#The people in the office made similar remarks anytime i was in there

[sastielsfandom]

It's a bit hard for me to fully understand how bad first grade was for me. Not because the schoolwork was difficult, because I felt too challenged in a academic sense. I struggled, but not because the work was difficult, but because of the racism I dealt with.

My biggest problem that entire year had to of been my teacher. Starting from mispronouncing my name and refusing to say it properly. Accusing me of cheating on my projects because of how well they were done. While I did get help, she assumed my mom had always done all the work for me.

She liked to try and embarrass me, looked for opportunities to call me a trouble maker and would loudly announce my "bad" behavior, despite her simply mixing me up with students with similar names or appearances. Never apologized to me when she was wrong, which was every time.

Called me slow, would make comments about how long it took me to do activities, especially writing.

There were so many things she did that entire school year that added up. But the most disrespectful thing had to of been when I asked her for our Thanksgiving classroom play, if i could be one of the natives rather than the pilgrims. I'm native american, I'm the only native american in this class, I don't want to be a pilgrim. Guess who was a pilgrim?

And she made sure the native men were loud and ruthless and the native women were scared of everything and screamed and shouted in fear so easily. While the pilgrims were calm and collected, from the men to the women and they helped these poor natives.

My mom and me shared similar opinions on the play and she even talked to my teacher about how harmful it was to teach kids our history like that. The she should do better and emphasized the proper way to say my name. Which she pretended she just didn't know, I never corrected her. (My mom knew this was a lie as I was known to be very quick to correct people and sometimes hostile if they didn't quickly amend it. So yeah... Also, she continued to mispronounce my name unless my mom was there.)

I almost forgot, I am a very quiet person, especially then. I only talked if I had to or liked you enough to talk to. She said even though I met the curriculum for the next grade, in fact, she had kept lowering my reading level until she got in trouble, that she wanted to hold me back for a year. She got an earful from my mom for that one, and I didn't get held back.

So that was what it was like in the classroom. Outside of it, I was often physically assaulted by four girls.

There was this one who was in my class and she made it her mission to stand next to me in line so she could force me to talk. I never did, so she would twist my arm, pinch me, punch me, try to bend my hand back, saying I just had to say something and she'd stop. She never got in trouble for it and it's not because she never got caught, many times I caught my teacher's eye while she was physically harming me, she'd smile and look away.

While I was outside of the classroom, outside of line, there was a group of three girls. They come up to me, make comments, grab my stuff, my belongings, corner me. I remember one weekend I got my nails done, they were yellow with glitter. They saw my nails asked if they were real, and proceeded to rip off every single nail. My best friend saw, alerted her mom who did work there. Not much came from that, they continued to harass me, they just made sure my friend wasn't around and her mom.

So yeah, it was really traumatic, dealing with so much every day at school. I remember walking to the bus one day, it was really windy, and I thought about how much I wished it would pick up more and knock me into the wall. Enough to hurt and kill me. I thought about death a lot that year. I didn't realize until I got older how much it truly affected me.

Also, fun fact, I ended up going to school with those girls again, we moved but in fifth grade I went back to that school, that teacher still taught there, and one of those girls was in my class. She never talked to me, she did give me dirty looks for getting questions correct if she didn't.

And later in middle school I ended up having several classes with all of them. I could tell they recognized me, but never said anything about it. No apologies. Nothing.

The one who twisted my arm, I never saw her again at the very least. But yeah, what a fucked up year, huh?

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.

Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.

You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.

Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.

You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.

He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'

You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.

Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'

'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.

The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.

You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.

'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

��Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid 

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent 

[lyranova]

Heyooooo Lyraaaa 😘!!! I was wondering if um hehe👉👈😅, if you could make a yamichar fic where they accidentally traveled in time and accidentally meet their future child (or children lmao) lol😂, it's okay if you don't wanna do it 🙂 no pressure 😘

Children of the Future:

Chapter 1: Hikari

Of course Lei! I’m sorry this took so long IRL has been busy 😅! But i hope you like this, also I just realized you wanted Yamichar to be the ones who time travel, and instead i made it the child who goes back in time oops. But i hope this is ok! Also, Hikari belongs to the lovely @eme-eleff (thank you for letting me borrow her for this Ilysm 🥰💕!)

Edit: This is Chapter 1 of my new series ‘Children of the Future’, instead of reposting it I decided to edit it and reblog it haha!

Word Count: 1,701

Warnings: None

———

Yami couldn’t stop grumbling, he had been summoned by Julius to come to his office, he claimed there was something important he needed to see. Yami had been confused at first, but he wasn’t really allowed to disobey a summons from the Wizard King. So he walked through the halls that he knew like the back of his hand, deep in thought, when he saw a flash of blonde out of the corner of his eyes. He turned and noticed it was the Prickly Princess herself, Charlotte Roselei. He watched her look up in surprise at him and her face turned a shade of pink.

“ Y-Yami? What are you doing here?” She asked as she came to a stop, she hadn’t seen him for a while, since everyone had been training in order to battle the Spade Kingdom. She watched him tilt his head and do a half-shrug.

“ The Wizard King summoned me, said he had something important to show me. You?” He asked as he also came to a stop.

“ Same here, I wonder if he summoned the other Captains as well.” Charlotte said curiously as she folded her arms, it wasn’t unusual for Julius to call them suddenly, but when it did it usually meant trouble for the Kingdom.

“ I didn’t see any of them, and I don’t sense their Qi, so I think it’s just us here.” He told her with a thoughtful scowl, Charlotte hadn’t seen any of them either, which made this meeting even more curious.

“ C’mon, let’s not keep him waiting.” Yami said suddenly as he began to walk away, she blushed even more as her mind raced ‘H-He wants to walk there together?! Won’t that give people the wrong impression?!’ Her mind screamed, but she shook her head and followed behind him. They could always say they met outside the door or something.

Charlotte watched as Yami knocked on the door, they heard Julius say something on the other side to signal to them that they could enter. Yami pushed the door open, allowing Charlotte to walk inside first, and closed it behind them.

“ Ah good you’re both already here.” Julius said with a warm happy smile, Charlotte and Yami walked up to the desk. It was still hard to believe that the Wizard King was now back to his original self, they had gotten so used to seeing him younger that they would sometimes forget this was him.

“ Why are we here Julius?” Yami asked as he crossed his arms, he wasn’t really in the mood for chit chat, and he assumed Charlotte wasn’t either since she had a small scowl on her face as well. They were both trying to train their squads so they could face the Spade Kingdom, and this was distracting them from doing that.

“ Well,” he said with a sheepish laugh, that only made the two Captains scowl further. “ I went down stairs where we keep the forbidden magic items, and I stumbled across this portal. I don’t think it’s ever been used, anyway, I went down there looking to see if there may be an item to help me change back to my proper age. Well, instead I found her,” Julius moved out of the way and behind him sat a young girl around 19 years old.

She had long dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a small scowl on her face. Charlotte looked her up and down, she was wearing a deep blue top with a pair of dark brown pants, wrist length gloves, and dark knee length boots. But what caught her attention was the cloak she was wearing, Charlotte’s eyes widened as she looked at the insignia, it was a Black Bulls robe, she looked over at Yami and saw he recognized it too. But if he was surprised he didn’t let it show.

“ Why did you give some random kid my squads robe Julius?” Yami asked as he suddenly grabbed a cigarette and put it into his mouth.

“ I’m not just some random kid! Also, if you’re going to smoke it’s best to do it outside or, even better, stop smoking. It’s bad for you.” The young girl remarked as she stood up from the chair she had been sitting in and walked over to stand next to Julius’s desk.

Charlotte and Yami blinked, this kid had quite the mouth on her. But he did as she asked and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and put it back in it’s case. The young girl smiled in triumph, that's when Yami frowned. That smile, it looked familiar, but where had he seen it before?

“ Anytime I ask you to smoke outside you always ignore me, but when a child asks you too you listen and do it without a second thought.” Charlotte commented with a small laugh and a shake of her head, Yami rolled his eyes a bit, of course he was going to listen to a kid. He wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but he could be a big softie when it came to kids. He looked over and noticed Charlotte had a small smile on her face, he paled slightly, that was the same smile the young girl wore just a moment ago.

“ Hey kid, what’s your name?” He asked, hoping beyond hope that his gut feeling was wrong, that her Qi wasn’t what he saw it to be. The young girl glanced over to Julius who nodded, she turned back to them, her head held high as she announced.

“ My name’s Hikari, Hikari Sukehiro.” Both Captains paled, Sukehiro? As in Yami Sukehiro?! Charlotte turned to look at him, he wasn’t able to hide the surprise on his face at this revelation.

She felt a small pang in her chest, as though someone had just plunged a dagger into it, he had a daughter? With another woman? She shook her head, they weren’t dating so what right did she have to be hurt and upset, at the most they were just colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less. But it still hurt to think of him being with another woman, of him having a child with another woman.

“ This isn’t funny Julius.” Yami growled, he knew this wasn’t a joke, just from the way she stood he could tell she was his daughter, also from the way she had no problem telling him off about smoking. The only thing that confused him though, was why she had the same smile as Charlotte.

“ It isn’t a joke Yami, she came here from the future, at least according to her. I had Marx use his memory magic on her, everything she has told me is the truth and her memories prove it.” Julius said as he leaned back against his desk, Charlotte couldn’t help but glare at him slightly.

“ Why did you call me here then you majesty? Just so you could have a witness in case Yami tried to murder you?” She asked, a little more ice to her tone then she had intended. It didn’t go unnoticed. Julius blinked a bit before looking over at Hikari.

“ Um, I think you need to explain your parentage a little more, Hikari.” He stated with a nervous laugh, the young girl nodded.

“ Yes sir. It’s true, my father is Yami Sukehiro. But my mother,” she turned to look at the blonde haired woman. “ is Charlotte Roselei.”

Charlotte blinked at Hikari. Her? She was her mother?! No, no, no, that made no sense! How could she be this girl's mother? She and Yami weren’t even dating! There was no way Hikari was their daughter!

“ That makes sense,” Yami said suddenly, she whipped around to face him, her face brighter than the sun, and she gaped like a fish out of water.

“ H-How does this make sense?!” She suddenly shouted, she watched a small smirk tug at the corner of his lips.

“ Her Qi first off; it’s a mixture of mine and yours which is why I didn’t recognize it at first. Second, the way she carries herself is the same as you, her eyes are a similar shade although they’re a little lighter than yours, and her smile, heh, that smile; it’s exactly the same as yours.” He said the last part so softly, so warmly, it made Charlotte not only turn redder, but it made her heart melt. He...noticed how she smiled? Of course he did, he was very observant. But what she didn’t expect to see was how his smirk had changed into a warm loving smile, how his eyes had softened.

Charlotte had to be dreaming, she just had too!

“ So, umm...until we can get Hikari back to her own time, she’s going to have to stay with one of you or, if you want my opinion, both of you. Since she is your child and it’s probably what she’s used to, I’d suggest you all find somewhere to stay that’s close enough to each of your respective headquarters. I think it’ll be easier for Hikari to adjust that way.” Julius said with an innocent smile, both Captains couldn’t help but frown, was he trying to subtly get them to move in together? Yami suddenly sighed.

“ Fine, I guess we really don’t have much of a choice huh. Especially since that was an order.” Yami stated, causing Charlotte to gap at him even more, he wasn’t even going to try and convince the Wizard King that them moving in together was a very bad idea?! But as much as Charlotte wanted to argue, she could tell by the tone of the Wizards king's voice that it was, in fact, an order. She also couldn’t disagree, it would probably be better for the young girl if they all did live together. She suddenly chuckled humorlessly at the situation.

Finding out she had a daughter and now being ordered to move in with the man she was in love with who, by the way, was completely oblivious to her feelings for him? This was not how she was expecting this meeting to go!

——

Ah i’m sorry if this isn’t very good 😅! I couldn’t really think of how to end this but I hope some of you enjoyed this and I apologize if you didn’t! Also I hope you like it Lei 🥺💕! Thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[dollfaced-erin]

Not So New Afterall (Sdv Sebastian x F!reader)

A/n: Hi! Rin here, sorry I’ve been a little late, but I have to present to you a few facts before we go down with the story! I might have not mentioned the specifics of the character, but apparently Reader would be around 153 cm in height, and Sebastian 173cm. Just gives off the tall vibe, don’t you think? Their ages,,, I suppose Sebastian would be 25 and the reader 23. This is based on previous chapters and the height of Abigail’s sprite.

She’s quite perky, being the new girl and all, but if you don’t like this, then I can change her personality. 

The lines in here are mainly extracted from Sebastian’s main lines in the game, so I’ll have the Reader’s lines orbit around those.

OH, IF YOU GUYS WANT RANDOM HEADCANNONS, I’LL DO THOSE TOO AS A SIDE PROJECT

CHAPTER TWO

It was another sunny day, and (Y/n) was already up and down onto the field. Her hand clutched a few empty packets of parsnip seeds and the other held a watering can. They were given to her as a starter kit, along with some run down tools her late-grandfather had left for her in the house.

The Earth was tilled and the seeds were planted. Now, all that’s left is to water the crops and she’ll be clearing the farm next. 

She wiped the sweat rolling down her face with the back of her hand, quite exhausted from exerting her energy to nurse her farm. There was still a lot to do, and she had to run extra jobs to gain income as she wait for her crops. 

She had to clear her farm, she had to run and see Pierre for more seeds, she had to meet this man named Willy who wanted to meet her, there was still so much to do and she had no idea if she could finish it all!

She sighed, but she knew this path was much better than working as an office lady at Joja.Co, working till she dropped, literally. And there was endless mountains of paperwork waiting for her.

Maybe she should water her plants, then run off to Pierre’s and down to the docks, she planned in her mind. She clutched the metal tool in her hand, determined to finish her plans before the day ends.

As she watered her plants, she hadn’t realized that someone had accidentally wandered off to her farm, from absentmindedly walking as they thought of random things. But when a clad boot had landed by the entrance of her farm, it was starting to look tidy.

And that’s when they realized that the abandoned farm they usually hung out at was now housed the young woman currently watering her plants in the field.

“Abigail?” called out the girl with (h/c) hair, her head raising as she spotted the purple-haired girl by the entrance of her farm. “Oh, hi, (Y/n)! Sorry, I was just walking and accidentally ended up here,” she said, flustered.

“Ah, it’s fine! You did tell me you loved exploring the overgrown fields, right? You could come over anytime you like!” the farmer girl said, a little smile on her face. It was still morning and in Spring, but Abigail could see the red cheeks from tirelessly working on the farm on her face. 

She felt a bit bad that it was only a girl that had to manage the whole land, so she made up her decision in her mind.

Walking over to the panting girl, she asked, “Want to hang later?”

The girl’s face quickly morphed into a bright smile. “Sure thing! Just let me finish up here, and I’ll be right with you,” she said and began to hurry up on her task.

Soon enough, the two girls were strolling down the pathway heading towards the town square. (Y/n) had cleaned her hands earlier after doing farm work, but to Abigail, her appearance was so clean, it was as if she hadn’t done any work on the farm.

“So, where to first?” Abigail asked. (E/c) eyes looked over at her green ones, peering curiously. “Hm, maybe to  your family’s store. I would like to get some new seeds,” (Y/n) said, arms by her sides.

Abigail shrugged. "Don’t you want to buy those at Joja Mart?” she asked curiously. She wasn’t trying to fail her family business, but she wanted to know this girl’s mindset before deeming her as ‘good’ in her books.

“Well, I’d rather boost the local economy. After all, have you not seen the prices on seeds?! They’re 15g more expensive than the ones at Pierre’s! Plus, they’re at better quality! I’d choose Pierre’s over theirs any day!” she groaned out as the two stepped into her father’s shop. 

“Ah, it’s farmer (Y/n)!” her dad greeted cheerfully from behind the counter. “Hi, Pierre!” she greeted back.

But the farmer never realized that Abigail’s face had reddened at her remark towards Joja Mart. Rather, she felt as if it were directed at the entire Joja.Co themselves. The way she had dissed them really was interesting to her, she had never seen someone so against the Joja Mart before in the entire town.

“Hey, Abigail?” the girl called once she returned from the counter. “Do you think we’ll be able to get to Robin’s in time?” she asked, and Abigail nodded. 

“What for?” she asked, looking at the slightly smaller girl as she stuffed her seeds into her red backpack. “Ah, I need her to build a silo for me. It’s a shame to just cut down all that grass when you can actually store it for the farm animals, no?” she said as Abigail nodded in agreement.

The two headed off to the mountains, reaching the house just half an hour before business hours were over. The two breathed in relief. It was quite a hike up, and they were running to reach up in time.

“Sorry for dragging you into this, Abigail,” the farmer panted, but Abigail laughed in response. “No worries, I was the one who wanted to tag along with you,” she said, as the two went to the door.

