#Title suggestions: Home Invasion

[legendary-guest]

In my mind's eye, this plays out like a horror story. The second-hand embarrassment is so potent, so lethal, I had to stop in my first reading of it. Not even I, progenitor of this disaster of a ship, could withstand the initial fallout.

The sour cherry on the melted sundae is a great metaphor, very unique, I quite liked that.

Despite his fatigue reducing him to caveman levels of language, Drakken is so ready to get into an argument with Shego when she accuses him of changing the code; not like she wasn't egging him on this time. It wouldn't be them without petty quibbling at unwelcome moments. I think a full-blown argument would have been preferable to their discovery.

The dread, the sheer dread when he leans in to listen, and those lines!

20 African elephants couldn't withstand the life-destroying properties of those lines from Motor Ed and DNAmy - mostly Ed. Better ride than my Harley?! Even the transcribed groan, no! Actually insane, actually nuts! Hell on Earth. Hell on Earth!

Love, adore, Amy's correction, and the nickname! The situation is ridiculous, so ridiculous, but that moment is so cute!

Feeling the glow before hearing it is a fantastic detail, I quite like that.

The screaming!

What have I done, what have I done?!

The sweet mutterings afterwards are very endearing, though. Yes, I am in so deep with this ridiculous pairing that I made. Yes, I do love torturing myself.

If Drakken weren't so tired, I am certain he'd be on the verge of a heart attack. Call the ambulance to the lair, this is the scene. Drakken taking Shego's hand is so sweet, I love very small things like this. Let it go, they'll deal with them later. Possible has really got them beaten down and now this.

The final sentences. Motor Ed, stealing the show. So brazen. Rank. Foul. Disgusting. SO GROSS!

IT'S BRILLIANT! How did you come up with that? Ugh, it's so foul, so insanely foul and so him!

HAUNTING FINAL LINES THAT PUT THE GREATEST HORROR WRITERS TO SHAME! This was so fantastic. SO NUTS, SO INSANE! Everyone should know that the two of them doing it in the Drakgo bed was BCB's idea, I have yet to be so diabolical as to think of such things.

The cringe. Only the finest, only the best, the highest quality around. I really did not know what would happen when I posted about this pairing. Like DNAmy's feelings towards her homemade creatures, I adore such abominations, and yet, I am not blind to its utter monstrosity.

I'm weird, I do like these moments of genuine softness, like the cooing and Dr. D taking Shego's hand. It rounds it out nicely into, not just a funny story, but, you know, these couples love each other, despite the crazy circumstances.

I honestly feel a little like this right now -

As well as this -

I am not a huge fan of GIF use in posts, but, I will make this the exception. Thank you, BCB, I both love and hate this. I want to see it prosper, and I also want to see it die a horrible death. You have perfectly captured the sheer chaos in which this ship thrives on. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This was so lovely of you to do for me, I adore it to pieces.

[sorry not sorry]

The cool of the lair was welcome against Drakken's sweat-dampened skin as he and Shego walked through the cave in near-darkness. He could have turned the lights up, but his exhaustion demanded only that he fall into bed as swiftly as possible, if his sore limbs could even bring him that far; seeing his way there was a secondary concern.

"I get the shower," Shego said unnecessarily as they approached their room, a sharp edge to her tone borne of the frustration of their defeat coupled with just how tired they were. Having Possible blow up the hover-car with their own laser had been humiliating, but running from the teen and the cops for miles had been the sour cherry on top of the sticky, melted sundae of their failed plot.

Drakken gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement as they approached the doors, and his muscles ached as he quickened his pace, the promise of soft oblivion motivating him. But then as he reached the automatic doors...they didn't open.

"Dr. D., what gives?" Shego asked, pushing her frizzed hair back before setting her hands on her hips.

Drakken was already reaching for the keypad to input the code to unlock the door, scowling at the delay. It should have opened at their presence, but he was too eager for bed to consider that he hadn't in fact locked the door when they left that day.

The door didn't respond to the code.

"Could you hurry up already?" Shego said.

"It's...broken," Drakken said, feeling his every nerve ending tingle with the desperation to lie down.

"How is it broken? Move," Shego said, shouldering Drakken aside to try the code herself.

When two tries from her yielded nothing, Drakken started looking the door up and down as if it were an enemy he was sizing up.

"Did you change the code?"

"No, why would I—"

"Wait. Dr. D.... Did you hear something?"

Drakken had paused, leaned against the door in his exhaustion as Shego started in, but now he turned and pressed his ear against the cold metal as Shego's brow furrowed.

His eyes widened. There was sound within their bedroom. He closed his eyes tightly and focused, trying to bring the rise and fall of different pitches into something recognizable.

And then, his eyes popped open as it did.

"Onh, seriously Ames... You're a better ride than my Harley."

"Call me...DNAmy... Eddie-Bear."

Drakken felt the heat of Shego's glow before he heard it crackle, and turned to see her face changing color as a combination of fury and disbelief overtook her features as rapidly as he knew disgust was claiming his.

"Is that...your cousin...and that geneticist...!?"

"In...our bed," Drakken finished in a whisper, his mouth having gone dry.

He couldn't begin to form another thought as combined shouts of ecstasy, one piercing in pitch and the other guttural and triumphant sounded from within their bedroom.

Shego's hands flared. Drakken whirled and pounded his fist against the door.

"Eddie!" he shouted. "What are you doing in my lair!?"

"Sheesh, 'Cous, at least give us some time in the afterglow, seriously."

"Eddie!"

Silence was the reply, except for muttered soft cooings that made Drakken's hair stand on end. He opened his mouth to tell Shego to break the door down, but then thought better of it. He wanted to see his cousin in bed with DNAmy even less than he'd wanted to hear them.

"Ugh, forget it Dr. D. Let's...just go to my room."

The call to rest was more tempting in the moment than dealing with his cousin, and so Drakken acquiesced, took her hand after the glow diminished to follow her down the hall. But before they were out of earshot, one final blow left Drakken in doubt of getting any peace that evening:

"Oh, and 'Cous? You might want to have Green burn these sheets later. This was only round three and I've still got plenty of gas to fuel my babe, seriously!"

---------

[all this because @legendary-guest said Eddie won't do it in Amy's frilly pink bed, and she won't do it in his race car bed (with actual race car), so they compromised on...Drakgo's bed. nicknames Ames and Eddie-Bear belong to Legendary, haha. this one's for you, friend!]

[punkeccentricenigma]

headcanons with the rise boys and a reader who is in med school! Graduated high school early and is training to be a doctor! Romantic or platonic, your pick

Rise!Boys with Reader who is in Med School

Relationship status: platonic

Reader prounouns: They/Them

TW: Mention of slicing the frog, Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language.

Author's note: Just so you know, I am not familiar with medicine at the college level, only what I had in high school biology, so I tried to write these headcanons as neutrally as possible. And all in all, even if I learn anything now, it is only in the field of physiotherapy because my friend is going to such studies this year, so sorry if it's not what you wanted, but still, enjoy!

Leonardo

◇I won't lie, I'm sure this guy admires you.

◇Not everyone gets a chance to get into such a school!

◇But knowing his personality, he'll probably tease you a lot, calling you a 'nerd.'

◇It usually doesn't cross the line, BUT if Leonardo goes too far with his teasing, especially when you're tired after classes, you often threaten to perform a dissection on him like a frog.

◇And when he arrogantly waved it off at first, you and Donnie pulled a prank on him with that theme.

◇Everything was recorded as he lay pinned to the table, and you stood over him with a scalpel.

◇Leo thinks you're very diligent, hardworking, and disciplined, which also means mentally exhausted.

◇Such a school demands a lot, so expect that during study sessions in your cozy home, that idiotic turtle will come and drag you to the hidden city to relax.

◇I'm sure he'll try to make you laugh often using elaborate medical jokes he found on the internet.

◇Sometimes he also feels a bit jealous. He has some basic knowledge when he has to patch himself or his brothers up, but deep down, he would also like to go to such a medical school to enhance his skills. But you see the whole situation.

◇But don't worry! In your free time, you'll give him a bit of education with the knowledge you've acquired so far.

◇Even if he tries to hide it, he's a bit overwhelmed by the vast amount of knowledge and skills you possess.

◇But despite that, he's proud of you for taking on the challenge and fulfilling your dreams! Or at least you're on the right path to doing so.

Raphael

◇The proudest big bro! You got into that school?? Amazing!

◇Your number one supporter!

◇Raphael truly appreciates your intelligence, hard work, and determination. He never imagined himself getting into a medical school, not only because of the whole situation but also because his knowledge absolutely doesn't go in the same direction as yours. But that his friend managed it? Nice!

◇He admires your selfless need to help other people. He's keeping his green fingers crossed for you to achieve that dream medical title!

◇I'm sure he suggested some ‘experiments’ on himself for you to practice a topic from lectures. In the end, you hit him on the head for such an absurd idea. You didn't intend to do that! That's Donatello's role! Besides, mixed human DNA with turtle DNA would probably mess with your mind more than help.

◇Although their biology sometimes interested you.

◇When he notices you're tired and stressed from all the medical material, he'll gladly take you to their living room, and under a warm blanket, you'll have a Lou Jitsu movie marathon (where you'll eventually fall asleep, lmao) or play a bandana takeover with his brothers, all tricks allowed for your amusement!

◇Hey, don't complain about his support. Many times, you've helped him when he was stressed about being the leader before Leo or after the Kraang invasion. That's all he can do!

◇Sometimes he was confused and a bit unhappy when you started explaining various medical terms or tools to him. Raph is simple; give him a lighter version of all that.

◇Sometimes he wasn't happy that you declined meetings because of studying or lectures. Hey! He also needs attention sometimes D:

Donatello

◇Donnie is really proud of you, even if he doesn't express it in words every day.

◇But as a reward for your hard work, he'll fine-tune the devices you use for practice or build something helpful.

◇He appreciates your genuine interest in understanding difficult concepts and your ability for critical thinking. You don't even know how much he needed someone like you in his life, looking at his family.

◇Despite your enthusiasm and intelligence, he thinks you might overly stress about grades and perfectionism, which in the long run can lead to stress and burnout. So, he often forces you to take a break in his lab, sipping mint-flavored coffee.

◇It's also his small revenge for taking him away from his work on new inventions when he hasn't slept for two days in a row, lmao.

◇But if it's not spending time with him, the guy will go through all your material at the moment to make cheat sheets with the most important information.

◇You pose an intellectual challenge for him and keep him on his toes, but he always enjoys discussing and exploring different perspectives on a topic with you, even though he leans more towards technological knowledge than biological.

◇However, despite his intelligence, Donnie in those moments can be a bit 'know-it-all' and doesn't always consider the opinions or feelings of other people, or even the actual facts.

Michelangelo

◇You won't convince me he wouldn't be initially confused; I mean, he's the least interested in medical topics.

◇But as soon as you start explaining, he'll immediately admit that he's impressed and that he's really proud of you!

◇He'll always mention how much he appreciates your determination to achieve your dreams!

◇Personally, I have a headcanon that Mikey wants to become one of the most recognizable artists, so he roughly knows how frustrating it is when something doesn't work out.

◇In a way, I think Mikey sees you as his role model, so feel proud to be compared to Lou Jitsu :D

◇Mikey sometimes worries a lot about your mental health after lectures. So, expect many long conversations about self-care.

◇Being the youngest of the brothers, he got a lot of attention, so he'll often be jealous of how much time you spend at school and with human friends rather than with him. He knows it's immature behavior, but he can't help it!

