#Turns out that our brain works in mysterious ways /s/

[littlest-bugz]

Dissociative barriers have been high as fuck for a minute, and when I feel like talking abt it w/ my friends, I feel like I just shouldn't iykwim. Like they don't need to hear it.

[teecupangel]

Been holding a thought on my brain for too long abt putting Desmond in Situations: have you watched Dimension 20's The Unsleeping City? At least s1. Bc 1) watch it, it's so good & 2) I specifically in this situation think abt Bad Weather being the normal version of the bar in Broadway that Kingston & Misty go to. Pre-canon Desmond seeing past the Umbral Arcana & getting involved in magic shenanigans..... Yeah.

You know his latent Eagle Vision is peeling out & seeing the magic shit happening in New York City. You KNOWWWWW. Please tell me one of your followers has been thinking this too.

I have good news for you, nonny, because I have just started watching Dimension 20 this year but I am a slow watcher so I’ve only gotten as far as the first 3 episodes of Unsleeping City season 2 (atm, I think my fav D20 moment is with the Bad Kids’ “Spring Break, I believe in you!” XD). I’m one of those few people who’s pathway to D&D and TTRPG is Oxventure→No Rolls Barred/Chaotic Neutral→Mystery Quest so I am absolutely late to the party XD

Anyway, for this one, we need to do a bit of housekeeping.

I’m basing this on the title of the opening theme New York 2006 because I think that’s the year Season 1 was set (feel free to correct me though)

This means that Desmond would be 19 at that point and we can push it that he’s already working in Bad Weather.

Now, I like the idea that Bad Weather is the normal version of the bar that Kingston and Misty goes to but, may I suggest an alternative?

An earlier possible way to add Desmond to all these shenanigans is to make Bad Weather one of the bars Sofia and Kugrash go to for their ‘hairy baby free drinks scam’.

Towards the end, maybe the last bar they go to, Desmond walks up to Sofia and requested that they leave because the big rat pet she had would make other customers uncomfortable.

Sofia and Kugrash are already drunk at this moment but they hear Desmond call Kugrash a rat and are like “you can see him???”.

Kugrash immediately remembers Desmond as one of the homeless kids he helped when Desmond first moved into the city and had clocked him as ‘strange’ because there was something about him that felt... not exactly magical but almost magical-adjacent.

This ends with Sofia and Kugrash inviting Desmond to their new party as a recruit (with Sofia thinking both (1) this boy needs someone in his life to take care of him and now I’m trying not to cry because my cheating (as far as she knows) husband and I never had kids and (2) maybe he and Pete can get along as newbies with me)

And that is how our Intrepid Heroes managed to recruit an Assassin Rogue who may or may not multiclass to Gloom Stalker in a different playstyle to Liam Wilhelmina.

.

Unorganized Notes:

This is a Desmond who doesn’t know about his destiny or his ancestors but his training on the Farm is so ingrained into him that it makes him a Rogue.

Because of his lack of knowledge, we can argue that he could turn into a Thief Rogue instead of Assassin in this one because he had never assassinated anyone before.

In terms of playstyle, he’d actually be more a close combat attacker that uses some kind of switchknife with sneak attack being part of 'bonus action: hide -> main action: sneak attack')

Another suggestion I have is for Desmond to subclass as Phantom, more because of ‘Whisper of the Dead’ where every short or long rest, he can gain one skill or tool proficiency and the flavor text describes it as one of the ghostly presence shares its knowledge to the user. Desmond has no idea what this means because this is pre-canon but this is actually his ancestors managing to create a link to him in some form thanks to the Umbral Arcana mixing with his ‘destiny’.

If you want Desmond to be given the illusion of choice and not be a Rogue, we can make him a Warlock ‘worshiping’ an unknown Fathomless. In this setup, they don’t know who Desmond’s patron is and Desmond himself just shrugs because he can do magic so that’s nice. Part of his deal is that he receives messages from his patron in the form of texts on his phone. They all come from an unknown number he can’t call and the texts are always like ‘The Scholar is pleased with your desire to learn about the history of this place’ or ‘The Prophet is worried of your health and asks that you requests your companions for a rest’ or ‘The Hunter suggests you still find a weapon even if you are using magic’ and this is some weird shit even for Kingston because it seems like Desmond has multiple patrons or maybe even an entire pantheon of unknown gods/beings.

Abstergo is going to be so fucked in this one because, by the time they try to kidnap Desmond, he’d probably be around level 10~12 and maybe even living with Pete in his apartment.

And yes. Desmond absolutely knows Ricky as Mister March as well XD

[deconstructthesoup]

First thoughts on a Fantasy High Dead Boy Detectives AU:

Ayda is in Edwin's role as the brains of the agency and the ghost from 1916 who escaped Hell. Her father was wealthy enough that she was able to go to a private all-girl's boarding school, but as the only Black girl at the school---who was also visibly queer and neurodivergent to boot---she was treated as an outcast, right up until she got sacrificed in a prank gone wrong. Now that she's escaped, Ayda uses the skills she's picked up and her love of mysteries to help out her fellow ghosts, though she's... not exactly the best at processing her feelings. Especially when those feelings involve her partner in solving crime.

Fig is in Charles's role, because there's no better fit for our lovely, heart-on-her-sleeve punk than the lovely, heart-on-his-sleeve punk---and let's be real, Fig is the most 80's Bad Kid. She attended the same boarding school as Ayda (just, y'know, seventy decades in the future), and while she fell in with the popular girls easily, it didn't take long for them to turn on her once she stood up for someone they were bullying... and, well, that led to her death. While Fig acts carefree and wisecracking, she carries a lot of guilt with her over the fact that she'd written off her family once she found out that Gilear wasn't her real dad, and not only did she never get to reconnect with them, but the experience was jarring enough that she made a lot of bad decisions, which led to equally bad relationships.