“Hey hey! It’s Abigail and (Y/n)!” Robin greeted just as the two had stepped foot inside the house. “So, (Y/n) how is the woodwork holding up? You OK?” the orange haired woman said cheerfully. (Y/n) nodded, as she approached the counter. 

“Yeah, everything’s just fine!” she said, placing her hands on the counter. “So, the older woman began, ”What’s up?”

The (h/c) girl and the woman began discussing farm plans and the location of the silo. The way the girl was so efficient and brave really pulled Abigail. She sat there as she watched the two converse, that was, until a certain raven haired figure emerged from the basement.

Sebastian sparred a glance to the girl and his mom, before giving a lazy wave over to Abigail. She waved back in response, following him out to chat. But before that, she tapped (Y/n) on the shoulder, informing her she’ll be outside and went well on her way.

“You guys seem to be friends,” Sebastian said, not even turning back. His hands were in his pockets as he made his usual way to the lake by his house. “Well, yeah. I accidentally ended up on her farm. We hung out for a bit,” she concluded simply. 

“I’m kinda interested in her, though,” Abigail admitted, earning a snort from Sebastian. “Dude, she’s like. I dunno, younger than you?” he teased, making the purple haired girl slap him on the back. “So not true. We’re both 23 this year,” Abigail defended.

“Plus, I know you want to talk to her as much as I do,” she teased, making him tense up. “What makes you say that?” he said, pulling out his box of cigarettes and a lighter. “Well, she is from the city, don’t you want to ask her how is it there?”

“I--” “Hey, (Y/n)!” Abigail interrupted him, waving at her to come over. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her. It wasn’t like Abigail to be like this around other people, nonetheless someone entirely new to the city, Maybe there was something about her behind her bright and cheerful demeanor. 

“--it’s really a shame about the mines though,” the farmer said, making Sebastian look over at her in curiosity. “I want to see what’s in those mines. Maybe I could find something useful for my use,” she said distantly, staring at the pile of boulders that piled in front of the cave entrance. 

“Haven’t you heard? There are monsters in there,” Abigail said, making Sebastian feel like hitting her to shut up. What good was it to tell her that and risk her moving out if it were true?

But the girl shrugged in response. “Wouldn’t it be more exciting and adventurous if monsters did reside in the caves? I mean, it would prove more of a challenge,” the girl said with a smile on her face, shocking both Sebastian and Abigail. 

His dark eyes widened as a similar scene played in front of his eyes. Three children and a small voice. “I want to explore those caves one day!”

“(Y/n)...was it?” Sebastian asked, the girl humming in agreement. A light chuckle passed his lips.

 “We’re gonna get along just fine!” Abigail cheered, as she slung her arm across (Y/n)���s shoulders.

“What were you going to say, Sebastian?” she asked, but the male just shrugged, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

“It’s nothing.”

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.9

a/n: yall ready for the date? >:)

warnings: this cannot be read solo, a bit of harassment

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased​​ @infinite-universe-love​​ @dirtypride​ @blackymomo03​ @azzie 

You usually loved it when the hours would pass by. However, for this particular time, you hated it. One moment you were facing your desk; Typing and answering emails, documenting files, calling a few people, and praying for a miracle that something would happen in order to cancel the dinner date. The word ‘date’ made you want to puke.

Now, you were on your way home. Hands clenching the steering wheel. The music blasting through the speaker in an attempt to calm your disturbed soul.

The restaurant your chief had chosen was an hour away from the city. It was situated in the mountains. It had a nice view of the city. Even though it was a one star restaurant, the reviews were relatively nice. Their steak was the most recommended dish. The question now was whether or not you would find an appetite.

Opening the door to your unit, you threw yourself to your bed. Hair sprawled everywhere as you suffocated on your mattress. Resting on your cheek, you glanced at your closet and tried to think of obnoxious outfit combinations to wear for tonight. Besides, the chief would never know what you were outside the office.

A buzzing sound came from your pocket. Taking your phone out, you sat down and answered it.

“Yes, Nao?”

“I managed to dig into one of your major cases. The arson one.” He said rather proudly. Letting him proceed, he continued. “So, I looked into the shareholders to see if there were any similarities. It might be me pulling straws, but try to set a meeting with Endeavor.”

“Endeavor?” You repeated. Making sure that you heard him right. “Are you sure?”

“I back tracked the previous establishments. And all of them had a lot of shareholders in common but his name stood out.”

“Nao. That’s like a very thin straw…” You stood up and turned your laptop on. “But I was at a dead end so I appreciate your help.”

“Anytime, (Y/N). How’s the yakuza case?” Him asking questions at this time meant he was on break. It had been a while since you last gossiped with him so you gave him some attention.

“I still have to set a meeting with Birdman. Crud. That reminds me. I have to buy an earpiece.”

“The chief tagged along last time, right?”

“He did. Lucky for my ass, the meeting was short.”

“He was fuming when he arrived back at the precinct. What happened?”

“Birdman somewhat threw a fit since he cut me mid sentence.” The mere memory of it made you chuckle. But, there was this feeling that you shouldn’t have said that. It became second nature to always keep your guard up when you talk to Tsukauchi. It felt as if you had lowered it for a millisecond.

“No wonder.” He breathily replied. “Be careful, (Y/N).”

“With the chief or Overhaul?” You sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. “Because honestly speaking, I’m not sure who the villain is among those two.”

That statement was rather strange. He was used to your antics but a comparison like that? Tsukauchi on the other line had not been using his quirk on you. Although, he had always felt something off whenever he and the chief talked about you. He was never one to pry but perhaps this would have to be an exception.

“So what are your plans for later?” He asked. Carefully choosing his words.

“Dinner with some dude.” Heading over to your closet, you scanned for some hideous apparel. “You think a Bee Movie sweater will make him cringe?”

“If you cleared your schedule for him, I think your ‘I come with background music’ shirt would do the trick.”

“Damn, you’re right.” Looking for that shirt, Tsukauchi could hear you opening and closing your drawers. That gave him enough time to do some of his research. “I HAVE FOUND THE SHIRT!”

“Would you really wear it, though?”

You wished but you had already given your 3 men cases, Tsukauchi had given you a new lead, and the yakuza case was more than enough you could handle. Casting the shirt aside, you flopped to your bed.

“Any chances you can send a hero later?”

“Give me a name and I’ll see what I can do.” He teased back. “Anyway, my break is over. Enjoy your dinner.”

“So long, farewell.”

--

You did not wear the shirt, sadly. However, you did wear clothes that hid every single inch of skin your body had to offer. Turtleneck, high waist jeans, knee length boots, and a coat you wouldn’t mind being overhauled.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you fixed whatever was needed to be fixed.

“You will not go to the restroom. You will not leave your bag unattended. You will put on a fake smile and give him hell.” Hearing the knock on your door, the night was now starting. Inhaling deeply, you swallowed every single ounce of pride.

“You’ve dressed nicely.” The chief greeted you. He wasn’t wearing his standard get up. Instead he wore a plain black shirt with a leather jacket. White pants with complimentary gray shoes. He half expected you’d dress like you always did. Seeing you in your get up made him want to take his phone and snap a picture.

Moments later, you were standing outside your building. The chief had instructed you to wait for him at the drop off area. More than willing to follow, you scrolled through your phone for any messages or emails. The honking of a horn caught your attention.

A Koyota Figo was now parked in front of you. Forgetting that your chief owned a hatchback, you opened the door and began sending out prayers for any gods or telepathic heroes in the vicinity.

The drive was silent. Your gaze fixated on the lights the city had to offer. Wanting to be in a neutral mood, you let your thoughts wander.

Tomorrow, you would schedule a meeting with Endeavor. How? You weren’t sure but hopefully his assistant would let you get 5 minutes with him. An update from Takashi and the rest was also in line. You began to enumerate the stores that sold earpieces that you could purchase for Overhaul to use. Maybe you should buy 2, just in case it fails.

Feeling something resting on your thigh, you stared at the chief’s hand. Biting your tongue, you held on to your breath as well as the want to jump out of the car.

“We’re almost there, sweetcheeks.” He stated. His hand began to pat the area he just infected. “And since we’re outside the office, feel free to call me Yokai.”

“Aight.” There was no way in hell you would.

“Or daddy would be fine.”

That made you wonder. Would it be professional if you would ask Birdman to overhaul your ears and repair them back to normal. Cringing at the statement, you held on to your bag for dear life. Taking your phone out, you began to scroll through your social media.

“No phones, darling.” He warned. Abruptly hitting the brakes.”Wouldn’t want any unwanted people ruining our date. Now put that phone away before we arrive.”

Maybe a trip to the restroom in the restaurant didn’t sound half bad. Doing as told, you leaned on to the seat and closed your eyes. It was getting dull, a bit boring, and a little creepy. Keeping your senses sharp, you fell into a very light sleep.

Feeling that the car had come to a stop, you unstrapped your seat belt and immediately stepped out of the car. Waiting for him to lead the way, you trailed behind him as he told the usher his reservation. For a minute, you forgot that he had booked a private room.

Entering the small room, you were met with a candle lit dinner. The chairs beside each other.

“For a change, you know?” The chief commented. Putting his hand on your back, he pushed you towards the table and let you sit down. Watching as he pulled out his chair, you copied his actions and managed to inch your body away from his. “I have already ordered so for now we can simply chat.”

“Sure.” Your eyes remained glued to the plate.

“So, when was the last time you went on a date like this?” His voice proud of the place he had chosen.

“Years ago.” You forced a smile. “I’m not a fan of fancy restaurants.”

“Well, better get used to it.” He rested his arm on the back of your chair. Moving your back away from the back rest, you fixed your coat to make it less obvious. “How’s your cases going?”

“Fine. Recently got a new lead.”

“You’re using your yakuza ties, aren’t you?”

Finally looking at him, you focused on his glabella, you cocked an eyebrow.

“For the cases I’m handling right now, I had to work 3 of my cases with them.”

“Your side or his side?” He tilted his head.

“I’m sorry. I thought this was a dinner, not some kind of interrogation.” “Always admired how feisty you are.” The chief remarked. “Why are you single?”

Before you could answer, the doors opened and your food was served. The food was being served by two waiters. One of them had blonde hair and the other had blue hair with arrows at the end. Your eyes followed the blue haired man since he wore a white face mask. It made you think of Overhaul.

Pasta was served in front of you while the chief got his steak. Observing how he opened the wine, you took note that both of them wore white gloves. The wine bottle opened with ease and you saw the label. It was one of those wines that Gei didn’t really recommend due to its uneven taste. Once the glasses were filled, you thanked the waiters. When the door closed, you felt the air grow cold.

In all honesty, the pasta was good. And the wine he had chosen, despite it being too bitter for your taste, matched the sauce pretty nicely. The soft classical music somehow calmed your spirits.

As you were quietly enjoying your meal, the chief put his steak knife down and began to brush his pinky with yours.

“Is the food to your liking?”

“I’m liking the pasta. The noodles are cooked just right.”

“How about a toast then?” Taking his wine glass, he turned to face you. “For this new found partnership.”

Sighing, you took yours and merely stretched out your arm to clink your glasses. Sipping on the wine, you savored the flavor a bit and swallowed. Glancing at the chief, you saw him furrowing his brows at his drink. Checking his food, he had only eaten half of the amount. Compared to yours, the food was almost gone.

“Are you okay? You’ve barely touched your food, Yokai-san.” Saying his name made the pasta slither up your throat.

“Don’t worry about me sweetcheeks.” He set his glass down and let out a burp. Thankfully, he had covered his mouth. “Let’s continue where we left off. Why are you still single?”

“I’m not really into dating.” You replied. Eating the last bit of your pasta, you placed the fork down and wiped your mouth with the napkin. “I have too many cases to even think about that.”

“You interested in someone?” He hiccuped and burped. His hands rubbing small circles on his stomach.

“Where’s the fun if you know who I’m interested in.”

“Oh. So now you’re flirty. Wine works wonders.” He took his glass and sipped once more. This had to be one of his favorite wines but it tasted different. Perhaps it was the steak. Seeing that you were still taking yours, he deduced that you had nothing to do with it.

“No. It’s just that you have no business regarding that matter.” By now, you were fully facing him. The sudden change of his facial features showed signs of discomfort. The room was comfortable yet you could see sweat forming on his forehead. His chappy lips were now pale. The constant rubbing of his stomach only made your suspicions grow. “Are you really sure you’re okay? You look like shit.”

“Okay. Ya got me.” Pressing the buzzer on the side of the table, he waited for the waiter to arrive. Not a moment too soon, the door opened and the same waiter from before appeared. “Boy, the food you served is making me sick. There’s no way in hell I’m paying for this.”

“I apologize.” The waiter with arrow-tipped hairs responded.

“Useless employee.” He leaned in and whispered to your ear. All you could do was lean away. “May I speak to your manager?”

“Unfortunately, the manager is still in a very important conference.”

“To think this place has a 1 Michelin star.” He mumbled as he took his wallet. Fumbling for his card, his stomach let out a rather loud sound. Biting your inner lip, you tried to suppress the smile forming. When he took his card, he tossed it to the table and demanded. “Swipe the card. We’re leaving.”

Taking his card, he excused himself but left the door open.

“You’re not playing tricks now, are you (Y/N)?” He held your wrist a little too tightly. “You know what happens when you mess with me. I can give you more than 10 cases if this little incident is caused by you.”

“In my defense, I have never set foot in this restaurant.” You fought back. “And if you even wanted to impress me, WcDonal’s or even just Burger Queen would be more than fine. If you think these kinds of things would do the trick, sorry but you’re terribly wrong.”

You closed your mouth shut. Anger had somehow taken over and the words you said were not the best. Biting your tongue, you cursed at the sight of his mind moving and plotting as to what to do next.

The blonde waiter came with the receipt and apologized once more for the issues. Standing up, the chief told you to wait for him in the lobby. Leaving you alone with the waiter, you took your bag and bowed to him.

“I’m sorry about that person.” Your eyes darted to the men’s room where he entered. “But, if it helps, the pasta was really nice. Just sucks he had to experience that. Though he deserves it if we were to be honest. The amount of times he’s invaded my personal space is just revolting.” Shocked that you had uttered your last sentence, the wine must be a little stronger than you had expected.

The blonde waiter chuckled and went off to the kitchen.

While you were waiting at the lobby, checked your phone and saw messages from Gei. Smiling at the story he had to share via message, you quickly put your phone away once you heard a door closing followed by a burp.

“Looks like I’ll have to take you home now, love.” The chief said.

Not wanting to waste another second, you lead the way back to his car.

Chrono and Nemoto stared at the window. Undivided attention as you stepped into the car with a happy face. In Nemoto’s hand was a glass vial. When the vehicle was now out of sight, they walked towards the manager’s office.

“It’s been a while since we had this kind of fun.” Nemoto commented.

“Agreed. Did you actually down the whole bottle into the sauce?”

“It would be a waste if we didn’t empty this. And, the boss would be most pleased to know that the laxatives work well.”

Knocking on the door, Overhaul gave them permission to enter. He was seated on the sofa with a stained cloth wiping his bloody hands. A huge splatter of blood painted the wall beside him. Next to the sofa, the two men saw a pair of legs lying lifeless on the floor.

“It went smoothly, I presume?” He leaned his head on the sofa back. When he heard the grunts of his men, he stood up and faced the decapitated body. Squatting on the floor, he could feel the hives starting to form. “Nemoto. Prepare the propranolol. Kurono. Give the drug to the two waiters as well.”

With a disgusted look, he touched the leg of the deceased body. The blood on the walls began to morph and the next second, the manager’s body was whole once more. When the manager’s eyes opened, he was face to face with the masked man who had just killed him a while ago. Just as he was about to scream, Overhaul knocked him out.

Instructing Nemoto to administer the drug, he began to itch on his forearm. Cursing at the mess he had just made and fixed, it took a lot of his willpower to push those thoughts aside. Instead his mind focused on one thing.

The memory of you smiling and the want to make sure no harm comes to you.

Besides, he could care less about the consequences.

-----

propanolol- a drug that supposedly erases memories

and yes, Chisaki to the rescue ;) just had to write the trio cause they deserve love and all of them are hot. 

do you guys have any questions? feel free to comment and ill gladly answer them :) take care and i hope you guys like this chapter <3

[indestinatus]

Sweet Blood

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 21

↳ prompt: Fake Blood - rated T (1,168 words)

summary: Tony finds himself alone in a rather strange looking crime scene, and has no other choice than to act. Established Tiva. 

A/N: many references to The Shining because I wanted it spooky but not that creepy. Borderline crack to be honest. I have no regrets at this point. 

read it on AO3 🩸

Tony looked over his shoulder again, the prickling sensation at the back of his neck driving him to do it. He was certain he saw some motion at the end of the corridor, but with a blink, it was gone. 