[slayerchick303]

*SECRET INVASION FINALE SPOILERS*

I just finished Home, and I have some thoughts:

Rhodey was in a hospital gown when he got out of the pod! I swear to all that is holy, if they have him been replaced by a skrull after his injury in Civil War, I will march on Disney headquarters! That would cheapen Tony's death, funeral, and Rhodey's amazing conversation with Sam in Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I said I'd freak out if they made the swap previous to FATWS, and I meant it!

Gravik's human face was a man he killed, so I'm assuming the same is true for G'iah. If she is indeed going to be Abigail Brand as leaks have suggested (meaning Abigail Brand is dead), I'm going to be mad! Like legitimately disappointed. Brand is one of my favorite parts of the Astonishing X-Men comics run. I ship her and Beast so hard.

When was Everett Ross swapped? It has to have been after Black Panther because he would've reverted to his skrull form after being shot and/or Shuri would've noticed while healing him. Has a skrull infiltrated Wakandan leadership?! How many? For how long? Because that's BAD. Imagine the havoc skrulls could wreak with Wakanda's resources.

The CGI in this was pretty good. Especially compared to other recent Disney+ titles. That being said, I hate a lot of how they used it. Giving G'iah a huge Drax arm?! Bad choices in multiple ways: A.) the big Drax arm looked so weird as did other things. B.) do they think Marvel fans are too stupid to get what they were doing if they didn't make her arm huge? They should've kept Emilia's arm the same size, only given her Drax's tattoos and skin color at most. We would've understood. C.) the clothing changed too! How does that make sense?

Is Gravik really dead, though? Is Raava? We don't know if Raava has super skrull powers, but Gravik had like EVERYTHING. That seems like it should make him pretty invincible.

How did people not clock how off Rhodey was? There was like an enormous change in his personality. Raava was a jerk!

So, Fury and Sonya only tranqed those secret service members at the hospital. That wouldn't automatically make them revert, right, or every skrull would be outed when they fell asleep. If all those guards were humans, they were legitimately the worst security detail ever. That one guy literally listened to SkrullRhodey pretty much out herself and did nothing. He didn't even warn the president Rhodey was acting uncharacteristically. Every member of White House personale will have to be tested somehow. Maybe check for purple blood?

I really thought Ritson would die at the end. I guess he's just awful (which is unsurprising). I'm glad he won't be president much longer, as Harrison Ford is taking over the role of President Thaddeus Ross in Captain America: Brave New World. That being said, part of me worries that President Ross might be even worse than Ritson.

I kind of loved Varra and Fury's ending. It redeemed the awful, "I guess we'll never know moment."

****EDIT:**** I didn't think about this at the time, but I saw someone else bring it up. G'iah has Captain Marvel powers now! Doesn't that mean she should be caught up in the entanglement mess Captain Marvel, Photon, and Miss Marvel are dealing with in The Marvels?! That's an ENORMOUS plot hole. Not to mention, G'iah is ridiculously overpowered now. People complain about how powerful Superman is, and G'iah is so much worse.

I enjoyed Secret Invasion, even if it wasn't the best Disney+ show. The comics are still WAY better. Regardless, I'm looking forward to The Marvels even more now.

[tobiasdrake]

Oh my god, I haven't talked about Secret Invasion in weeks but I just finished it and.... uggggggggggh.

I said before that Ant-Man: Quantumania was the worst thing that Marvel ever produced. I stand by calling it trash. But Secret Invasion definitely takes that title away from them.

Quantumania is just boring, ill-conceived, and lacking in creative integrity. It's badly made. But Secret Invasion is actively malicious. It's an elaborate piece of hateful propagandizing. It's an Alt-Right manifesto about the danger of refugees masquerading as an exciting fantasy show.

The villains are a group of refugees who came in to escape from violence and persecution in their homeland, but who are secretly plotting to slaughter us all and take our land.

The hero is a guy who sympathizes with the refugees but Not In My Back Yard. He wants them to have a place to exist... somewhere... but he also wants them to get the fuck out of his country, and he throws a fit over the suggestion that maybe they could just stay here. While at the same time exploiting them for labor and taking one of their women for his wife, who he regularly neglects.

And the one guy, the ONE GUY who genuinely believes in integration between the refugees and their host nation? That guy? That guy is treated as a naive fool by both sides of the conflict for his faith in people, and ultimately dies for it - Giving his life to save a man who will go on to declare a new campaign of genocide against his people.

And that's where the show fucking ends. The insidious refugees try to commit genocide against their host nation. The host nation retaliates with a campaign of genocide against the refugees. And our racist-but-not-that-racist hero marches off to go negotiate with the refugees' original oppressors so he can ship them home and get them the fuck off his property.

Wow.

Just wow.

Marvel, this is horrible.

Kevin Feige needs to go to his room for a few years and think about what he signed off on.

[ramoth13]

The Question of the Rings: What do they do? A Brief and Humble History

Season 2 has been a hive of fascinating interpretations. Annatar's manipulations, Celebrimbor's crafts, or the stranger's tension between mastery and service, there is almost no end to the ways in which the series has taken on fundamental aspects of the lore.

But one element I've been rather intrigued by is the way the series will display its title subject matter: the power of the rings. Here, I would like to take a turn discussing the Elven Rings specifically. And hopefully I can take a turn at the other sets (men, dwarves, and Sauron's later). There is an answer that stays true to the original intention, which they have seemingly held true to in the series as well,- the rings provide stasis of life.

In the third age, Elves no longer dot and populate the trees, hills, and mountains of Middle-earth. In fact, there are seemingly only four elven realms left, Rivendell, Lothlorian, Mirkwood, and the Grey Havens. Of these, only Mirkwood is not under the direct power of an Elven Ring at any given time.

Mirkwood's king, Thranduil, is unique in this roster as being the only king of an elvish land never under the stasis of a ring. But it is important to also note that his realm is the only realm that is shrinking, beset on all sides by the darkness of the forest, the invasion of the spiderlings, and even Necromancers. Even if the necromancer in question was Sauron (and there is plenty of evidence to suggest it was, but nothing definitive so far as I'm aware), the Sindarin king is a far cry from his powerful former counterpart, Thingol, whose wife was a maiar with the powers of protection. Thranduil's kingdom isn't just shrinking though, it is also the last of the original holdouts.

Although Thranduil and his son Legolas are Sindarin, those people who went towards the Valar but never made it to the sea, they rule over Silvans, those elves who stayed in their forests refusing the call of Valinor. They are hermits, whose way of life is quickly fading. They are considered the least in grandeur and wisdom of all elves (my sincerest apologies to Arondir and Tauriel, I love you both and dearly).

So why is it that the realm of Mirkwood is struggling to stay afloat while the other three elven strongholds thrive?

Indeed, the rings of power have the power to maintain. Think of the trees of Lothlorian, which have all faded and died in all other parts of Middle-earth (minus the seedling which Samwise plants in the shire, of course). Think of the last homely house of Elrond, right at the foot of mountains filled with goblins and wargs, yet not even the Witch-King of Angmar may enter it.

At this point, some of my fellow Enthusiasts might point out that in the third age, the third ring of power no longer resides in the Grey Havens. Old Círdan gave his ring away...

They are correct, of course. The last of the Elven rings, Narya, lies hidden away, upon the finger of a wandering Maiar trapped in the body of an old man. An istari, once known as Olórin, better known to the elves as Mithrandir, and to the Dwarves as Tharkûn, but to good hobbits and men as Gandalf.

So how does the Grey Havens fit into the stasis field? It is not a kingdom, but a doorway, one in which the Valar have opened and maintained, to bring the elves home to Valinor. Only those under the powers of the rings and the holdouts, the Silvans, are left. But the Valar maintain that opened gate. The Haven is not a permanent residence, but a path towards the home of all Elves.

Which at last leads to the question: if Gandalf has the ring Narya and its power is one of life and stasis, how is he using it? I suspect Rings of Power may yet show us. But if they do not, I would posit that his wanderings are a clue. The great elven lords of the third age (Elrond, Galadriel, and Círdan) are maintaining their realms for very different reasons. Unlike the others, Galadriel cannot leave for Valinor, for her test is not yet finished (she must prove that she is willing to give up power). Círdan is maintaining the Havens until all of the elves leave, and Elrond seems to be acting as historian and tour-guide to those passing to Valinor.

But Gandalf's use of the ring seems to be less regional. That is, by traveling, he spreads the Ring's influence throughout Middle-earth. My speculation here (and in that I mean that this is where personal opinion is treading new ground) is that the Gandalf uses the Ring to bring life and prosperity wherever he travels, be it as Gandalf to the Hobbits and Cities of Men, as Mithrandir to the Elven Havens and elvish realms, or as Tharkûn to the Dwarven halls under mountains.

It is worth noting that the Elven Rings have been rumored glimpses of martial power, such as when the aforementioned 9 wraiths are halted at the border of Imládris. It is presumed that it is the powers of the Ring that kept them at bay. But with the exception of the video game (Shadow of Mordor), I am not familiar with any other attempts to show the rings as martial weapons. Not to say they don't exist.

It will be interesting to see where the Rings of Power series takes the power of the rings. I hope this was helpful and/or at least interesting!

Na lû e-govaded 'wîn.

~Ramoth13

[armandssilkshirt]

Wip wednesday, for a fic I’m tentatively titling: such sweet sorrow

I haven’t written fic for a big fandom like this in years atp and I don’t know how to navigate fandom space anymore! Anyway!

-

The plane ticket arrives in a sleek, cream envelope, inscribed with his name and nothing else, written out in neat, precise block capitals. Daniel takes note of several things immediately, of varying levels of importance and with varying degrees of incredulity:

The Vampire Armand knows his address, and either hand delivered the ticket himself, or puppeteered one of his neighbors or delivery guys into doing so on his behalf. By extension, either he was close by, or has been in near enough vicinity to get someone else to do his bidding, just waiting to ruin Daniel’s perfectly good Tuesday afternoon. It occurs to Daniel, too, that the plane ticket is Armand purposefully tipping his hand. The likelihood that he’s still around, watching him receive his spontaneous gift right now through a goddamn crack in the wall or some other gross invasion of privacy, is significantly greater than zero. He always did like to see a plan through to the end, after all. This is unlikely to be the exception.

The timing of the ticket itself is also more than disquieting, and not likely to be a coincidence. Daniel signed off an all his last approvals two days ago, and is now waiting on his publisher and agent to get back to him with details about the proposed marketing campaign and book tour, as well as hear back from the designer’s mock up for the cover, which he can comment on, but not, apparently veto. In publishing, Daniel has long learned you need to pick your battles and let the book speak for itself. Everyone’s going to think he’s clinically insane anyway, who cares if the art department intern who gets shoved this job gets a little carried away with it. Anyway—Daniel’s work is mostly done, and from here till the promotional calendar, it’s pretty much dead time. Armand has been listening. As far as ‘Congrats on completing your book!’ presents go, Daniel’s had better but he’s also had worse, too—his ex-wife served him divorce papers after his last one—so Daniel will take the plane ticket, actually. And Armand knows that if he’s going to take a vacation, now would be the time to do it. He wonders if his emails are accessible, or if Armand’s just been playing it old-school, standing on his balcony listening to him bitch out his editor, instead. He supposes he should be grateful that he’s been allowed the short lull beforehand, and that the ticket is booked a week in advance, enough notice to tie up any loose ends in New York that he might need to attend to. Considerate, really, Daniel has to admit.