Adaine is in Crystal's role as our favorite psychic that is full of rage and anxiety. Her "David" is Penelope, who posed as a cool, older girl who gave Adaine the attention that she was lacking at home---and eventually became her first girlfriend, though that relationship was... not great. Now without a lot of her memories, Adaine's stuck with the Dead Girl Detectives, much to Fig's delight---and Ayda's, eventually. She gets over her jealousy way quicker than Edwin did. While Adaine wasn't a "make someone walk into traffic" kind of person pre-amnesia, she did carry over a lot of bitterness that curdled into something worse when she got swept up into the popular crowd, so... yeah, Fig and Ayda are kind of a blessing for her.

Figuring out the Niko equivalent was a bit harder, but I eventually settled on making her Lucy. She kind of fits the bill of someone who has a lot of sadness but is still unflinchingly kind, and between the pale hair and being dead-but-not-really-dead... yeah, Lucy's wonderful, and it means if I ever write this, I get to figure out who she is as I write her. Also, her dandelion sprites are Kipperlilly and Ruben, because I thought that'd be hilarious.

Thinking more into that, I decided that Sam would be a pretty good Jenny, seeing as she's got the bitchy-yet-loving energy that we all need. She's tired yet protective, closed off yet oddly kind... it works. Even though her style's more of a, uh "mermaid academia" type than goth, I think she'd make a really good Jenny.

And here's where you're gonna have to hear me out... Kristen is the Cat King, or rather, the Cat Queen. As tempting as it is to make her the church girl lesbian who's just come out and is struggling in a small town, I really wanted to hone in on her energy in Junior Year---a confident, easygoing, and hella flirtatious butch who's still a total mess underneath her swagger. I like to think that she was a human girl living in a religious family once (say, when settlers first arrived in Port Townsend), but she got really into witchcraft and wound up devoting herself to the cats, becoming an otherworldly being with nine lives as a result. As it stands, Kristen is hella fun, even if most of what she does is cause trouble.

With that in mind, Kalina was really the only character who I felt matched up with Ester's energy---except for Aelwyn, of course, but seeing as she's Adaine's sister and all, it didn't feel quite right. It could also tie in with Kristen's backstory---say, maybe Kalina was the person who taught Kristen about witchcraft, Kristen wound up getting the better end of the deal, and Kalina's still burnt out about two hundred years later. And in an irony of ironies, that resentment led Kalina to have a wolf familiar instead of a cat... who is, of course, our lovely girl Tracker. (Yes, Tracker has been turned into a girl before, and yes, she and Kristen are exes.)

I'm not quite sure who I want the Night Nurse to be, and you can tell that I'm saving roles for Gorgug, Fabian, Riz, and Ragh in case we meet characters like them in season 2---though, I have been fiddling around with the idea of Riz being an angel and a former agent of Heaven who Ayda and Fig have basically adopted into the agency. This is a first draft, so... yep!

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us chapter 3 || Masterlist

Tags same as last time, based on @cheesy-cryptid 's piece of amazing fan art .

Summary: Octavia wanders around the museum at night, her mind wanders in the quiet of the halls.

As always thank you to my darling friend and beta reader @micropoe10 ❤️

It's a shorter one this time, but it's going to start getting long after this so make yourselves comfortable 😌

@satanicspinosaurus 💙

Chapter 3: I lost my place

Another couple of weeks pass, Octavia and Gale are close to finishing the new exhibit: Shar's Lost Temple: The Holy Relics of Our Lady of Loss. They were set to open in a couple of days, but she stayed behind one more night to give Gale a much deserved break. One more stay won't be too bad. After a few all-nighters in the office cataloging, she became used to the eerie silence that fell on the museum at night. She loved walking along the solitary corridors, taking in the history in these walls. 

Eventually she wandered over to the Szarr gallery, being drawn to the unknown man again. She stares at the face, the same feeling running down her neck, her spine...She shakes it off and rubs her eyes. Trailing her eyes back up to the painting, she moves them up the features of the subject.

As a half elf herself, she knew most of the features were common; such as the pale skin, the pointed ears, even the white hair, but those eyes were so intense she had never seen a color so deep. Even through the canvas and oil, she felt them following her. 

As she admires the brush strokes, the atmosphere feels as if it's weighing down on her, it must be the stress and anticipation of the opening. She turns to sit on the bench in the gallery, as she does, she sees a figure from the corner of her eye.

Octavia gasps, recoiling in terror, "OH GODS WHAT-" "I'm sorry, please don't be scared!" Astarion standing in front of her. "Mr. Ancunin, what are you doing here?? I thought I was alone. I just wanted to clear my mind while I finish some work." Octavia trails off. She fixes her cardigan, and glances up at him for a second, immediately looking back down due to her embarrassment. She notices that he's wearing those same dark glasses he wore at the restaurant. 

"I was walking through the new exhibit. I wanted to see what my two favorite assistants had gotten up to. I must say, it's incredibly impressive how hard you both work." He sits on the bench in front of them, motions for Octavia to join him. "I was on my way out when I saw you staring at our man of mystery. I must say, it seems you've taken a liking to him with all that staring you were doing. I like how you described him that night." 

He places his hands on the bench, leaning back he crosses his legs and lets out a sigh. "It was nice. Not many patrons to our establishment look past the opulence and silly outfits to really appreciate the people who were there." He seemed almost nostalgic for a second.