It could have easily been just a figment of his imagination—the rectangular shapes of the carpet and the series of closed doors were strangely similar to the famous hallway of The Shining—and it wouldn’t have surprised him in the least if a boy just appeared riding a tricycle towards him out of nowhere.

As soon as Tony entered the hotel, though, something didn’t feel right. There were no guests. Of course, that could’ve happened - it was off-season after all. 

But there was no one. 

No staff, no concierge, not even a doorman. He tried to see it as a good thing - as few people as possible on a crime scene made their job a lot easier - but he just couldn’t shake the feeling there was something wrong. The hotel was old, but cleaned meticulously - every surface was spotless to a point where he could see his own reflection in the pillars of the hall. 

If it was an abandoned place, how could it be so well maintained? 

It also didn’t help that Tony was alone. Just last Friday, he’d watched the movie again—the image of Jack chasing his wife with an ax still pretty clear in his mind—and now the long corridor felt too familiar for comfort. He’d taken the stairs (nothing related to the scene of blood gushing out from the elevator, he’d told himself) and now the team was still to arrive at the scene. 

He tried not to dwell on why they’d taken longer to get there but mentally hoped everything was okay. Glancing at his watch for what felt like the tenth time in five minutes, Tony decided it would be wiser to act—otherwise, it would’ve taken him very little to just run away from that place, blaming a stomach ache or something. 

Kubrick’s creations were certainly masterpieces, but he preferred not to fight two creepy ghost twins anytime soon. 

Unclasping the weapon from his belt, Tony inhaled deeply as he prepared to open the door. He confirmed that the number above it wasn’t 237 and checked one last time down the hallway for any sign of the team, but there was no one there. 

Suddenly he missed Palmer’s awful remarks if only to fill that deadly silence. 

Turning the handle with a click, the door opened to reveal only darkness. Tony tightened the grip of his weapon and cursed when he found the light switch didn’t work—but he should’ve expected things weren’t in his favor today. Getting his flashlight, he stepped inside, his heart racing.

“NCIS,” he stated loudly, eyes trying to get used to the darkness. 

A putrid smell suddenly filled his nostrils and he knew at least that that was the right room. Carefully stepping inside, Tony quickly surveyed the small living room to find nothing. The same with the bedroom and bathrooms, no body in sight. 

Following his intuition (and that horrible smell), Tony headed towards the kitchen, weapon raised and the flashlight dully illuminating old-looking furniture. He could hear his pulse loud in his ears, but other than that, nothing. His breathing felt too heavy and he tried to tone it down, but it wasn’t easy. 

That sensation of being watched had followed him inside.

Tony’s flashlight fell on the refrigerator and his body chilled. He halted, a shudder running down his spine. 

Blood dripped from its cracks, painting the door bright red. A good amount of it, coming from inside the upper freezer drawer. Whatever was inside it had been there for some time now—the trails of blood almost reaching the floor tiles. 

With the grip of his weapon turning slippery from the sudden sweat of his hands, Tony rethought his life choices for a moment, asking himself just how the hell he’d find himself there in the first place if it was his job to open the door and find out what was inside. The awful smell certainly came from it, which gave him no other choice. 

He sighed, cursing to himself. Holding the flashlight with the same hand that held his weapon, Tony raised a hand towards the handle and felt the chilling sensation of the metal against his fingers, one that made him feel even colder. 

Yanking the freezer door open before he could change his mind, Tony cursed loudly once he saw what was inside. 

“Gee,” he breathed, letting out a sigh. 

The lights of the room turned on the same time footsteps sounded, and Tony jumped a little before quickly turning around to find no one other than his boss as his shooting target. 

“Scared of finding something else in there, DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs, raising an eyebrow.

Tony felt he could have hugged the man with the sudden wave of relief, but refrained from doing so. McGee entered the kitchen a moment after, narrowing his eyes at how he stood with his gun raised, and Tony straightened his posture, letting it down. No one needed to know how fast his heart was racing.

“Well, yeah,” replied Tony, a bit breathless. “I’ve grown to expect the worst.��

Tony followed Gibbs’ gaze to the freezer and felt heat creeping up his neck from the embarrassment. His boss motioned for McGee to take a picture of it before putting his rubber gloves to touch what was inside. 

His fingers came back sticky from the berry jam that had defrosted because of the power outage and Tony cursed again for not having put two and two together when he had discovered that the lights didn’t work. 

“A head inside your refrigerator?” asked Gibbs, though his attention was now focused on collecting a sample of it for Abby.

Tony huffed, trying to regain some composure. “I live with ex-Mossad officer Ziva David,” he said, loosening up his tie, “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

“Do not worry,” a voice came from the adjacent room, and Ziva entered the kitchen a moment later. “I prefer cleaner methods.”

Tony shot her an incredulous look. 

“Is that supposed to soothe me?”

Ziva shrugged, then eyed the refrigerator, chuckling amused. 

“Besides… Jam is better,” she smirked. “Your blood is not that sweet.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot to the ceiling. “I thought we were talking about killing someone else. Not me.”

“Hm,” she hummed, and the sparkle in her eyes made him question if he could fool her as well as the others.

“I would sleep with one eye open if I were you,” chimed in McGee.

“I already sleep with two,” Tony replied. “She snores too loud.”

Gibbs huffed amused and McGee marked, "Not the wisest thing to say."

Tony eyed Ziva again to find her casting him a Kubrick-worthy smirk. 

"I'll sleep on the couch tonight," he swallowed.

"Hm," she hummed, then stepped closer to him to whisper, "You wish."

[bluesakura007]

Undeniable - Chapter 4: Khan’s Past - Khan Noonien Singh x OC

Summary: After storming off following the start of her feud with Bones and Spock, Zinalya seeks comfort with the man who said feud revolves around in the first place, during which he divulges the story of his origins and how he ended up being awoken in the 23rd century.

Warnings: Roughly about half of this chapter is angst, and it includes mentions of the deaths of a parent and a friend.

Zinalya was almost flying down the corridors and then onto the ground floor via a turbolift, filled with her now released anger at Dr. McCoy. He had no right to be telling her how she was allowed to feel about someone, and her blood additionally boiled at the recollection of what she’d walked in to hear Spock saying earlier on before that, about how her plan to get Khan sent away with an exile sentence and go with him - and she guessed that the former also meant this about her feelings for the latter in the first place - would bring disrepute to Starfleet. 

According to Bones, he and the others were trying to help her, but she felt in the back of her mind that this was a lie, as he and Spock clearly didn’t actually care about what she wanted or how she felt because she was obviously the only one out of the three of them who could be bothered to look past Khan’s exterior for what lay underneath. This reminded her of a phrase she’d heard of once: “If you look for the good in people, you’ll find it.”

She was thankful for the fact that Scotty and Chekov were supportive of her wanting to leave with him - further proof to her that, as always, they were good friends - and she knew that while Kirk, Carol, Sulu and Uhura were remaining neutral and hadn’t picked either side of the argument, this could have been worse, due to the fact that one of these two sides they could have picked was to shut down and oppose her plan entirely, like Spock and McCoy. 

In spite of her annoyance at this latter pair, though, she felt the same kind of twinge as she had during her sarcastic remark to Spock when she’d walked in and heard him, which was guilt for the hostile moments of her behaviour just now. Especially for the particular moment when she slapped Bones. But this was only a temporary twinge as, with another surge of her blood boiling, she remembered that, effectively, they’d disregarded her viewpoints in the conversation and insisted on wanting to keep her away from the man she liked.

Within another few seconds, she’d arrived at the place where she’d been heading as soon as she stormed out. The room where Khan was being held in another cell.

The retinal and fingerprint scanners outside this room both recognised that she was indeed lieutenant-commander Zinalya Hamilton and allowed her to enter as a result. 

What she immediately noticed upon doing so was that apart from a few guards near to the door on the outer side, there were none inside the room itself, which she initially found to be a relief because of her wanting to speak alone with him until she found out why: to her right, in the corner of the ceiling above her, was a tiny, spherical-shaped black glass object which could only be noticed if you put in effort thanks to this size. It hardly took a detective to deduce that it was meant to be some kind of security camera.

"Did you mean it?"

She was suddenly snapped out of looking up at the camera by a certain deep and English-accented voice from in front of where she was standing. There he was, in a cell with a large floor-length glass window not unlike that of his previous cell onboard the Enterprise. Even the colouring of the room as a whole was very similar, except this one was slightly more like grey with a blue tint as opposed to pure white. "Sorry, what?" She turned her head back to facing where he was sitting at the back of his cell, looking at her with an owllike unwavering gaze, during which she found her anger from a minute ago fading.

"Did you mean what you said earlier in the courtroom, Miss Hamilton?" The sound of Khan’s voice still gave her shivers despite the amount of times she’d already heard it. "When you declared that you have romantic feelings for me?"

"I did, yeah." She nodded her head and simultaneously walked closer towards the cell. It took that little fraction of less time compared to on the Enterprise due to the room being marginally smaller than this ship’s brig. He now once again had the same look on his face that he’d had before, when she’d made this announcement he was referring to: a little dash of curiosity and slight skepticism but predominantly feeling touched by what she said. "Why do you have those feelings?"

Zinalya chuckled to herself. "I’m obviously not going to catch a break from that question anytime soon." When she saw his aforementioned expression change into one of mild confusion, she elaborated, "Commander Spock asked me the same thing just now."

"And what did you say to him?" Another one of those subtle outward expression shifts happened, this time her sensing slight dislike from Khan towards this half Vulcan first officer.

"I told him that I’m not entirely sure why, but it was partially because I felt like you’d been through an emotional rollercoaster, with all the admiral Marcus business." Zinalya replied, hesitant to bring up this subject. She and Khan were now standing right in front of each other, only about a foot apart on either side of the cell’s glass.

He momentarily laughed to himself through closed lips and craned his head to the side, looking down at the floor. "I take it I’d be right in presuming he and your other colleagues tried to convince you that the way you see me is a mistake?"

"Spock and Dr. McCoy did." Responded the half human-half Trill. "But not all of them were like that; the others haven’t taken a side but ensign Chekov and Mr. Scott are being supportive of it."

"You seem to trust those two a great deal."

"They’re my closest friends." Her inner sensation of gratitude and relief at their support swung into action again, because she remembered that this meant she was at least not fully alone in her plan and in that day’s developments.

Khan looked back up towards her, seeming as if he himself had just experienced a memory recollection of his own. He paused for a beat, and then spoke again, "I’d like you to know I feel the same way, Miss Hamilton; I find you endearing in return."

It was a surprise to her ears, because, after all, she was hoping that her emotions would indeed be reciprocated by him but the prospect of it actually, really happening was unexpected, so now it was her turn to pose the question, "Why?"

"Because from the people who I met and interacted with on your Enterprise, you appeared to be the only one who didn’t dismiss me as a mere criminal." Answered Khan, whose eyes she thought were like that of a snake due to the brightness of his light turquoise eyes, which made his pupils, at some moments, look as if they were slitted. 

She’d additionally used this time where they were in front of each other to mentally take in and properly admire every edge of his tall body and his immaculate black hair. "You only came to speak to me a few times, but during those instances I noticed that you behaved kindly towards me. Apart from this reason however I’m not certain myself: I like you in return for a reason that I can’t put my finger on either."

Zinalya thought to herself deeply about this weirdly complex concept of attraction. "Maybe we’re not supposed to understand why we’ve got feelings for each other. Do you believe in destiny?"

"It depends on the specific context." Said Khan.

"Well I think the bigger reason could be because it’s pre-destined and it literally is what’s meant to happen."

Khan nodded his head, slowly and gracefully, in understanding of this theory. "If we are pre-destined to be together as you say, then I think I should be fully honest with you - I should tell you about how it all began. The events that ultimately led to my revival last year and everything that followed."

"Okay." There came her own nod again. "I do know that at one point back in the 20th century you were a world leader, the head of a large empire, but that's all I know about you, so I would like to learn more." She sat down on the floor in front of the glass, anticipating that what was about to follow might take some time.

Khan quietly took a breath and he, too, sat down, the right side of his body leaning lightly against the glass. "The first four years of my life were rather peaceful - most of the memories I had from back that far became vague over time so I had to find out later on by doing my own research, but I lived during those first years in India, with my mother." He began. "Her name was Dr. Sarina Kaur, a biochemist who had, around that time, been carrying out experiments and investigations into asexual reproduction."

"Asexual reproduction? Like how plants and some insects have children without having to...?" She trailed off at the end, realising how awkward the rest of her sentence was going to be.

"Yes." Khan, luckily, answered what she was trying to query without her having to put in this ending. "I found out when I did my own exploration into the four early years that I was apparently conceived by her via artificial insemination. And it was entirely artificial - she'd managed to perfect her theory of creating a human child from a single parent without the need for a donor of any kind, dubbed the Chrysalis Project. I was born in the year 1970, so this was quite a notable scientific achievement for the time." Zinalya was still listening intently, while he continued, now with a feeling of poignancy shown upon his face, "I was initially conceived as another one of her experiments, which is why she gave me minor changes and enhancements in my DNA that created my different eye colour and accent and my light skin tone, allegedly whilst I was still in utero, as well as a small mental enhancement allowing me to recall early memories more easily. But I still remember clearly that once I’d been born, she was the kindest and most loving person I had ever known."

"She sounds like she was a really sweet woman. I think I would've liked to meet her if she was still around today." The lieutenant-commander opined with a gentle smile, knowing in her mind that based on how long ago the 1970s were, Sarina would have been long gone by that time.

"She was. When I was still very young, she had a pet dog named Cinder, a border collie I believe; he had already reached old age when I was born and he died when I was two years old, but before then it was just me, Cinder and my mother together in New Delhi as a family. And then one day, another two years later, I found out that she died, as well."

"What happened to her?"

"Something went wrong at her laboratory. It caused a fire which she was killed by as she tried to escape." He said. "I'd been out that day, playing in the streets with some of the other children who lived nearby. Her parents lived in Kolkata, meaning there was no one close enough to take care of me, so I spent the next year living on those streets. The first few days I spent moving from place to place with my blanket in my hands and I spent most of those nights crying until I cried myself to sleep." Zinalya felt her chest tighten at the sight of the wistful look in his eyes. "Until I met another boy, Tanvir Acharya. He was three years older than me and was also an orphan on the streets, and was the leader of a small group of others which he allowed me to join. Me and him became friends to the point where we both considered each other as a brother figure, but a year on, we and the rest of the group were taken, among numerous other orphans, for experimentation."

"Is that what made you into an Augment? What gave you all your abilities?"

"It was - there was a total of twenty-four boys including myself and fifteen girls who were subjected to genetic engineering over the course of several years, for the purpose of eventually becoming living weapons. Seven years after our capture, in 1982, Tanvir and I devised a plan to escape and then later come back in the hopes of liberating the others in addition, and we both ran off in different directions. I made it to the Gobi Desert before I was found by Dr. Heisen, the director of the eugenics project responsible for our augmentations, and was recaptured and returned to the research facility by the use of a neural inhibitor in my body, which doubled as a tracking beacon. All thirty-nine of us had each been implanted with one for controlling us with pain if need be." The wistful expression began to gradually amplify itself. "After I was returned, I discovered that Tanvir had also been recaptured, but the use of his own inhibitor had killed him: he was born with a heart defect which was never treated, so the electric shocks from his inhibitor had stopped his heart from beating." 

He remembered how truly awful he’d felt at this moment way back when - a twelve year old boy holding the corpse of his best friend, his older brother figure, in his arms and entering back into what he did during those first few lonely nights on the New Delhi streets, which was crying his eyes out.

"Oh god..." Said Zinalya.

"Three more years on from then, I successfully removed my own inhibitor and those of the others and killed Heisen myself." He moved on from this particular part of the story before he lost himself in the memory, hissing the sentence with a small edge of aggression in his tone. "From there, we escaped and gradually released other eugenics subjects in various countries across the world, and I imagine the rest is familiar to you."

"You set up your empire in the early 1990s and ruled over half of Earth." She confirmed. "Before you escaped the planet with seventy-two other Augments later."

"It was our belief that the rest of the human race couldn’t properly look after itself. Myself and a few others infiltrated world governments in 1990 and established our own, leading to the beginning of the Eugenics Wars in 1992. It was during this time when I did my research into the finer details of my origins, and one of the other things I eventually uncovered was my mother's naming process for me: I was named Khan after one of her grandfathers, she gave me my surname after the 15th century poet Singh el Bashir, and my middle name was after Noonien Prasad, her boyfriend who died from lung cancer while she was pregnant with me. We were attacked during my reign that followed by the non-Augment governments and threatened with nuclear weaponry, but I refused to retaliate with my own."

"I remember; you told me once on the Enterprise that yours was one of the few Augment governments where there wasn’t anything like genocide or the other worst parts of a dictatorship." Zinalya, who was currently leaning the back of her own body against the glass, stretched her legs out so that she was sitting with them in front of her and craned her head around to look at him. "You had the threat of total destruction over you and you still stood your ground without using the same weapons..."