All of which is to say, of course, that any illusions Daniel had been laboring under about the safety of his own home—the ignorance is bliss attitude he’d adopted since he’d stumbled through his front door two months ago, still shaking the Dubai wall dust off his shirt—are shattered. He’s attracted an undead stalker, and you can’t exactly take a restraining order out on those guys. It’s a bitch, because Daniel really did like this apartment, too. Even if Armand isn’t here to kill him—the plane ticket seems to suggest he at least has a different location in mind—that isn’t to say some other vampire won’t try to beat him to the job, and decide to turn his living room into a morgue as some sort of warning if/when he happens to not be at home. Maybe he should drape a sheet over his couch. He’s spilled enough red wine over it to know it stains like hell.

Charles De Gaulle airport is unexpected, but in a split second retrospect, he guesses it shouldn’t be. Obviously, Armand wants to rehash the story, spin his own series of events, even if he was too late to try to edit the first book, and he’s dramatic enough to want to walk the streets he spilled with blood while he does it. Daniel hasn’t been to Europe in a while. He remembers Paris in October as being beautiful; the turning of the leaves running crimson and orange through the city, cool and crisp but not yet so bitter as to be unpleasant. He could have picked worse places to stage his temper tantrum. Daniel can also understand him wanting to get out of the metropolitan maze of Dubai, and the penthouse that might as well have been a prison tower, though for whom, Daniel’s now not sure.

Which brings him to the shock of the ticket itself, and Armand’s unwelcome but now obvious presence in his life. When Daniel picked up his few belongings and high-tailed it out of the penthouse before any more rubble could fall on his head, literally or figuratively, Armand had been hunched in on himself, tucked against the baseboard, plaster hanging like teardrops onto the black of his eyelashes. Even with the baleful look in his eyes, he’d seemed, to Daniel, like a boy—suddenly forced to stop playing dress up and close the costume-box lid. Smaller, younger, both fearful and indignant at his newfound nakedness. Ready to lash out, of course, but also on the precipice of caving in. An unstable death star. Perhaps it would have been too easy, but he’d wondered if Armand might, as one last act of self-sacrificing spite, find himself a fire to throw himself into, hoping to haunt Louis as Lestat did. He’d even been half-expecting it. That he didn’t is almost more concerning. It suggests that Armand has unfinished business. If it’s with Daniel, for ruining his shambolic supernatural marriage, then Daniel supposes Paris is as nice a place to die as any. Hopefully Armand will dispose of his body efficiently. He’d hate for his daughters to have to pay for posthumous repatriation. That would be a terrible reason to go into credit card debt.

Lastly, with an almost amused observation, he notes that the handwriting on the envelope is not the same as the writing in the margins of the script he flung down like a hand grenade on that table weeks ago. Armand’s writing there had sprawled across the page, the loops of his cursive proving to be his noose. That he’s decided to adopt a new style is unsurprising. As a professional chameleon and an evidenced control freak, it makes sense that Armand would pay attention to details enough to change this aspect too. This is Armand reinventing himself; a signifier of the new start he’s trying to establish and the distance he’s trying to put between himself and his past crimes. In comparison to the writing on the script, this new style is careful, takes up little space, and is officiously self-aware. Deceptively nondescript. It almost makes Daniel laugh. Armand’s relying on him knowing who the envelope is from anyway, so the change in signature is nothing but set-dressing.

Well, not quite—the very last thing he observes, with some belated horror and disappointment aimed squarely at himself—is that immediately, Daniel knows he’s going to take the ticket. It’s barely a conscious decision. There’s precedent, of course—he’s already jumped on a plane in an ongoing pandemic to go on an ill-advised research trip. Armand could be reasonably sure he’d roll the dice and go for another. He tries to argue with the part of himself that screams it’s the height of stupidity to take another risk in exactly the same way, that, actually, staying would only be shoving his head in the sand. He’s made himself a target, or he’s about to when publication rolls around, and Armand might turn out to be the least of his problems, in the long run. Why not see what he wants in the meantime? And besides—isn’t it better the Devil you know? 

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Reunion Disaster - Steve Rogers X Female Reader

Title: Reunion Diaster

Steve Rogers X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother, Reader's father (Mentioned), Reader's family (Mentioned), Bucky (Mentioned), Sam (Mentioned), and Loki (Mentioned)

WC: 3,460

Warnings: Reader has a mother and father, Reader doesn't have a good relationship with family, bullying, Reader's mother is probably a Karen, nervousness, anxiety, embarrassment, fear of failure, teasing, taunting, mentions of the 2012 invasion, love at first sight mentioned, slightly suggestive, Steve gets protective, family angst, and fluff

You never really had a good relationship with your family. Sure, some of your cousins were alright and you had a nice aunt and uncle here and there, but your parents were a whole nother story. Ever since you were a kid, they always made sure you felt like a failure. They didn’t want you to grow up to be a disappointment so they never showed any interest in your hobbies or likes. Everything you did, to them, wasn't enough or 'perfect' enough. In high school, when you won second place in the Science Fair, your parents scolded you for not getting first. When you got into college, they weren't pleased that you didn't go into politics as they expected. They didn't even seem happy for you when you moved away from town because they didn't expect you to go too far. In reality, your move from New Jersey to New York was to get away from them. Your mother kept trying to make you think about the 'real world' so it was hard to have any fun.

It was frustrating at first, but then you realized it was better than nothing. So you started doing things for yourself. Going on adventures, making new friends, and having fun being a young adult in the city that never sleeps. One day though, while out with friends, heading to a cafe for lunch, aliens came out of the sky and some guy in a gold-horned helmet was at the center of it. You almost, almost regretted moving to New York, but that was also the day you met him. Captain America had saved you that day, pulling you out of the way of falling shrapnel and concrete. You could still remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, so protective and strong as he asked if you were alright. You could still remember that day, looking into his deep blue eyes; unable to look away until he was called back into action. 

Meeting Steve was the best thing to have ever happened to you. You fell, and you fell hard. Ever since that day, you had thought about Steve every moment you could. Just turning on the TV to the news just for the chance to catch a glimpse of his beautiful face. And Steve had been in the very same boat. Ever since he saved you, he couldn't get you out of his head. Steve had no idea how to get in contact with you or find you in any way. Long story short, while having breakfast with Bucky and Sam, you entered the same restaurant with your friends. After a little bit of confidence boosting by his friends, Steve got up and went over to you. You didn't notice him walking over at first, only looking over when your friends' faces were all slacked-jaws and wide eyes. 

And that was the beginning of your relationship. 

Four years later, your relationship with Steve, and life in general, couldn't possibly get any better than it already was... But it could get worse. Your parents were hosting the annual family reunion at their home. When you got the message early from your cousin, you prepared yourself for a phone call from your mother. She would probably call you, insisting that you come, and bring Steve with you. But she would ask earnestly, no. A year into your relationship with Steve, you visited your parents during the holidays and told them about your boyfriend. You told them that you were dating Steve Rogers. 

Your father, being a news station and newspaper fiend, knew who you were talking about, and so did your mother. Almost instantly your mother let out her signature cackle, letting you know bluntly that there was no possible way that you were dating the Captain America. And with that, you never brought up Steve to them again, but not before one last time, trying to prove it to them with a selfie of the two and your boyfriend, but that only failed on you as well. 

"Darling, just because you got a picture with Captain America does not mean you're dating him. Really, Frank, who knew we'd raise such a delusional daughter."

You hadn't told Steve about the reunion either. You didn't even know if you should go in the first place. But, you were going to have to, if you didn't your mother would have a fit and try and guilt-trip you in some way. You didn't want to be subjected to her more than you already had to, so going to that stupid reunion was the only option. But you didn't want to go alone, you didn't think you could handle your parents, and other members of your family, by yourself. Constant bickering, Uncle Pete and his old-fashioned views, the screaming toddler cousins running around, and your mother reminding everyone how disappointing you are. You felt your shoulders fall in defeat, you'd have to ask Steve if he would go with you. And, you knew the answer. 

~~~

Brushing through your hair with your favorite brush, you untangled all the knots that accumulated throughout the day, all dressed and comfy in your pajamas; your back pressed firmly against the upholstered headboard. You let your mind wander as the sound of Steve's shower filled in the silence. Your mind raced with the many horrible events that could happen at the reunion. There was no doubt that your mother was going to bad-mouth you in your own presence, making you feel terrible about yourself, your personality, appearance, etc. After a moment, the door opened, revealing Steve's perfectly-built silhouette against the light of the bathroom. You looked at him, admiring his bare skin, as he ran a smaller blue towel through his hair. His hair was damp as he ruffled it before tossing the damp towel into the clothes hamper on the other side of the room. 

Steve walked over to the side of the bed, keeping eye contact with you as he adjusted his sweatpants that hung low on his hips. You couldn't help the smile that slowly made its way onto your face, the both of you not bothering to say a word as the look in your eyes said it all. Steve leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss, his hands cupping your face. Pulling away slightly, he kissed the tip of your nose gently. "Hello, beautiful," He greeted you, brushing the loose strands of your hair behind your ear and taking your hand.

You smiled at his sweet words, "Hello to you too, handsome." You were so glad to see him. He had been so busy with whatever Fury wanted that you hardly got to see him at all that day.

Steve pressed one more kiss to your forehead before slipping into bed beside you, turning on his side and wrapping his arm around your waist, his face digging into your side as you sat your brush on your bedside table. Instantly, your fingers slid through Steve's soft, damp hair, gently massaging his scalp, generating a soft groan from the man himself. As you ran your fingers through his hair, you felt Steve's nose rub against your side, tickling you slightly, and gaining your attention.

"What's on your mind?" His deep voice spoke up, slightly muffled as his face was still pressed against Steve's... Your shirt. You hadn't even realized that you were even staring off into space, but Steve being Steve, knew something was wrong.

"Just..." You get the words stuck in your throat as you try to force them out. It's now or never. You took a deep breath before you finally decided to speak up. "My mom called, she wants me to come to the family reunion next weekend."

Steve snuggled his face closer into your side, soothing you slightly from just his touch; helping you know that he is always there for you. "Do you want to go?" He then asked, and you felt your chest begin to tighten.

You swallowed before answering, "Well, I have to. It's my mother we're talking about-"

"But do you want to go?" Steve interrupted you, making you look down at him, meeting his blue eyes as he stared up at you.

A small sigh left your mouth, shaking your head. "No... Not really. But she’ll then bother me and call me non stop asking me how come I never came-"

"If you want me to, sweetheart," He cut you off once more, trailing off slightly as his hand around your waist found its way under your shirt, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into your warm skin, "I'll go with you."

You let out a sigh, your heart skipping a beat at how sweet Steve was being, and how understanding he was in general. Letting out one more sigh, you spoke, "Thank you, Stevie. But the main reason why I am so... Anxious is that my parents don't think I'm really dating you."

At that, Steve looked up, pushing himself up onto his arms as he looked up at you with a raised eyebrow. "Really?" He asked, sort of at a loss for words as you nodded.

"I told them flat-out after the first year but they didn't believe me. I even tried showing them a picture of the two of us when we both went to the Empire State Building, but they were being... Irritating as usual."

Steve frowned slightly, overall confused as he spoke up, "Why don't they believe you?" 

You let out a small huff as you began to play with your fingers nervously, "Oh, darling, you can't possibly be dating the Captain America. Why would you think he'd go for someone like you?" You mimicked your mother's voice, pitching up your tone before continuing, "Darling, just because you got a picture with Captain America does not mean you're dating him. Really, Frank, who knew we'd raise such a delusional daughter." You remembered your mother's horrible words, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment, and quickly shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts from your mind.

You then let out a small squeak as Steve pulled you down the bed, your head landing on your pillow. Placing each hand on either side of your head, Steve gazed down at you, "Sweetheart," Steve whispered, looking directly into your eyes, a soft smile adorning his face. "You know that I love you, right?" The way he said it, in such a tender voice, and looking at you with this loving expression made you melt. You didn't even bother replying as you wrapped your arms around Steve's neck, pressing your body flush against his. Steve held you close, kissing the top of your head softly, "If you really need to go, no matter the reason, I'll go with you."

You felt your confidence growing, letting out a small giggle, you brushed your fingers against Steve's back, trailing along his spine slowly, causing the blonde-haired Super Soldier to shiver. You begin to feel giddy, giddy at the thought of seeing your parents' faces when you arrive with Steve on your arm. You were done with how they had both been treating you. You weren't going to stand for their behavior anymore. 

"Stevie, thank you," You began, letting your nail gently graze across his bare shoulder, "And thank you for wanting to come with me... And supporting me, loving me..."

Steve pushed himself back up, giving you a small grin as he gazed down at you, "Of course," He paused, his minty breath ghosting over your lips, "Anything for you, honey." You returned the gesture before pulling Steve down, connecting your lips with his, kissing him deeply as he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