They linger in the silence for a minute, "Anyway, I won't keep you, can't have that pretty brain of yours working too hard, can't we?" He flashes a sly grin and stands, he looks up at the frame on the wall and motions as if blowing a kiss up at it. "Good night, sweet Octavia, try to go home at some point tonight. Okay?" 

"Sure...Good night, sir." she turns to walk away. "You can call me by my name you know, no need to be so professional, it's just the two of us." The way his voice spills the words out sounds kind of old fashioned, like out of some of those vintage romance novels Octavia's mom had. She swallows the flutter her heart does "Okay, good night.. Astarion. See you tomorrow." "Good night, darling." 

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday and Thursday

I made a graphic for them I do these so often. 😆

This one will be a bit different from other WIP Wednesday. I’m going to give a brief overview of each one of my WIPs. (There are a lot, not all of them are on Tumblr, I’ll mention which ones are.)

I was tagged by @secretelephanttattoo @trulybetty @fhatbhabie ❤️ and @rhoorl I think. I feel like I mostly got it right. 😂

“This is the Neighborhood Din” My modern Din Djarin AU with a human Grogu (affectionately called Little G). Three chapters are up so far and four is almost done. I’m having a lot of fun writing it (outside of chapter two - Domestic Violence warning on that one.) I’m introducing different Star Wars characters each chapter and their interconnected relationships while keeping with my silly brand of humor. Know that Johnnie Mae is the MVP.

“Weddings 101 with Dieter” A series near and dear to me as with this series I really doubled down on writing Dieter Bravo overall as well as my delusional belief that I am somehow a comedy writer. Maya and Dieter are a hot mess, I love Daisy, Dieter’s trusty goat and that this series is the crazy ridiculous rom-com I wanna see. ❤️ Also I made Oscar Isaac have imaginary beef with Dieter and am having way too much fun writing it. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine loves this series and I love her for loving it. 🥰

“The Lake Between Us” My sleepy, dreamy series with Ezra. He has an airboat, he has a house across of the OFC’s on a lake. He cooks gumbo in a tank top. This series was inspired by Ezra cooking (I dunno why) and turned into an eight part series on two people growing closer. There’s two interludes (I’m scrapping the third one - thanks to @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for beta reading filth. This is the one time it doesn’t fit lol)

“Only Pieces of You Mr. Morales” My angsty sensual (also has a lot of sex because it’s Frankie) short series I created on a whim last week. I finally was able to write for Frankie this year outside of prompts. 👀 I describe different parts of Frankie’s body each Friday. I put out (pfft) two drabbles on Fridays. It’s a friends to friends to benefits to them figuring it all out. Maybe because I put Frankie through the wringer to much is why when I put Frankie drabbles in @i-own-loki ‘s box, she thinks I’m harming the man. 😭 I love Frankie I swear!

“Our Journey Across the Star Ocean” My fluffy Din series where you and Din (especially) are super awkward, very sweet and idiots. Three tropes I love. I have two parts and I’m working on a third. I’m not sure how long this one will be. On the shorter side for sure. Fluff for @grogusmum and @604to647

“Come away with me Angel” This is my Benny series I finally tossed out into the world. There’s only one part but I am working on part two. Friends to lovers and one house I guess as far as tropes go. I see to have a thing with cooking because so far in chapter two Benny is cooking shirtless. @rhoorl and @musings-of-a-rose we’ll need to discuss this.

“Post Apocalyptic Fluff and Stuff” This is @maggiemayhemnj ‘s brain child. She told me I made up a genre of post apocalyptic fluff so we’re going to have more. The stuff refers to darker topics because it is an apocalypse, but 80% fluff. I’ll have emoji indicators.

Unposted Planned Series:

“A Safe Place for Us” is what happens when I think on an obsessive baby daddy Dieter I wrote for a spring prompt because what else goes with a brick house am I right?! No? Well, it’s what we’re getting. Eventually. After Weddings 101. They’re not connected, different OFC and I have all sorts of silly titles.

“Therapy for the Well Adjusted” If there’s someone who is going to be put through the wringer, it’s Marcus Pike. He has an incident at work where he needs to take some time off. Because he’s Pike, he seeks out a therapist. After a miss or two, he vibes with Dr. Mint. The OFC has a longer road to therapy met with therapists whose vibes are way off and also no one needs to touch your Cakatoo. Ever. Not a euphemism an actual bird. Eventually, the OFC finds Dr. Julip. Both doctors share a practice. Nerdie style hijinks ensue. Inspired by a Marcus mini-series I made in my Spring Prompts and my own experiences with therapy.

“So Fairy not Jedi?” Din and Grogu meet a fairy warrior. Possibly might be a soulmate AU too? Din’s having all the AUs Working title just vibes. Expect it to be weird, wild and hopefully wonderful.

“It’s not all bad right cariño?” Javier Peña, the elusive, owner of aviators and the amplifier behind them. I had thoughts about him being in an AU in Loredo post Narcos as a sheriff and his interactions with a lawyer from the DA’s office Thalia. Since I haven’t given Javier much other than major angst, pickles, guava and a lot of fingers (the former DEA agent knows what I mean), I can give him a little bit of silly and something sweet. Also just vibes, but I have bullet points. Dancing and yellow jasmine.

“Ezra as a sex worker” Bullet points. Sometimes you just have him hold you, sometimes he talks the entire time but it’s fine because he sounds like sipping warm bourbon while sitting on an over stuffed chair with your feet propped up and it’s massaging all your limbs. Ezra does wonder why you don’t actually come here for sex but he’s getting paid for his time so he can keep that to himself. Until he’s in one of his rambles and asks. A cascade of events occur and he’s living in your house later. Still cooking because I always want Ezra to cook. Pfft.

