to Spencer's thought. "She needs this collection to be complete so she can feel in control of her life, probably to overcome some trauma she experienced."

"She really only feels that control when the collection is complete which is why she's repeating an abduction pattern with living victims. If she loses a doll or in this case, if she loses a woman who represents a doll, she has to replace it."

"This woman works alone. We know she has medical training. Look for nurse's aides or orderlies who we fired for a lack of social grace. She can't fake a bedside manner. We believe she's currently working as a tailor or a seamstress, and we're following those leads now. Do let us know if you notice any overlap in your suspect pools. Thank you."

JJ follows a lead straight to a tailor who has done some work for Stacia. JJ got her hands on the dress she was found in after it went through processing so she could go around to different stores and see who might have made this design. The tailor Stacia went to didn't even sell the design she was found in, but the seamstress did find something interesting with the stitching marks on the hem.

There is a handkerchief pattern that's usually found on silk-sewn handkerchiefs. It's all done by hand which is unique to the unsub. It's her signature. Not even a machine can do it because it's so delicate. There isn't a place that specializes in handcrafted sewing like that but the seamstress is impressed.

The unsub is an artist, that's for sure.

Emily got in touch with Beth's husband, Karl, and he came into the station right away to see if there was something being done to find his wife.

"Do you know where my wife is?" he asks.

"We're searching for her, sir."

"No, you have to find her in the next twenty-four hours. She's a diabetic. She needs her medicine or she will die." He sighs and looks at everyone. "Agent Prentiss said this woman has medical training. Does that mean Bethany has a chance?" Silent befalls the group. "What is it?"

"She keeps her victims in a drug-induced state. They can't communicate."

"Oh, God," Karl choke-sobs. "Will these drugs...?"

"We don't know, but we're doing everything we can," Hotch answers his unspoken question.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[magicalgirlmascot]

I am curious: What are your current thoughts about the Toa Inika's drivining situation when they become Toa Inika?

Hahahaha I am SO glad you have asked me this because I have Thoughts

Terminology for non-Canadians (and/or Ontarians, idk what other provinces call things):

G1 - learner's permit, obtainable at 16, written test only, must have someone in the passenger seat who has had their full license at least 4 years, can't drive between midnight and 5am, can't go on certain high speed highways (401, QEW, etc) unless the person in the passenger seat is an accredited driver's ed instructor, must pass G2 exit test within 5 years or restart process

G2 - must have had a G1 for either a) 1 year or b) 8 months if graduated from driver's ed, practical exam, can drive alone, on any roads, at any time of day, certain other restrictions apply (esp if under age 19), must pass G exit test within 5 years or start over

G - must have had G2 for at least a year, practical exam, no restrictions except for basic road laws lol

MTO - Ministry of Transportation of Ontario, basically the DMV but for Ontario

OKAY SO ALL THAT SAID:

Jaller: got his G1 the day after he turned 16 because his birthday was on a Sunday and the MTO was closed. Took the driver's ed course affiliated with his school that same year. Just got his G2. Has to beg and plead to borrow a car because both his parents work and need vehicles for that, and he can bike to work from the house.

Hahli: has been driving farm vehicles illegally for several years. Has her G1 but isn't eligible for her G2 yet. Is learning how to drive from her uncle because he's the only person in her family who respects road safety laws. Can occasionally convince her parents to loan her the truck if she fills up the tank.

Kongu: got his G2 a couple months ago. Inherited his grandparents' junker. Mostly just drives himself and Tamaru to school and back. Grumbles about being his sister's taxi service but also uses this as an excuse to hang around in town.

Nuparu: almost eligible for his G2 but not quite. Took driver's ed exclusively to lower his insurance premium. The only Inika who knows how to drive stick. Wants to get a motorcycle license too. Does all his family's car maintenance in exchange for money being put into the "Nuparu Gets His Own Car" fund.

Hewkii: can't drive. Wants to move to a big city with good public transport so he never has to learn how.

Matoro: was forced to get his G1 against his will and avoids driving like the plague. Sometimes his parents make him drive to the store or something for practice and he hates it. Wants to move out to the woods so he never has to drive again.

Takua: had to learn to drive so they could take on more cleaning jobs. Is actually almost eligible for their full G license. Has the most experience driving because their mom would make them drive between jobs for practice when they had their G1. Is not allowed to cover their mom's company car with bumper stickers to their immense dismay, and also isn't allowed to borrow it for non-work reasons if it's not an emergency.

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Leonard McCoy

By Ames

We’re still boldly going through all the characters of The Original Series in A Star to Steer Her By’s latest blog collection, and this week the spotlight is on Dr. Leonard McCoy! We’re not even going to be at all objective about this one because Bones is the favorite TOS character of most of the hosts here at SSHB, so be prepared for us to gush about his curmudgeonly actions, witty one-liners, and constant back-and-forth with Spock.

It helps that DeForest Kelley brings so much more to the role than is on the page, so let’s dive in and discover what our favorite McCoy moments are, scrape the bottom of the barrel for some lesser moments, and generally fan all over the CMO of the starship Enterprise. Read on below and listen to this week’s banter on the podcast (discussion at 1:04:23) for more about this old country doctor. We hope you have a mint julep handy!

[Images © CBS/Paramount

Best Moments

Promoted too fast One of McCoy’s most highlighted facets is his obstinance, which is often played to hilarious effect. So when the ship is under threat from Balok’s Fesarius in “The Corbomite Maneuver,” it’s quite fitting that McCoy is stubborn enough to make what might be his last living action writing up Lt. Bailey just to spite Kirk for promoting him too fast. Now that’s no bluff!

Well, either choke me or cut my throat! Make up your mind! McCoy is at his most badass in “Space Seed” when his patient, Khan, has grabbed one of the good doctor’s handy wall knives and held him up. “It would be most effective if you would cut the carotid artery just under the left ear,” Bones says while his life is being threatened, and everyone watching this show goes “Daaaaaamn.”

Something called a mint julep. It’s a drink, Jim! Speaking of McCoy being a straight-up badass, when the subsonic transmitter is undoing the euphoric effects of the spores in “This Side of Paradise,” he straight up slugs the guy who dares imply that his job as a physician may have become obsolete on a planet with no disease. Without so much as dropping his drink! Grade-A badass right there.

My patients don't walk out in the middle of an operation Don’t forget that McCoy is a half decent doctor, especially considering most medical work in the future is waving a medical tricorder over people. But he proves his physician’s skills in “Journey to Babel” when he performs surgery on Sarek, transfusing a blood sample from a reluctant Spock and saving the ambassador’s life, all in the middle of a battle with Orions!

I’m trying to thank you… As we mentioned in the Spock spotlight post, the jail scene in “Bread and Circuses” is just stunning acting work from both Nimoy and Kelley. It’s such a short scene, but it’s got everything. And when McCoy ponders that Spock is afraid of living, afraid of showing his human half, afraid of feeling, they display in their acting that they’re both in the same emotional place and I love it.

A child could do it Like in “Journey to Babel,” Bones gets to prove his medical prowess in “Spock’s Brain,” even if it’s a little bit laughable overall. He does need help from the Teacher to give himself the temporary knowledge to reconnect Spock to his big Vulcan brain, but when that wears off, he keeps it together, and with a little help from his green-blooded friend, gets the job done.

Please give yourself every minute No wonder this episode was our favorite from TOS. What a great showcase for DeForest Kelley. His grappling with impending death in “For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky” is expertly played and beautifully explores how to measure a life’s happiness. McCoy’s romance with Natira is lovely and I heartily wish he didn’t have to leave her, though as I said in my review of Sawdust to Stardust, the novel Ex Machina revisits Yonada and is quite good!

I’ve been drafted There’s just something about Bones McCoy in The Motion Picture, standing on the transporter pad that he hates so much, grumbling at Kirk about getting drafted back into Starfleet, complaining like a cantankerous old coot about all the renovations made to his medical bay, all while wearing the most disco of civilian attire that is just plain charming.

I choose the danger While we found it a biiiit presumptuous for Spock to cram his katra into McCoy in The Wrath of Khan, it allows for some just plain great DeForest Kelley acting in The Search for Spock, so we can kinda forgive the violation. All movie long, McCoy gets to act like he’s mildly possessed by Spock, and then bravely face the fal-tor-pan ceremony that could be dangerous to humans. “Hell of a time to ask.”

What is this, the Dark Ages? While it could be seen as a blatant infringement of the Temporal Prime Directive to give a kidney pill to the woman on dialysis in The Voyage Home, you’ve just gotta love it when Starfleet doctors take matters into their own hands for the sake of a patient. Does the Hippocratic Oath trump the prime directive? Probably not, but McCoy is a hero to that woman regardless.

Not long after, they found a cure Sometimes Star Trek just doesn’t deserve DeForest Kelley, whose acting chops are frequently the best on the show, in our humble opinions. And the debated worst of the TOS films actually has some legitimately great McCoy moments – watching him euthanize his father only to learn a cure has been later found in The Final Frontier is such a moving scene that we really feel for.

Aside from a touch of arthritis… Only Leonard McCoy could get away with cracking a joke during his conspiracy trial prosecuted by relentless Klingons, as he does in The Undiscovered Country. And he even gets a couple of laughs out of the spectating Klingons in the audience, which may make up for getting convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. Take that, Chang!

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Worst Moments

I was thinking about the buffalo The very first introduction of McCoy in “The Man Trap” sees him doing some pretty irrational things. How is Plum’s mind so clouded that he can’t see Nancy for what she really is, especially when she’s literally sucking the salt out of the captain? And it’s an emotional scene, but I still can’t forgive McCoy for killing the M-113 creature, a sentient being and the last of its kind.

Don’t peek! Something rubbed us the wrong way about Bones’s flirting with yeoman Barrows in “Shore Leave.” Maybe it’s the age gap. Maybe it’s that they didn’t have a ton of chemistry. Maybe it’s that we ship him and Natira way more. Or maybe it’s that when she asks him not to watch her change, his response is “My dear girl, I am a doctor. When I peek, it’s in the line of duty.” Gross, doc.