"At one point, me and my own followers were also attacked by another Augment leader, although as you can see I was the one who won the battle." She could see his eyes becoming misty at this point. "But my leadership still almost cost me everyone I knew throughout this last year. In 1996, we were forced to flee to Australia and board a sleeper ship which we christened the SS Botany Bay, and then came Marcus' discovery of us." A tear slid ever so slowly down out of his left eye while the other one was still welling up. "If it is destiny which has brought me here to you in this time, then it must have a perverse way of thinking. I'm not certain whether or not I should be thankful for those circumstances."

"I'm so sorry." The security chief was finding his tears to be contagious. "I wish me and the others knew what was going on - he was manipulating you and threatening to take away every person you had left who mattered to you, and we did nothing..."

"You mustn't blame yourself, Zinalya." Khan turned to face her slightly more, and then came the tear from his right eye to match the one on his left cheek. "I'm sorry that I've gotten us into this current situation." He placed his index and middle fingertips from his left hand onto the surface of his side of the glass to indicate what he meant: they were separated from each other by nothing more than a thin material, and faced with the uncertainty of whether they'd be allowed to go into exile together or be well and truly separated indefinitely.

She gently shook her head and did the same with that of her right hand, turning her position herself to make it so that it was the left side of her body up against the glass instead of her back, as it had been previously. "It's okay. I know half your life's been hard - you didn't deserve those deaths of Tanvir or your mum, Khan. You didn't deserve any of the bad things that happened to you at all."

Hers were somewhat more free-flowing compared to his, but Khan and Zin just let their tears stream out in each other's company. The former shifted his position again in terms of how his head was inclined, which now made it look to anyone seeing it from in front of or behind them like they were leaning into each other with her head on his shoulder and his own head on the top of hers. They sat there for a while, in a silence laced with unspoken tenderness between them.

[sweetsmellosuccess]

NYFF 2020: Part 1

It’s been a curious season of festivals  —  as always, Venice, TIFF, and the NYFF go more or less back-to-back-to-back, making for an almost indecent amount of captivating offerings for all but the most gluttonous of cinephiles  —  but not without its charms. In this time of massive uncertainty in the industry, amongst film distributors and theaters particularly, it’s deeply reassuring to know the medium is still capable of powerful statements, exquisite imagery, and haunting performances as it ever has.

Mind you, next year at this time, if there’s still no widely available vaccine, there might be a more serious dearth of selections, but for what has been an unsettling and mostly miserable 2020, we can thank the stars that films are often shot a year or more in advance of their release.

This year’s NYFF (still ongoing, as I write this) has provided some glories and some failures, more or less in keeping with the usual standard. Herewith, a quartet of selections, ranging from a resurrected Hungarian triumph, to a modern French non-romance, to the debut of a new and energizing auteur.

Damnation (1988) Dir. Bela Tarr

Perhaps no setting in cinematic history is more appropriate for shooting in low-contrast black and white than late ‘80s, post-communist Hungary. Bleak, drab, and pelting with rain, the landscape bleeds in shades of grey. Bela Tarr’s 1988 film, a newly restored 4K edition from the Festival’s “Revival” section, begins with a long shot of a ski lift-like apparatus, endlessly transporting buckets of coal to a repository, whose grinding machinery offers a looping hum throughout the film. Much as Tarr’s various musical interludes include similarly cyclical drones of accordion music, are the men and women of this nameless small city seemingly doomed to their various loops of behavior and experience. In Tarr’s Hungary, everyone looks haunted and morose, like a selection of down-on-their-luck rummies in a dive bar at last call. One such bar patron, Karrer (Miklos Szekely B.), is deeply in love with a beautiful, depressed (unnamed) nightclub singer (Vali Kerekes), married to a loutish man, Sebestyén (Gyorgy Cserthalmi), in bad debt to the wrong sorts of people. When Karrer’s friend, bar owner Willarsky (Gyula Pauer), offers him a potentially lucrative gig picking up a mystery package abroad and bringing it back to him, Karrer instead offers it to Sebestyén as a means of getting him out of debt, but more importantly getting him away from his wife, so their affair can continue apace. Tarr’s films move slowly, with long, static shots, or slow-panning camera movement, but within his frame, he packs in detail  —  from the pellet-like surface of a wall, to the expression of a group of people huddled under a station roof, staring out at the endless rain  —  and adds in acute sound effects as further punctuation (the sound of a man close shaving over his scruff with a straight-edge, for example, or water dripping from an unseen leak). As with his 1994 opus, Satantango, he includes extended shots of drunken merriment, with people dancing, stumbling, falling over each other, and coming back again, but the effect isn’t exactly heartening. As packs of stray dogs work their way over muddy, mostly deserted fields, and Karrer continues to imbibe the depressed resignation of his life’s trajectory (“the fog settles into your soul,” Willarsky helpfully explains), Tarr’s film, his first collaboration with Hungarian novelist László Krasznahorkai, presents a remarkably tactile vision of life under a blundering political machine, well past the point of repair. With its deep shadows, and obvious femme fatale, you could make the case that the film is a ripened Noir, but one with much of the magistry beaten out of it, tarnished in the mud of the fields. Karrer wears a trenchcoat, alright, but it’s only there to keep out the rain.

Mangrove (2020) Dir. Steve McQueen

Frank Crichlow (Shaun Parkes) didn’t mean to create a community, exactly, when he opened his restaurant in the section of West London that had become home to many immigrants from Trinidad and Jamaica. He just wanted to have a clean business that wouldn’t attract undue police attention, as his former nightclub, Rio, had done. As more and more natives of the Caribbean moved abroad, however, there became a greater need for a place where the community could gather and feel at home. Frank’s place became a local landmark, and Frank himself, a reluctant leader of the growing movement against the continual police harassment many of the residents faced on a daily basis. In this, he wasn’t given much of a choice: Led by a deeply racist police force  —  more or less personified by writer/director Steve McQueen in the form of the sneering PC Frank Pulley (Sam Spruell)  —  Frank’s place had been unnecessarily raided nine times in six weeks. So, when approached by local Black activists, including Darcus Howe (Malachi Kirby) and Altheia Jones-Lecointe (Letitia Wright), he agrees to take part in a peaceful protest against the constables. Naturally, the police turn violent, and in the resulting chaos, nine protestors, including Frank, Darcus, and Altheia are arrested. Over time, they are tried, acquitted, and re-tried for even more serious charges. McQueen’s film, another segment from Small Axe, his chronicle of London’s West-Indies neighborhood through the decades, focuses on this specific case, not just because two of the defendants decided to represent themselves (proving to be adept barristers), but because it became a landmark part of the British crusade for civil rights (even though, as the film’s postscript explains, Frank was still routinely harassed by the police for another 18 years after the trial). To capture the sense of the complexity of the community, McQueen employs a David Simon-esque narrative hodge-podge of smaller scenes from different characters’ vantage points and views, allowing us an in-depth sense of the neighborhood and the stakes, while rarely dipping into the more played out elements of the courtroom genre. I would say, in light of the recent racial protests after the Louisville grand jury failed to hold two of the three officers involved in the death of Breonna Taylor responsible, the film could not be more prescient, but, sadly, this would have also been true just about anytime in the last three decades. As Frank says of the incorrigibly racist leaders and henchpeople continually holding them down, “These people are like vampires, you think you beat them, but they keep coming back again.”

The Salt of Tears (2020) Dir. Philippe Garrel

From the flinch-inducing title (a direct translation from the French), which sounds like a YA novel steeped in melodrama, to the mournful piano soundtrack of the intro, Philippe Garrel’s (very) French counter-romance would seem to indicate a different sort of film than what he’s actually made. It’s a bit of flim-flammery from a celebrated director unafraid to throw his audience for a loop or two (take that title, which proves to be thoroughly ironic until the very last scene). Luc (Logann Antoufermo), a young man from the provinces, has come to Paris to take an entrance exam at an exacting wood-working institute in order to receive a degree in joining, in order to better emulate his woodworking father (Andre Wilms), a kind, elderly man with a “poet’s soul.” In Paris, he happens to meet Djemila (Oulaya Amamra), a sweet young woman falling hard for the handsome Luc, who callously breaks her heart after he returns to his village. Back home, he takes up with Genevieve (Louise Chevillote), an old high-school flame, who also falls deeply for him, getting pregnant in the process, but when he unexpectedly gets accepted to the woodworking school, he dumps her to return to Paris, where  —  you guessed it!  —  he meets up with yet another woman, Betsy (Souheila Yacoub), a stunning brunette whom, we are told via our occasional narrator (Jean Chevalier), is finally “his equal.” Or more so, to be precise, as she takes in a second lover (Martin Mesnier) to their apartment, making the unhappy Luc live as a threesome. Garrel’s charting of Luc’s endless relationship explorations themselves gets tiresome, but the director isn’t much interested in his protagonist’s romantic investments, as he is the callousness of Luc, and the young in general  —  Luc crushes two loving women; then himself gets crushed; while treating his loving father as yet another irritation from time to time  —  and the manner in which their decision-making has often not matured enough to include the expansiveness of empathy. They know not what they do, until it’s too late.

Beginning (2020) Dir. Dea Kulumbegashvili

Georgian director Dea Kulumbegashvili’s debut feature, about a family of Jehovah’s Witnesses working as missionaries in a small village outside Tbilisi, and the abuse they endure at the hands of religious extremists, captivates and bewilders in equal measure. The film begins with a long single shot from inside a “prayer house,” as congregants slowly file in and fill the pews, eventually allowing David (Rati Oneli) to begin his sermon concerning the story of Abraham, willing to sacrifice his beloved son in order to appease God. The shot remains static for so long, building its own rhythm, that it becomes that much more shocking when a side door suddenly opens, and an unseen assailant tosses in a fire bomb, lighting the floor and sending everyone into terrified tumult. Kulumbegashvili’s film is filled with similar striking compositions, long single shots with very little camera movement, the edges of the frame gradually generating increasing levels of apprehension, as the action swirls often out of our visual range. She has a way of filming the opposite of what you expect: Several key conversations between pairs of characters are shot with the focus on the reaction rather than the speaker, and vitally significant scenes are crafted with characters’ backs to us, such that we can’t read their expressions or get our normal bearings. It’s a similar conundrum for the missionaries themselves, especially Yana (Ia Sukhitashvili), David’s dutiful wife, a former actress, who tries to make the best of their difficult situation, even in the face of such violent opposition to her husband’s proselytizing, a job David, ambitious he is, sees as the key to rising up in the Church’s hierarchy. After their prayer house is burned to the ground, David leaves for a few days to meet with the Elders in order to secure funding for its replacement. Into that void, enter a detective (Kakha Kintsurashvili), who appears one night to “talk” with Yana, but ends up intimidating her into a sort of sexual compromise, an event that leaves her strangely unfazed, even, it might be said, oddly curious. From there, things get both more dire, and more peculiar, with Kulumbegashvili’s implacable camera remaining stoically witness to her characters’ increasingly distressing plight. As curious as it can be tonally, she is so in command of her narrative, the film is never less than compelling, even as tragedy becomes something else entirely. By film’s end, true to David’s earlier sermons, it’s clear that at least his most devoted acolyte has taken in the biblical lessons he proffered, for better or worse.

[goshwrites]

business (yandere x reader) Prologue

warnings: swearing, ageplaying, obsession, unhealthy relationships

(A/N: dear gosh this writing I will admit is definitely not my best, but I still like the humor I started out with in this story. but here we go)

  The heavy aura of flower perfume filled the office room making it feel like an over stuffed oven. The lights that lined on the ceiling were bright and blinding and if one would look too long their vision would be effected by the lights. The air conditioning wasn’t working so the smell of someone’s perfume was sticking around in an unwanted way. The sound of people occasionally clicking their mouses and someone sighing in annoyance about something was heard. 

But then suddenly- there was a loud shout. 

“Oh I can’t do this!” A young male shouted from somewhere before he leapt to his feet revealing his head a couple of cubicles away. But only his head was visible. Not any other part of his body was seen. Just his head.  “I can’t go on pretending!” He continued to proclaim my it’s his head bopping to his words like some kind of desk you.  “I love you, Stevie! Not Daniela! Only you!”  A couple of workers had stopped doing whatever they were doing to look at the male with a sort of what the fuck expression. A few began to mumble saying that he had clearly lost it.  But then after just a few moments from his proclamation of love, a gasp- that was somehow high pitched- was heard before another head popped up. But this time it was just the top of the head, not the whole head.  This was the woman Stevie- who’s real name was Stephanie and no one knows why she insists on Stevie- and she was probably staring at Issac with a mixture of Disney Princess and wide eyed doe. 

“Do you really mean it, Issac?” She asked with a southern draw that made her ‘you’ sound like ‘ya’ and she empathized on ‘mean.’ But her southern voice came out squeaky as she attempted to raise her voice. 

“I mean it!” He shouted at the top of his lungs to her while extending his arms like some kind of pelican about to take flight. And as soon as his wondrous words met her ears, Stevie let out a squeal and the unfortunate people who were just trying to do their job plugged their ears. 

  Almost like magic was suddenly existing in our world, both of them dashed out from their cubicles at the same time. Then they were galloping towards each other. The ones that were able to watch the spectacle or were awake enough held their breaths as they waited for a collision similar to what would happen in a jousting match. But whether it be pure luck or- and I’m not going to say it was aliens- aliens, he hooked his arms around her waist and she threw her arms around his neck somehow at the same time. Then they were kissing in such a way that made the strong perfume smell be suddenly pleasant rather than overbearing. Music was dancing around them as they started to move their mouths in sync.  Well actually the air conditioning turned on and someone’s phone was running a Backstreet Boy’s song. 

  But of all the cubicles they could have stopped and collided with each other at... they stopped at yours. You. A smile woman working in this office. You were the unfortunate one who had to watch and hear all of their lip smacking and sounds that were like those times you have a shake and just can’t seem to get the ice cream out. You were the one who had to just sit there and watch all of this. You sighed and rubbed your temples while turning back to the screen. You were trying to get work done- trying. It was kind of hard with the moans that Stevie was making at the moment.  You seriously needed some ear plugs just to get your damn articule done. See you were a journalist for the Sharzet (odd name right?), an online newspaper that mostly targeted young adults and older teens while occasionally there would be a few articles aimed for an older generation. You were at the young and ripe and still nervous age of twenty- three so you didn’t consider yourself old... yet. 

  You had taken English as your major in college just to be a writer. You were ready to pour your heart out into a story and give it your all yet... it never came. So you decided to use your writing skills and grammar skills to use and apply for a job at the Sharzet. Surprisedly, you got the job and to be honest it wasn’t that bad. Sure you did have to do some late night editing when you would rather watch bad auditions on YouTube, but for the most part it wasn’t so bad. It had good pay and mostly nice people who were just trying to move along in life, same as you.  Mostly. Besides the couple that were still somehow making out.  God don’t they need to breathe? Like get some air in those lungs?  Well the only air coming out was them moaning so maybe that’s how they were breathing.  But honestly couldn’t they even get a room? Jeez. 

  Sighing, you rolled your eyes and pulled your hair over to one shoulder. You were just trying to get this articule done now. You could always go home, but... wait. Why should there be a but? Technically as long as you get the articule done, you can work wherever. You generally liked working in the office since it would keep your mind focused.  But since those two clearly weren’t letting up anytime soon... maybe you should go home?  Yeah... that sounded much more promising than hearing the remaking of Bonnie and Clyde right by you. 

  You shut down your laptop and closed it before placing it in your bag and standing up from the rolling chair. You stretched out your back with a satisfying pop before you pushed in the chair til it was underneath the desk. There we go. You pushed some of your hair from off of your forehead before exiting the cubicle while swerving around the pair as if they contained the Black Plague. And in your opinion- they were. 

  You started walking down the small hallway with the walls of cubicles. But you didn’t get more then a foot away from yours when you decided to stop in front of Ben’s cubicle. Now Ben was one of your work friends that you actually became close to. You and him hanged out multiple times during the week whether that would be going to lunch together or watching movies or going to the library since Ben just loved fantasy- and get this- romances that are set in the 1800s. Yes. I know.  But he was a total sweetheart and would probably be the best boyfriend and husband to whomever got him.  You cleared your throat to alert the dark skinned male of your presence as his back was hunched over a computer. Then he immediately straightened up and looked at you. And his signature, golden retriever smile came onto his face showing his white teeth that happened to look whiter against his skin. His sort of rosey cheeks also had freckles on them. 

“Oh hey, (Y/n).” He said as his dark brown eyes just seemed to brighten at seeing you standing there. 

“Hey. I’m gonna finish up at my house. So if boss asks just tell her I went home.” You told him as you slightly adjusted the bag containing your computer on your shoulder. It was actually an old beach bag of yours that you bought to go to the beach... but you never really did. So it was just... your computer bag. 