~~~

Adjusting your outfit in the bathroom mirror, you let out a shaky breath. It was the day of the reunion, and you were already feeling nervous. Fidgeting with your hair, you didn't notice when Steve poked his head into the room, watching as you fiddled with your hair, before readjusting the hem of your sweater. Steve pushed off the doorway and coming up behind you, Steve wrapped his arms around your waist, capturing your attention. Your eyes lock on his blue ones through the mirror, watching as he places his chin on your shoulder. He was dressed in his favorite blue button-up and tan pants. Looking as gorgeous as ever.

"You look beautiful," He assured you, making you smile sheepishly before nodding. The more you were with Steve, the more comfortable you felt with everything. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had been able to accept you, to love you without question since the very beginning. Turning you around in his arms, Steve gave you another tight hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. After a few seconds, he broke apart from the embrace, placing his hands on your upper arms, looking at you intently, smiling gently at you as you looked up at him. "Are you ready?" He then asked, and you nodded, feeling more and more ready.

~~~

The drive was a good two hours, but those two hours were filled with singing along to pop songs on the radio, the GPS giving Steve directions, and the breeze whipping through your hair. But that feeling of being carefree soon dissipated when your eyes landed on your parents' home. The large home, five bedroom - three bath, stood almost menacingly; mocking and calling to you. You squeezed Steve's hand that you held in your lap, your free hand playing with the band of the watch on his wrist. glancing down at the said object, it seemed that you were right on time. 

Pulling into the driveway, you recognized some of the other cars parked there; your Aunt Bernice, and your cousin Sue. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Steve let go of your hand. Letting out a breath, you accepted your fate and unbuckled your seat belt, just as Steve opened your passenger side door. His gentleman acts never ceased to make your stomach erupt into butterflies, but today, especially, today you were more than grateful for his help.

As you walked up the cobbled walkway, Steve kept a firm grip on your hand, his thumb running soothingly over the back of your hand as you approached the house. Heading to the backyard, you could hear people chatting and laughing, making your stomach turn into one giant knot. Steve reached out and opened the white picket fence's gate, allowing you to enter as he shut it behind him. Looking around, you noticed that almost your entire family was present, from cousins, aunts, and uncles; it was a full house. 

Noticing how anxious you were quickly becoming, Steve gestured to the refreshments table a few feet away. You didn't want him to leave you but you really wanted some lemonade. Leaning down, Steve gave you a small kiss on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

As you watched him leave for the table, you felt as if everything would be alright, that is, until you heard your mother shriek your name. You froze before you plaster a small smile on your face, turning around to face your mother's sickly-sweet beaming smile. "Y/N! Darling! You came!" She came over, her arms open wide to bring you into a hug before he stopped. Looking around, she put on a pout, "No date?" She asked you, sounding disappointed as she clasped her hand together, her eyebrows furrowed.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head frantically, "No, mom-"

"And after all those years of you insisting that you were dating Captain America..." She scoffed, crossing her arms, "Really, darling, I expected better of you..." You furrowed your eyebrows as your mother's words trailed off, watching as she eyed something behind you; her eyes wide in shock as her mouth hung open slightly agape.

You looked behind you and let out a sigh of relief as Steve came over holding a cup of what you could only hope was lemonade. Your bravery was growing by the second as you wrapped your arm around Steve's waist, him doing the same as he handed you your drink. "Mom," You spoke up, turning your attention to the woman before you, "This is my boyfriend, Steve."

Your mother just continued to stare at Steve, and he was used to it by others back in New York, but your mother was making him a bit nervous too. "You're Captain America." She stated, before narrowing her eyes slightly, "How much is she paying you?" She then demanded, her tone accusatory as Steve frowned, becoming as confused as he was becoming irritated. 

"She's not paying me, Mrs. L/N." Steve spoke, ever the gentleman as his arm around you tightened, "I really am dating your daughter."

"But- But that's absurd!" Your mother screeched, this time in shock and defiance as he glanced from you to Steve, "You with her?" She then turned to you, talking down at you as if you were a child again, "Darling, you don't need to bribe superheroes to get dates." She spat, her disgust palpable. "This is childish, really."

Steve glared daggers at your mother, clenching his jaw tightly, "Excuse me?" He growled, his voice deepened slightly, it almost surprised you. You never really heard him use his authoritative voice. You had only heard it a couple of times when you were with the other Avengers hanging out or that one time you watched a mission with Fury. You had to admit, the tone in his voice was making you feel some sort of way. "How dare you speak about her in that way." He said, his voice low and dangerous, "Look ma'am, you have an intelligent, generous, funny, and gorgeous daughter, and it's a shame that you can't see that. She deserves so much more than whatever your family has thrown at her." Your mother's face flushed red with embarrassment and your heart fluttered as you stared up at Steve in awe; your eyes wide, and your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You didn't know it was possible, but you just fell for Steve all over again, falling deeper and deeper; hanging onto every word. "You are acting like a bully, and I don’t stand for bullies.” Letting out a sigh from his nose, he turned you away from your mother, “Come on, honey, let’s go home.”

Hardly even there for twenty minutes, Steve led you back to the picket fence gate, unable to stop the lovesick grin from spreading on your face. Helping you into the car, Steve marched his way to the driver's side, hopping into the car and letting out a deep sigh. Looking over at you, Steve felt a bit nervous. How were you feeling? Were you still upset? But when he turned to look at you, from that smile on your face, and the way you looked at him, Steve felt himself calm instantly. Smiling sheepishly at you, Steve took your hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

"I love you." You spoke up with a sigh, admiring the man before you. 

The softness in your tone made Steve's heart warm. "I love you too, sweetheart." He replied softly, leaning across the console and placing a kiss on your lips.

You sighed into the kiss, almost forgetting about the lemonade in your hands, hastily putting the cup in the cup holder before you brought one hand up to cup Steve's cheek, while the other remained entwined with his. Pulling away slowly, you rested your forehead against his, taking in his features before you pressed your lips to his once again. This kiss lasted longer, as you both tried to savor each other's taste and scent, relishing the feel of each other. You never wanted this moment to end, not when you could spend the rest of your life in each other's arms.

Finally pulling away, you giggled lightly as you watched Steve’s cheeks turn a faint pink. "You okay?" Steve asked, smiling as you nodded, reaching over and kissing him once more.

"Much better now." You told him before the two of you pulled away.

"I'm proud of you." He muttered, making your cheeks flush as you bashfully looked down at your lap. Looking at his watch, he buckled and started the engine of the car, "Well, it's about lunchtime. Wanna go get something to eat and then go home?"

“Cuddle?” You asked, and with Steve’s own nod you sat back in your seat, taking a sip of your lemonade, you nodded, "I'd love nothing more."

[scotianostra]

On June 10th 1688 James Edward Stuart, “the Old Pretender”, Anglo-Scottish prince, was born, Jacobites the world over remember it as White Rose Day.

It’s not easy with these posts at times. For a start does he deserve to take his place in history of the Scots? Well I’ve included many others that were not born here in my posts, and the Stewart/Stuart name will always be synonymous with our Nation.

Well the eighth of the Stuart James’s was born in St Jame Palace, not long before his faither had to flee leaving the throne vacant so he was brought up in in Continental Europe, two of his sisters went on to be crowned, James was ignored by Parliament although he has next in line.

The name Old Pretender is commonly used to describe James ,to me it’s a bit of an insult, the name Pretender came about as such, when James was born, a wild rumour took hold by James’ opponents that a male baby was smuggled into the Queen’s chamber in a warming pan to replace her stillborn child. Witnesses to the birth testified before a Privy Council meeting, but the rumours continued. As far as Protestant England was concerned, the “warming pan baby” was a pretender to the throne.

So James after the death of his Father was the rightful king of Scotland, England and Wales. In December 1688 James’ mother Mary, supposedly disguised as a laundress, escaped Britain taking James over to the relative safety of France. It was here that he was brought up with the French court regarding him and his family as the true monarchs. Of course, by right of birth James was the rightful heir to the throne.

When James’ father died in 1701 King Louis XIV of France along with Spain and the Papal States recognised James as James VII of Scotland and III of England. However, as a result of accepting this title he was at-tainted for treason in London and all his English estates were forfeited. The next twenty years would see James make various attempts to retake the throne which he felt was rightfully his. These have been wrongly called rebellions, but as the rightful King the correct term is uprisings, although most of you will only know of the final Uprising, The “45 they also took place in 1708, 1715 and 1719

In 1708 his first attack was launched. Initially delayed because James had contracted measles he set out from France with almost 30 ships carrying some 5,000 men to reach Scotland. This would be the largest ever French expedition to come within striking distance of Britain in support for James. Unfortunately, as the fleet approached the Royal Navy were ready. James’ measles may have given them the time needed to prepare for James’ attack. The French ships were forced to flee under the strength of the Royal Navy and took flight along the north coast of Scotland, with many ships being destroyed along the rocky coastline. After this James joined the French army for a while before he was asked to leave France in 1713 as part of the conditions of Frances peace agreement with Britain.

In 1715, James tried again. This time he reached mainland and most people suggest that this was the uprising that should have worked. Unfortunately, once again James was denied. Despite winning at the Battle of Sheriffmuir, and in Preston, James ultimately gave up the fight when he heard Government reinforcements were on the way. He fled Scotland and returned to the continent but his apparent abandonment of his men left a poor impression on many and his welcome back was not great.

After the failed 1715 invasion he eventually took up residence in Rome where the pope recognised him as the rightful king and gave him the Palazzo Muti to have as his home. James made one finally attempt on the British throne in 1719 with some Spanish support but this ultimately came to nothing. Then in May 1719 James married Maria Sobieska by proxy and later, in September, they renewed their vows in person. The following year they gave birth to their first son Charles Edward Stuart. This was followed five years later by another son Henry Benedict Stuart.

By 1745 it was Charles who was looking to take the British throne, for it was that prize he was after, make no mistake, and it is said that James and Charles clashed many times over Charles plans to attempt his own rising. As we know the rising did not succeed and Charles returned to the continent. The relationship was further damaged when James helped his son Henry in his goal of becoming a cardinal. As such Henry would have no legitimate children to carry on the Stuart line and Charles was said to be angry that the decision had been made without him being consulted.

James lived in Rome for the rest of his life where he was well treated. He died on 1st January 1766 in his home there. Later he was buried in St Peters basilica in Vatican city and his tomb is marked by a monument to the Stuarts. After James’ death the Pope refused to recognise Charles as the rightful king and finally accepted the Hanoverian succession to the throne.

A couple of wee footnotes, I mentioned about James and the rumours about the bedpan, this led to all future royal births having to be witnessed by The Home Secretary, this practice went on until midway through the 20th century, the first one not to be witnessed was that of the current heir to the throne Charles!!