Two drops of cordrazine can save a man's life Every so often, we really question Dr. McCoy’s doctoring skills and how his shenanigans wouldn’t fly in later series. And as much as it serves as the impetus for one of the best TOS episodes, being careless enough to inject oneself with a hundred times the normal dose of cordrazine in “The City on the Edge of Forever” – time ripples or not! – is just plain ineptitude.

You are out of line… sir. McCoy says in “The Doomsday Machine” that he hasn’t had time to run an examination on Decker to declare him medically or psychologically unfit to command. Well, why not, doctor?! If in “The Deadly Years,” we had time to hold a trial about Kirk being too senile to command, you surely have the authority to order the commodore to a checkup. You’re the CMO for chrissakes!

I’m a doctor, not an escalator Everything McCoy does on Capella IV in “Friday’s Child” is very strange to me. a) Why had McCoy been there when these people are still in primitive stages? b) Why didn’t McCoy TELL Grant that drawing his phaser would get him killed? c) What fetishist wrote the slap fight with the pregnant woman? This whole incident was just eyebrow raising, one of McCoy’s specialties!

A total resentment towards women See what I mean about Bones not understanding doctoring sometimes? A woman crewmember makes a mistake that bonks Scott on the noggin, so McCoy diagnoses Scott with misogyny in “Wolf in the Fold,” and prescribes a trip to a brothel. That was a thing that happened. What incel wrote this nonsense? Sometimes, Star Trek, your being written in the sixties really shows.

They reproduce bisexually Another weird medical gaff McCoy makes is stating that the tribbles reproduce bisexually in “The Trouble with Tribbles.” Someone on the writing team apparently had no idea what that word means and it resulted in making McCoy just sound incompetent. The tribbles reproduce asexually, and their being born pregnant is what Bones was trying to relay when he flubbed it hard.

I think I left it in Bela’s office Not only did McCoy NOT get to play dress up in gangster clothes like Kirk and Spock in “A Piece of the Action” (what a waste; he would have looked great!), but the button at the end of the episode reveals that he’s left his communicator on Sigma Iotia! Well. Go and get it, nincompoop! That’s cultural contamination! Beam it up! Amateurs, I swear to Okmyx.

…you pointed-eared hobgoblin! Most of our worst McCoy moments have been a bit tongue-in-cheek until now, but you do have to admit that McCoy’s constant stream of casual racism at Vulcans is absolutely problematic. And as much as we credit the beautiful jail scene in “Bread and Circuses” (as I already did above), it’s also the time that he called Spock a “pointed-eared hobgoblin” and that’s not okay. The rest of that scene is still great though.

Will I become like Chekov, doctor? Okay, doc, I know everyone’s going mildly nuts in “The Tholian Web” because of the space crazies, but Uhura’s claim that she saw the captain should have been taken seriously. It was a symptom no one else had displayed. You already knew Kirk was vanishing and reappearing. And later you take Scott seriously when he makes the same claim. Justice for Uhura!

They've lost confidence in you We mentioned this episode in our Spock coverage, but it bears repeating. Everything was out of place in “The Tholian Web,” and McCoy was in rare form being extra racist to Spock the whole time. Even if it’s for good reason (Spock is terrible at command!), McCoy comes off as petty, emotional, and cruel all episode long and that’s not the kind of light-hearted ribbing he usually gives Spock.

It tastes just fine One final blundering McCoy moment comes in The Animated Series episode “The Eye of the Beholder.” “The water is too pure,” according to Spock, before McCoy reveals that it tastes fine. What are you doing drinking untested water on a planet where people have disappeared, bonehead? And getting crushed by a dragon somehow? What is this, amateur hour?

— This blogpost is dead, Jim! We know Bones is a doctor, not an engineer, so fittingly next week we’ll make sure to aim our character spotlight at an engineer! Join us for our celebration of all things Montgomery Scott here on the blog, and also in our continued watchthrough of all Trek over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast. You can also hail us over on Facebook and Twitter, and maybe don’t keep your scalpels mounted above the biobed, doc. Just a thought.

[fountainpenguin]

"I'm trying to keep up as best I can! I wanna be there if you need a hand... I'm looking, looking- Looking for you!" (x)

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New Criminal Experience chapter today!

Chapter 5 - “Tracked”

❤️ Read on AO3

💙 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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Mumbo and Skizz split up to find the lost allay eggs, llama respawn blankets, and Impulse. Mumbo takes a good look around Evernight: city of ever-changing blocks.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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One teleport later…

Operation Llama Blanket and Allay Egg Recovery requires stealth, precision, and snap-second judgments on how many of the enderspawn hybrids can be trusted not to turn them in. In a whirlwind of shadow blots, Skizz poofs them in behind a row of composters tucked down an alley of colorful, mismatched blocks. Skizz is in a crouch; Mumbo drops to mirror him. Endermen and endermites shuffle around not far away. Every breath betrays him as a wanted man.

And any one of these chaps could heel-turn out me.

The paths out of the city glow faintly on his mental map, as they always do. Leaving sounds lovely, but not when Double-U and Buzz are missing their spawn blankets. It's not just about his girls, either. The allay eggs are his responsibility.

The last two allay eggs in the world.

So where are they? It's not about the money. It's never been about that, regardless of what his species and experience in smuggling and trading may lead you to believe. He took this job because Doc asked him to. Said he was researching; he'd give the newbies a start on Education and send them to the building when his work was done. Not unusual, and Mumbo trusts Doc more than most.

Does he know? It's the question coursing like a river through his hands, up his shaking arms, and down his back in tiny flash floods. But he can't ask - not here, not now - because Doc still lives so far away. He'll crash when he gets to Tintopia. He is going to reach Tintopia, with his llamas' spawn blankets in hand.

Okay. We can do this. Just breathe.

Mumbo shifts his eyes to Skizz, then remembers why you don't look at endermen directly and drops his gaze. "I'll have a nip around. Thanks for the drop-off. It means the world to me, mate."

The blue eyes peering back at him (carefully, off-center) don't look at all like the eyes of a man who meant to do the Allay Dragon harm. Perhaps it's foolish and maybe he's being played, but Mumbo can't help but believe it. "Without me or Impulse, you've got no escort. I'll see if I can follow from a distance, maybe along the rooftops, but if someone sees me-"

"I know. Skizz, I know what I'm getting into- It's not my first brush with the anarchy lifestyle. If someone attacks me, you don't have to get involved. There's difficult people after you." Neutral. Non-specific. Skizz shifts, tugging his jumper sleeve. Mumbo can read that stinging, shameful silence and almost wishes that he can't. He says, "I won't rat you out, but I'd rather not see you fight." BigB's got his arrows and clones. Vee's an evoker; she's got her vex. They're both spellcasters armed with magic. And Skizz is layered with unknown mods. Both sides of this fight could easily get hurt.

"I… Yeah, sorry. Yeah."

Mumbo reaches a hand through his robes. He grips the handle of his modded scythe - still sitting there in his soul slot, as it always is - and withdraws it in a crackle of blue sparks. Skizz's wings flare out behind his torso, flapping once. They scrape the composters and the back alley wall. Not much of a wall with several blocks plucked out of it, leaving holes, but that's not the point. Mumbo keeps his eye contact locked on the scythe. He doesn't give any sort of demo swipe, though that's quite tempting, actually. Skizz is halfway to flying off as it is. Can he fly with those angel wings?

"I'm all right," he tells Skizz. "I'm Mumbo Killsalot Jumbo; I can handle myself a bit."

"Ah- That's… Uh, you've got a modded weapon?"

"I transported a bit of slime and some otter spawn eggs to a vulture once." That's non-specific enough, yes. Skizz keeps his eyes away, but for the briefest moment, they flicker over. Mumbo can feel them graze his forehead.

"Are you kidding me right now, homie? Otter spawn eggs are real? I thought those were just a myth!"

"Well, you and most of Between, yes."

"So you've found the Invisible Hub?"

At that, Mumbo chuckles and tucks the scythe away again. Bad move, wandering with that on full display. "I said I traded him slime, mate. I never said I've found wherever slimes spawn." Scythe gone, he lays a hand against a composter lid, ready to swing himself to the other side of the little wall. "You find Impulse. He and Coldsnap can't still be going at it." And if they're lucky, Impulse is still alive. There wasn't a death message on the comm. He must be all right, unless Mumbo made a total spoon move and forgot to toggle the settings on. They pause in sync, fingers curling, hearts beating. IS Impulse okay?

Surely he must be. Skizz asks the same question, then, but not about Impulse. "Will you be okay?"

"I haven't got a choice." But he does have a plan.

Step 1: Get the spawn blankets. It might sound harsh, but those rank above the allay eggs as far as he's concerned. Until a new account syncs to an egg, they're effectively unfertilized; they might even get broken in a scuffle tonight and he won't feel any shame. There will be other jobs with other spawn eggs. But there won't be another Buzz and Double-U, sitting sweetly in their shed as he cleans between their toes.

I can do this. Gah, if only I wasn't down to my last invisibility potion. Since he had Impulse watching his back, he didn't stock up. Gets expensive in modern times with modern shortages, y'know? Takes up space.

And at the moment, that's as far as the plan goes. He'll leave the safety of the composter wall. Find the blankets- someone must have picked them up. Take them back somehow. Barter. He's got a few things on hand that might draw the eye. He'll surrender the scythe if he absolutely must. It's quite simple, really. 'Simple' is key if you don't want analysis to morph into paralysis and chain you to the ground. Mumbo crouches to go for the leap and swing.

"Mumbles? Do you have another skin to change into?" When Mumbo turns his head, blinking and wondering how filthy he must be for a question like that, Skizz gestures at his travel robes. "You, uh… might blend in better if you're not wearing bright blue and yellow. If someone took your llama blankets, they'll probably be watching for you."