“You’re leaving?” He asked as his thin eyebrows rose at hearing your words. Then he checked the leather watch on his right wrist. “But it’s not even four.” 

“Yeah I know. But I would rather work at home then here with the remarking of Fifty Shades.” You said in a sort of dry tone as honestly you were all there for love and everything, but come on.  That doesn’t mean you have to make out in your own fucking work place. 

“What?” Ben asked confused and you just simply pointed down to the couple who... ooooh. Boss caught them and she just looked so done. 

  And you didn’t really feel like explaining the whole deal to mister tune out here so you just said, “See ya tomorrow.” And just yeeted yourself out of there. You were tired. But yet... you just needed coffee. Or oooh. A coffee nap.  Like where you drink coffee and then go to sleep and then the coffee wakes you up? Yesss. Well you did that once and you didn’t wake up until two hours later so maybe it wasn’t the best thing to do. 

  As soon as you walked out of the building, you were hit in the face with a sudden mixture of both windy whoosh and rainy slap. You blinked a few times before you wiped your face off from the rain slap you just got. Ugh. Windy rain. The worst rain. But hey. Raining and stormy weather is the best writing weather. Or at least that’s what someone on Tumblr said. You dodged a couple of people walking down the sidewalk. Since the headquarters of the magazine you worked for lived in a rather populous city, you decided to just move here and get an apartment instead of making an forty- five minute drive each day. And the apartment you lived in was kind of nice as well for the low rent you paid for it. It was your home at the moment. And it felt nice to have a home. 

  But your thoughts were sudden kicked out of the window of your mind when you turned around a building and- bam! A new wall!  Your hand reached out to grab onto something as you stumbled backwards. It happened all so fast. But then someone’s hand reached out and grabbed onto yours. You were suddenly stopped in mid fall while having yourself in a 50 degree angle. What.  Then you noticed the pale hand clasped around your own before your eyes snapped up towards the male. And standing there was a man in maybe late forties or fifties with the most greenish eyes you have ever seen. There were pure green. You blinked a few times as you found myself now standing upright. You looked down at your feet to make sure everything was all right, but huh wow uh... this guy was strong.

“Uh thank you sir.” You nodded towards the brunet with graying temples and who was still holding your hand. You awkwardly looked back up at the male only to see he was staring intently down at you. Uh.... weird.  Then once his green eyes met your (e/c), he snapped out of it. 

“No problem.” He said curtly as he just let your hand drop. Wow okay.  Then before you could even say anything else- he just steered himself around you like you were just an obstacle. You glanced over your shoulder to see him confidently striding off. Huh.  That was... weird to say the least.  But eh. There were weird people in your city and that guy probably was no exception. 

Oh how wrong you were.

[brightengale]

Plotted thread with @barnes-and-noble

Alison prided herself on being a kind person. A patient person. A forgiving person. She was a saint by no means but most would say she was a genuinely wonderful person to interact with. Which made Bucky’s coldness baffling. 

As an occasional superhero and straight A student in all her classes, including AP US History, she was well acquainted with the surface level specifics of his past. As newly appointed SHIELD agent with the title of Mutant Liaison she was even privy to some further details not common knowledge. And as a relatively good friend of Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson she got informed about jokes, stories and info involving one Bucky Barnes in the modern era. Yet none of this had given her one iota of credit in his book, apparently. 

Because even when she was hanging around with two of his best friends, in his presence, the man never went out of his way to interact with her. Hell, anytime she tried to break the ice using her usually well received sunny disposition, it seemed to prompt an elevated disdain for her. 

Yet, Alison still tried. She gave him space but still remained polite and friendly whenever she saw him at work or visited the Avenger’s compound space. Ignoring someone wasn’t her style but she did her best not to put any pressure on him. At least in her opinion. Maybe if she was younger and still filled with the intense need to be liked by everyone. But luckily she had matured past that naive notion. 

When the hullabaloo of Kobik being thrust into their universe happened Alison wasn’t immediately notified. She wasn’t a fellow mutant so she wasn’t in her jurisdiction. But once Ali learned about the horrendous way SHIELD chose to handle the situation she couldn’t just stand by. Confronting Director Hill took guts. Which Alison always had in large supply when the safety of a child was at stake. Even if that child was a physical manifestation of relics of immense power. Especially when that fact gave the child the ability to rewrite reality however they saw fit and had been used as a weapon by one of the most vile villains to exist. 

Hill sanctioned Alison’s suggestion to enroll Kobik in the Xavier Institute for Mutant Education and Outreach. Sure she wasn’t technically a mutant but Alison pleaded the case that it would be one of the best places for her to practice her powers while also being surrounded by other students also learning about their own powers. Kobik would have the opportunity to build positive relationships with other young people as well as adults that actually cared about nurturing her personal growth and seeing to her all around well being. Plus, it would be another building block in establishing a better foundation with the mutant community. 

Since Kobik and Bucky had bonded throughout the aforementioned hullabaloo he had been consulted over suggestion as well. Or more aptly stated, Alison first discussed it with Sam (who had a social work background and helped her build then supported her case when approaching Hill) then had Sam also back her up when approaching Bucky about the idea. Although it had already been cleared with SHIELD management. Perhaps, the case could be made that she should have looped Bucky in originally, given he was filling the role of guardian for Kobik. But in the grand scheme of things it was really the best option in the long run anyway! 

But that was in the past. Now, nearly a month since Kobik had started attending the Xavier Institute, with Alison and Bucky working together toward Kobik receiving the best care possible, one would think he would be more cordial. Yet for some reason he continued to give the barest of graciousness. Not that she expected continuous platitudes and accolades. But a damn thank you would be nice! Not to mention that his continued standoffish nature was being replicated by Kobik, who looked up to him immensely. This was impeding Alison’s ability to do her job properly and finally something had to give. 

After another check-in with them both that consisted mostly of her asking questions which received overly concise, non detailed answers Alison’s patience finally snapped. 

Alison was sitting in a comfortable chair across from the two of them who occupied similar seats in the office. She’d rounded the desk to consciously attempt to dispel any barriers, physical or otherwise, that could be preventing a deeper connection during their meetings. Although, she held a pen and pad of paper in her lap she’d made very little use of them. Final question briefly remarked on Alison sported a wistful smile. “Well, if that’s all the updates you have for me I guess we’re done here Kobik. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me again today, it’s always nice to talk with you.” 

Ali’s voice was gentle and sweet. She meant everything that she was saying. Standing, she set her pen and paper on her seat before moving to open Kitty’s office door. Kitty generously allowed her to use it for these meetings. “I need to talk some extra things over with Bucky but why don’t you go meet up with some of your friends for free period and he’ll find you when we’re finished?” The young girl gave Bucky a big hug before skipping out the door to find her new friends. Alison’s smile grew brighter as she watched the interaction and waved the girl off out the door. 

When Kobik was out of sight Ali’s smile shrank away as she closed the door and faced Bucky with a practiced poised expression. “I’ll do my best to be professional and straightforward and would appreciate you do so in kind.” Her fingers ran through strawberry blonde hair that hung just below her shoulders. A tick of agitation she failed to notice as she circled back to her seat, setting the pen and paper on the nearby desk’s edge. With a heavy sigh she returned her attention to Bucky’s. Bright electric blue leveling on his icy hued gaze. “What is your problem with me? Because whatever it is it’s impeding my ability to build trust with Kobik, which hinders me performing my job. And that is a bigger problem than you not returning my greetings in the hallway. So please tell me so I can hopefully rectify it.” 

She did her best to tamp down the inner tizzy of emotions swirling within. Hoping they didn’t leak through in her tone.

[sasuhinasno1fan]

You’ve got my heart and my back

This is a squeal to this story. Camp Half-Blood

Lance was angry. He refused to look at the man standing in front of him. he was sure if Keith was around, he’d be frowning at Lance for the abundance of emotions he was giving off.

“I need you to do this for me.”

Lance glared up at the man. His dad. Hades. He never wanted anything to do with him. anytime spent down at in the Underworld was spent with the only person there he liked, Persephone and his personal hellhound Kosmo. His life had been turned upside down when he found out Hades was his dad. Any friends he made at Camp Half-Blood turned their back on him. Keith was his only friend right now, and granted he only started talking to him because Lance’s bad emotions started messing with him. he was lucky he stuck around after that, but still. Hades had been nothing but trouble so when he appeared on the one night Keith convinced him to stay for the bonfire, Lance’s mood crashed.

“I don’t need to do shit for you. If you’ve got a few loose hellhounds, how is that my problem. Obviously, you can’t do your job properly.”

Hades’ narrowed his eyes at his son. “How dare you.”

“Fuck off and leave me alone.” Not able to take anymore, Lance got up and stormed out of Coran’s office, his mind only on getting back to his cabin.

Waiting by the door with Kosmo was Keith, who met Lance halfway.

“I’m sorry.” Lance said.

“What for?”

“My emotions.”

“Lance, that’s the last thing on my mind right now. Your dad showed up out of nowhere, I get why your emotions are a mess right now. What did he want?”

“Some of his hellhounds got loose and he wants me to go get them. I’m not his errand boy and if he can’t control them it’s not my problem.” Lance said, going and opening the door to his cabin. He shuffled to his bed and flopped on it, listening to Keith come closer.

“How did they get loose? I thought they generally stayed in the Underworld.”

“Apparently Demeter came to see Persephone and they got into their usual argument about her marriage to Hades but it got out of hand and they took off.”

“Um, Lance?” he pulled up his face to see Keith look concerned. “Aren’t hellhounds usually bad to be around, like they might go and attack people.”

“Uhh, maybe? They like me.”

“Ok look, I get that you don’t want to give into your dad, but a lot of half-bloods are scared of hellhounds. And if I know anything about dogs, they attack if they smell fear.” Keith pointed out.

“Ugg, and if they hurt half-bloods, I’ll get blamed for it.”

“Oh, yeah and that. I know this is something he should take care of, but if you take care of it, you can hold it over his head. And besides, if you accept the quest, you can take those you feel is worthy.”

“Is that your way of offering to come with me?” Lance asked, with a smirk.

“Hey, you can take care of the hellhounds and I can get info from anyone if needed. Besides, someone needs to watch your back.” Keith said, sharing a smile with Lance.

“Fine. I guess I should go tell him I’ll do it. Thank you for offering to come with me.”

“Of course. Do you want me to come with you?”

Lance shook his head, “It won’t take long. Besides, I need to go see the Oracle after anyway.”

“Alright, I’ll be here then.”

Lance left the cabin, his mood lighter. Keith had a way of doing that. He remembered when Keith came to talk to him the first time. He’d been very clear on why he was there but he still stuck around after. He was always ready to fight anyone that gave him a bad look and he made Lance feel normal. Part of him knew that he had gained feelings for Keith but he didn’t want to go and push at it in case it turned out badly. He didn’t want to lose Keith in his life.

He found his father ready to storm out of the Big House when he stopped at the sight of his son. “I’ll do, only because you can’t control your pets and it’ll just be bad for the rest of us.” With that, he walked past his father and went of the stairs to the attic, where the current host of the Oracle was already waiting for him. their eyes turned white and they spoke.

“You will go to a doorway hidden in trees. Avoid the claws of the beast. When all is returned, an answer to a question shall be earned. To not take this opportunity will result in a lost chance. The one important will never give you a glance. Protect him from the beast and return the luckiest.”

Lance watched their head fall forward and blink past the mist. Lance was confused because he was sure that he was also given him relationship advice?

“Is it time for dinner?” the Oracle host asked, seeming tired.

“You missed it but I’ll tell Coran to get you something. Get some rest.”

“Tell him to let Adam know I’ll be asleep up here.” They said, getting off their stool and dropping down onto a nearby blanket covered mattress.

Lance left them to get rest while he went over the prophecy over in his head. Doorway hidden in the trees was obviously the Doorway of Orpheus, a way the man known as Orpheus took when he went to bring his wife back. That meant they had to go to New York, Central Park to be more exact. Avoid the claws of the beast, meaning the hellhounds won’t go back easily. An answer to a question shall be earned? To not take the opportunity would mean the important one wouldn’t give him a glance? Did that mean, if Lance didn’t take the opportunity to tell Keith how he felt, he’d lose him in the end? Great, no pressure. He knew that prophecies had double meanings but this one seemed pretty straight forward.

He met Keith on his way back to his cabin.

“It’s really late and I need to pack for tomorrow. When are we leaving?”

“Early, sooner we can round them up, the better. It’s gonna be a hard.”

“Right, I’ll be by your cabin in the morning.”

“Okay.” Lance didn’t know how he was going to do this.

“Oh what a cute puppy! What’s his name?”

Ok, so originally, they were going to go to New York after breakfast but Keith had gotten into an argument with his siblings over him going with Lance on the quest so Keith came early and Lance decided they should at least get a head start. So using his shadow travel, he got them as close to Central Park but was stopped by his own growling stomach. Hence why he, Keith and Kosmo, who now looked like a poodle of all things to those affected by the Mist.

“Kosmo.”

“Oh he’s so cute. We have pupchinos if you want to get him one.”

“Um, sure. But can it be in the biggest cup you have, he’ll have trouble getting it out.”

“Of course. Be right back pupper.”

When the waitress left, Keith couldn’t help but laugh. “Pupper? Kosmo is anything but.” Kosmo glance up at Keith for the remark but Lance could disagree with that.

“Alright, after we eat, we’ll walk over the Doorway of Orpheus. That’s where the Oracle said they’d be. They also said it would be dangerous but they’re hellhounds so not that surprising.”

“What else did they say?” Keith asked, picking up his panini.

Lance was going to start on his French toast but stopped when he remembered the rest of the prophecy. He had to tell Keith how he felt or risk losing him forever. He wanted to say that Keith wouldn’t leave him but he didn’t know if that was true. What if he didn’t take the chance and then something happened that made Keith see him differently? It was nerve-wracking to even think about. Not the kind of thoughts he needed before going to try and corral a small group of hellhounds.

“That was it.”

“Really? Last time I went on a quest my prophecy was at least 5 sentences long.”

“Different for everyone I guess.”

They finished their food, where Keith used his allure like charmspeak to get the food for free.

“You scare me sometimes.”

Once they were near the entrance closest to where the Doorway was, Lance put his palm on the grass and focused. As a child of Hades, he could sense death and hellhounds carried around a particular feeling of death. “Not counting Kosmo, there are 6 of them. They’re all by the Doorway thankfully but we wait any longer they can go out and search for prey.”

“How do we get them back to the Underworld.”

“Hellhounds can shadow travel so I have to open a separate door to the Underworld. I’ll be really drained by the end of the fight so I trust you to have my back ok?”

“Got it. Let’s go.”

When they got near the Doorway, Kosmo started to growl low in his throat.

“Be ready.” Lance said.

Keith pulled a dagger from his belt, that grew to a sword while Lance summoned his own sword from his shadow. They slowly walked forward when three figures burst out from tree shadows. Kosmo went a took one of the hellhounds down, while Lance and Keith got the attention of their own. Keith kept the hellhound away from him with his sword. When it jumped out at him, he let his finger brush over the dove engraving on the hilt, letting the blade glow pink before hitting the hellhound in the face. It shook its head, still growling at Keith when he ordered it to lay down and it obeyed. Aphrodite might not have been happy her son liked to fight but at least she made sure he was protected. The dove released a magic similar to charmspeak.

Lance used his shadow to create a shield to block his own hellhound and summoned an opening to the Underworld to swallow Keith’s hellhound and his struggling own. Kosmo had pinned down his own opponent, letting Lance pull it down to the Underworld as well.

“That wasn’t too hard.” Keith pointed out, watching Lance take deep breaths. He could already feel the effects of summoning 3 openings one right after the other.

He slowly got to his feet, taking slow breaths. “We still have the other ones to worry about. We should let our guard down.”

“Right. Will you be ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. let’s go.”

They reached where the Doorway sat and saw the other hellhounds surrounding the door. They looked like they were in a less good mood than the others.

“They’re gonna catch our scent. Be ready.” Lance instructed.

Sure enough, the hellhounds started growling when they realised they had company. Lance used the shadows to create another shield and once they were stopped, Keith attacked with his sword. One swiped at Keith, Lance pulling him out of the way. He heard Keith let out a pained cry as he put his palm to the ground and summoned another opening, pulling the last of them back to the Underworld. When they were gone, he felt his whole world tilt as it started going dark around the edges.

“Lance!” Lance blinked slowly, seeing Keith lean over him. he didn’t even realise he’d collapsed on the floor. He felt so weak. “Lance, answer me. Are you ok?”

“Tired.”

He felt Keith pull him up and whistle for Kosmo. He felt Kosmo’s fur under his hands as Keith got him on his back and felt himself lean back, leaning on what he could assume was Keith’s chest.