And White Rose Day, well being a Jacobite in these times was not necessarily something to publicise. The term ‘Jacobite’ stems from the Latin ‘Jacobus’, which in turn means ‘James’, the Jacobite movement was effectively a political crusade to restore the House of Stuart to the English, Irish, and Scottish thrones. Discovery risked accusations of treason and the penalty of death. What they needed, therefore, were hidden signals of camaraderie spottable only by those ‘in the know’.

The white rose, or the white cockade (white ribbon shaped as a rose in a hat), became one of those symbols either during or soon after The Glorious Revolution. And it continued to represent the Jacobites through to Bonnie Prince Charlie until the collapse of the movement after the 1745 Rising.

What did it symbolise? The reason for its choice as a symbol is unclear. However, when you consider that it’s a hardy wee shrub that thrives in poor soil and can tolerate shade and drought,you can get a sense of its subliminal messages.

I am currently "decorating" my Glengarry with pin badges for my wee trip to Germany for the Euros, and found one on the National Trust of Scotland, bt the totall was over £9, they were trying to charge almost a fiver for dlivery, however searching around I got the one in the pics from The 1745 Association web site for only £4 with free shipping, it also has the 1745 on the badge, which the NTS one didn't, distinguishing it from the White rose of Yorkshire, s a much better option.The Stuarts.

[crucifiedramblings]

CRUICIFIED ✟ SPENCER REID (PART 2/5)

find part one here!

summary: after weeks of killings by a man who calls himself raphael, the bau finally narrows down a primary witness that could (and does) change everything.

word count: roughly 2.9k!

tags/cw: language, canon-typical gore/violence, no use of y/n, kidnapping, religious trauma/text, dog death but not descriptive, a bit of a suggestive flashback + more nsfw to come in part three!

PART TWO — EYE OF THE STORM

You awoke to the unexpected nudging of Spencer’s knee against your own. He softened his worried gaze and planted a gentle, hesitant kiss on your forehead. You looked around the empty cabin of the jet, sighing and allowing your concerns to fade. You gathered your things, straightening out your blazer and pinching the bridge of your nose, nodding before descending the steps into the blazing Georgia heat. You quickened your pace to catch up to Penelope, giving her a wide-eyed look and whispering to her when you had gained some distance from Hotch and Spencer.

“You have to promise not to say a word,” you leaned in, voice hushed and flat. “I’m so serious, Penelope.” You almost always called her a nickname or something cute, so her brows drew into a concerned rift at the title. 

“All over it. Spill.” She grinned, “um— I’ll take ‘em in my car. We’ll catch up.” Penelope called back to Hotch as the two of you excitedly piled into her Sedan. 

“Spence almost fucked me in the bathroom on the jet.” You wasted no time, airing it out as soon as the doors were shut. You had never seen Penelope lock eyes with you so damn fast. “He fuckin’ ambushed me, dude! Didn’t even wait for me to lock it!” You laughed, watching her grin grow wider by the word. 

“I knew it! Prentiss and JJ called me nuts!” Penelope laughed, pulling out of the lot and rolling down the windows. “Are you guys, like . . . you know? Not to be super invasive, but is it serious?” You nodded with a small smile, and she squealed as though her favorite couple in a sitcom finally made their move. “When you started at the Bureau, I knew you guys would be perfect! You are so compatible!”

“Alright, settle down, matchmaker.” You recalled that Penelope set the two of you up on one of your first cases together, sweeping it under the rug as “workplace collaboration.” You took a moment to soak in the scenery; the sun stood high, relentlessly peering down onto the rolling fields of yellowed grass and golden wheat. “We made it official almost six months— no— exactly six months ago. Like, to the day.” You huffed, the wind pulling at your jacket sleeve and making it dance in the breeze. “That’s why we wanted to take the day off.” 

“I’m sure Hotch would— oh, right.” Penelope interrupted herself at the remembrance of a strict rule; no fraternizing with other members of the Bureau. Granted, those rules were mostly implemented to steer Rossi from his antics — but you knew Spencer didn’t want to push his luck. He seemed to think that everyone underestimated his mind, and therefore had to prove himself to imaginary arguments. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. Regardless of rules, you couldn't help who you loved. Hotch would understand that — whenever you decided to tell him. You knew that it couldn’t be kept hidden forever, but on a case was the worst time to inform him that you and Spencer had been deliberately breaking Bureau policy for six months. The two of you pulled into the front yard of the latest crime scene, a gorgeous home with a white picket fence and a few cats lingering on the front stoop. It was no hard guess to make, whoever lived here had been rich.

You reached down to run your fingers along the back of a tabby’s head and neck, crossing the threshold with a gentle sigh and applying your gloves. It was horrific, two adults splayed out with their throats slit. A haphazard trail of oxidized blood ran through the den and into the kitchen, some fallout decorating the walls. You drew your brows into a line, pursing your lips as you cautiously removed and held up the page that had been stuffed into the presumed husband's mouth. It was a bible passage, Proverbs. It read; “Hear, my children, the instruction of a father, and give attention to know understanding; for I give you good doctrine: Do not forsake my law.” 

“Bit archaic,” laughter bubbled from your throat, trying to keep your nerves together, “and pretentious.” You placed the page in an evidence bag for forensic analysis. Spencer came to a halt beside you, hand brushing yours momentarily. He knew how catholic-centered events and cases affected you, but there was no opportunity for his comfort to soothe your rapidly increasing heart rate. You excused yourself, stepping onto the back patio and taking note of the unlocked door. You wracked your brain for answers, deciphering as many details as possible with the information that had been given. 

Think it through, you thought. Why the specific passage? What did it link back to? If there were no children, why was the verse about a father? Was the unsub trying to describe another relationship or his own? You turned on your heel and walked back into the kitchen, tapping Hotch on the shoulder and gently tugging him outside with yourself and Reid. You did a recitation of the verse, pausing to collect your thoughts. 

“I think the unsub is trying to suggest that he has an emotional obligation to his father,” you placed your index finger to your lips. “Hear, my children. Do not forsake my law— there were no kids involved here, we ran prints and neither of them have any next of kin— the work is sloppy, suggesting he worked alone, but the operator who answered the call said she heard two distinct voices with similar diction.”

“What are you trying to tell us?” Hotch crossed his arms, listening intently. “Is he working alone or not?” You paced briefly, thoughts racing at an ungodly pace. You shoved your hands in your pockets, slowing down and looking at the two of them as though you had been struck by lightning. 

“He said that his name was Raphael,” you muttered, “the same title of a completely ambivalent archangel that served God with no convictions.” You took another pause, the evidence connecting like ice forming across a glass pane. “What if Raphael is a persona, something to forgive him of guilt?” Hotch furrowed his brows, allowing a singular nod before turning to take another look at the scene. The door was slightly ajar, a breeze licking at the drapes. “The door was unlocked— the back, I mean. Nothing forced. I think they let him in.” You huffed, trying to wrap your brain around the different clues. “Send the passage over to our guys up the road, see if they can lift a print.” You handed the bag to Prentiss, offering a gentle smile. 

ONE WEEK LATER

You and the team had been chasing the unsub around on a wild goose chase for about a week, and had finally gotten a substantial lead. Tobias Hankel, a lifelong Georgia resident, had made a call to his local police station about something flying over a fence in a nearby neighborhood several weeks ago. On the line, he sounded panicked and frazzled. Hotch had requested that you take Reid and Jareau to the listed address on file and ask the witness a few questions, as he called from the same street as the first victims. 

Your hands gripped the wheel as you drove out into the countryside. You had an incredibly bad feeling about this, but not the first clue as to why. Sometimes your intuition was a bit off, you supposed. Jareau and Reid’s conversation became background noise as your eyes fixated on the white lines slathered along the highway; this case had been rough on you. Spence had attempted to initiate some sort of intimacy a few nights ago, and you just couldn’t let yourself relax enough to follow through. He was incredibly understanding, settling for a few glasses of wine and a collaborative shower in your hotel room. You booked your own to have a bit of privacy, and coincidentally, Spencer had found his way in every night. You couldn’t help but allow your mind to wander as you caught a glimpse of his hands gesturing wildly in your rearview mirror.

Spencer’s hands started to glide down your body, slipping past your chest and ribcage, feeling every curve and dip he could trace with his fingers. The water had grown a bit cool, the two of you preoccupied with touching— no— exploring as much of each other as you could. He lathered your hair with shampoo, eyes trailing along with the pearlescent bubbles that slid down your spine. His left hand reached around to cup your breasts while the other massaged your scalp, occasionally tugging at your locks and forcing a whimper from your lips. You turned to face him, pressing your slightly parted mouth to his own and experimentally resting your fingertips at his throat. You dug your nails in gently, leaving pale pink tracks down his chest and stomach. He started to slip his fingers past your thighs and—

That was quite enough, you thought with an embarrassed grin. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, seeing your flushed cheeks. You gave a silent chuckle and pulled up in front of an old farmhouse with a barn out back. It was dark by the time you had arrived, and the three of you approached the front steps. You sent Jareau and Spencer up to the door while you took a quick look around the perimeter; it wasn’t even for investigative purposes, you were simply curious how one man could live on this property alone. You kept an attentive ear, just in case trouble found its way to your fellow agents in the brief moment you were gone. 

Walking back around, a well-lit window caught your eye. It offered a full view into a room with several computers and a lot of heavy tech, all open to several tabs that appeared to be live feeds from laptop cameras. Your eyes grew wide, and you quickly made your way to the front of the house, catching up just in time to see the door close in Spencer’s face. 

“I just don’t get it,” Jareau stated, “why call the cops if you’re just going to deny it when they come asking?” She shook her head, skepticism in her voice as she looked back at the house with crossed arms. 

“To guage their response time,” you and Spencer had chimed in at the same moment, “I saw his computer setup, this guy is the fucking unsub—” You began, cut short by the sound of the door opening and Tobias bolting across the lawn. Spencer yelled after him, sighing and shaking his head. 

“Okay,” Jareau nodded. “Let’s check out that barn, take some photos, and head back. This could end really badly if we aren’t careful.” She drew her gun and started toward the back, Spencer following behind dutifully. You paused, hearing rustling in the field and turning to catch a glimpse of a figure sprinting through the wheat. You drew a quiet breath, rubbing your eyes and ascending the steps of the house.

“I’m gonna see what I can find in here, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You called after the two, and Spencer shot you a look of concern. “I’ll be fine, but y’all better come running the moment I shout for you.” They both chuckled softly and started to do a loop around the barn. You walked through the front door of the primary residence, doing a sweep of the entire house before proceeding with any evidence collection. You found a journal with some illegible scrawlings, taking a mental note of the three different styles of handwriting present on the yellowed pages. You gazed at the computer setup, trying to wrap your head around what you were looking at. It featured a few different scenes; one, a child’s bedroom, vacant with a bedside lamp left on. another, the livingroom of a couple that sat intently watching what you assumed was a television out of frame. They were all normal looking homes, with residents who were none the wiser. You didn’t have nearly enough technical expertise to shut it down yourself, but you would definitely be telling Penelope about your discovery. 