"I might want them to, if it makes it easier to find and return them to me."

Skizz hesitates, the noise skating across his teeth. That betrays the answer even before his words: "Evernight's anarchy, man. And you know how endermen are about taking stuff just because it's there."

Mumbo shrugs. "I don't have a choice. They're my llamas, dude. And if I can save the allays too, all the better."

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[kapi-tanka]

So I’ve been thinking about the Ramirez family again, my mind wonders at what could have caused the rift between them all. They all seem to think the distance between them is for the best, but each have differing reasons for why. 

Andy seems convinced that they don’t need their family, and is better off alone. But I can see in their one good eye, there’s resentment. Resentment and trauma. There’s a sense of abandonment that just emits from them. I get the feeling that Andy has never felt like they belonged anywhere. Even with their family, they never felt understood but I think Andy still loved them. And they loved Andy back, even if Andy couldn’t see it. 

Oscar seems convinced he isn’t good enough to be around his family, and they’re better off without him. There’s guilt under his fun loving and free spirited persona. Oscar loves his younger sibling, I can tell, but he never asked for the responsibility of being an older brother. 

Ovidio is the hardest for me to read. Maybe that’s why I didn’t realize he’s their uncle and not the eldest sibling lol. I can’t say why but I just feel that Ovidio caused the rift between them all, or at least played a significant hand in it. Ovidio seems to want someone to kill for. He wants someone whose name can justify his actions, but none of his family want to be that someone. 

Anyways, that's just my interpretation of your wonderful characters! Sorry that this is a bit long lol. I hope I got some of it right and I look forward to the next piece!

oh my GODD honestly it's insane how accurately you read all of my characters. i'm so so so humbled someone's invested in their story, thank you SO MUCH for you interest and your ask! i'm very sorry it took so long to answer, it's a bit hard to collect my thoughts.. but i truly appreciate your analysis! i made this scheme to support info under the cut. i must warn you that this story's a bit dark in a domestic way and... it's really long lol

so. you're mostly right about ovidio causing the rift! i hope i'm not ruining it for you by telling, i know that stories often seem much more interesting before we know any specific details. but basically the actual tragedy of the ramirez family has it roots not in the interpersonal drama (though it definitely played a significant role in everything) but in the ncr and fallout politics in general. all of them used to live in some independent settlement in california, with its own militia, farms, crop fields and traders before the ncr annexed them. the republic put this settlement through their standard modus operandi with enforcement of taxes and recruiting of many promising and not so promising youngsters in the army, including ovidio who was around 18 at the moment (i even have this sketch below with some arcade and ovidio bonding which kinda summarizes it)

mateo and ramona were traders. obviously, the ncr started to suck resources from the settlement (mostly crops and animal products) and they needed caravans to transport them. ramona and mateo (and some other settlers) took the job and both eventually were killed in one unfortunate trip by raiders (which at least partially are the aftermath of ncr's actions in california and nevada imo). so, as you said, andy was lonely and abandoned from very early on in their childhood. they were raised in this post-annexation "world" where their parents almost never had time for them and were never home. oscar was a bit more fortunate (he's 5 years older and had his chance to spend some quality time with mom and dad) and naturally he took their death harder than andy. ovidio was demoted from the ncr army (it's the whole other story) and came back to provide for children and his own parents. he was around 20 at the moment, oscar was 12 and andy only 7. the three of them grew to love each other with time but it was a baffling shift in family dynamics because oscar and andy were relatively independent kids and had never spent much time with ovidio before.

also oscar really wanted to accompany caravans himself (to get away from home a little and out of sheer curiosity about the world) and ovidio just wasn't having it. it literally was the same conflict between them over and over, so andy had to listen to constant bickering and drama which left a lasting impact on her psyche. the second thing that really traumatized andy was abuela's dementia - this slow decay of the mind of someone who was once very clever and loving. and the third thing... well. once upon a time oscar just LEFT after some especially heated argument and it changed everything once again. he didn't plan to run away for real, just wanted to party a little, to teach ovidio a lesson and to come back home. but he ended up meeting someone cute and kinda postponed and postponed his return to the point of never coming back LOL (he did kinda come back later but... spoilers). just like you guessed, he didn't believe his family needed him because his experience at home was basically doing hard labor and being yelled at. of course his family actually loved him and everyone was scared shitless about him including other settlers but... he never got to know that. he dissappeared without a trace because good luck to anyone who looks for a "dark-haired, dark-eyed lad of medium height" on the wastelands. ovidio didn't find him back then but he really tried, and his life became pretty much centered around this desperate search for oscar. andy grew up into a capable, cold and emotionally unavailable young adult by then. but her brother's escape was like a nail in the coffin of the avoidant attachment style. imagine 1) never having your parents around and losing them to the wastelands, 2) losing your grandma to dementia and seeing her literally not remembering your anymore, a fate worse than death in andy's opinion, 3) losing your brother to the wastelands too but this time he "deliberately" left you 4) losing your uncle to this obsession with finding your brother. andy AGAIN, JUST LIKE YOU SAID felt abandoned by others. they were a shadow, not noticed by anyone, not being anyone's priority, overworked at home, without any way to decide something for themselves. and it was the turning point when poor abuela fell sick and finally died. andy lost her last anchor to the hometown that stopped feeling like home a long time ago. and yeah. whoopsie. she left too! it was the first real decision in andy's life, a hard call to make yet a weirdly freeing one.

later on ovidio dropped what was left of the caravan business altogether and left their settlement too, this time to search for both "kids" who were adults at this point. that's how the things still are during the fnv events - the ramirez family is separated, all of them found some surrogates of familial relationships and left their impact on the political map of california and nevada. they reunite only after the independence ending (achieved by oscar). and speaking of your other observation: "Ovidio seems to want someone to kill for. He wants someone whose name can justify his actions, but none of his family want to be that someone" - it sounds more like how things play out after the big reunion. but... that's a whole other story :) thank you so much for reading and, once again, for this ask! had great time answering!!!

[blackcatruse]

𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ first chapter ❃ m.list ❃ ao3 pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: a job is a job, even if it's a trap. we'll try to outmaneuver them, but nothing is guaranteed. word count: 4.9k chapter cw(s): swearing, possible ooc, a little violence, 3rd person POV a/n: we're in the endgame now folks! i was working on a rough outline for the end of ashes and it looks like we've got about 9 chapters to go. thank you for reading so far!

The abandoned bar smelled like stale piss, cigarette smoke, and old wood. Rindou was sure he was going to get some kind of disease by sitting on the flat cushions of this ratty sofa. Beside him Ran and Kakucho were looking equally uncomfortable. The only one unbothered by the biohazard of a meeting place was the client. The second job was finally being planned out, but with recent events, Kakucho thought it would be wise to speak to the client about it.

The stout man snuffed his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar. He spoke in fairly fluent Japanese, but the lilting accent he had made processing his words difficult. Several thick envelopes sat on the table between Rokuhara and the client. “Seems easy enough, no?”

“It does, but we do have some concerns,” Kakucho said. “There’s been a bit of trouble with rival gangs and many jobs have either been an attempted ambush or a lie. Surely you understand our hesitancy.”

The man lit another cigarette and took a long drag before he spoke. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” he said. “It’s a simple trade deal.”

A simple trade deal that was worth a significant amount of yen—enough that it made three of the top men of Rokuhara Tandai give pause. They were definitely trafficking something more than drugs, but the information wasn’t disclosed. A fact that didn’t go unmissed when the job was initially offered months ago.

From what Rindou understood, whatever was in the envelopes wasn’t money, and all they had to do was take it to the other party. It was valuable and sealed with tamper proof tape so peeking was dissuaded. The items had finally been paid for, and now the goods needed to be transported. Instead of risking his own beefy neck, the client decided to hire a local gang with a big presence. They would simply be intermediaries, but both this client and the recipient were paying handsomely for the job.

There was no guarantee that this job wasn’t a trap, and weighing the risks against the benefits proved to be a harder decision than Rindou wanted to think about. If they declined the job, then an enemy gang would be transporting goods through Minato ward. And that could start a war. Doing business through or in any place that wasn’t your home turf was just asking for a beating. And if the gang was close-knit, the chance of war avenging their injured member was much higher.

That was how they caught Lotus, after all. Yet Ran and Rindou didn’t know who Lotus was until they overheard a group talking about Wuxing. Until that night, Wuxing was just a whisper that rippled through the top gangs. Their members were at the top of their game and kept so far under the radar they were just rumors. But they existed. And Rindou was working with the best runner they had.

“You have a good runner don’t you?” the client asked. “The job should be a breeze then. Quick in and out.”

On the chance the opportunity was genuine, they’d be passing up a lot of money. It was enough for them to match Kanto Manji’s money-making genius Kokonoi. Did they risk it? Did they endanger themselves on the off chance these parties weren’t trying to overthrow one of the Three Deities? Rindou was glad he didn’t have to make the final call, and a quick glance at Ran showed that his brother didn’t either. Right now, tensions were too high and the consequences of accepting a fake job weren’t worth the risk. But was the money? Going toe-to-toe financially with Kanto Manji would be big news. Maybe enough to shatter the stalemate. Brahman could be left behind, but Rindou knew that Wuxing contributed heavily to their finances.

“I hope you understand that the safety of my men is my top priority,” Kakucho said. He fixed the man with a stony stare, but the man just shrugged and flicked his cigarette.

“You know how this world is,” the man said flippantly. He examined his nails to emphasize that he didn’t care what happened to the team that took the job. “You can’t make it without risk.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re not the one doing the job,” Rindou snapped. He hadn’t meant to vocalize the thought, but it got the attention of all the men in the room. Time to back up his words. “What happens if we end up arrested or worse? Then what do you do? The goods could be lost, and then where does that leave you? Wouldn’t you want to ensure that the team delivering this”—Rindou gestured to the envelopes on the table—“is safe? Or at least guaranteed to not get into too much trouble?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ran give him a long glance. Kakucho was nodding along, and the man tensed. A robust shade of red crept up the man’s neck and Rindou felt a small prick of pride. The client’s next words were going to have to be carefully chosen.