“Kosmo, get us back to Camp Half-Blood.” Keith ordered the hellhound.

Lance felt Kosmo moving and then the familiar feeling of shadow travelling before the sounds of New York were replaced with the quietness of Camp Half-Blood. He let Keith pull him off Kosmo’s back and then stumble to his cabin. Even the fairylights in his cabin felt to bright to his eyes as he finally collapsed on the bed. He heard Keith rummaging and the light dimmed behind Lance’s closed eyes.

“I turned off the lights, are you ok?”

Lance opened his eyes and looked at Keith, the blue fire from the fireplace allowing Lance to look at him.

“I’m dizzy, my head hurts and I feel really weak.”

“Does this always happen?”

“When I overuse my powers. Are you ok?”

“Just a minor scratch, you pulled me away in time.”

Lance could just make out the scratches on his arm. They were thin and seemed to of stopped bleeding but they were long. Disregarding how weak he felt, he put his hand on the wound and allowed himself to heal it.

“Wait, Lance stop!” Keith pulled his arm away and Lance could see it was mostly healed. “You just opened 4 portals to the Underworld, don’t waste more energy trying to heal me. I’ll be fine. everything’s ok now.”

Lance slowly blinked at Keith. Things were ok now, which meant…

When all is returned, an answer to a question shall be earned.

Lance had to tell Keith how he felt or he could lose him forever. He didn’t want to lose Keith.

“We should tell Hades his hellhounds are returned. Do you have a fountain or something so we can Iris call him?”

“You can’t Iris call in the Underworld.” Lance pointed out, smiling to himself that Keith didn’t realise that.

“Because there’s no sun in the Underworld for rainbows to appear. Ok fine. you get some rest and on my way to the infirmary, I’ll go tell Coran we succeeded ok?” Keith said, about to get up when Lance stopped him.

“I need to tell you something. It can’t wait.”

“Lance, you look like your about to pass out.”

“I know, but I have to. It’s part of the prophecy.”

Keith looked confused. “I thought you said that the prophecy was only 2 lines.”

“I lied. Trust me, if you heard the whole thing you’d understand. But I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me. What is it?”

“I like you. Like really like you. But I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t want to lose you but they said I would if I didn’t say anything.”

Lance felt himself get even more sleepy as he watched a smile come on Keith’s face. He felt a soft hand brush at his hair.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not sure if you’ll remember this when you wake up, but I like you too.”

“Oh, ok.” Lance felt happy at that admition but his tiredness was winning out.

“Go to sleep Lance. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Lance let his eyes slid shut as he heard Keith get up. He stopped not long after.

“The flower crown, you kept it?”

“Persephone kept it alive for me.” Was all Lance said before he drifted off.

[donewithjeon]

Downfall [21]

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 4,373

Genre: Assassin AU

Note: This is a re-upload due to the original chapter being taken down by Tumblr. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26

They found you.

Somehow, the enemy was able to find the location of the Yongsan division office. They must have followed your van here after the incident at City Hall or used some other undetectable means to trace you. Perhaps that was their plan all along, to discreetly tail your vehicle during the hectic escape to safety. Whatever the answer is, it no longer matters how they managed to discover your haven.

They’re here—and you’re under attack.

The fire alarm is shrill and seemingly perpetual in its shrieking pattern as it drills into your head with each blaring reiteration. The halls and rooms are echoing with the sound to alert the inhabitants of what they already know—the structure is starting to go up in flames with the source of the disaster well below the level you are currently on but advancing its spread with persisting speed.

You’re running down the stairwell of the building, moving as quick as you can to see if there is still a chance to escape. Even if there isn’t, there’s no way you’re going to stay in your room and accept the charred fate that awaits you. Ignoring the restriction of movement in your arm and the searing pain that overwhelms your back from the brash stress you’re putting on it, you keep a steady and brisk pace down the seemingly unending steps.

Until, you can’t go any further.

You freeze at the top of another flight of stairs as you were just about to get ready to conquer it. At the bottom, the fire is now clearly visible, and the heat emanating from it is so blisteringly strong, it feels as if your skin will start boiling if you go any closer. The embers lick dangerously under your feet, and the smoke not only proliferates from the lower floors to obscure the rest of the path you were planning to take, but the suffocating fog ascends in billows to scorch your lungs, eyes, and everything in between.

If the conditions are this bad when you’ve barely made it to the fourth floor, then it’s a guarantee that your exit route must be overtaken with flames, seeing how the building is burning from the bottom up. The threat is drawing nearer with each passing second, which effectively wipes any idea you had in your mind that this could be a viable path to take.

Turning back around, you begin a sprint up the same stairs you rushed down on, hoping that your legs won’t give out on you in this more difficult trek to your new destination. Since you can’t even dream of going to the ground floor, the only place you can go now is up. There’s no need to stop and take a peek over your shoulder to check the status below, because you’re fairly sure that the fire and smoke are rapidly advancing.

You can feel it.

Once you reach the top of the very last set of stairs, you’re met with an exit that is labeled “roof access” in bold, red letters. You throw yourself onto the metal bar and shove the door open, not stopping your winding feet until you reach another roadblock: the edge.

Above your head, the sky is nothing but a murky shroud, but below, you are able to see the hellish illumination of the fire that has already devoured half of the structure. You strain your eyes to look beyond the smog and sparks, and when you focus on the ground near the sidewalk, you detect numerous dim figures you can only assume are onlookers of the spectacle. It definitely looks to be a long way down with nothing to break the fall but the unforgiving pavement.

Remarkably, that doesn’t stop the people trapped inside the building.

Movement coming from the upper levels catches your attention, and when you try to discern what it is, your vision follows the descending shadows as they fall out of the windows and make their way towards the cement. Judging by the rate at which they are dropping, you can easily distinguish that those forms aren’t just papers or objects from the offices floating through the wind. Bodies are flying out of even the tenth floor windows, plummeting down with increasing velocity until they crash onto the unrelenting surface with sickening splits and splatters. Everyone is desperate to escape this burgeoning inferno, and you can’t say that you’re too far behind the tipping point yourself.

Actually, you’re about a step away from it.

Staring down at the scene below, you can determine that while the threat is coming ever closer, there are no other escape routes available for you to choose from. There are only two options: you can either stay here until the building burns up or collapses beneath you, which could be any minute now, or you can jump off and join the rest of the agents who took the leap of faith. Maybe you’ll be able to get away with your life in exchange for broken legs if you position your landing correctly, as slim of a chance it may be.

You take a deep breath, immediately regretting it as you inhale a lungful of the all-too-familiar fumes of ash and carbon. Your time is running out, and you know that there’s only one thing left to do.

Wake up.

You jolt awake with a start, your eyes shooting open to meet the same insipid ceiling from your previous awakening, except this time, it’s eclipsed by a looming shadow above you. Your first reaction is to lunge up from your bed, reach out for a nearby item to protect yourself with, do something so you can ensure your safety and stability, but you can’t move.

That’s when you realize that someone is hovering over you, clamping your wrists and shoulders down in an attempt to hold you down. Since flight is not an option, you start to kick into fight mode, but when your frantic eyes land on the face of your supposed assailant, the tension relaxes from your body in a wave of relief.

“Sorry,” Namjoon says, slowly releasing his grip and straightening himself up from the leaning position. “I thought it would be best to wake you.”

Your heart is still racing from the residual adrenaline pumping through your veins from the unpleasant awakening and even more unpleasant dream, but you start to steady your breathing after grasping an understanding of the circumstances. At least he took caution to restrain you before attempting to wake you. It seems as though he has learned from the mistake he made last time—of course, the nasty bruise and near concussion probably served as a lesson he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“Why are you here?” you question, subtly trying to move past the embarrassment of having to be woken up like a child who was acting out because of a nightmare.

“To tell you that you’ve been discharged,” he states as he watches you prop yourself upright on the bed. “You can leave whenever you’d like as long as you stay on the other side of the Han. I was just about to head back to HQ, so I wanted to stop by and see if you were up yet.”

“I’m up now,” you begrudgingly declare. You rub your eyes of whatever remnants of sleep are still leftover and push the sheets off of you. “I’ll be out in 10.”

“Take your time.”

Namjoon leaves with a click of the door, leaving you to your own devices. You take this time to release a well-needed sigh in appreciation for your body and mind finally calming down. It’s much too early to be in inner turmoil right now, but apparently your brain thought otherwise and felt the need to grace you with the highly unnecessary and unwelcomed dream.

You couldn’t fall asleep for the longest time last night, and it was only when you could almost perceive the first rays of the morning sun brightening the dark blue sky that you managed to slip into a slumber.

Evidently, that didn’t last long.

Even though the couple winks you were able to squeeze in leaves you feeling wearier than ever, you still can’t relinquish the chance to get up and leave this stuffy room, even if it’s just to return to the comfort of your own bed. You keep that thought in mind as you go to change out of your hospital garments, but you having a strong feeling that it’s going to be a long while until you have the pleasure of getting some real rest.

As you pull out of the parking garage, you brace yourself to face something similar to a warzone, but much to your surprise, things are completely and utterly normal. With the flow of the traffic and the stream of pedestrians filling the streets, everything is business as usual, almost as if a violent crime didn’t just take place in the heart of Seoul yesterday. It could be because you’re heading back to Gangnam, which is on the opposite side of the Yongsan office from the crime scene, but nevertheless, is seems as though the city is an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

That is, until you step foot into Kim Daily.

On most days, it’s the upper levels of the 54-story structure, the quarters where the assassins spend the majority of their time, that are bustling with activity, but today, the lower precincts where the news company works its journalism magic are just as busy, if not more so, as the rest of the building’s denizens.

You have grown to admire their hard work and their ability to stay on top of things, because among the many powerful resources Mr. Shin possesses, this news company is one that proves to be most reliable time and time again.

It has not even been a full 24 hours since the incident occurred, yet it seems like the situation is well on its way towards being resolved. The whole of yesterday was dedicated to revising the print for this morning’s paper and filling the online news platform with all the necessary information that needed to be distributed to the general public.

The big headline doesn’t include the gritty details of the violent turn of events that you would usually find on cover stories such as these. There’s nothing specific about the one dead and nine injured, numbers that are blown up with prominence on other news outlets, nor are there profiles of the shooter and his associates, a decision no doubt to keep your identities safe.

Instead, the main emphasis is on reform—how we will recover from this tragic event and the steps we need to take in order to prevent it from happening again in the future. It’s an extremely well-written, convincing, and thrilling exposé on the nation’s gun control regulations that most definitely will leave readers nodding their heads in agreement or at least scratching their chins in contemplation.

On top of that, quite literally, is Mayor Moon’s face plastered on every front page. The photo is not taken from the press conference that transpired yesterday, despite it being fitting for the article, but instead, it’s one of his more professional shots that you would spot on posters for his campaign tour. The Mayor of Seoul looks like a jolly man with thin-rimmed oval glasses, neatly-combed black hair, and a smile that ironically brings out the prominent frown lines on his forehead.

Within the exposé, quotes from the press conference concerning the attack at Seoul Plaza have been included. Mayor Moon responded to the early criticisms and vowed to do everything in his power to make the city safe again. To win over the public even more, he also discussed his proposition of restricting firearms to a greater extent by requiring GPS tracking of all guns that are in circulation from now on.

Between this incident and what happened in Sejong earlier this year, you have a good hunch that the new regulations will be put into full effect soon enough.

It’s all good in theory, but you know that there’s no way that a law like that will reign legitimately, at least not for you guys. If anything, it’ll just become that much easier to monitor the authorities and any other low-class criminals who are unlucky and ignorant enough to carry around bugged weapons.

Come what may, Mr. Shin is managing to make the best out of a situation that could have gone terribly wrong and should have had no upsides whatsoever. You thought it would certainly take more of a strenuous effort to bury things and cut all loose ends; shootings in Seoul are exceptionally rare, and even for a man of his capabilities, you were sure it was going to be difficult to sweep under the rug and cover up. Not only is he doing exactly that though, but he is also helping to paint Mayor Moon in a better light, fruitfully furthering the solidity of both of their positions.

A true win-win scenario.

By the end of the scramble, you stand corrected, having taken your boss’s professional prowess too lightly. Mr. Shin has been running the game for decades now, so you doubt that this is the worst thing that he has witnessed during his lifetime. It was foolish of you to think that any other undesirable outcome would have spawned from this situation.

In the following days, it seems as though the shooting and the subsequent proceedings that occurred afterwards are all that is being broadcasted and covered by news companies and major media sites alike. It’s all that comes up on the TV at the apartment when you have time to turn it on, which you do have plenty of recently as the assassins have been told to put down their guns and knives and lay low until things get concluded with ink strokes and keyboard clicks.

It’s times like these where the pen is, in fact, mightier than the sword.

“I am here to confirm that we have successfully captured the offender and have taken him into custody.”

An astute voice leaks through the speakers as you watch the announcement on screen. Cameras are flashing and shuttering at amazing rates, but that doesn’t seem to faze the Police Chief, Cho Ryeowoon. This uniformed man of experience has a rigid stance and hardened facial expression that makes him appear almost immune to the commotion around him. He’s standing behind the podium to carry out a simple task, one that will hopefully be the bow that wraps up this entire case.

“Everyone can rest assured that the streets are safe. With the recent mandates that have been passed, there is no need to worry about something like this happening again.” Sure enough, it only took a span of a few days for the gun control regulations to be imposed. Chief Cho’s guarantees sound so matter-of-factly, and you’re impressed by his ability to turn such a dubious subject into a highly persuasive speech. “As for the culprit, I think I speak on behalf of everyone when I say that it is only right that he be brought to justice—and you have my word that he will.”

After a few seconds, a picture of the alleged criminal is pulled up onto the screen by the broadcasting station. The man in the photo is not Jungkook in any way shape or form, but since the CCTV footage of the actual wrongdoer was never released to the public, the viewing citizens will be none the wiser. Even those who were physically present won’t be able to say a word otherwise, because with a beanie and a mask, any male with the same build and basic traits can probably pass as Jungkook.

You can’t help but wonder who the poor sap going under the guillotine is, but you guess it doesn’t hold significance. If it did matter, he wouldn’t be where he is right now, taking the blame for your teammate’s actions for the sake of your organization and its allies. Besides, if you know anything about the organization, it’s almost guaranteed that the man did something foul for him to be placed on the hot seat like that—this is just a slightly less practical way of getting him where he needs to be.

Truthfully, you’re pleased that this is being covered up so competently. None of you need the stress of the aftermath weighing down on you, especially not on top of all the other baggage you have to carry. It’s a bit selfish to say the least, but being in the position that you guys are in, it can’t be helped.

It’s merely self-preservation.

Since the effort to recover from the close call went better than you could have hoped for, especially after the “culprit” was captured, the status of the organization returned back to normal in record time. Following suit, your stitches were taken out after about a week of having received them, and by now, the wound is no longer hindering your movement and performance.

The situation seems to have blown over in the blink of an eye, but on the contrary, those few days of unemployment were arduous for the business. While you were all preoccupied with the large-scale affair, it was not quite as impacting to the rest of the city’s population who weren’t directly affected by it. Even in the madness of everything that happened regarding the wanted man, clients were not holding off on placing orders and requests, so to act in accordance, the organization accepted them like they always did.

This is a business, after all, and these are your jobs—your livings. Everything else was continuing on with its fixed pace after acknowledging what has passed, and you guys couldn’t afford to be bumming around for any longer when there were contracts to be signed and orders to be fulfilled. Especially after the news broke that the organization had quite possibly been infiltrated by a mole, not another minute can go to waste.

Just like that, life goes on.

Jungkook was transported back to headquarters shortly after you returned, and yet, even as the days go on, you don’t catch so much as a glimpse of him.

It’s rather strange if you think about it. There are many times when both you and Jungkook are busy with your own assignments, and during those periods, days or even weeks can go by until you two see each other again. Currently, it has only been a little over a week, but these are not the same circumstances. It’s a completely different story because you know that he is in the same building as you, conversing with the same people as you, probably even eating the same food as you, but he himself is choosing to keep you distant and away.

You hate this feeling that is planted within you, growing each day that it’s left neglected like intrusive vines that spread through every fiber of your being. You wish that you could at least apologize in person or even see with your own two eyes that he’s really okay, but so far, you haven’t been given a chance to clear up the mess.

Some of the others are doing their best to keep you in the know, so when they relay to you that his condition is progressing well, you have no choice but to take their word for it. He’s apparently healing up quite speedily—to your liberation, there are no persisting damages from the bullet wound—but you didn’t expect any less from Jungkook. Sometimes, you seriously believe he’s just built in a different way from most people in this world.