You decided to take photos of anything and everything that could be used as evidence to help build the case— also, you knew that you couldn’t return hours later with empty hands. You glanced at the icon bar on your phone, the words no service written in bold letters on the top right corner. You groaned, taking the pictures and opting to send them as soon as you were out of the sticks. You turned to leave, only to be faced by the man you knew as Tobias Hankel. He was blocking the doorway with his slightly built frame, and you froze, slowly placing your phone in your back pocket. He glared at you, his presence more intimidating than it had been during the previous interaction. You drew in a soft breath, careful not to make any sudden movements. 

“Tobias?” You softly called out, “I’m here with agent Jareau and Doctor Reid—” You were interrupted by his movements; he crept closer, stature tall and unwavering. You swallowed, keeping your distance. “I work with the Federal Bureau of Investigations, I just need you to answer some questions. Would you be able to do that for me?” His gaze softened, an almost instantaneous change from his previous grimace. He suddenly looked like a child that had just been scolded, shoving his hands in his pockets and backing away before taking off towards the barn. You sprinted after him, yelling for Spencer and JJ while tugging your gun from its holster in a hurried attempt to hopefully defend yourself. The two of them quickly met with you out front, watching as Tobias ran into a nearby cornfield. 

“I’m going after him,” Spencer rolled up his sleeves and started in that direction, “you guys check the barn, maybe his captives are still alive in there.” He gestured towards the large wooden doors, “the keys are on the hook just outside. If I’m not back in ten minutes, come look for me.” He ran into the field, and you lost sight of his slender frame. The worry was already making you sick to your stomach, and Jareau could sense it. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” she placed a hand on your shoulder, “he can handle himself. Reid is one of the most capable people I know.” She headed in the direction of the front side of the barn, unhooking the keys and deciphering which one was made for the heavy padlock. With a deep clunk, the lock fell open and dropped into the dirt. The two of you followed one another inside, making sure to stay close and listen for Reid’s cries of help if necessary. “So— are you and Reid, um—” 

“Penelope told you, didn’t she?” You questioned in disbelief, “she can’t keep a secret to save her life! I’m never telling her a damn thing again—”

“Woah, hey,” Jareau turned, shaking her head and chuckling, “Garcia didn’t tell me a thing, I just wanted to know if my suspicions were right this time around.” She grinned, “I won’t tell Hotch. Scout’s honor.” She held up a mock salute and started to look around. Your lighthearted antics were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot in the distance, and your heart raced as Jareau nodded, giving you the go-ahead to run out there and check on your boyfriend.

You had never ran that fast in your entire lifetime. Your calves stung, feet hitting the ground at such a hardened pace that you were sure the state of Georgia could feel it in the streets. By the time you reached him, Spencer was unconscious and being thrown into the back of a rusty pickup truck. You screamed after him, calling his name to try your luck at waking him while attempting to catch up. The truck was too fast, speeding off down a muddy backroad and losing you within a few seconds. You wrote the plate number across the top of your hand and quickly started back, eyes brimming with hot tears as you rushed to the barn. You found Jareau, face twisted into a horrified expression as you let your gaze wander to what she was staring at. The remains of several large hunting dogs were crumpled about the barn, and she was shaking and gasping for air. 

“I had to— they were— I had to shoot them,” she stammered, panicking as she tried to catch her breath. It hadn’t occurred to you that several more shots were fired after you left her, but that didn’t matter now. You tightly embraced her, both of you letting go and starting to sob into each other. 

“You did what you had to, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” You softly reassured, “Tobias took Spencer.” You couldn’t find a way to forgive yourself. You never should have let him go alone, and you definitely shouldn’t have even allowed him to accompany you here. “It’s my fault, I told him to come with us and now he’s gone and I can’t even call Hotch and—” Jareau cut off your rambling by grasping both sides of your face in a sudden motion.

“Listen to me,” she locked eyes with you sternly, forcing herself to stabilize in order to talk some sense into you. “Nothing you could have done would have completely saved us. If not him, it would have been you or me.” She placed her gun in the holster and guided you into a deep breath. “Now get your shit together, get in the car, and get us back to the team so we can find him.” 

[specialagentlokitty]

Thomas Barrow x Male!reader - love to hate you, hate to love you

Part one:

Making your way down to the servants hall, you walked in and everyone immediately stood up and turned to look at you.

Your (E/C) eyes scanned over them all with an unamused look on your face.

“Mr (L/N), what can we do for you?” Mr Carson asked.

You turned to the head butler.

“I request that you ask your footmen to be more careful when trying to sneak back on to the property after dark Mr Carson.”

You immediately turned your attention to James, or Jimmy as he preferred to be called.

“Consider yourself lucky that I did not decide to deal with you myself.”

“You would never have done anything to him.” Thomas said.

You turned your attention to Thomas.

“Just because you are an under butler now Thomas does not mean you can try and get mouthy with me, remember your place and whom you are speaking to.”

“Please, you’re nothing more than a glorified servant. And that’s Mr Barrow to you.”

“That is enough!” Mr Carson barked.

Holding up your hand, you walked around the table.

“I am the head security of the home, and I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to me for I shall cut your tongue out if you don’t Thomas Barrow.”

He clenched his jaw a little and you gave a small nod of your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

You walked out of the room again and everybody sighed before sitting back down.

“Who was that?” Alfred whispered.

“That, is Mr (Y/N) (L/N), his lordships head of security for the home. He sleeps during the day, and patrols during the night, if you enjoy being in the living world I suggest you stick to his rules.” Mr Carson said.

“He seems rather stuck up for another servant.” Jimmy scoffed.

“He may be a servant but his position is much higher than Mr Carson’s here, his lordship relies upon the security team to make sure everything is in order while we all sleep.” Mrs Hughes said.

“He seems scary…” Ivy whispered.

“Mr (L/N) is not exactly a people person, he prefers to be on his own, always has. He isn’t a cruel person however, he just simply enjoys being on his own.” Anna said.

“So why don’t they eat with us?” Alfred asked.

“The guards will have their breakfast after we have supper, then Mrs Patmore will lay everything out for their luncheon and their supper, and by the time we awake they will be asleep.” Daisy replied.

The room fell silent again.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Jimmy asked.

“James!” Mr Carson hissed.

“I’m just curious! I know you all saw that scar going down his right eye!”

“I tried to ask him once.” Thomas said.

Everyone looked at him.

“He slammed the hilt of his sword into my gut and walked away.”

“And it serves your right for asking such invasive questions.” Mr Bates said.

“That’s enough now, I shall ask for silence.”

The room fell silent, but they couldn’t help but watch as a few other guards wondered through, finally waking up from their sleep.

Eventually when Ivy and Daisy finished clearing everything, you came wondering through too with some papers in your hand and you sat down.

Lighting your cigarette, you began to read through them.

“New orders sir?” A guard asked you.

You looked up.

“Orders for you Markus, take Peter with you.”

“Yes sir.”

He walked away and you heard a scoff, so you looked up.

“Something funny Thomas?” You asked.

“I bet you love giving out orders, having people refer to you as sir.”

“I could care less about it. I did not take this job for the title.”

“Then why take it?”

“As you know I was offered it.”

“I can’t see why, you are nothing impressive, in fact, you look more like a stick than a fighter.”

You set your papers down and stood up, walking over to stand in front of Thomas you stared at him.

“Would you like to see why I got offered the job? I can give you a first hand demonstration and I will start by breaking your ribs.” You whispered lowly.

Thomas smirked a little, taking a step back away from you.

“Now, we needn’t resort to violent Mr (L/N), it was just a joke is all.”

“It’s such a shame you are not as funny as you like to think you are.”

Thomas smirked a little more, looking you up and down.

“Do I annoy the worst of you…?” He whispered.

You walked forward, standing next to him you leant your head next to his ear.

“I would never give such a bastard the satisfaction of annoying me Thomas Barrow, you’d have to try much harder than that.”

You turned around and walked away, sitting down in your seat again, and you picked up your papers and cigarette once more.

You felt eyes burning into you.

“You can sit down Daisy, I’m not going to leave you to stand.”

“Sorry! Thank you!”

She quickly sat down and you passed her over the book that was next to you.

“Can I.. ask you a question Mr (L/N)?”

You set you papers down at looked at the kitchen maid, giving a nod of your head.

“Do you have any friends?” She asked.

You looked at her and blinked.

“I’m sorry! I should never have asked!”

“You’re curious, that is not a crime Daisy. I do have two or three friends, though the passed away many years ago when we were young. I have no friends here at Downton if that is what you are referring to.”

“Oh.. I’m sorry…”

“It is all but the way of life is it not? We live, we grow, we die. There is nothing to be sorry for.”

“Does it get lonely?”

“I prefer my own company, less hassle that way.”

She nodded her head.

“You have another question.”

“Well, what if we be friends? Then you wouldn’t have to be so lonely.” She smiled.

You looked at the young girl.

“I appreciate that, but I’m not quite sure I would be a rather good friend to have.”

“I don’t mind! I just like making friends with people!” She beamed.

You nodded your head, giving a small hum as you sipped at your cup of tea.

“Very well daisy, who am I to deny a lady her request to be friends?”

“I’m no lady…”

“You are a lady, and you should be treated with the upmost respect like any woman should be.”

Daisy smiled a little bit.

“Thank you Mr (L/N).”

You gave a nod of your head and stood up as your breakfast was brought through by Mrs Patmore.

“The fire outside has been lit for you.”

“Thank you.”

Taking your plate, you made your way outside, pushing past Jimmy and Alfred who were talking outside and Thomas who was standing nearby the fire.

Holding your plate out, you put a small portion of the meal into the fire.

“Why did you do that?” Alfred asked.

“It’s a strange tradition he has, witchcraft if you ask me.” Thomas said.

You said nothing and turned around.

“It is part of my culture if you must know. We offer a small portion of our meals to our gods.”

With that, you walked back inside to sit down and eat with your men.

“Anna?” You called.

“Yes Mr (L/N)?” She asked.

You looked up at her and gestured for her to sit, so she did.

“I appear to have ripped one of my uniform shirts, I was wondering I could take a look at it and tell me if you can repair it? If not that’s fine I can always buy a new one.”

“Of course, would you like me to take a look tonight?”

“Oh no it is much too late for that, I’ll bring it down in the morning for you, thank you.”

“It’s quite alright.” She smiled.

She up and left, and you waited for your men to finish eating before standing up and giving you the nights tasks for them all.

Then you began your rounds, patrolling the hallways, up and down where the family slept, hand on the hilt of your sword.

Heard a door creek open, you turned around and quickly removed your hand.

“My lord, is everything alright?” You asked.

“Yes, yes sorry if I alarmed you. I simply cannot sleep is all and I was going to take a small walk around the house.”

“Very good my lord, would you like me to accompany you?”

“Actually, yes, I would like to discuss something with you.”

You nodded to your head and clicked your fingers, and the guard on the hallway next to yours walked over.

“Patrol here.”

“Yes sir.”

You followed Lord Grantham, hands clasped behind your back.

“I wanted to know how everything was going with the two new guards?”

“Rather slow my Lord. They are good men no mistake, but I’m wondering if they are suited to the role they applied for. One can hardly lift a sword, and the other is to scared to swing it.”

“I see, what are your thoughts on this?”

You glanced at Lord Grantham.