“I agree,” Ran piped up. His lazy arrogance bled through every word, presenting itself as a “speak when spoken to” air.

Rindou knew this tone well. He could see the client’s forehead break into a sweat. Were negotiations always like this? No wonder Lotus was bitter all the fucking time. This was annoying. These men were nothing but walking contradictions, willing to say anything and hope that their business partners were too stupid to notice the fluctuation in stance.

Pinned under the gaze of three men, the client actually took a small step back. Ran didn’t break eye contact with the man as he continued on, “If this deal doesn’t go through, it’s no loss to us.”

A lie, but Rindou knew Ran spilled lies disguised as truths all the time. His brother was convincing and quick on his feet. If it were a battle of words, very few people stood a chance of winning against the silver-tongued Ran Haitani.

“However, if we find anyone running goods through Minato ward, we won’t hesitate to take action. How many dead men are you willing to leave behind to claw your way to the top? Do you have that kind of conviction?”

“What do the lives of a few measly runners mean to me?” the man scoffed, trying to deflect. His voice wavered. Just a little more of a push and they’d have their answers.

“Wrong answer,” Ran chimed. He stood to his full height and stared down at the man. Somewhere in the transition, Ran’s baton had found its way into his hands. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

A sickening crack sounded as Ran brought the baton down on the man’s wrist. The cigarette in his hands was dropped as the man yelped. The man cradled his injured arm and finally had the decency to look scared when Ran stepped forward, snuffing out the cigarette with his boot. “You aren’t in a position to be this haughty. You’re just a grunt worker aren’t you?” The warning tone in Ran’s voice was enough that Rindou’s instincts were telling him to run to the nearest bakery and get a mont blanc.

Tense, silent moments passed between the men before Ran took his seat again. He still maintained eye contact with the client. “Keep your wrist in mind when we ask these next questions. We don’t take kindly to being scorned.” A smug grin crossed Ran’s face. “So let’s be friends, yeah?”

Kakucho sighed. Rindou knew he was thinking about damage control now. This was not part of the plan for the night, but fear worked as a potent motivator.

Asking directly if the job was a set up wasn’t going to yield any useful answers. People like this man would lie and say anything to cover their asses. Disguising.

“Surely you understand our hesitancy given recent events?” Ran prompted again.

All it took was a slight motion from Ran and the man was blabbering a flurry of indiscernible words. Somewhere in there was an affirmation, because Ran leaned back and resumed lazing around like nothing happened.

“I-I swear I know nothing about the incidents you’re referring to,” the man stuttered. His voice was strained and weak. “I was just told to make sure these got delivered.”

All eyes flicked to the sealed envelopes on the table. Ran leaned forward and picked up an envelope with a gloved hand. The man let out a pathetic whimper. “Do you know what’s in these?” Ran asked, eyes flashing towards the man.

“N-no,” the man said quickly. “I-I was just told to—”

The resounding slam of the goods on the table cut the man off. Ran sat up straighter and mocked the man, “‘I-I was just told’—yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re just the messenger right? You got a way we can contact your boss?”

“I-I can try to,” the man said, fumbling his burner phone with trembling hands.

While the man dialed a number, Ran looked at Kakucho with a smirk. Kakucho sighed and dragged a hand down his face. Rindou nodded in his brother’s direction. Ran just smiled and whispered to his brother, “If he wasn’t going to comply, I was gonna ask you to do what you do best.”

Rindou stared at the sorry excuse of a man and shook his head. “No way, I’m not touching that greasy asshole.”

Ran chuckled. “Hmm, neither would I.”

“He-here,” the man said, putting the phone in the middle of the table. He pressed the speaker button and the grainy ringing filled the room.

If the boss didn’t pick up, negotiations would have to be restarted at a later time, which would be an inconvenience at best. Rindou didn’t know if he had it in him to sit and talk about this at another time. Especially not when it was probably well into the unholy hours of the night. The analog clock behind the bar was shattered and frozen, serving no real use. Kind of like the bumbling idiot in front of him.

A click, then a gruff voice answered, “What?”

Something about it was off, like the person on the other end was pretending to be someone else. What a weak persona this boss had.

“Boss, Rokuhara Tandai has some”—the man paused, flickering eyes going over the top three members of the gang—“concerns they’d like to address.”

The pause was heavy. “What concerns?” A hint of uncertainty underlaid the voice.

Rindou glanced at his brother, who nodded. Ran had picked up on it too.

It was time for Kakucho to be the diplomat. “There have been reports of fake deals, a handful of which we have experienced, that leave a trail of dead bodies. Our last job from an outside client was compromised, so we are cautious when approaching this one. Your subordinate did not take our concerns very seriously.”

“I see,” the voice mused. “You value your men, don’t you? That’s not common these days.” Another moment of contemplation passed before the voice spoke again. “I had also heard some rumors, so I understand where you’re coming from. You’d be smart to not believe me when I say this, but this job is the real deal. We can wire our half of the payment and I hope that will suffice as proof. The other party will wire theirs when the goods are delivered.”

Kakucho exchanged glances with the Haitani brothers. Silent communication was easy to the former Tenjiku members. Half of the promised payment was not a value to be disregarded. It seemed convincing, and if the boss had also heard of the fake deals… but the underground wasn’t known for its honesty. On the other hand, business was sacred between gangs. If a faction was known for lying, cheating, or stealing, they would usually die out in a few months. This wasn’t always the case, but any respectable gang would keep their side of the bargain.

There were too many things going on and it made Rindou glad he didn’t have to make any major decisions. He just followed what Kakucho or Ran asked him to do and occasionally voiced opinions. It got more complicated the more Rindou thought about it. There was someone out there trying to tip the scales, but Rokuhara had to find a way to stay a step ahead and come out on top.

Fuck it, Rindou wasn’t going to think about it anymore. Leave that to the others. Kakucho was going to make the final call anyway, so what Rindou thought didn’t ultimately matter.

Kakucho looked at both Rindou and Ran, and the subtle expression he gave them made the question abundantly clear, Do we risk it and trust them?

Rindou glanced at his older brother. Ran’s expression was contemplative and calculating. His eyes flashed as he nodded at Kakucho. They were taking the deal. They were risking it. Ran must’ve thought of something, or Rindou was mistakenly putting too much faith in his brother.

“We appreciate the gesture,” Kakucho said, clearing his throat. “We will continue with the deal.”

“Good, good,” the voice said, almost a bit too eagerly. “You’ve got a good team for the job, I’ve heard.”

“We’re still assembling a good team,” Kakucho said carefully. “But I place my trust in them to get the job done.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I have no doubts you will do your best with that pretty little runner on your side.”

Alarm bells immediately went off in Rindou’s head. He sat up a little straighter, but otherwise gave no indication to what he caught onto. Kakucho was equally straight faced and Ran just looked bored, but the men all exchanged rapid glances and they all knew. They said nothing, and carefully watched the fat man across from them. The bumbling idiot wasn’t even paying attention to how the Rokuhara Tandai executives were behaving. He was too busy dabbing sweat from his brow and staring at the phone.

“The money will be wired and we will send details of the handoff in the next few days,” the boss confirmed.

“Perfect,” Kakucho said, nodding in confirmation. “We will await your information.”

The call clicked and silence permeated throughout the room. The client snatched his phone off the table, but none of the men missed the shaking hands.

“If that is all that needs to be discussed,” Kakucho said diplomatically, “then we will be taking our leave.”

When the man said nothing, Kakucho bid him a goodnight and motioned for the Haitani brothers to follow Kakucho out. Ran lazily picked up the envelopes and tucked them in his pockets. Rindou felt a flash of amusement as the client paled when Ran made eye contact and produced a casual smile.

Once the trio emerged into the chill of the night air, they looked around and quickened their pace. They made it a few blocks down before Rindou decided to state the obvious, “So this is a trap, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ran agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their fumbles were intentional though. What’re we gonna try to do about it since we’re continuing with the job? They know Lotus is a part of it. Do we just let them take her?”

Rindou frowned, but Kakucho supplied an answer before he could. “No, if Lotus is a key player with whoever’s in the shadows, it would be advantageous to have her.”

“So we’re going to try to get the jump on these guys? Act like we don’t know anything and figure out our own trap?” Ran asked.

“Something like that,” Kakucho confirmed. “We need to meet with Lotus as soon as possible.” Both Kakucho and Ran looked at Rindou, who threw his hands up.

“Seriously? We’re still on this train?”

“You’re the only one who talks to her,” Kakucho pointed out.

Ran twirled one of his braids around a finger. “I don’t want to talk to her, so that only leaves you, Rin.”

Rindou rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Whatever, I’ll—”

The vibration of his phone in his pocket stopped him mid-sentence. Who the hell was texting him at—he looked at the time on his phone screen—four in the fucking morning? It was an unsaved number, but he recognized it almost instantly. Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Ignoring the confused glances from Ran and Kakucho, Rindou opened his messages to see what the fuck Lotus wanted. She was supposed to be waiting for them to contact her, and she had no reason to reach out otherwise. It was a picture message, which Rindou thought was weirder. What would she even have to send him? Once the picture loaded, he blinked once, then twice, and then frowned. It was a crudely drawn knot pattern, intricate and dizzying. The text read “does this look familiar to u?”

It did look a touch familiar. Why did she need to know about that? He wasn’t going to confront her about the reason until later, because she could easily just brush him off. Instead, he responded to her asking why the hell she was awake and that he would ask around.

As Rindou typed furiously in response, Ran walked over and peered at his screen. Not wanting to be left out, Kakucho also approached and all three men were standing, staring down at Rindou’s phone. Once Rindou sent the message he looked up at the others. “Can I help you?”

“What did she want?” Ran asked, his face subtly twitched like he was struggling to keep a straight face.