Feel free to send me an ask or drop a comment about any of these. I think about them all way too much. 🤣🤣

As I was asked by @for-a-longlongtime earlier this week when talking her ear off about something, “How many words do you even write per week?!” 🙃🙃 I have no idea. It’s a lot. Maybe 2-3k but given what I post per week that feels low. It’s a compulsion at this point.

We’re at the end, thanks for reading this far! 💜💜💜

NPT: @undercoverpena-fics @megamindsecretlair @saturn-rings-writes @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @schnarfer @wannab-urs @connectioneverywhere @inept-the-magnificent @covetyou @gemmahale @goodwithcheese @lady-bess @morallyinept @trulybetty @alltheglitterandtheroar @alltheotps @slippinninque @magpiepills @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @laurfilijames @yorksgirl @julesonrecord @djarinmuse @paulmescal-s @tinytinymenace @pedroshotwifey

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter Eleven

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eleven: Delayed Murder

Summary: Sherlock continues his speech, but (Y/N) realizes something is wrong at the wedding.

Present…

            “Married,” said Sherlock as he arrived at the end of what he, John, and (Y/N) had uncovered on the case. “Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity and instead of endless nights in watching telly or going to barbecues with awful, dreadful, boring people he couldn’t stand, he used his wits, cleverness, and powers of disguise to play the field. He was…” Sherlock trailed off as he noticed he’d lost the audience. He’d gotten a little too lost in his own mind as he went back over the case.

            Next to him, John cleared his throat, and Sherlock focused.

            (Y/N) just sat there and furrowed their brow. They were back and stuck on the secrets being the only link. Marriage didn’t feel like the answer. There still felt like there was something more.

            “On second thought, I should probably have told you about the Elephant in the Room,” continued Sherlock. “However, it does further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that’s what made me special, quite frankly. But word to the wise: should any of you require the service of either (Y/N) or myself, we will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that—I should know. He’s saved mine and (Y/N)’s so many times in so many ways. This blog is the story of three people and their frankly ridiculous adventures of murder, mystery, and mayhem. But from now on, there’s a new story—a bigger adventure. Friends and family, pray raise your glasses and be upstanding.” Sherlock raised his glass, and the guests stood and did the same.

            (Y/N) stood, but they were just following what everyone else did. Unsolved cases were on their mind. First Bainbridge was nearly killed with no rhyme or reason and without a weapon. Then the disappearing date working his way up from someone separate from their employer to someone who would be close. As if someone was trying to get closer to someone to be able to kill them. Of course, then he’d need a way to kill the person, but (Y/N) didn’t need to know that yet, they needed to know who the Mayfly Man was and who he was trying to get close to and then (Y/N) could figure out how he was planning to kill whoever—

            “Today begins the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single of us is here today,” said Sherlock.

            Crash!

            (Y/N)’s glass fell to the ground. Everyone turned towards them in surprise.

            Hamish. Hamish, Hamish, Hamish.

            “Annoying. Called John…Hamish…”

            That’s what Sherlock had told (Y/N) Tessa had said. She knew his middle name, which he hated. He never used it except for the wedding invitations. (Y/N) knew the truth in the instant: the Mayfly Man was here. He was going to kill a guest at the wedding.

            “(Y/N)?” said Sherlock.

            “Sorry,” said (Y/N) absently, eyes coursing over the guests. “Sorry.”

            And since he had to be able to kill someone without bringing in a weapon—anyone who knew John Watson knew that he would notice a weapon—he needed to kill without one.

            Like Bainbridge…

            (Y/N) stood and cleared their throat. All eyes were on them. They wanted to freeze up, but they had a job to do. They had to find the victim. (Y/N) had to make sure they didn’t die.

            “Sorry, everyone,” they said. They squared their shoulders, and they stepped down from the head table. “I just—I realized I would like a chance to speak.”

            Sherlock and John exchanged glances, and Sherlock furrowed his brow. (Y/N) had figured something out. He knew his kid. This was intentional.

            “You see, I met John Hamish Watson when I was young teen,” said (Y/N). Their gaze flicked to Sherlock as they said “Hamish,” and his eyes lit up as he made the connection, his mind quickly going to what (Y/N) had realized.

            They continued, “And, listen, I have a great dad, but Sherlock isn’t the most responsible adult on the planet.” Several laughs and snorts rippled through the crowd in agreement. “So I’m glad John is in my life. He takes care of me and Sherlock and always saves everyone he can. He makes everyone’s lives better.”

            (Y/N) walked around the different tables, eyes coursing over the group. They gazed for a moment at the photographer, but they continued on. He didn’t matter right then. (Besides, there was both Sherlock and (Y/N) to handle that part, and they knew Sherlock had it).

            “And, uh, he makes me and Sherlock want to be better,” said (Y/N). “So even if there is a murderer in the room, I want to be like John and help the victim, first.” They looked at Sherlock and John. “Because that’s what we’re meant to do, especially with Vatican Cameos.”

            John stiffened, and Sherlock nodded in understanding. Someone might die in the room.

            “What did they say?” asked Mary in confusion. “What’s that mean?”

            “Battle Stations. Someone’s going to die,” said John. “Who is it, Sherlock?”

            “(Y/N)’s getting there,” said Sherlock, watching (Y/N)’s eyes scan the crowd. “I’ll handle the other.” He kept his gaze on (Y/N) in case they were in danger while he typed out a message to Lestrade.

            His phone dinged, and Lestrade frowned as he opened it. Then, he raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked up at Sherlock. The detective nodded, and Lestrade rose. “Sorry, sorry, need the loo,” said Lestrade, walking out of the room awkwardly.