“Well, I understand the fear of swinging a sword. I was fearful as well, I am willing to give them some more time to learn, and Markus has requested if I can train him personally to get over his fear.”

“And Peter?”

You took a small breath.

“The man is too stubborn to admit he needs help. For now they are both placed to patrol downstairs near the down, it is less likely they will encounter trouble there with Henry patrolling outside.”

“You have thought about this carefully.”

“I take the safety of his lordship and his family very seriously my lord.”

“Well that reassured me. How is your eye? Any news of it?”

“The doctor is quite sure it will never fully heal, I most likely will loose sight in my right eye over the next few years.”

“Won’t that impact your ability?”

“Quite the contrary my lord, when I received the injury when I was a teenager, I trained with bandages covering both eyes, I could fight with my eyes closed.”

“And I believe you could.” Lord Grantham chuckled.

You two walked in silence for a moment.

“Say I would like to come watch this training, where might I do so?”

“Early morning just in front of the servants entrance my lord.”

“I see thank you, and goodnight.”

“Goodnight my Lord.”

You waited until he was gone and turned to the man standing in the hallways.

“Go, have some tea and sit down for a few moments. Round everyone for Luncheon.”

“Will you eat with us sir?”

“No, I will eat after.”

“Yes sir.”

He rushed away and you carried on your patrol.

It was quiet, much like every other night, and as early morning began to come, you made your way upstairs into your room, leaving the door open as you grabbed the uniform shirt you ripped.

Folding it, you set it aside and walked over to your wardrobe and opened it, pulling out two wooden swords.

“Getting scared of the real ones?”

You closed your eyes and took a quiet breath.

“It is custom to knock on a door before entering a room.”

“You left it open, doesn’t that mean anyone can come in?”

You turned around, setting the two swords next to shirt.

“Not to the likes of you Thomas Barrow, what do you want?”

He smirked a little, stepping into your room he leant against the wall watching you.

“I just wondered what the high and mighty (Y/N) (L/N)’s room looked like. I suppose I expected less, but then again, with no friends I never expected you to have much.”

“Well thank you for your concern on my lack of friends, it is an active choice I make.”

“Going for the mysterious look?” Thomas asked.

You stood up and stood in front of him.

“People are a hassle, and if they are anything like you? I should prefer to be alone.”

Thomas smirked a little bit.

“I cannot be all that bad surely.”

You reached out, placing your hand on the wall above his shoulder, next to his head, you leant forward head next to his and you glanced into the hallway.

“I would much rather run through with my own sword then ever consider being friends with you Thomas Barrow.” You whispered lowly.

“I think we have more in common than you think.” He whispered back.

You pushed yourself away.

“I doubt that, I have morals, you appear to lack these.”

Picking everything up, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him out of your room, and he stumbled back a few steps and you closed the door.

“Go put on your liveries, wondering around in your night clothes is a rather unsightly look for an under butler.”

Thomas smirked at you as you walked away and down the stairs.

Walking into the servants hall, Mrs Hughes, Anna, Mr Bates, Jimmy and Markus all stood up.

You gestured for them to sit down and they did, and you set your things on the table, taking the wooden sword of the shirt you held it out to Anna.

“Is it salvageable?”

She opened it, inspecting the tare in the fabric.

“What on earth happened it it?” She asked.

“Training with Henry, he’s good, but got a little too rushed.”

“I think I may be able to fix it, I will pass it to Mr Carson to have someone bring it up if I do.”

“Thank you, here.”

Reaching into your pocket you pulled out some coins and set them in front of her.

“Oh I cannot accept honestly I’m alright to do it.”

“See it as a thank you for taking your time to fix my shirt.”

You turned to Markus.

“Let’s go.”

He nodded and picked up the training swords and followed you outside.

You took off your uniform jacket, folding it, you set it aside and Markus did the same, along with both of your swords.

“Your fear of the sword is understandable Markus, everyone should be afraid of them, they are dangerous and if wielded wrong can hurt you or your partner.”

Markus nodded his head.

“However, if we can get you used to swinging a sword, stance and how to hold one, this can build your confidence.”

“How did you get so confident sir?”

“I had practice.”

Markus nodded and you began with the training, and even with a wooden sword he was hesitant, and he was knocked over repeatedly.

“Okay, instead let’s try this. You are my shadow, copy what I do.”

“Yes sir.”

Markus began to mirror your movements, and you quickly moved your sword the the side, and you heard the clang of a stone hitting off something.

Looking towards the door, you narrowed your eyes.

“How about we practice on a live target?”

You stalked forward and Thomas grinned, backing up with his hands raised in the air until you had him pinned between you and the wall at the other end of the hallway.

“You are testing my patience.”

“You have quite the temper.”

Letting the wooden sword drop to the ground, you grabbed Thomas by his liveries and slammed him against the wall and everybody immediately stopped to look.

“Keep testing me Thomas Barrow, I will ensure nobody will ever find where I buried you…” you snarled lowly.

“Is that a threat…?” He whispered.

Slamming him into the wall once more, you stared into his eyes.

“It is a promise.”

You let him drop, and picked up the training sword.

“Carry on.”

Everybody scurried away and you walked back to the door and stopped when someone grabbed your arm.

Looking down, you rose a brow at the kitchen maid.

“Please ignore him, he just wants to get you into trouble!”

“You needn’t worry about me Daisy, however.”

You looked at Thomas, Jimmy and Alfred.

Leaning down, you placed your hand on her head.

“If they give you any trouble you come and find me, and I will handle them myself.”

She smiled.

“Thank you…”

Nodding your head, you walked back outside.

Thomas stood up, straightening his clothes and quickly walked away from curious eyes

[helloimjennsco]

do you have any random alien Stede facts you can share that won't be spoiler? I really like the au and want to know more.

Ahhh thank you so much!! 😍

I am THIS CLOSE to finishing up chapter 9, if I can get my brain to cooperate and get life to stop life-ing long enough to finally wrap things up. In the meantime, here are a few fun(?) alien!Stede facts from my notes and/or brain!

(The following facts pertain to my fic The Wondrous Journey of Stede Bonnet, Human Pirate Captain, a canon-adjacent OFMD AU which begs the question, "What if Stede Bonnet were secretly an alien the entire time?" It's mostly very funny, but also features a fair amount of identity crises and ruminating about the inherent complications of human relationships because overthinking things is my passion. 💀 If that sounds interesting to you, follow that link!)

While the being currently known as Stede Bonnet doesn't have a 'name' of his own, he DOES have a sort of unique intergalactic ID number for situations (like official documents) where more specific identification is important. His is ZX 00916424 SRG-8 (pronounced: 'Zed Ex Double-Oh Nine' with the rest as you'd expect it.) The only mention of this so far is in the title of a mini-podfic of alien!Stede's humble fuckery suggestion from chapter 7 that the talented just_a_perfect_day did for Halloween last year!

Much like the human Stede Bonnet, alien!Stede hated the parties on his own world. Granted, most of the 'parties' were more glad-handing celebrations of recent conquests or exciting new discoveries, which meant they were usually pretty shitty parties to begin with. But without fail, he'd always end up cornered by the most boring blowhard at the party who could simply NOT stop bragging to him about their role in the recent whatever-it-was-they-were-celebrating. (His friend always used to tell him that he was far too accommodating and that he should simply walk away from them if they're being boring, but he didn't want to come off as rude—or worse, insufficiently enthused about conquest.)

While there are no flowers on his homeworld, the geology of the planet results in some extremely cool rocks sometimes farther out from the city. On the rare occasions he got to go to leave the city, he DEFINITELY snuck home a favorite rock every time. He keeps his collection of cool rocks tucked away in the auxiliary wardrobe inside of a little metal box. Maybe one day he'll show them to Ed?

It was mentioned in chapter 4 that delivering the intimidating invader speeches was one of the only things he actually liked about his previous occupation and that he thought he was pretty good at them. This is, in fact, an understatement—he is actually so good at them that he's developed a bit of a reputation for it. (Not many others from his world bother to talk much at all during the invasion process, let alone deliver full-on villain speeches.) Unfortunately for him, no one has bothered to inform him of this, so he remains unaware that his 'intimidating invader speeches' are such a hot topic of conversation in certain intergalactic circles.

Alien!Stede's father is not actually his 'father' in the biological sense. Nearly all of the planet's young are bioengineered in labs in order to cherry pick the most optimal genetic traits for the role to which they are most likely to be assigned—based on current and projected levels of supply and demand—and then raised and educated communally until they're old enough to be assigned to their respective roles. His 'father' is more of a caregiver/mentor who was assigned to him once he was officially designated as Invader Class. (Have you read The Giver? With the whole 'coming of age job assignment' ceremony at the beginning? Kind of like that, except if Jonas actually went to live with The Giver afterwards.)

Like the rest of the people on his homeworld, alien!Stede in his natural form has three little curved indentions on either side of his head. When he's feeling especially strong emotions (happy, angry, etc.) little frilly ridges sprout up from each of the curves. Objectively, it's adorable—however, because most other beings in the universe usually only see this happen when his people are engaging in gruesome acts of violence, 'adorable' is not usually the first adjective that comes to mind when the little frilly ridges make their appearance.

Thank you so much for reading and for asking fun questions like these!! I hope these lil bits of trivia have been fun!! 💜💜💜

[randomnameless]

@dimiclaudeblaigan replied to your post “Now I can’t say FEH really was warning us…because...”:

Also about Leopold, he's relatively likable sometimes in Hopes, whereas that's not the impression I got from him in Houses. Caspar was TERRIFIED of him in Houses. He literally expected the man would murder his own son (Caspar himself) on a battlefield. That's not the impression I got from AG Leopold, at least.

​Well,

I have my own beef with Leopold, first by being a retcon but that's not the most important, imo Nopes made the deathly choice of...

Not having Leopold explain why the fuck he

1/turned against Ionius to begin with to side with Aegir and

2/ turned against Aegir to side with Supreme Leader -

It's, imo, as bonkers as having, in FE7, recruited Jaffar without ever talking about that "incident" with Leila.

FE16 suggests Supreme Leader bribed him (iirc?) but in Nopes, bar being "dumb muscle Sr", we don't learn anything about Adrestia, his eldest son (Caspar's bro who is supposed to inherit his title?), why he changes allegiances like Supreme Leader changes her outfits, or anything of importance.

The War against Dagda'n'Brigid? Icing Petra's parents? Leopold doesn't talk about it, doesn't even talk about who asked him to ice them, what were his thoughts about it, no, nothing.

FE16 tries to have Doro (as always!) play the violon for him saying he accepted to lay down his life so his men would be spared in Enbarr which we are supposed to find honorable - and sure, it is in a way, because he stops or at least reduces the bloodshed, but damn if coming from the corrupt Minister of War (who ends up with Leicester in Tru Piss) who was in charge of leading the invasion of several states is a bit... too much. Bergliez is willing to offer his life to save his men, but wasn't giving a fuck about trouncing loldiers/civilians defending their home?

Even if he is in some sort of similar shoes, I still prefer Burian (or whatever is his name now!) of Dozel over Leopold, both are generals to an Empire who does Empire things and target civilians, but Burian wasn't presented as a weatherwane like Leopold was and he only wonders, as he dies, if he was fighting on the "wrong side", showing, imo, how misguided he was (without summoning Doro and her "sad uwus" concerto).

[comfortingevanbuckley]

Home Invasion

Title: Dear Maddie

Summary: Buck's letter to Maddie after Home Invasion @911hiatus

ao3 link

Dear Maddie,