Rindou went back to the picture message and opened the attachment. “She wanted to know if we knew anything about this.”

Ran squinted and leaned in a little too close. Blind ass motherfucker and his disregard for personal space. “Oh,” he said, standing back up. “That’s the same as the tattoo on that dude in the alley.” Ran dug in his own pockets for his phone and opened the photo gallery. He showed the screen to Rindou. “They’re the same, aren’t they?”

Rindou looked back and forth between the pictures. They were the same image, but they had no idea what it meant. Lotus may have that information, and they needed to get it from her.

“So you’re asking me to walk right into a trap?” Lotus asked, leaning back with an irritating cockiness. “The last time I tried to get a leg up on these guys, I got a concussion. One that I’m still recovering from, mind you.”

There was no good response to her assessment. Yes, they were asking her to risk her safety again. She could say no, but she wasn’t in a good position to negotiate.

“We are,” Kakucho acknowledged.

Lotus slumped down in her seat, all traces of pride gone. Her eyes were closed as she tilted her face to the ceiling. “This is all bullshit,” she muttered. “Why don’t they just kill me? What’s the point of keeping me alive?”

Kakucho’s brow furrowed with concern, Ran’s eyes narrowed, and Rindou looked at her from the side of his eyes. If she noticed all of them staring, she didn’t give any indication. Rindou thought that she looked… tired. There were dark circles under her eyes that were only emphasized by the glaring overhead lights. Her tone wasn’t as sharp. Something was off.

“If you have any—” Lotus put up a hand, immediately cutting Kakucho off. Ran was glaring daggers at the Wuxing runner and Rindou just slightly shook his head.

“I know some things,” she said. “I don’t know if this information is going to help you. Nothing about this whole shitshow makes sense, nor do I know why I’m in the middle of it.” Lotus sat back up and opened her eyes. “Can you guarantee my safety if I do this for you?”

“We can’t promise that kind of—”

Lotus cut off Kakucho again. Her eyes burned with frustration and she looked at Kakucho directly. “You’re going to have to,” she said. “My own gang didn’t get to me until I was nearly out of their hands. Forgive me if I’m a bit hesitant.”

The bite in her tone was unfamiliar. Usually there was sarcasm dripping from each word, but this time the bitterness sharpened each syllable. This was a side of Lotus that Rindou had not seen before, and he could only wonder what pushed her this far. Rindou was unfortunately familiar with how Lotus operated. He’d seen her at a jubilant high. He’d seen her at an inescapable low. He’d seen how she dons arrogance like armor. But this pure frustration and exhaustion was new. How many breaking points could one girl have?

“I understand,” Kakucho said, nodding. His gentle tone was attempting to placate the edge in Lotus’s expression. “You’re not wrong for wanting to keep yourself safe. We will do our best.”

Lotus didn’t look convinced. “I guess that’s as good as it’s going to get,” she said with a resigned sigh. “Okay. What’s the details? What’s going on?”

Ran tossed the envelopes on the table between them and Lotus stared down at them. “The fuck are those?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” Ran answered. “The client just said we were supposed to deliver these.”

Lotus slowly looked up, her brows furrowed with concern. “That’s it? And they’re trying to get the jump on you using this?” She gestured to the envelopes. “Based on what they’re paying you, this is too simple a job. Either they’ve got the Prime Minister’s personal documents, or there’s nothing in these. Are they stupid?”

“They’re not exactly trying to be subtle,” Rindou muttered. “They let several things slip while we were meeting with the client. They’re either incredibly incompetent, or they’re geniuses.”

Lotus nodded in agreement. “Alright, so we’re going to play into their hands? You sure you want me around for that? Anyone in Rokuhara could see me, and let’s be real, that spells trouble for all of us. Especially since Wuxing is keeping me caged with all this fuckery around this other gang.”

That caught their attention. It was another gang. “What do you know?” Kakucho asked.

“Not much,” Lotus said, the edge of her voice defensive. “This gang has beef with Wuxing, so I don’t know why they’re messing with you. They haven’t targeted Brahman as a whole though, which I think is weird. Or the executive we’re in contact with is lying to us, which I wouldn’t be surprised about either. Nothing makes sense and knowing that this gang followed Wuxing here doesn’t add anything of value. They’re just pissed at Kirin about something being stolen.”

“And they’re targeting you, specifically, right?” Ran asked.

“Yeah,” Lotus confirmed. “I don’t get it either.”

“You think you were the thing stolen?” Ran asked.

“I considered it,” Lotus answered almost hesitantly. “But it doesn’t add up because I didn’t know about Wuxing until my brother got tangled up with them. If I was taken, wouldn’t Wuxing want to keep a closer eye on me?”

“Who’s to say they weren’t?”

The statement gave Lotus pause, and Rindou was impressed that Ran could actually get her to stop talking. Rindou could see the gears turning in her head as she mulled it over.

“Fuck,” she hissed. “It’s not impossible for that to be true. Shika was right, we need a corkboard and string.”

“You look like you need a drink,” Ran commented lightly. The snide undertone did not go unmissed.

Lotus glared at him. “No thanks. Alcohol and I don’t get along.” Ran opened his mouth to say something, but Lotus immediately shut him up with, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before. If I were drunk it’d be easier right? I wouldn’t be such a bitch?”

Rindou stared at the way Ran shut his mouth and frowned. It was impressive that Lotus was able to get Ran to shut up and match his snark, but Rindou needed a drink if these two assholes were going to keep bickering. Just the thought of them escalating the insults was enough to give him a headache, and judging by Kakucho’s irritated expression, Rindou knew he felt the exact same.

“Knock it off, you two,” Kakucho snapped. “Be civil.”

Lotus crossed her arms and Ran scowled, but neither said anything else. They were glaring daggers at each other throughout the rest of the meeting. The conversation went over Rindou’s head while the others discussed logistics and plans. He really had to stop zoning out during these briefs, because now everyone was staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you just let your brain leave whenever we talk strategy?” Lotus asked, annoyed. She rolled her eyes and Ran’s eyes narrowed at her as she went on. “Okay, so, long story short, it’s us as a team again to drop off the envelopes. The others are going to be waiting off to the side to see if they can get the jump on the culprits.”

“Are you just going to let yourself be seen? Don’t you have an issue with that?” Rindou asked.

“I changed my mind because at this point does it matter? Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.” Lotus shrugged with indifference. “Besides, you’re not going to be able to barter for my freedom with all this shit going down. Wuxing won’t let me walk while this other gang’s whereabouts are unknown. If my life is always gonna be in danger, at least I could do something cool while endangering it.”

Kakucho’s disappointed stare just made Lotus grin and shoot finger guns at him. She dropped the act after a few moments and sighed. “We’re teamed up because we need someone from Rokuhara to vouch for me as the runner. Meanwhile Ran and Kakucho will be sweeping the area with other members. We make the trade and book it.”

Rindou groaned. Lotus simply nodded without saying anything. The tiredness in her expression seemed to multiply the longer the silence stretched on. How much shit was she dealing with? She’s not telling them something and Rindou had half a mind to start prying. She probably wouldn’t even tell him what was going on. The information she’d already told them was the extent of what she was willing to share.

Lotus caught him staring and raised a brow at him. “Can I help you?” she asked, voice flat.

“Uh, no,” Rindou said, tearing his eyes from her.

Lotus muttered under her breath, just barely loud enough for Rindou to catch it, “I know I look like shit but you don’t have to gawk.”

The amused snort Rindou let out was automatic. Yeah, she did look bad, but he was trying to avoid commenting on how she looked. It was a pattern Lotus pointed out to him and now Rindou was extra aware of what he said to her.

“You said it, not me,” Rindou practically whispered back.

Lotus’s head snapped towards Rindou. He gave no indication that he noticed or cared, but he could feel her stare burning through him.

Finally fed up, Kakucho called for Lotus’s attention. The runner looked over and tilted her head. “What else do you need?” she asked innocently.

“Nothing. We’ll be in touch for the date of the job,” Kakucho said, dismissing her.

“You say ‘we’, but you really mean Rindou don’t you? He’s the only one who texts me anyway,” she pointed out. She stood up from her chair and stretched her arms. “Alright I’ll be waiting. Not like I’ve got anywhere to go. See ya round boys.”

With that, Lotus left the three men sitting at the table. She turned back around once to blow a kiss in Rindou’s direction. His annoyance was overrun by the sudden embarrassment that made his face hot. She shouldn’t get to him that much! Ran had planted the dumb idea of Lotus in Rindou’s head. That’s exactly what was happening. He didn’t even remotely like her.

However, when it came to antagonizing Rindou, his brother would stop at nothing. Ran’s gaze tracked Lotus until she was out of sight and then he turned his attention to Rindou. “Stop looking at me like that,” Rindou snapped, trying not to stumble over the words.

“Looking at you like what?” Ran asked, his tone too sweet for the mocking grin on his face.

Rindou was not going to play into Ran’s hands. He knew what his brother was trying to set up, so Rindou had to choose his next words carefully. Luckily Kakucho intervened before Rindou could say anything stupid.

“There’s something she’s not telling us,” Kakucho said, pointing out the obvious.

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Ran chimed in. “Should we try and figure it out?” He rested his chin on his hands and looked at Rindou. “Think you can sweet talk her?”

“No,” Rindou deadpanned immediately. “I’m not being friendly with her.”

“But you show concern for her wellbeing?” Ran raised a brow.

Rindou threw his hands up in the air. “Because she was a vital part of the last job! She wasn’t at the top of her game, and we needed things to go as smoothly as possible—which could only be done if she recovered some.”

It was sound logic. Practically unbreakable, but somehow Ran poked holes right through the thin explanation. “And the rescue mission?”

“Didn’t wanna owe her anything after saving my ass,” Rindou muttered. “Also if she were kidnapped, we wouldn’t have the skilled personnel for this job. The assignment was unknown, but had I known how simple the job would be, I probably would’ve made peace with letting her be an idiot.”