            The part of (Y/N)’s mind focused on the killer finally switched off, and every part of their brain honed in on the possible victim. They clapped and smiled around at everyone. “Alright, so, John loves a good murder mystery, so let’s play a game. Who would you kill here?”

            Everyone looked at them in alarm, and (Y/N) waved a hand. They couldn’t really do speeches, but they could solve cases. They were in their element. “Relax. This is just a game. Now, some of you could be easy. John has already proved pretty easy to test compounds on—” John frowned in confusion “—so it wouldn’t need to be a wedding. Several of you here are a little too easy to kill, so again, it wouldn’t need to be here.”

            (Y/N) folded their hands and turned to face the head table with a smirk. “It would have to be the celebration itself. It would have to be the only opportunity for murder, so clearly someone who doesn’t go out much. A recluse.”

            Mary and John’s eyes widened, and Sherlock damn-near grinned in pride as he and (Y/N) arrived at the conclusions simultaneously. (Y/N) was growing sharper, more observant.

            “A recluse with a small household staff with high turnover. The staff would include at least a few security workers, a gardener, a cook, a maid, and even a private nurse,” continued (Y/N) excitedly as they made all the connections. “And then you have to kill them in public, which is impossible, but Bainbridge was, so there is a way, and that means the two must be similar in some way, and the only significant thing about Bainbridge was his post as a guard.” (Y/N)’s ramble finished, and they took a deep breath as all the adrenaline kicked in. “Uniform. Recluse.” Sholto.

            (Y/N) stopped, and everyone stared. They smiled. “Everyone, there will be a brief interlude! Raise your glasses to the bride and groom!”

            The guests looked at each other in confusion and hesitantly raised their glasses. (Y/N) darted up to the head table.

            “Someone’s going to murder Major Sholto,” said (Y/N).

            John and Sherlock stood.

            “Let’s go,” said Sherlock.

            “I’m coming, too,” said Mary.

            “No, no, it could be dangerous,” said John worriedly.

            “It’s my wedding, too,” said Mary firmly.

            “No time for this,” said (Y/N), scanning the room. “He’s gone.”

            “He’s being roomed here,” said Mary.

            Sherlock led the charge out of the reception room to find Sholto.

            “What room is he in?” asked John as they ran.

            “No idea,” said (Y/N).

            “Why should we know?” asked Sherlock.

            “You two remember everything!” cried John.

            “We have to delete something,” said Sherlock.

            “I just didn’t care,” said (Y/N).

            “207,” said Mary, saving the day.

            The entire group ran up the stairs down the hall to Room 207.

            Sherlock banged on the door. “Major Sholto? Major Sholto!”

            “Major Sholto!” called (Y/N).

            “If someone’s about to make an attempt on my life, it won’t be the first time. I’m ready,” declared Sholto. He had heard the explanation (Y/N) gave and realized it was him as soon as they said “recluse.”

            “Major, let us in,” said John.

            “Kick the door down,” said Mary.

            “I really wouldn’t. I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes,” said Sholto.

            “You’re not safe in there. Whoever’s after you, we know that a locked room doesn’t stop him,” said Sherlock.

            “The invisible man with the invisible night,” said Sholto.

            “Yes, the man who tried to kill Bainbridge was practicing for you because he wears a uniform similar to yours,” said (Y/N).

            “But we don’t know how he does it, so we can’t stop him, and that means he’ll do it again,” said Sherlock.

            “Solve it, then,” said Sholto.

            “I’m sorry?” said Sherlock.

            “You’re the famous Sherlock and (Y/N) Holmes—” (Y/N) blinked at the last name they were given “—Solve the case. On you go. Tell me how he did it, and I’ll open the door,” said Sholto.

            “Please, this is no time for games. Just let us in! You’re in danger!” cried John.

            “So are you, as long as you’re here,” said Sholto. “Please, leave me. Despite my reputation, I really don’t approve of collateral damage.”

            “Solve it,” said Mary.

            “Sorry?” said Sherlock, and (Y/N) frowned and shifted hesitantly.

            “Solve it and he’ll open the door, like he said,” said Mary.

            “If we couldn’t solve it before, how can we solve it now?” said Sherlock.

            “Because it matters now,” said Mary.

            “What are you talking about?” Sherlock looked at John. “What’s she talking about?”

            “She’s right,” said John.

            “John, we’re trying,” said (Y/N).

            “We tried before, and we can’t now,” said Sherlock.

            John leveled a look on Sherlock. “You are not puzzle solvers—you never have been. You’re drama queens!” Sherlock and (Y/N) looked at him in offended silence, and John barreled on, “Now, there is a man in there about to die. The game is on. Solve it!”

            “I’m doing it, but I’m not a drama queen,” muttered (Y/N).

            “No, this is an ‘enrichment’ activity, according to Sherlock,” said John, rolling his eyes.

            “Bainbridge was chosen because he was a guard. That’s similar to Major Sholto in his uniform,” murmured (Y/N).

            “So is the job the link or the uniform,” said Sherlock.

            “Uniform,” decided (Y/N), and Sherlock nodded.

            “Wound was here,” said Sherlock, placing his hand over his stomach.

            “Belt!” said (Y/N) excitedly as Sherlock’s eyes widened. They spoke the realization he had made at the same moment.

            Sherlock knocked on the door. “Major Sholto, no one’s coming to kill you. I’m afraid you’ve already been killed several hours ago.”

            “What did you say?” came Sholto’s voice from within.

            “Don’t take off your belt,” said (Y/N). Upon hearing curious silence, they continued, “Bainbridge was stabbed through his belt while on duty. It’s tight and high on the waist, so he couldn’t feel it. Major Sholto wears his uniform similarly, so he didn’t notice, either.”