From what Jin has graciously taken the time to tell you, Jungkook has been put under special care until he is completely healed. You’re grateful for your supervisor, because even scraps of information such as this is not necessarily mandatory to divulge to the rest of the team. Perhaps he’s so attentive at informing you because he feels guilty about the whole exchange at the Yongsan corridor. Even if that’s not the case, Jin does tend to have a bit of soft spot for you—Lord knows you’ve been softening him up by poking and prodding him for details since the dawn of time. It’s not that you take advantage of this fact at all, but more often than not, you are able to coax something useful out of him.

This is one of those times.

It became clear to you that this “special care” wasn’t just to track the superficial injuries Jungkook sustained once Jin uttered that single word, one that you realized was the true reason for the elongated recovery time and temporary removal from the team.

Therapy.

Yes, assassin therapy is not only a thing, but a quintessential aspect of the system. Just as important as physical health, if not more, mental health is dealt with the utmost care, precision, and promptitude.

The organization holds monthly evaluations for all members working within it, and among the several tests is a mental state check, one of the practices in which everyone’s psyche is measured and monitored. These examinations are tedious at times, but they are essential not only for curing anomalies but for preventing those imbalances from happening in the first place, and the consequences of deciding to omit this facet of the assessment are far too high. The officials and even other members need to know that the inner workings of an operative are not abnormal or unstable in any way before setting them out into the field with the potential to inflict adverse harm and wreak havoc.

Furthermore, this arrangement proves to be amply effective.

There have been a few instances where you have heard of assassins being pulled from their roles on the team, almost always at the end of the month and with minimal repercussions. There was only one deviant from this otherwise efficacious procedure you remember hearing whispers about that concerned a particular agent whose primary job was interrogation—just like Jimin. His personal methods, however, became too eccentric, even for the organization’s tastes.

To put it bluntly, he was discovered to have been cutting off and eating the hostage’s fingers in order to force them to comply.

Admittedly, it was an effective torture technique—there’s really nothing like watching someone eat your own body parts in front of you—but unsurprisingly, it didn’t go over well with the higher-ups, or anyone else for that matter. Shortly after he was caught—it didn’t take long after the initial episode—the agent was removed from his post before he could go off the deep end, as if that line hadn’t already been crossed.

This entire screening process is in no way a perfect one, but without its implementation, the organization could very well have seen greater calamity or even collapse by now.

Jungkook’s behavior certainly raised some red flags with the company officers, and while you can argue that it’s not nearly as bad as Mr. Finger Fetish, you have to agree with the call for rehabilitation that they made. It still gives you shudders when your mind travels back to ponder what kind of mentality Jungkook held in that moment that drove him to go through with his erratic actions. It makes you wonder if you should have paid more attention to the signs that led up to that point.

No, you were well aware of them—you just didn’t act upon them.

You figure that it’s no use in making yourself feel worse than you already have been feeling all week. Now that the problem has been uncovered, the focus now is to make sure that it’s extinguished and won’t be rekindled again. You’re relieved that he’s undergoing the proper treatment he needs, and thankfully, everyone’s extremities are still intact.

Plus, you know Jungkook will make it through to the other side better than ever.

All of you are a little broken in your own way, whether you’ve been bent and twisted or torn and frayed. There is not one person among you who doesn’t struggle with your own self, because regardless of if you like it or not, residing inside every single one of you is the good, the bad, and the ugly. Not only do you learn to live with this reality early on, but you are taught to overcome it and manipulate it to your advantage.

Human emotions are such frail constructs to begin with, but even with what could easily be considered weaknesses, you’re trained to hone them—control, not erase. You are to amplify them when the situation calls for it and to suppress them when they run the risk of getting in the way, but you are never to dispose of them.

In spite of everything, you are human, and they are what make you so.

You can only attempt to hold something in for so long until you explode; it might not always be the cannibalism route, but an eruption is imminent. There have been plenty of instances of this happening—examples, if you will—with the orphans and assassins before you, displayed in the various ways they fought with themselves, whether they couldn’t pull the trigger or they pointed the gun at themselves.

The organization allocated the time and effort to refine their training and selection program so that the possibility of those outcomes has been reduced to the lowest prospect, but even so, they did not resort to producing mindless drones. You are all still your own individual person with innate strengths and weaknesses, the former being polished and the latter being purged.

In Jungkook’s case, he is currently in the process of having his faults expelled, and in harmony with that, you need to make sure that your strengths have been toughened after the experiences you overcame. You can look at it like he is working on his own mission at the moment, so the only thing left for the rest of you to do is continue on your own missions as always.

Without him.

[managelascl]

Can you buy microsoft office

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You pay a fee every month (or every year, which is cheaper) that entitles you to download a number of Office apps, including Word, Excel, PowerPoint and Outlook. Head to Microsoft’s Office website and you’ll be heavily pushed to subscribe to Office 365. Microsoft Office 365 vs Office Home & Student 2019: what’s the difference? See our “ How do I get a free copy of Office for my kids?” article for more details. One last thing to consider is that, if you have children of school age, they may be entitled to a free subscription of Office 365. The drawback, as the name suggests, is that you can only use it online: if you want downloadable apps, you’ll need to buy Microsoft Office. This will look 100% familiar and only needs you to sign in with your Microsoft account (or create one). Third, you can use Microsoft Office Online for free. Plus, it’s much easier to share Google Docs documents than it is with Microsoft Office. If you use Google Chrome, you can also download documents to work on offline. Second, Google Docs is also free for personal use, and includes a strong set of word processing, spreadsheet and database tools. It also looks remarkably similar to Office from a few years ago, so you may find you prefer it. This is free to download and will never cost you a penny. Many people shouldn’t buy Microsoft Office, and for a number of reasons.

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Here, we not only reveal how to work out which version of Microsoft Office is best for you, but whether you should buy it at all. Then you can renew the subscription of your office product by just visiting and signing in to your Microsoft account which is associated with the version of your Microsoft Office product.There are now so many different versions of Microsoft Office that choosing between them is tricky.

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Once you opt for 30 days or 1-month trial version then after 30 days you will be notified to Buy the product. To download a trial version or free version of Microsoft office setup, you can visit and download the Microsoft office setup online for 30 days trial.The trial version of Microsoft office setup will give you the access to all of its application but with few limitations. Users can use Microsoft Word, Microsoft PowerPoint, and Microsoft Excel in their trial version also.

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You can use office product for personal and professional use. Office setup 2010 for home & student comes with Word 2010, Excel 2010, and PowerPoint 2010 etc. Microsoft word provides you the feature to split the window, using this you can split your systems window into two parts and then work on both the windows simultaneously. The Microsoft Word may be used to write professional letters, blogs, and other documentation related work and allows you to preview your work before the final submission. MS Excel gives you the power to create spreadsheets and it keeps all your recorded on your system and you can use it anytime later when needed. It is very useful for students and working professionally as it includes so many desktop application like Microsoft Word, Microsoft Access, Microsoft PowerPoint, Microsoft OneNote, Microsoft Excel and many others. – We made Microsoft Office Setup so easy that you may simply run the setup by visiting /setup and enter the product key to get started with Microsoft Office setup is a comprehensive tool for home and office.

[musesoftheminds]

Scandal 707- Winter finale

Alrighty. It’s been some time since I’ve done a review. Scandal as of recent has been focused predominantly on Quinn’s disappearance and Olivia’s endless fall and there have been some incredible reviews and analysis regarding the episodes. I’m pretty rusty but I promised that I would do one, so here it goes.

The first scene on our screen is Charlie flipping through pages of pregnant dead ladies, looking for Quinn . Huck comes in and to my surprise he doesn’t seem upset, or teetering towards his own darkness instead he’s talking about creating a spiked fidget spinner so they could use it on the person who took Quinn.

That’s it. Where’s all hands on deck in search of her? I honestly am confused by how cavalier QPA is with Quinn missing, the only one truly breaking down is Charlie. When Huck went missing everyone was on pin and needles searching for him and there was a sense of hopelessness with his case. Not the same for Quinn. Perhaps they think highly of their leader that if anyone can come back it’s Quinn. I don’t know but expected more urgency and fear.

Quinn is the perfect foil to Olivia Pope, she is the one who introduced us to Olivia’s world. And we see because of Quinn that Olivia Pope isn’t all that she portrays herself to be. In fact Lindsay Dwyer is the first person that Olivia Pope killed, so it’s rather symbolic that Quinn Perkins would be the one to shed light on this continuous cycle that we have found ourselves on. 

Olivia and Quinn have similar mannerisms, as evidenced by the above gif both of them seek the shelter of a bathroom for a moment of peace. There is a obvious disconnection between Quinn and Olivia that has been intensified with Quinn’s takeover of QPA and her personal life coming together. But the interesting thing about Quinn and Olivia dynamics is that Quinn doesn’t appear to have any animosity with Olivia, she warmly and gladly invites her back into QPA never reminding her that it’s her name on the door, she welcomes Olivia with open arms. Olivia, not so much. There’s jealously and a sense of aloofness when Olivia is around Quinn, this portray of being happy with her choices only seems magnified when someone of a personal standpoint enters her glass world and reminds her of her failures of having it all.

Back at the submarine. Jake and Olivia are discussing that once again they have no leads but as the screen pans on Quinn, I notice something shiny, it could be her watch or it could be her ring either way it’s telling. Now. why would Quinn show up for her wedding and leave her ring....ahhhh....the ring.

When  Olivia was kidnapped, in order for anyone to connect that she was taken and not simply running away she had to leave behind her most personal possession. Deux Bebe. The ring Fitz gave her all those years ago.  As we know, Quinn too leaves her ring behind. And the thing about the ring symbolism is that it’s not the ring itself but what it represents that is of value to them. Is it a coincidence or is this more. The paralleling connection between Olivia’s kidnapping to Quinn’s is remarkable to note as these little nuances continue to provide us with information that is subtle yet precise. Things are fishy around here, and for me things are becoming more murkier as we move through.

Is anyone else smelling rotten fish whenever Jake speaks? Jake attempts to give Olivia her own speech she made when looking for Huck “we don’t give up. we don’t quit.” But baby girl ain’t having it telling Jake “to be better” but honestly how can he be better when subpar is all he knows.

“I want the monster who did this. I want them here. I want them to face command .  I want them to understand who’s fight they stepped into, and then I want them finished.”

Olivia wants the monster who took Quinn held accountable and facing judgement day with herself as the

judge, juror and punisher.

But as the episode progresses Olivia begins to see that she might be the monster responsible for Quinn’s kidnapping. Will Olivia make herself accountable and face her own judgment day, that will be the question.

After voicing her list of wants to Jake he attempts to comfort Olivia who shudders at the touch and instead tells Jake to just find Quinn. Baby girl isn’t  looking for comfort especially from him.

Olivia isn’t attempting to null her guilt and ease her conscious with bastard’s mediocrity. Sexual gratification is no longer desired when Olivia finds herself in a vulnerable state, and the swine’s tool of manipulation just dropped a peg. Yes. Olivia.

It’s funny for a women who struggles with saying her deepest desires she had no problem voicing her ‘wants ‘ when it comes to finding the person who took Quinn. If only Olivia didn’t fear what her true wants could mean to her.

As Olivia looks at Quinn on her screen she says a loud “where are you?” And interesting and perhaps foreshadowing we see Mellie giving an interview but as the screen pulls out we see Marcus and Fitz at the Grant institute with Marcus watching Mellie on the screen. Fitz is hard at work looking sexy and serious about doing whatever it is he must do. With his tie and jacket off you truly see Fitz actually putting in the effort and being functional in ways he couldn’t be at the White House. His office is bright and not with artificial lights but the natural source of light; the sun. A Stark contrast between the scene we just left with Bonnie and Clyde literally inside a vacant shallow pool with their only source of light being man-made just like their relationship versus Fitz’s office having rays of light that doesn’t require fluorescent lights being needed.

Marcus wants to seize on Mellie’s popularity and have her support their criminal justice initiative but Fitz reminds Marcus that he has only eight minutes in the White House to pick up his son, in so many words they don’t have an ally in the White House , they will have to do this on their own. And once again Olivia’s AU dream connects to reality as Olivia and Marcus struggled to get their criminal justice bill passed without an influential politicians approval but in the end of the AU Olivia learned that she didn’t need the White House to conquer her dreams instead she did it on her own and though it proved more challenging Olivia didn’t have to compromise her soul for a goal.

Another day goes by and still no Quinn. Exhausted and mentally spent Charlie goes to Olivia for answers and looks to her for the truth; that Quinn’s dead. Sad irony that the gladiators still place their trust in Olivia and Charlie needing answers goes to Olivia who couldn’t be any further from the truth or her own truth for that matter. But still they believe her. They trust her. Their blind faith in Olivia is not therapeutic for any of them. I’ve discussed this on twitter but I have a problem with how everyone projects who they want Olivia to be and because she hates failure, Olivia channels the person they envision her to be. A mother. A savior. A fighter. A legend. Anytime Olivia branched off to find her own sense of self one of the gladiators would blame her for abandoning them and Huck too would tell Olivia that he worried about her with the president, when staying with Fitz made Olivia a better person.The intention of this scene is crucial as Shonda is scraping off every projections we have placed on Olivia and starting over. And I’m here for it.

Charlie seeing the reminder on his phone that his and Quinn’s baby is due tomorrow. Is also a reminder that due day is near. Quinn’s supposed to have her baby, but she’s not here.

After comforting Charlie we see a rattled and upset  Olivia struggling to put the key in and open the door. Hello euphemism

Jake.

After talking with Abby, Cyrus is able to put two and two together about admiral Ballard and confronts him about hurting an innocent person (thus far) who’s no where near president rashad’s bombing. Jake with arrogance and aloofness remarks that accidents do happen. You see this is why I can’t stand or condone his character. How did Jake find this footage of Quinn when Huck hasn’t? Jake couldn’t even turn on a printer three seasons ago and now he’s back to being the best spy.

Jake tells Olivia that Quinn isn’t dead because the two people who want her dead are in this room.

He’s right there . Jake tells Olivia he’s worried about Curtis Pryce because there’s no telling what Quinn told him, but before Jake could dictate the dialogue, Olivia’s assistant barged in after ease dropping that Olivia is being summoned by her father.

You have to watch the episode a second time to truly see how disgusting and revolting Rowan is. Olivia tells her dad that she doesn’t have the time for him because she has to find Quinn Perkins and immediately Rowan focuses on that and tells Olivia that he has Quinn, and declares her ‘mine.’ Elated, Rowan smiles at Olivia’s shock pleased that he has the upper hand. Unknowingly Olivia bends at Rowan’s will, moving from standing over him to sitting beside him and reasoning.

“Quinn Perkins. The one person who can take you down. The one person that knows about your new assassination. hobbies. The one person that you would never kill.  Your recking. I have Quinn Perkins. Your down fall and the key to my freedom.

Checkmate.

I win. You lose”

For those crying about Olivia being evil and dark this is the root and seed of her issues. Rowan once again playing mind games with Olivia just so he could punish and control her once again.  I am truly flabbergasted with how callous and manipulative he is though not surprised, once again Rowan extracts Olivia’s truth and turns it into a weakness, and afterwards he has the audacity to tell Olivia that it’s “a fair trade” how can he justify his  four months of fear to Olivia’s lifetime of it. This man cried to Fitz about wanting his daughter back yet when he had the chance he help her he turned his back, almost eerily similar to his candor with Olivia’s kidnapping.

Which tells me, Rowan doesn’t love Olivia or anyone for that matter. This is all just a game to him, and he once again is pulling the strings . And like many I do believe Rowan had a role to play with Olivia’s kidnapping.

Interesting things to note: 1. How does Rowan know about the bombing and Quinn having intel on Olivia. 2. “Your her child’s godmother” 3. “I win. You lose” Jake said those same words to Olivia and now their father is using them. Foreshadowing of their interconnectedness and how Jake might still be working with dad. Possibly 4. Olivia’s distaste for Rowan’s wine. Is their horrid connection coming to an end? Please be a hell yes.

Once again wanting to be the hero in Olivia Pope’s eyes, Jake goes to see Rowan who remarks that Jake is pathetic for crawling to Olivia with his tail between his legs. Jake is gnat that won’t go away. Jake begins with empty threats about him needing to leave and not to underestimate Olivia. Has anyone noticed the common pattern with admirable Ballard , when people get too close to Olivia he warns them that she’s not the person they use to know. First it was Fitz, then he had a moment with Mellie and now Rowan. Jake is going rogue he’s no longer listening to Olivia’s orders because she’s no longer command, that’s why he killed Curtis and used Olivia’s assistant which I doubt Olivia knows is an assassin to kill him. This is still survival of the fittest and Jake is acting on self preservation.

 By the way does anyone think Cyrus is going to lay down and not come for Jake after finding out Jake killed Curtis and instead of appearing remorseful, Jake emphasized that Curtis was snitch and a rat. Cyrus hasn’t forgotten James who was a journalist and also one of Jake’s victims.

Cyrus, when you come for jake.