Rindou thought his explanations were sufficient enough, but he knew somehow, deep down, he didn’t quite believe what he said.

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me! Likes & reblogs appreciated! <3 Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune & @/firefly-graphics

[worriedvision]

How about Heizou being transported into our world and the reader (lets say they live alone) and the reader takes Heizou into work once they get him reasonably changed, hoping he could get some work there.

He somehow manages to take the readers job in the span of a few days, the reader being fired and sent away. Heizou still lives with them, but he's under the impression you're working together because it's the same job.

He finds out you lost your job when you give him the cold shoulder, snapping at him when he teasingly asks you whats wrong. Reader looks into how Heizou got into the world, and somehow *they* get transported into the world Heizou is from.

Yes I'm inspired by that tighnari fic lol

Gender neutral reader, the reader also works as a detective and they find Heizou during an investigation into an unexplained mystery.

--

When you showed up to work that morning, you didn't think you'd find your new roommate. You were assigned to a job where you were to connect the dots for a case, and figure out a possible timeline for the events that took place. There wasn't exactly a 'crime', however the sudden appearance of a dodgy house in the city was a cause for concern. Of course, you take the job - this was going to be your chance to get that promotion.

You didn't expect to see a man, seemingly unharmed, to be waking up in the building. He looks around, hand on his chin as he seems to take some joy in finding himself in an unfamiliar place. He looks over when the door opens, curiousity in his eyes as he walks around you, investigating your clothing.

"Sir, are you feeling okay?" You ask, the man stopping in his tracks. "I'm investigating this house, can I ask you a few questions?"

The man nods, and you escort him to the police station. Getting a room after explaining this man had been in the building, you get the okay to interview him.

"The names Shikanoin Heizou, detective of the Tenryo Commission." He smoothly lets out, clicking his fingers as he finishes the sentence. "It is a pleasure to be of assistance in this mystery."

"...Sorry, can you explain more about the Tenryo Commission? I don't believe I have heard of it." You raise a brow, Heizou looking at you blankly as if you were joking.

"Have you heard of Inazuma?" He asks. You shake your head, Heizou humming out loud. "Teyvat?" He continues. You shake your head again, and Heizou crosses his arms.

"I need you to be a bit more serious here." You bluntly let out. "Stop pulling my leg, and try again."

"But I am being serious. If anything, I think you're pulling my leg." Heizou defends himself.

After a few minutes of arguing, you both realise that neither of you were joking. Heizou appeared to be from another world, and he somehow got teleported into your world. You ask him to show you his hands, and you're surprised to see his fingerprints don't look even remotely like they were real.

"You said you were a detective, Heizou." You begin, Heizou looking at you as you think out loud. "I'd like to work with you on this case. Both of us together might bring some insight to this mystery."

"That sounds... interesting." Heizou tilts his head. "Wait, 'mystery'? Do tell me more." His eyes glisten with excitement.

--

In the duration of you both working together, you had him in your flat. You struggled with the rent often, and Heizou did seem to feel guilty about this. After talking to your boss about Heizou's capabilities, your boss decided to give Heizou a try at being a detective.

You found you were tasked to 'focus on the house', and Heizou started to work independently on the cases you typically did. You thought nothing of it, but then your boss called you in.

"_, take a seat." Your boss encourages, you reluctantly doing so. "I'm going to have to let you go. We have budget cuts, and unfortunately this affects you."

"Sir, please give me a chance to prove myself!" You plead, your boss shaking their head.

"I'm afraid you have been coasting. However, I must thank you for finding Heizou. He has been phenomenal." Your boss smiles to themselves, before turning their attention back to you. "I wish you the best of luck."

--

"_, you'll never guess what happened today!" Heizou cheers the moment you leave your boss's office. "I got promoted, isn't that cool?" He winks, getting under your skin. Since you were still in the workplace, you had to maintain your professionalism.

"Congrats!" You wince, heading out. Heizou looks over, shrugging his shoulders before getting onto work.

That night, Heizou came home to you beginning to fill out job applications.

"What's happened? Jealous I'm better at detective work?" Heizou asks, you snapping the pen in your hand as your head darts over to Heizou.

"I lost my job today, Heizou. I have to look for work. Well done on your promotion, by the way, I guess you have me to thank for you getting that job." You rant, Heizou listening.

"Well, if you wanted to-"

"Don't you start with me. You've embarrassed my name, I should have left you there." You cut him off, waiting for Heizou to say something.

"But you didn't."

"I can put a good word for you in. I'm sure if I show you how I-"

Before he finishes his sentence, you find yourself walking out.

"Now, let's see what's in this house." You think out loud. "Surely there's something here that will bring some closure..." You continue, walking towards the middle of the room after closing the door behind you. You notice a darker spot beginning to form itself under your feet, and before you can step back, the world as you know it starts to feel different.

--

You wake up to a woman jamming a fried egg down your mouth. You get up, thoroughly confused on how you were being fed an egg. How on earth did you digest that egg, without choking on it, and how did that wake you up?

The woman introduces herself, Kujou Sara, and you introduce yourself.

"...Am I in Inazuma?" You ask, the woman nodding. "I know this is going to sound strange, but I'm not from this world." You elaborate right away. "This house showed up out of nowhere in my world, and there was a detective in the building. Does the name Shikanoin Heizou ring a bell?"

"What has he done this time?" Kujou Sara huffs out, shaking her head. "I take it he's still in your world?"

You nod, and after a discussion about your background, Kujou Sara offers you Heizou's currently vacant spot as a detective. You were surprised she believed you so quickly, but you weren't about to judge her for giving you a chance to start working in the Tenryo Commission.

Surprisingly, you adapted well, and after a long while you had assumed that Heizou was simply swapped with you. You were in his spot, and he was in the spot you were working towards. Heizou was still considered a missing person, and people were still looking out for him, but you knew deep down that you most likely would be forgotten after a few months at most.

[jetaloen]

i always meant to ask but always forget, do Rohan's parents and/or Volo's parents have a pokemon team (or i guess pokemon partners since pokeballs weren't super around). All i remember is Volo's mom having a togepi

YEA they are all trainers in their own right! they kinda each have different views on what pokemon are to them

rohan's parents, especially his mother tamura, are the most highly skilled trainers of all my ocs, rivaled only by rohan himself. both his parents train pkmn that are similar in nature to themselves, so their bonds are very strong w their respective teams.

tamura (rohan's mom):

tamura is raised in a brothel by a doting and protective group of courtesans after her mother was murdered. she sees a lot of fucked up shit as a kid despite how her caregivers try to shelter her, so she has a really warped outlook on life. she also develops unrivaled ability as a swordswoman.....so she becomes this adult who loves nothing more than fighting men she finds handsome to the death. she has no remorse. she is a perpetual child playing a game and they're like toys to her. in what i headcanon as a warring-states-adjacent time period, i think tamura gets away with this for a while before she eventually has a bounty put on her head....but even then, this team of pokemon with extremely powerful hypnotizing abilities has been helping her escape punishment all along, and she's certainly not going to let herself be caught just because the government in johto is demanding it.

tamura GREATLY prefers the company of her pokemon to that of other people. her team are basically extensions of herself. she naturally bonds w ghost and psychic types.

her shedinja came from hansuke's ninjask.

hansuke (rohan's dad):

hansuke's team only seriously takes shape when he starts training under tamura; when he still had his family, his shelmet was his only pkmn, but after he lost everything in a bandit raid, he met zorua and ralts during his aimless job-seeking travels. his ralts was the the only one of his mons to fully evolve before he met tamura and served as a protector of him and the others, so they're all really close. each of hansuke's pokemon is a partner that he battles against, and after tamura dies and hansuke and rohan flee to hisui, hansuke and his team form an insular family unit, especially when he begins to realize that his son is distancing himself from him.

alexius (volo's dad):

alexius is a military general and his pokemon serve more war-time use vs being partner pokemon or pets. falinks and bastiodon are pokemon that would fight alongside him, while mudsdale could aid him both as a steed and to help move shit. gyarados and clawitzer would be for naval battle. staraptor could fight if it needed to as well, but would see more use delivering letters and transporting wounded soldiers. honest to god, i don't have much for alexius rn, but i am pretty confident that this would be his team. he isn't around much when volo lives in the celestican society.

cynthia (volo's mom):

it's not often that my headcanoned celesticans would become powerful trainers just for shits and giggles like people do in the modern day...inside their cities, they prioritize order, peace, and worship, so bigass pokemon swinging around knocking shit over is prob a no-no. that being said, smaller pokemon are everywhere in their cities and live alongside the ppl. and volo's mom is a kooky lady who pokemon just LOVE, so she especially is always surrounded by them (her son inherits this quality from her.) i think that volo and his mother cynthia are very close in his youth...he keeps her memory alive in many ways, and although he has very complicated feelings about her, he misses her badly. i think volo trains the pokemon he remembers from his childhood.

[nyxnightshade1332]

Expectations When Expecting (Prologue)

Chapter 6

Chapter 7:

The monster and the pregnant young lady had won, but at the cost of their dignity. Grim lay on the floor, panting heavily from exhaustion. Yuu was currently on the ground with her head between her knees in an attempt to stave off the nausea that came from Crowley's last minute attack.

He'd caught them off guard by bringing back the other ghosts, circling them and moving at vision blurring speeds, turning the pair around before Grim had finally had enough, managing to land a hit on all four of the ghosts, who had backed off. Yuu had promptly fallen to her knees, much paler than before, forcing Crowley to yield.

"I apologize, my dear." He spoke awkwardly, handing her a cup of water and a fan.

Yuu looked up shakily, swallowing slightly. "Never do that again..." She huffed, taking a slow sip of the water.

Grim stood up, still panting. "... Well?"

"Incredible... I've never seen anyone bend a monster to their will quite the way you have." Crowley gave her a smile in an effort to have her accept his apology. "I must confess, my educator's intuition did sense something about you after the brouhaha at orientation, Yuu."