            “The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight, and when you took it off…” John trailed off.

            “You have a locked room killer as you bleed out within five minutes from just taking off your belt,” said (Y/N).

            “Delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world to create an alibi,” said Sherlock. Silence. “Major Sholto?”

            “So, I was to be killed by my uniform. How appropriate,” said Sholto.

            “They solved the case, Major. You’re supposed to open the door now. A deal is a deal,” said Mary.

            “I’m not even supposed to have this anymore,” admitted Sholto. “They gave me special dispensation to keep it. I couldn’t imagine life without this uniform. I suppose—given the circumstances—I don’t have to…When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue.”

            “Whatever you’re doing in there, James, stop it, right now. I will kick this door down,” shouted John.

            “Mr. Holmes, you and I are similar, I think,” said Sholto.

            “Yes, I think we are,” said Sherlock.

            “There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there?” remarked Sholto.

            “Of course there is,” said Sherlock.

            “And one should embrace it when it comes, like a soldier,” said Sholto.

            “Of course, but not at John Watson’s wedding,” said (Y/N) sharply, their voice ringing clear and true. “You wouldn’t harm him like that.”

            “We wouldn’t do that to him, would me? You and me—we would never do that to John Watson,” said Sherlock.

            Silence.

            John shifted nervously. “I’m gonna break it down.”

            The lock clicked, and Mary grabbed John before he hurt himself.

            “No, wait, wait, you won’t have to,” she said.

            The door opened, and Sholto stepped out, still in his uniform with the belt tight around his waist.

            “I believe I am in need of medical attention,” he said formally.

            “I believe I am your doctor,” said John, stepping into the room with Sholto. Mary followed him in.

            “We did it,” said (Y/N), their shoulders sagging in relief.

            Sherlock reached out and patted their shoulder. “You saw it first. You made sure he had a chance.”

            “Well, you were right,” said (Y/N). “John makes us want to help people.”

            Sherlock smiled. “At least you have one good role model.”

            (Y/N) leaned in and let Sherlock hug them from the side. “I have a pretty good dad.”

            Sherlock squeezed their shoulder. They were father and child, and they were back as a team.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

[anonymous-starling]

I don’t even know what’s real anymore, I don’t want to fight forever

TW!!

I’ve got no memories. No proof. Nothing outside of me and my system who doesn’t talk me and my screwed up body. This is the only evidence, and this evidence has been tainted.

Sometimes I’m really afraid that I was just born messed up and twisted… in preschool, when I was 4, I specifically remember just wanting to fawn and submit to people. Other children. In games. But it was deeper than that to me. I would’ve been willing to let people drag my limp body and do whatever the heck they wanted to it. What kind of 4 year old is like that? Willing to be abused and treated like an object?

And still today.. Gosh I hate talking about this, because who would believe me? Ever since my chronic pain down there (pain that feels like a ghost is molesting me 24/7 and I spend my whole life in bed now screaming from every tiny little trigger) began to increase so did this.. other thing. This gut feeling. This silent understanding without even having to address it… this “understanding” (with nothing to back it up) that somebody, a long time ago, intentionally created my pain through a very specific and methodical pattern of grooming and molest, and made it so that my tiny little body would result in needing him to SA me to relieve the pain. Like some twisted reverse psychology thing but it’s physical. And he made it so that something would trigger the pain to turn on, and the only way for it to be turned off is for me to allow him to SA me again. Note: I have NO memory of anything like this every happening. My childhood is a blended blur. I have had the most stupid vivid nightmares of it, and even some of our persecutors reenact it in them.. and in every nightmare, the perpetrator— whoever it is— follows that same specific method to create this mind-control/programmed-like response. It’s horrific.

In these nightmares, all he has to do now is say a word or a phrase or wave his hand a certain way and bam. I dissociate. Or bam. I’m uncontrollably needing him. Or bam. I collapse— still conscious but unable to move or see or hear clearly. And the things he does in these dreams to first create the pain… to make me need him. To activate it so that it’ll go off someday and make me need to go back to him so he can relieve it. ITS STUPID AND HORRIBLE AND RIDICULOUS AND I HATE MYSELF.

And something in me swears that’s what my pain is today— it’s been eating my life away since it started. I had to leave school, dance, I can’t work, I can’t even hang out with my family anymore, I stay in bed screaming at the top of my lungs. And I have to physically FIGHT myself not to put myself in vulnerable positions where I could potentially be abducted and trafficked, cause it’s like my body knows that’s where I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be there. And until I give in, the pain will only worsen. It feels like withdraw. It feels like this mysterious person in this event I have no memory of created this addiction in my tiny little body that needs the abuse, and without it, I got through permanent withdraw, and I need the SA to happen again to survive.

but it’s not real.

I hate it and I hate myself and I have no memory of the SA or anything so I don’t know if anything ever happened at all— what if I was just born totally f‘ed up???? I can’t do this anymore— I’ve been fighting against this pain for years and it’s getting worse, and it won’t stop till I give in and submit to it.

I feel like a machine that was programmed to return to a s*xually abusive situation or system against my will, but because I’m programmed to do it, I do it willingly, and if I fight against it, I malfunction completely and it’ll be the end of me- I have to give in. I feel like a moth that can’t help but fly into fire because it’s like it’s brain is being mind-controlled by the fire and even if it doesn’t want to burn, it will, because it can’t control it. She’s unwillingly willingly going in.

I’m a stupid DOG with a shock collar fastened around its neck, and someone out there is zapping it, saying come home, but I can’t give in. UGH I HAVE TO.