Needing help with how to remain untouched by Rowan, Olivia goes to the one person who shows just how impotent he truly is . Shonda, heard our cries and delivered Maya to us.

Maya is screaming Olivia Pope season 2 with them creamy silk pajamas and her apartment is also similar to Olivia’s style before she lost the light . Interesting that Olivia styled her mama’s apartment with such brightness and light meanwhile her apartment looks like the ninth circle of hell. But like all mama’s they know their child and she’s able to read Olivia like a book; had Quinn not threatened Olivia with the truth she would have been rescued by now but because she’s a liability and a threat Olivia’s uncertain of saving her. But Quinn isn’t just a threat to Olivia’s professional world, but her personal one as well. When Olivia looks at Quinn, she sees the person she was supposed to be, the life she was supposed to have and she’s angry. Quinn is starting a family and being a boss all while remaining true to her self and her values and most of all she’s happy. Quinn dying would mean that Olivia doesn’t have to look at herself and be reminded that she’s failed to capitalize on her hopes and dreams.

Maya, sees that what Olivia is asking for is her permission to let Quinn die. Maya grants Olivia her permission to kill Quinn but even she too wants to know what’s in it for her by helping Olivia. Damn. Poor Olivia.

But Maya’s right though, that’s how she remained unscathed by Rowan when he threatened to kill Dominic (Maya’s lover) Maya let the clock run out and chose to let Dominic die then submit to Rowan showing that nothing and no one can trap her, she is the power that Rowan preaches about.

Mama knows best. And in this situation Olivia is bound to lose. There’s no winner; either she saves Quinn and gives Rowan the upper hand or she remains firm and loses the remaining piece of her soul by choosing to let her friend die instead of saving her.

Feeling the overwhelming weight on her shoulders Olivia is crying in her bed, she pats herself on the chest, the way a mother comforts their child when upset but that is the thing - Olivia’s utterly alone.  ultimately Olivia made her bed and now she must lie in it literally and figuratively speaking. The physical act has Olivia trembling as she wrestles with consequences of her actions.

In a formal room of the White House in the lightest blouse we’ve seen Olivia wear in some time there seems to be a sense of calmness to Olivia, there’s finally natural light in the space she’s occupying. The door opens and Olivia closes her eyes to prepare herself for Mellie and their charade. Olivia gives Mellie her notes and she attempts to leave but Mellie stops her, speaking to Olivia’s need to be wanted, moving towards Olivia, Mellie talks about the sacrifices of President Rashad’s death and that she’s here signing this treaty because of Olivia.

This highlights to the me why I could never stand mellivia and why neither should you. This pretense of feminism is infuriating and Mellie seeing that her key to freedom is leaving uses Olivia’s own words against her in order to convince her to stay. The stark contrast between their clothes and height. Mellie’s wearing the power colors (dark&red )as she towers over Olivia who’s now suddenly seems so small and fragile.

Mellie calls Olivia ‘the champion’ the same word Rowan said to Fitz when describing Olivia. Mellie has the nerve to tell Olivia that they need to be worthy of their sacrifices.

What sacrifices have you made? The one’s where you used your husband’s father raping you as leverage? when you freed your son’s killer so that you could blackmail Olivia to work for you? or when you used the token black girl as your mule to carry you to the finish line. Fuck you Mellie .

Mellie feeling empowered tells Olivia this is only the beginning for them and for some reason I can’t tell whether Olivia was repeating Mellie’s statement flabbergasted or whether she’s simply playing her role of hyping Mellie up. I don’t know.

A member of the Lena Dunham feminism, Mellie makes Olivia repeat after her that they need to be worthy of their sacrifices and that there can’t be nothing , no one and no man standing in our way.  As Olivia repeats those words it’s only when Olivia gets to the no man part that she looks away from Mellie and towards the ground. Hasn’t a man already come between them. Even though Fitz wasn’t seen much this episode, his presence is felt throughout it and certainly at this moment where Olivia no longer seems as tethered to the white house and this way of living. 

Waiting for the time to run out, Olivia goes to Rowan and of course she enters the red door but we don’t see Olivia opening or closing the door instead we are moved immediately to the living room where impatiently Rowan points a gun at Olivia in the same manner that Olivia did to him.

I thought jake removed all of Rowan’s toys and guns so how in the hell does Rowan have one pointed at Olivia! You see this is what I’m talking about , y’all think I’m supposed to believe that super spy was the only one who found Quinn’s footage when his incompetent ass can’t even remove firearms from Rowan’s house? Olivia’s not surprised by seeing the gun pointed at her, she’s use to Jake being a disappointment.

The chess match begins as Olivia and Rowan make threats towards one another. Unable to kill Olivia, Olivia puts a bounty on Rowan’s head; in 20 minutes he’ll be dead if he doesn’t hand Quinn over . But Rowan counters that letting Quinn die is worse than death for Olivia as her soul will be gone forever .  And this is where the true conversation begins.

“ you think Quinn and I are BFFs that I’ll let this cloud my judgment . Or that mini Quinn  She’s caring is a little person I’m already in love with. That I just can’t handle the idea of them both dying . You think there’s a soft chewy center in here . You do think that! You gave me a dead mother. A life in boarding. then you told me everything I knew was a lie. You took away the only man I ever truly loved . You killed his son. and you have consistently erased my hopes; my dreams, my ambitions. You made me in your image.”

The Horrible truth and acknowledgment of their relationship. The first step of recovery is acknowledging and as a start Olivia acknowledged the psychological damage Rowan has put her through since she was a child. Rowan made Olivia motherless and then sent her off to boarding school, her childhood ended. And then Rowan taunts Olivia that he’s the only man she will ever have and to never pick anyone over him again. Finally Rowan strips Olivia of her remaining freedom by continuously putting a wedge between her and the only man she has ever truly loved.  To make Fitz hate her and ruin their love, Rowan kills Fitz’s son; what love can survive that?

I’ve said it many times that Olivia loves Fitz because she choose him. He wasn’t created and orchestrated to seduce her. Fitz is real, not some manufactured b613 toy pulled from the assembly line. So I appreciated Olivia admitting to Rowan and herself that Fitz is the only man she’s ever truly loved and still loves to this day. Olivia has yet to even begin working through the Fitz of it all but this moment of acceptance is a good start for me.

 Rowan has infiltrated his way into every aspect of Olivia’s life, her professional, her personal, and her sexual life.  We are reminded that Olivia is a victim of her environment, how can we hate her when she’s tried so hard to prove herself unlike him that she finally succumbed to what she perceives is her fate.

Has anyone taken note that Olivia is recreating the same moments that Rowan committed to her. 

Olivia has played a role in almost all of her gladiators relationships not working. She broke up Abby and David,  she manipulated Mellie into breaking up with Marcus. Rowan took away the only man she’s ever loved, Olivia controls their relationships the same way Rowan controls hers. If she can’t have love then neither can they.

Olivia has shot down a plane killing a President and innocent civilians, mirroring Fitz shooting down a plane that was supposed to have her mother in it.

Olivia, has finally killed a child on her orders. She killed Yasmeen because it suited her agenda the same way Rowan killed Jerry in order to break up Olivia and Fitz.

Quinn mentioned that she has a witness who knows Olivia bombed President Rashad’s plane so if and when that witness comes out will Olivia kill him/her the same way Rowan killed Harrison?

I don’t believe Quinn is dead though her dying wouldn’t be the worse thing for Olivia as there it would be a real and tangible consequence for Olivia’s own grave yard of bodies .

With Olivia unleashing some of the weight she’s carried all these years we see the predisposed patterns that has influenced and motivated Olivia to this way of living and thinking. 

Olivia still kept her and Rowan’s picture on her table in her apartment yet Rowan has no pictures of Olivia or of anyone hanging on his walls or tables. It’s time for Olivia to move on with her life and she has to let Rowan go and not just figuratively speaking because she tried that and it didn’t work. No. Rowan must die so Olivia can live. 

The empty threats are exchanged until Rowan walks away and we hear a gun shot followed by what sounds like Quinn begging for mercy and then a couple more shots. Olivia jumps shocked, surprised that Rowan actually shot Quinn she trembles with fear as she clinches her stomach from the straight shot to her gut. Olivia mourns and with a matter of seconds she turns cold as she faces Rowan. 

I’m terribly sad to see the show I love go and the characters who I’ve connected with leave my screen. However I’m excited for when this show returns, the trajectory of this story is clear as it moves to the finale stages.

I’m highly optimistic for Olivia and her pursuit of happiness. The finale scene was dark and brutal but the beauty is that Olivia can learn from this and create the life she wants and the people she wants in it.  I will always have hope for Pope and so should you.

Enjoy your holidays with family and friends.

Until next time ,

Muse.

[epacer]

Education

Schools Want COVID-19 Vaccines, But Not Necessarily Mandates

Though public school leaders near and far are pushing for greater access to the coronavirus vaccine for school employees and many tout the vaccines as essential for school reopenings, few are talking about making vaccines a mandate.

The importance of the vaccine in solving the crisis and getting kids back to school campuses cannot be overstated, said Dr. Sayone Thihalolipavan, a medical consultant for San Diego County’s health and human services agency.

Other safety measures are great, but Thihalolipavan told local K-12 school officials during a Jan. 12 online meeting vaccines are “how we get back to normal. This is a key tool in that process of getting to that light at the end of the tunnel.”

The federal Equal Employment Opportunity Commission said in December employers could lawfully require the vaccine of workers, with some exceptions. The state sets requirements for vaccines for school children, including the measles, Hepatitis B and polio, among others.

School reopening agreements bargained with San Diego Unified’s teacher’s union thus far have not mentioned vaccine requirements.

“The mandatory vaccination of students is up to the state,” San Diego Unified spokeswoman Maureen Magee wrote in an email. As for employees, Magee said the vaccine remains voluntary but “if vaccination rates are low when voluntary, the superintendent would refer the issue of having less-than-optimal vaccination rates to our district physician for review with our panel of scientific experts from UC San Diego … to assess the potential impact of varying rates of staff vaccinations.”

Kisha Borden, president of the 6,500-member San Diego Education Association, told Voice of San Diego discussions with San Diego Unified over an employee vaccine mandate “would be pointless” at this stage, and union members have not been surveyed on the issue.

“The state is having trouble obtaining the supply necessary to vaccinate those who are currently eligible to receive a dose,” Borden wrote in an email. “We have not had any discussions with the District around mandating vaccines as it would be pointless given that the District would be unable to obtain the supply necessary to vaccinate all staff. Our focus has been on following the recommendations of experts to get case rates to a level where it would (be) safe to slowly reopen schools.”

SDEA union officials have emphasized the importance of COVID-19 testing, personal protective equipment and other safety measures aside from vaccines in member communications in recent months.

Borden told KPBS in December the union would negotiate to keep all teachers employed even if they decline the vaccine.

Borden signaled her support for keeping vaccines optional at a California Senate education hearing Jan. 21.

“My ask is that our elected leaders focus on making sure educators are able to receive the vaccine, if desired, as soon as possible and combine that effort with adequate funding for the ongoing testing for our students and school staff that is necessary,” Borden said.

Locally, school health professionals like nurses are eligible for vaccines now, while broader school employee ranks will be included in the next wave of vaccines – unless they meet other criteria already, like being at least 65 years old. In smaller California counties, where earlier vaccine waves moved quickly through tinier populations, educators are already eligible.

Eric Joyce, vice president of the Oceanside Unified school board and an education specialist in the Encinitas Union School District, said special education workers should be eligible now, in the earliest wave of vaccines.

“They merit unique consideration because of several factors which may increase their exposure to COVID-19 and the necessity of bringing back students with significant learning, behavioral and emotional needs as soon as safely possible,” Joyce wrote in an email.

Dr. Howard Taras, a UC San Diego pediatrician advising San Diego Unified, told San Diego board members earlier this month there is hope vaccines for all school employees will begin in February and those who want one will be able to get one ideally by April. Taras said school officials should expect to begin next school year with vaccinated staff and unvaccinated students, with other precautions like distancing and masks still in place for those on campus.

San Diego Unified school board president Richard Barrera also spoke at the California Senate hearing Jan. 21 and expressed eagerness for school personnel to get vaccinated, so much so he endorses any educator holdouts who want a vaccine before returning to school campuses, calling such a stance “entirely appropriate.” Barrera also said, “we are close” to some kind of agreement “that would speed up getting our educators vaccinated.”

“We need to get our educators vaccinated as quickly as possible,” Barrera said at the hearing. “When it is safe to reopen, we will reopen at that point, when there’s the vaccines, when there’s the funding to do the full testing that public health experts advise us to do, and when the case rates have come down to a point that it will actually be safe for our students and our staff to reopen.”

For Barrera, safety metrics put out by UC San Diego in August, which mirrored the county health triggers, are the goal: Namely, a seven-day average case rate of no more than a seven cases per 100,000 population, 8 percent test positivity rate and available intensive care unit capacity over 20 percent, among other things.

As of Monday, San Diego County was still missing the mark. The county average COVID-19 case rate was nearly 68 per 100,000, test positivity was averaging 12.6 percent and intensive care units were 83 percent full, leaving 17 percent capacity available, according to county officials.

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San Diego Unified school campuses have remained almost entirely shuttered this school year with few opportunities for in-person services for only select vulnerable student groups, and that is unlikely to change anytime soon. Data reported to the San Diego County Office of Education shows nearly 99 percent of district students are schooling entirely from a distance.

Amid the closure, San Diego Unified School District officials have urged employees and others to get vaccinated, but stop short of any mandate talk.

Barrera told state legislators last week the district has made all its reopening plans in partnership with the district’s unions – and it is likely any contemplated employee mandate would be bargained first.

Presidents of both the American Federation of Teachers and the National Education Association have shied away from weighing in on the possibility of a mandate.

The California Teachers Association has advocated for COVID-19 testing to be mandatory for safe school reopenings, not vaccines. An association representative at the recent Senate hearing talked of vaccine “opportunities” while emphasizing their value.

“Vaccinations are our schools’ hope,” said Lori Easterling, legislative relations manager for the California Teachers Association. “Vaccines need to be part of the school reopening conversations. Schools need a coordinated vaccination plan so that staff, students, parents, guardians and household members who are essential workers or elderly have timely and accessible vaccination opportunities.”

Tristan Brown, legislative advocate for the California Federation of Teachers, also flagged vaccine accessibility as a major point of concern at the hearing.

“We must have a plan for in-person instruction that works in conjunction with vaccine availability at a point where case rates are at a safe zone and also in conjunction with ICU capacity,” Brown said.

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Though San Diego Unified Superintendent Cindy Marten and Los Angeles Unified Superintendent Austin Beutner have acted in lockstep for much of the pandemic in a lot of ways, Beutner has gone further in his vaccine remarks lately – especially when it comes to kids.

Beutner said children will be required to get the vaccine in his district once it’s available to them – though it may be a while. He has not made similar declarations about employee vaccines, but emphasized the value of employee vaccinations in a video address Monday. Beutner has also been publicly pushing for schools to become COVID-19 vaccine distribution sites to speed up their reopening efforts.

San Diego Unified trustee Sharon Whitehurst-Payne asked Marten to turn the district office into a vaccine distribution site for its roughly 13,600 school employees.

“It’s at the (vaccine) delivery point where we are having the problem,” Whitehurst-Payne said at the Jan. 12 board meeting. “I’ve said this to the superintendent, so it is nothing new, on the second of January I said, ‘Why can’t we just open up on the lawn here at the district office and start putting it in people’s arms? We know all the people in the district. We have all the information about them. Just put it in their arms. Use something to separate them out on the lawn so that they are not having contact with others with a mask and so forth.’”

Magee, the district spokeswoman, said San Diego Unified is in talks with UC San Diego and health care partner VEBA about school personnel vaccination sites, and Marten has asked them to consider the district office, “along the lines of what the county has set up with UC San Diego Health at Petco Park.” She said schools will also be considered in the future.

District officials are also talking to San Diego Mayor Todd Gloria about expediting “the vaccination of teachers and other staff necessary to the reopening of schools as soon as they are cleared to receive the vaccine,” Magee said. But for now, “the fastest way to get our workforce vaccinated would be through the existing health care infrastructure.”

While no county vaccine distribution sites are operating at schools at present, county spokeswoman Sarah Sweeney said some schools are under consideration, and “these would serve as locations where anyone eligible could get a vaccine.” For now, school health care workers seeking a COVID-19 vaccine are advised to reach out to their doctor or to get an appointment at a county vaccine center, like Petco Park.

San Diego Unified is continuing to roll out COVID-19 testing to more schools through a partnership with UC San Diego – though few staff and students are on campus to receive them.

San Diego County was operating four COVID-19 testing sites specifically for school personnel late last year but has since closed them for lack of use. County testing sites for the broader population remain open, Sweeney said. *Reposted article from the VOSD by Ashly McGlone, January 26, 2021