"You mean aside from the pregnancy?" She said, slowly emerging from her fetal position, her earlier comment being completely missed by the little monster.

Crowley nodded, waving her off. "Yes, yes. I could tell you had a certain animal trainer-y, beast master-ish quality to you. Oh, yes." The tone his voice held told her what he was truly thinking. Crowley began to mutter to himself, as she fought the desire to roll her eyes.

She sighed. "Hey, Headmage Crowley? Would it be possible for Grim to stay with me?" She asked, earning a surprised squawk from both Grim and Crowley.

"WHAT? A monster, stay HERE?" The man gaped as she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. I mean, I owe him something for getting rid of the ghosts. And besides, you literally beat him out of his senses a while ago. I think he deserves to stay." She remarked, looking at the surprised cat monster.

"Whoa, did you just...?" He sputtered, blinking his eyes to see if he were dreaming.

"Besides, What if there are more ghosts? You can't expect someone with my condition to be able to defend herself alone, could you?" She stated, using as much information to her advantage.

The headmage looked as if she had finally managed to corner him, sighing in defeat. "I suppose I cannot deny your plea. Very well." He responded.

"REALLY?!" Grim yelped, his voice on the edge of excitement.

"Let me be clear!" Crowley spoke. "Under no circumstances would I admit anyone to Night Raven College who has not been selected by the Dark Mirror - especially not a monster!" He began, earning a groan from Yuu. He turned to her. "Nor do I intend to allow you to freeload until you're able to return home."

"Hmm. Called it." She huffed.

"Hrmph. Never shoulda got my hopes up..." Grumbled Grim, puffing out his cheeks to display his anger.

"Now, allow me to explain!" Crowley backtracked, trying to avoid the wrath of a pregnant woman and a semi-feral, fire-breathing cat. "It was the Dark Mirror that transported you here. Therefore this school does bear some responsibility for your well-being. So I will allow you to remain in this dorm, free of charge."

Yuu looked unimpressed. "Okay. What's the catch?"

"I see you catch on quickly! Well, you will need to pay for your own food, clothing, and incidentals. As to how you will do so, penniless as you are..." Crowley thought for a moment before chuckling to himself. "... Yes, a fine plan indeed!"

"Let me guess, free labor?" She deadpanned.

"Oh, come now. No need to put it like that, my dear." The bird-man gave a hearty laugh, a definite confirmation. "However, yes. I'm simply going to ask you to do a few odd jobs around campus. From what you've done here, Miss Yuu, I can tell you know your way around a broom. So what do you say to you two working together as a janitorial team? If you agree to that, I will make a special exception and allow you to remain on campus."

Yuu narrowed her eyes at him. "... Fine. But I better be getting maternity leave once I hit my third trimester."

"Of course! I'm not heartless! As a matter of fact, I'll also allow you use of the library, so that you may study, and research ways to return home." Great. So I'm basically looking for my own way home.

"How soundlessly charitable I am. Ah, but only when your work is over, of course!" The headmage crowed.

Grim did not seem as on board with the idea of becoming a janitor, making this abundantly clear with the feline growl that escaped him. "What kinda deal is that?! I wanna put on one of those sweet uniforms and be a student, not sweep up people's junk!"

Yuu looked the cat monster in the eye, exhausted. "Grim. It's either that or we get thrown out. As of now, there clearly isn't much room for debate." She explained to the cat as he got closer to her. "Besides, we might even get the chance to earn you a seat as a student here." She whispered, earning a surprised expression.

"Really?" Grim questioned, hopeful.

"Yeah. So, do you wanna do this or not?" She asked, earning a nod from the cat monster. She gave him a tired smile before looking up at Crowley. "Okay, we'll do it."

Crowley looked over the moon at the thought of free labor. "Wonderful. Then I beseech you both... To work hard as the newest members of the Night Raven College's janitorial staff!"

Yuu nodded, pushing herself to a standing position, testing her legs. "Alright, cool. I'm gonna eat and then we'll go clean up the bed so we can sleep." She dusted herself off, yawning before turning to the headmage. "Oh, and Crowley? Please be aware that my priorities do not lie with you, but with my baby. If anything happens, there will be hell to pay." She said coldly, making the headmage flinch.

"Y-yes, of course! Have a good night, all of you." He stuttered, excusing himself by rushing out of the dorm. Yuu watched him go before finally closing the door.

"... Hey, human? Why were you talkin' about a baby?" Came a meek voice behind her.

She turned to him, awkwardly. "Well... you remember when you told me that I had a nice smell and how my stomach was warm? Well..." 

Chapter 8

[mechahero]

@gazelessmenagerie said- /holds up the choices of 🥦, Mauga, or N'doul get galaxied lol

What if I did all three of them? lol

I said this a year ago and I'll say it again, Realgars have Broly energy! They just do. It was so easy to figure this out actually. Realgars are pretty strong as is, but I think Broly here would be a perfect cut Realgar. Perfect cut Gems are the cream of the crop when it comes to their particular gemtypes and tend to be way stronger than them as well. A perfect analogy to Broly being well, the Legendary Super Saiyan.

I'm not kidding. I think Mauga would be a Realgar too! Although the reasoning I have is kind of just "it makes sense to me" though so fhnjgfhngjg. And maybe because he acts a lot like some of the Realgars I've seen in roleplays. I do think he'd have his regular weapon though because I feel like Realgars' weapons in general are made and given to the entire gemtype.

Listen, this was so obvious. Geb is a water Stand, Lapis Lazulis have control over water, it just makes sense. N'doul would still be blind (also obviously) but I think he'd be able to hang on through sheer stubbornness and through utilizing his water manipulation abilities in entirely different ways to get his job done avoid being shattered. Yes, he still does the cane sonar thing.

in game blurbs about both gems under the cut

"These towering terrors belong to Omega Red's Entourage and are the Highest Ranking Gem within her entire court! Embodying the ruthlessness and sporadic nature of Omega Red herself, they serve as highly-decorated and wildly respected juggernauts, barreling into battle and acting as a beacon of unbridled power, leading their fearless troops to victory!" - In game description

"Lapis Lazulis are insanely skilled water-terraformers. They can slash tidal waves through massive boulders with a swift movement of their hands. They can lift contents of an entire mass of water with efficient speed and transport it anywhere they need for the reconstruction of an organic planet. They pair with other terraformers well and can reform an entire planet in just a moon if they worked on it." -In game description

[bruggle]

Now to answer questions literally nobody asked!

Aurora is Eon's neice; why can't she be claimed as his heir?

Because I said so. No. So before Academy aired, I personally headcannoned that Eon had a younger sister. And that's part of the reason why he was so adamant about Aurora not becoming a skylander; his sister would kill him. Here, I'm gonna say that yes, Eon has a younger sister who married a different lord and had two children. A son and a daughter. The son is the heir to hid father's lordship, and Eon was originally going to name Aurora his heir. But then she fell in love with the heir to one of the Cloudbreak Island lordships, and so that plan went out the window. He does not blame her, of course. He was overjoyed when he heard the news. But it did make things difficult.

How did Perry wind up in Skylands in this AU? (Non spoiler verison)

Ok, so to explain I need to say a bit from my original idea:

There is a stretch of woods behind Perry's childhood home. As a child, she was scared to death of going into it because she claimed there was something "weird" about it. Now, obviously, that's where I'm putting the portal. So within this AU, Perry decides to be brave when she's 17 and go into the woods despite how much it weirds her out. She finds the portal and messes around with it, which of course, isn't a good idea. Don't play around with things you don't understand. This leads to her being transported to Skylands by accident, with no way home. And this leads into the next question:

Why did Eon choose to adopt Perry as his heir and daughter?

He originally wasn't going to; when he first came across Perry, he figured she was yet another random encounter of Skylands' magic going haywire and bringing yet another person from another world/time. (Because according to Dive Clops' back story, time vortexes are relatively common???) And he is one of the few beings who still regard an old law of bringing unwitting travelers up to speed with how Skylands works: how to read, write, currency, politics, etc. and then letting them figure out what to do from there. However, as she was being taught all these things, he noticed many of the same signs that he exhibited that marked him as a Portal Master when his master took him under his wing. So now he really can't just let her galavant around Skylands. That would basically be a death sentence. He then comes to the realization that he could probably adopt her and name her his heir. This kills two birds with one stone; keeps his people from having to adjust to a new rule, and keeps her safe. So, he teaches Perry how to hide the fact that she is a Portal Master and then sends a letter to Aurora asking if she would be willing to take Perry as a Lady in Waiting. Aurora agrees, and Perry learns how to act as a Lady should from both her hand maids and Aurora. The two girls get along very well and continue to send letters to one another.

Does Kaosandra know that Kaos is a Portal Master?

I've thought long and hard about this one, and have ultimately decided no. She will not know. The linchpin for this was the existence of the Wilikin. If the Wilikin exist, then she would know 100%. But so would the rest of his family, who would gladly turn him over to Nefarion. And even if he just made one and showed her, it would still feel too convenient. So instead, I'm having it be to where he made one wilikin while by himself out of loneliness, freaked out, accidentally destroy it, and never tried again.

Glumshanks will know that he's a Portal Master though, he raised Kaos and knows when things are bothering him. He helps Kaos hide it.

Don't get me wrong, I love the Wilikin. But they don't fit in this story without giving away a necessary secret.

You've mentioned that the Skylanders are going to be members of staff or guards, who has what jobs?

So I've actually got a mix of NPCs and Skylanders in different jobs. Here's what I got so far:

Hugo - Eon's valet

A valet is basically the men's version of a handmaid, but they also act as an assistant. Hugo did, however, also teach Perry how to read and write in Skylish.

Cali - housekeeper

So the housekeeper is basically the female version of a butler. Now, if there is both a butler and housekeeper, all the maid servants (with the exception of head nurse and hand maids) listen to the housekeeper while all the man servants (with the exception of the valet) listen to the butler. I feel this suits Cali.