I can’t fight forever. I’m scared. What if I was just born messed up? WHat if the SA isn’t real and no one did this to me??? Any time I try to accept that or someone suggests that, I get so dizzy physically ill— I overheat and shake and almost vomit.

Im sorry. I’m sorry for all of this.

and this man… there’s a man who I don’t even have the memory of the times he came to stay with me and my father. He’s surely innocent. He’s no one. Yet I feel this overwhelming horrible force that needs me to message him. I haven’t had any interaction with him in over ten years. We were maybe 6. I have to physically fight myself from contacting him.. just to say hi.. I need to do it. I can’t fight it anymore. I’m gonna do it. What’s the harm? He’s absolutely innocent. Otherwise there’s be signs. I convinced myself of all of this. I’m not a survivor.

[pukanavis]

"Mystery on a Moonlit Cruise" Epilogue

Location: Sun Deck

Toi: Ani-sama, look at the way the HAMA port twinkles! It’s so pretty…

Ryui: I think your sparkle is even more radiant. Hey, take my jacket. I'll bet that the ocean breeze is making you cold.

Akuta: I always knew that food would taste a gazillion times better in a place like this.

Momiji: This really is an incredible spot. Thank you for showing us, Nanaki-kun!

Nanaki: Don’t mention it. It’d be a waste to hog this place all to myself.

(Even if this is the total opposite of the one-on-one vibe I was hoping for, I’m glad I managed to invite her either way…!)

Kafka: Definitely. The interior of the ship is stunning in it’s own right, but the sun deck is really something else ♪

Nanaki: Oh, Oguro-san—

Momiji: Kafka, you’re back. How’d your chat with the cruise ship director go?

Kafka: Since we’re all here, I suppose now’s a good time to break the news. I won’t ask you to stop eating, but lend me your ears, if you please.

While I was talking to the director, I pitched my proposal for a ‘Sailing to Dreamland’ project and he absolutely loved the idea!

Yukikaze: The combination of sleeping and cruising? That's quite the interesting pair you've come up with.

Kafka: My vision is to turn the time spent aboard into an experience unlike any other by utilising Netaro’s inventions to provide a premium level of relaxation. Pretty innovative idea, right?

Yachiyo: Waah…! That’s incredible, sir! Such a combination is something that us foolish commoners with our static brains stunted by preconceived ideas could never dream of conceptualising!

Yodaka: I see. I’m sure that this will be a warmly welcomed service for those living the fast-paced and taxing lifestyles of the modern age.

Ryui: Just making sure, but you’re not gonna be using Yowa’s inventions the same way he did tonight, are you?

Kafka: Of course not. What happened today was just one mistake away from becoming a far greater issue. I will see to it that nothing like this happens again.

That’s why I’m going to be asking Netaro to make some further improvements on his invention and to write up an in-depth manual! In it's current state, his creation will blindly put both humans and robots to sleep.

Netaro: This is the wo~rst. The invention I made to get out of work has become the very thing to dump a bucket of extra chores onto me~.

Ryui: Sounds like a good way to properly atone for your crimes to me.

Nanaki: Uh…excuse me, Ryui-san.

Ryui: What is it?

Nanaki: About earlier…

Ryui: (Earlier…?)

ーFlashback

Nanaki: If we keep digging into this, it might end up driving us mad with paranoia instead.

Ryui: …

If that’s how you feel then there’s nothing stopping you from sitting on your ass.

Nothing will change as long as you refuse to do anything. Things’ll stay the same as always, and you’ll get to keep hiding away from harm in that safe little bubble.

Nanaki: …Is there something wrong with that?

Ryui: ....Sigh.

Nanaki: I-Is something wrong?

Ryui: No, I just feel like that became a bigger deal than it needed to be.

Nanaki: Oh…I see. Still, I want to thank you.

Ryui: ‘s nothing worth thanking me for.

Muneuji: I’ve been thinking…since music was at the heart of this dilemma, wouldn't that mean that Nanamegi was closer than any of us to uncovering the truth?

Momiji: Oh, really…! It sounds like you were really busy while the rest of us were asleep…!

Nanaki: Oh, uh, it was nothing…besides, Ryui-san was the one who ultimately pressed Yowa-san into confessing everything himself anyway.

Yukikaze: Regardless, you picked up on things that completely slipped by the rest of us. That proves just how observant you are, Nanaki.

Muneuji: Indeed. You really take note of the little things, Nanamegi.

Nanaki: Muneuji…

Muneuji: Even on a daily basis, you translate the sounds Isotake makes, encourage Kinugawa to express his thoughts, and call out U~chan when he refuses to cooperate…

Yukikaze: It’s wonderful how much you care for your friends.

Nanaki: A-Anyone else would do the same!! But thank you!!

(These big brothers that’ll slap you in the chest with praise don’t play around…!!)

Momiji: But don’t people that care for others tend to hide themselves away more?

Nanaki: …!

Momiji: Nanaki-kun, I want you to know that you don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything!

Nanaki: Ah…of course…

Yukikaze: My caring little brother, you can tell me anything too.

Nanaki: T-Thank you.

(...I know I hold myself back, but it's not so much out of consideration for others as it is about being scared that I'll get hurt...)

…Anything, huh?

Kafka: I’m a little concerned…do you think we’ll be able to fall asleep again once we get back to the house?

Nanaki: (I don’t have the courage for that yet—)

Momiji: O-Oh no…I feel like I’m running on an entire night’s rest…

Nanaki: (...As much as I like your sleeping face, your smile really is my favourite.) 

I hope…I’ll be able to tell you someday.