It’s not often that Eddie is the one who randomly suggests we do something out of the ordinary for former calls we were on, but he said we should help fix this woman’s ceiling since we did destroy it to save her brother. Long story. But it got me out of my head. I had to go into the medical side of things for Connor and Kameron. I told them about our history with Daniel, but they were prepared since I mentioned my niece is healthy. Speaking of, I better text my schedule for babysitting. Love you, sis.

Love, Evan

[discet]

Amphibia - Scorched Earth AU Questions

Got a couple of these so gonna knock them out in one post

In Amphibia, scattered about as the lowest rung on the species ladder. 

The premise of the AU is as follows

1. Leif does not manage to touch the box and doesn’t get the vision that sets the events of Amphibia in motion 1000 years ago. 

2. Because of this the invasion of Earth goes off as normal, however Andrias is horrified by the destruction and slaughter done to humanity. With his moral compass and support of Barrel and Leif still by his side, he is confident enough to suggest an alternative to his father/the core. The Earth would be mined out as planned, BUT they would treat the humans as another resource to bring back. 

3. Humanity is brought back as a new servile class (reforms by Andrias move Frogs up to a more mercantile/skilled labor class of living, on par with the toad warrior class) and have been the labor backbone of the empire ever since. 

4,The trio are born into the town of Old Saint which is roughly in the same place as Wartwood is in canon. Sprig and Polly(who as descendents of Leif, are nobles in this AU) end up crashing down into on Sprig’s 13th birthday after testing out one of her inventions. 

‘Scorched Earth‘ is not referring to the military strategy, the Earth itself has been scorched. It is an uninhabitable rock a dimension away. Humanity has survived but Earth did not.

House Plantar is the highest ranking frog noble family in the empire. Descended from Arch Duchess Leif Plantar. In short, the Plantars are a family of means, lords of swaths of southern agricultural land. They generally are known for being affable and their close connection to the royal family, 

As for our three favorite frogs specifically, 

Arch Duke Hopediah - Patron of the arts, especially the theater, Hopediash is the current head of House Plantar. Had originally passed on the title to his eldest, but after his untimely death, he took up the title once more until his grandchild Sprig can come of age. Tries to be a good lord but is a little disconnected from common life.

Sprig - Age 13 Heir apparent and good natured, if a tad spoiled. Gets into mischief with his sister around the palace and nightmare to Olivia. Has trouble sitting still for his lesson and generally has dreams of going out on adventures and leaving his responsibilities behind.

Polly - Age 8 A child of many talents, has a zeal for robotics and inventing. Close friends with her brother as their station has distanced them from kids their age. While on the surface the two seem to always bicker and fight, they are as thick as thieves. 

The music box is sitting in the capital powering the empire. It was never taken to Earth. How I think it happens is that after season 1 the girls convince the Boonchuy’s to allow them to do a road trip back to Newtopia  (they would be 15/16 at this point in this AU) to bring Sprig and Polly back home. When they leave they are convinced Sprig and Polly are commoner kids from the capital, so its a big surprise when they arrive only to be accused of kidnapping  and then welcomed into the palace.

So I think the big turn is when Sprig sneaks the girls in to see the magic box as a kind of ‘look at this cool thing.’ and the girls touch it and just absorb the power straight out of the gems and shut down the entire civilization. Like imagine if here in modern Earth if all electricity suddenly just shut off? Cause that’s what  the second half of season 2 and season 3 would explore. 

[gendervapor14]

two fights for freedom ~ chapter seventeen: taking the plunge

Arlong frowned at Rosinante. “Why would a noble settle for some filthy riff-raff like her?”

The blond drew up the same card in his repertoire, pulling her in for a platonic side-hug. Did not want to risk setting her off with anything more invasive. “She’s a fascination of mine. So, uh, beautiful and fiery. Why not marry her to keep her for myself?”

Did he really just say that? Bell-mère coughed on her next drag, which led him to believe, yes, that did just come out of his mouth.

“Seems to me like she’s trying to manipulate you into paying for her tributes.” Arlong sat back, arms folded. “Unless I’m mistaken.” He raised a hand before Genzo could chime in again. “There’s no escaping this. I need some form of physical evidence that this isn’t a ruse now, and then I’ll let you go.”

“Physical evidence.” Rosinante repeated numbly, thinking that Genzo’s magical paperwork would more than qualify as physical evidence. If only they thought this through more, forged some signatures or foil rings. Bell-mère tugged on his sleeve and he turned to face her squarely.

“Let’s kiss.”

i've said this like 80 times but i might have to slow down posting? maybe? i've got a bunch of things i have to write for january that are not yet written at all, and i accidentally pantsered myself into an unexpected plot twist in a rewrite of chapter 18 so. bear with me. i'll post more updates as we get closer to the next posting.

title: two fights for freedom rating: M category: F/M, gen content warnings: graphic depictions of violence status: incomplete, seventeen chapters, 51,808 words relationships: rosinante/bell-mere, cora & law, rosinante & hatchan, bell-mere & rosinante & law & nami & nojiko, rosinante & genzo, bell-mere & genzo characters: rosinante, bell-mere, law, nami, nojiko, genzo, nako, hatchan, arlong, arlong pirates additional tags: canon divergent, fix-it, everybody lives, pre-arlong park, angst with a happy ending, angst and feels, fluff and humor, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes, sexual tension, limes (yes i'm bringing limes back), eventual smut, romance, slow burn, financial issues, broken bones, references to depression, alcoholism, mental health issues, canon backstory, mentioned doflamingo, non-canon backstory (giving bell-mere a backstory), found family, medical inaccuracies, blood and injury, trafalgar d. water law is a little shit, developing friendships, past child abuse, nightmares, self-harm, fake marriage, selective mutism, more tags to be added later summary: freedom for one means adventure. exploring all the world has to offer, while avoiding the occasional haunting. freedom for another almost costs an arm and two daughters. a home, a village. perhaps freedom is best sought back-to-back. {a cora and bell-mère lives au}

♥

[creator-of-calm-queer-chaos]

Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé Book Review

HOLY CRAP!! It deals with such important topics SO WELL I LOVE IT!!!

Okay here you go:

Fast facts:

Title: Ace of Spades Author: Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé Pronunciation Guide: Fa-ree-dah Ah-bee-keh Ee-yee-mee-deh Genre: YA Thriller Rating: 10/10

Review:

When you mix the mystery/thriller quality of One of Us is Lying but better with the complexity of race from The Weight of Blood but better, you get Ace of Spades. I cannot put into words how much I loved this book. It genuinely held me on the edge of my seat the whole time I was reading it. It deals with genuinely difficult subjects with a skill level I have NEVER seen before. This story is supposed to be dark, and to shove the horrors of systemic racism at you so you cannot ignore them, as so many people do. If you are able, and especially if you are white, I beg you to read this book and to actually think that shit like what happens in the book is real. We see it in slightly more toned down versions more frequently, but this shit happens. It is supposed to be dark. And it is supposed to teach you a lesson about what gets hidden away.

Okay, okay, what's the plot?

Devon and Chiamaka are the only two Black students at Niveus Private Academy, a fancy high school made of white legacy students. Devon is a musician with dreams of getting into Julliard to help his mom and younger brothers get out of their struggling home. Chiamaka is a popular girl who, while her family is well off and stable, doesn't have a legacy to lean back on.

As Devon and Chiamaka enter their senior year, they are made Prefect and Head Prefect, respectively. Chaimaka is not shocked. Devon is. At first, it seems like senior year will work out splendidly.

And then Aces comes into play. An anonymous texter (or texters?) starts sending texts to the entire school with information about Chiamaka, Devon, and a few other students - information that they all thought they had buried deep.

Chiamaka and Devon end up teaming up to uncover a nasty history of racism, secret societies, and discover just how far Aces is willing to go to bring them down.

Told in a dual perspective, this book explores the horrors of systemic racism and what it means to be Black in a world of weaponized white privilege.

DUN DUN DUUUUN!!!!

Seriously though, it is a fantastic book. I read it for a book club and I cannot wait to discuss it.

It deals with some pretty heavy topics, so I will put those, along with how prevelent/how much it is discussed below the cut. Spoilers in the sense of that these topics will be discussed, but no plot details. I would suggest skimming those, or feel free to message me if you just want a yes/no answer about a specific topic.

Again, I want to highlight that this book is dark. It is supposed to be dark. If you read it and think it is a fluffy thriller, you have missed a fundamental part of it. This book is about racism and the depths of white privilege - and weaponizing race.

Check out Àbíké-Íyímídé's website about Ace of Spades here, and where to buy it: https://www.faridahabikeiyimide.com/aos

Potentially triggering topics and how long they are dealt with (spoilers in the sense of these things will come up, no major plot points are revealed. Some small scenes will be spoiled.)

Racism: The entire book (more obviously in the second half) deals with racism. This includes institutions that are explicitly trying to ruin the lives of Black students specifically. This includes benefits of having white legacy parents. This includes what it feels like to have curly hair, and the power that wearing your 'natural' hair can have. This book deals with racism, and it does not hide how terrible it is.

Stalking: Aces stalks Devon and Chiamaka. Like, explicetly stalks them. There are major invasions of privacy that happen. A character is photographed changing - levels of stalking.

Homophobia: There is quite a bit of homophobia throughout the book. A character is non-consensually outed, multiple friendships/relationships are broken because of fear of how people would treat them if they knew they were queer, and a character is beaten up (it's show as a memory) because he is gay (in this scene/memory, he remembers being called slurs)

Bullying: Most of this story is about bullying. I don't know how else to put it. People are assholes in this story.

Toxic friendships: There are many many toxic and fake friendships, including when the main character is the toxic one.

Death/murder: A character killed another character pre-start of the book (we do see this scene in a vivid memory/nightmare, more in this in car accident/death), and that haunts them throughout most of the book. We learn about a group of people who killed at least one person, though we do not know how.

Hate crimes: There is a group of people who commit terrible crimes (including murder, as mentioned above) to people of color. This is a major premise of the book, more explicitly in the second half as the characters figure out what is going on.

Drug dealing: One character dates a drug dealer and works for them at one point. The person they are dating gets arrested later in the story.

Drug use: A character is revealed to have been using drugs, and it is rumored that another character also used drugs. These themes are present for about a page each.

Car accidents/death: A character gets into a car accident with another character that kills someone, and they do not report it. This haunts one of the main characters throughout the story. The accident is described in detail for a few pages, and the character has flashbacks to aspects to this scene multiple times.

Suicidal thoughts/attempts: It is mentioned that a character tried to commit suicide very briefly (the whole conversation lasts less than five lines).

Gun violence: A character is held at gunpoint towards the end of the story. This part lasts about two pages.

Police brutality: It is mentioned that a character is killed by a police officer (we do not know the character who was killed). This part lasts for only a few lines.

Incarceration: A drug dealer above gets incarcerated, and a main character visits them in prison. A main character's father was incarcerated, and we read a memory of the main character visiting their father in prison as well.

Sexual assault: There are two instances where characters were assaulted, one where a character does not remember pictures being taken of them, and another where pictures are found of an unknown character and a character describes the photos as feeling nonconsensual and as if she was being 'used.' Each of these instances are maybe a third of a page long.