Flynn - coachman

Of course our main man is in charge of transportation.

Ghost Roaster - head cook

This is also obvious lmao

Camo - gardener

This is mostly so that I can put Camo and Ghost Roaster into situations because their dynamic is hilarious

Sonic Boom - head nurse (but currently working with Whirlwind in the infirmary)

So the head nurse is the staff member who takes care of the babies and young children, but there obviously isn't any of those (and won't be for a good long time. Period) so for the moment, she either offers to watch children of the other staff members or helps out in the infirmary.

Whirlwind - infirmary keeper

This is not an actual historical position, but in a world where there are 2 foot tall pests (chompys) and magic potions for just about everything, having someone who knows what to do about wounds seems like a good idea.

Hex and Stealth Elf - hand maids

Hand maids are in charge of all the lady's needs as well as helping with her dress and hair. I imagine Hex being better with the dressing part of the job while Stealth is better at hair.

Spyro - head guard

Of course our boy is here :)

[grenade-maid]

I think the way that people think about intellectual property and copyright really betrays a lack of understanding and imagination for both the society we live in and a better society that I should think we would be hoping to create. Specifically, the argument around IP and copyright for most well-meaning people centers on the desire to see creative and inventive people be compensated for the work that they put in. When things get slightly less abstract they will often act more specifically on the desire that authors and workers in industries such as film and television be able to have a living wage, under the supposition that piracy undermines the profit made by their endeavors and therefore threatens their livelihood. This is a relatively straightforward and intuitive set of assumptions that are internally consistent. Internally consistent it may be though, it does not really hold up to scrutiny within real world contexts where IP and copyright have overwhelmingly not only failed to benefit authors or workers, but have been used against them in countless ways to undermine both their artistic agency and basic economic livelihood. Additionally, 30 years of living in the internet era, several decades of home taping prior, and centuries of public libraries and used bookstores should speak to the overwhelming lack of threat that piracy poses (remember after all, publishing industries DO regard libraries and home taping or even just content sharing with friends with equal hostility). all of this is well trodden ground, I have said nothing new in this summary.

⚠️ HOWEVER ⚠️

this is typically where the conversation ends, running around in circles until the heat death of the universe. Do people consider what it is they are truly talking about, though. That is to say, something very fundamental is being taken for granted here as an immutable fact of the universe tantamount to natural law like gravity or thermodynamics. that thing, the very thing they are arguing about, is the livelihood of artists and workers as defined by their wages. Again, this seems entirely reasonable and intuitive, after all, you need money to live ergo artists and workers should receive money to do the aforementioned living. But it is at this point that we must recognize that this in itself is an abstraction that has to be understood on a more complex and complete level for the conversation to ever hope to go anywhere.

so we must ask then, what is meant by a livable wage, or economic survival more broadly? Thankfully that question is quite simple. Because it simply means asking, where do those wages go? And the answer is, primarily they go towards keeping roofs overhead, beds to sleep in, mouths fed, water, electric, heat, phone, internet, and all other bills paid, transportation, healthcare expenses, taking a trip to the beach, and laughing with friends. So long as the conversation remains solely on the arms race between workers being paid enough to keep up with all the ever more egregious ways capitalists will find to squeeze the money right back out of them it will be a conversation that fails to achieve its goals no matter how straightforward and simple it seems. The only way out of this sisyphian cycle is for all of those things that wages go towards being guaranteed regardless of wage. There is no model of Byzantine mechanism that rewards some calculation of sales or views or other measure of audience engagement with an equivalent payment to artists and workers that will guarantee their livelihood-- and even if one existed it would immediately be circumvented in enumerable ways owing to the fact that capitalists pay entire armies of people whose sole job is to find loopholes and exceptions and vagaries in language that will allow them to circumvent them.

it is this dynamic that illustrates the way in which in a capitalist society law is controlled by capital. Even with no explicit lobbying involved capitalists can simply pour however much money it takes to get a million monkeys at a million typewriters to generate for them an entirely legal reason that any law that is meant to compel them to do anything (such as paying artists and workers) does not actually apply to them. Artists and workers are too busy making art and doing work to act as a similarly vast number of monkeys with typewriters, and as such, fights such as these cannot be gainfully fought solely in the realm of laws which compel capitalists to pay you x amount under y conditions. The rise of replacing employees with contractors who have no rights, the proliferation of shell companies that can be folded as soon as production is over thus erasing any legal obligation towards artists or workers, not to mention the countless methods of accounting trickery that allow companies to claim they made no money despite millions of sales should clue you into this.

The only way this fight can be won is for the necessities of livelihood to be guaranteed with no exception, with no requirements based on approval by this or that capitalist. We have observed this in healthcare--tying healthcare to employment only serves to let capitalists threaten you by withholding it. If they must provide it upon you working a certain number of hours they will employ you for exactly 1 hour less than that. The same is true with all things because the logic remains consistent. They want to save money and maintain authority, regardless of the matter at hand. This, by the way, is also what is meant by the dictatorship of capital. Just as healthcare needs to be a universal guaranteed right, so too does housing, food, water, transportation, and, in a world where phones and internet are a necessity, they must be guaranteed too, in all instances, regardless of context, whether you think any particular individual deserves it or not.

for artists to be able to make a living making art the only true prerequisite is that they are guaranteed by human rights everything it takes to live. Ergo, healthcare, housing, public transportation, food, water and all these other things being a universally guaranteed right is defacto the primary necessity to fight for in the fight for the rights and lives of artists, not IP or copyright.

[deep-ocean-grey]

(Ex) best friends and ghosting.

Recently, I got ghosted by my former best friend. We had been friends since 4th grade back in elementary school. After we got to know each other, we were inseparable ever since. Our friendship lasted many years and I guess we both were something the other one needed badly in her life. For a very long time, she was my only close friend and I shared everything with her. My time, my feelings, my secrets. I would have sacrificed my own life for her and I trusted her with my life. She was everything for me. I was there for her and so was she for me. Always.

After elementary school, she moved away. Not far away but we both did not have money for buying public transport tickets again and again and also we were both still quite young. So we couldn't meet that often any more. But our friendship got through this.

After several further years, I moved away as well. Farther away. Slowly, our contact decreased more and more. I got depressed. I realized that it was a bad decision to move away. I hated my job there and my relationship with my ex boyfriend went straight downhill. I endured this situation for a while. For too long. But I managed to move forward with my life and moved back near my hometown. I was optimistic again, I felt better.

My life seemed to be quite good for some time but it took not long to go downhill again. And it got worse than ever. Depression hit me like Mount Everest in my face, deaths of beloved people, bullying at work, symptoms of burnout, and another traumatic situation hit me; and it took me a long time to get out of these dark places. I didn't talk about this a lot and, above all, with very few people. I didn't have the energy to talk about it and so I didn't tell her. I didn't ask her for help. I just couldn't. I wanted contact with her, I wanted her help - because she was through such things as well and managed to get over it - but I just couldn't.

She had troubles keeping in touch in general. I knew that and it was ok for me most of the time. Our friendship was not weakened by not texting every day or even every week or month. It was fine for me being "in charge" for keeping in touch. But this changed with my depression. Keeping in touch with family and friends is - until to date - one of my biggest issues and challenges me a lot. Answering messages, calling through etc. It really drained and still drains all my energy. I wished that she would check up on me more often when I didn't text at all. But she didn't.

After I texted her again some time later and tried to explain why I wasn't keeping in touch any more - when I was about to start therapy - she explained to me that it wasn't her intention to hurt me by not texting. She was under the impression that - now that I had a new boyfriend after moving back near my hometown - I was so happy, I wouldn't need her anymore. Obviously, we were hurt simultaneously. So we tried to re-build or bond. But apparently, we failed.

We tried to extensively tell each other about the lives we were living by now (summer 2022) and for me it was great to slowly getting a part of her life and having her in mine again. After one message in said summer, I didn't receive an answer. I didn't worry about it too much because, by now, she became a mother. Twice to be precise. Ans she got married. She had a busy life and so I was patient. In autumn, I texted her again and suggested to visit her in October because I was going to have two weeks off. One checkmark. My message did not get delivered.

Several months later, on her birthday in April this year, I texted her my congratulations for her birthday. I texted her on Instagram because my last message on WhatsApp was not delivered. She saw the message, but never answered. She unfollowed me and deleted me as follower on her profile. She didn't text me for my birthday some days later. And then, she deactivated her profile. That's it. She ghosted me and left me in pieces.

I would possibly be able to contact her via usual text messages or maybe via Tumblr. But obviously, she doesn't want to get contacted by me. But the urge to tell her, how bad she hurts me with this is almost unbearable. Mainly, I am writing this right now to clear my mind a bit. I was pushing away my feelings about this the last weeks. I just didn't want to deal with it right now. But continuing to push it away will only cause more problems for me and my mental health. I'm still thinking about telling her how hurt I am, and angry, and disappointed. Maybe she'll even see this post. But this would mean that she would need to actively check on my profile since she unfollowed me on Tumblr as well.

I wished I could just hate her. To hate seems to be so much easier than to be hurt, than to miss and to regret how things went. But I don't and that makes me even more angry, but with myself. I hate that I'm tearing up again and again while writing this, I hate to have all those mixed feelings inside me.

.

I'm trying to find strategies for me to deal with this. Currently, I am trying to figure out and focus on the things that were negative for me in our friendship, e.g. how she talked shit about my first boyfriend more than a decade ago, how she always relied on me keeping in touch, that she always wanted to be "entertained" be me when we met because she got bored very easily. I'm trying to find reasons why it may be good that it's over so that I can move on. But... is this mean? Am I the bad person now? Was it all my fault? Could I have done anything different/better? I don't know.

I'm still grateful for all the goods things in this friendship, for everything she did for me, but at the moment, remembering this just hurts. I know I need to let all those feelings in and learn to deal with them. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to let go.