Back | ★

[zzzykiek]

Play It Sweet

2P!Alastor x Fem!OC reader

CW: toxic workplace, creepy boss, talk of past violence, serial killers

This chapter is SFW but I'll still ask Minors DNI

Chpt 6_________________ “Ugh…Susan”

That lunch break was just what you needed and you return refreshed and ready to show Al how things work on the back end. Even Al lets his act drop, willing to relax enough to show his adorable stutter.

Returning to your office you do a quick check of your messages letting Al relax for a moment. “What do I g-get to observe first?” His question is barely a whisper in your ear. “S-s-sorry.” He whimpers when the unexpected proximity causes you to startle.

He leans into your touch as you caress his cheek. “I suppose I will give you the typical new patron rundown I do. That will give you the basics for everything and then we can dive into what peaks your interest.” Al reluctantly backs away from your touch and ushers you to lead the way.

You take him to the library's catalog computer. “This is the brain of the library.”

“No d-dear, that would be you.”

You giggle at Al's comment feeling your cheeks heat up. “Sadly, I am not always available, but this is.”

“Hmm, I will always prefer getting my information straight from the source, but enlighten me.” He leans his chin on your shoulder, watching as you access the catalog.

“You can search for anything you're interested in using: subject, title, or author. What do you want to find?”

“Hmm…” You see Al’s eyes flick to something on the other side of the kiosk and then back to the screen. “What if I was interested in….say…. serial killers?”

You give him an intrigued look. “True events or stories featuring them?”

“Real events, my dear.”

“Oh perfect! This will let me show you how to navigate our nonfiction collection. It is a bit more complicated than looking for a novel.” Pointing to the information on the screen, you continue, “This selection of numbers is the Dewey Decimal number, which is how the nonfiction books are arranged, and this number indicates the aisle where the item can be found. I added that detail when I started here to make things easier. Saves so much frustration. Is there a particular killer you're interested in?”

“I do enjoy the stories of those that were never identified. Makes it a bit more dangerous.”

“I will add unsolved to our search, and it looks like we have three items available; two books and one archive item.” You click on the archive item and are about to explain what it is when you hear the worst sound in the library.

“Ehhhh hhehehem.” A scratchy voice clears their throat.

“Ugh….Susan.” You whisper under your breath before switching to a cheery customer service attitude, feeling Al stifling a chuckle as you step out from under his chin. “Susan! How can I be of service today?”

“I am not so sure I approve of the topic you are leading this impressionable young man to.” Her eyes scan Al with a scowl.

You hear Al snort and say in your ear, “I’m not as young as everyone thinks.”

“I am simply providing a reader's advisory, leading him to what he has requested.”

“Why does the collection even have items on such a morbid topic?” The pointed look she gives indicates she puts all the blame on you.

“For readers like me that enjoy the mystery and danger of humanity.” Al is obviously turning up the charm. (I need to remember to ask if his voice is part of his powers.)

“Humph, shouldn’t be accessible to the public. Keep it at the police station.” She folds her arms and straightens up, obviously trying to command power in the conversation even though Al towers over her by a good two feet.

Bending at the waist, Al lets her have a sense of power. “An interesting perspective. I will let you know, I am looking for just that. I will be here doing interviews for community members on Thursday. I will be happy to schedule you a slot for you to speak your voice.”

Her demeanor immediately changes as she lays a hand on Al’s arm causing his body to stiffen. “Ohhhh, well I would be happy to!”

Quickly sidestepping from the touch, he returns to the computer. “Wonderful! I am sure it will be most enlightening! Now, Sunnifa was just about to explain the archived items to me, and these are details I must hear. It was wonderful to meet you Susan and I will see you on Thursday.” Al turns back to the screen, slotting back onto your shoulder as you give a dismissive nod toward Susan who begrudgingly returns to her place in the reading lounge.

You tap the mouse and bring the screen back to life. “Archived items are things that are not published books; they could include field notebooks, artifacts like bones or antiques, and newspapers which is what this particular item is. A collection from the late 1920s. Oh! They are from New Orleans!”

“Oh really, I would love to check those out.” He winks at you, and your eyes go from the screen to him and back as you piece together some comments from your hours of random conversation before realization smacks you in the face. You mouth to him, ‘Is that about you?’ He nods with a mischievous glint in his eye. You know you have a funny look on your face as you do some math in your head. “A decade old….” You say in a breath.

Al leans down and whispers. “T-t-told you I am not as young as p-people think.” You just laugh.

“Well these items are kept in the archive offices on the third and fourth floors. Usually patrons will put in a request for the item using the catalog and a staff member brings it to the desk for viewing, but we didn’t include the archives on our tour, so I will show you while we retrieve this. These are labeled 3.0167, so third floor, aisle one, sixth column, and seventh shelf.” You write down the location code and the call numbers for the other two books. “I also know our database has an article on the same killer featured in the newspapers. I will pull that up for you from the reference computer in a bit. It was written by someone I think you know.” Your turn to flash him a mischievous grin.

“Oh! Well, paint me intrigued. I will follow you.” You begin moving toward the elevator.

“Actually, would you mind if we took the stairs?” You catch a small tremor in Al’s form.

“No problem at all.” Al holds the stairwell door open for you. As you enter, he looks around for a moment before popping back to his demon looks.

“N-n-needed a b-bit of a break.” He summons his microphone staff and uses it to assist him in climbing the stairs, holding your hand tightly the whole way. He is shaking some, and you gently pull him to pause at the second floor landing. You meet his eyes and plant a comforting kiss on his lips which he melts into.

“Keeping up your disguise takes a lot of power doesn't it?” You gently run your finger through his hair as he relaxes the shaking stops.

“Not an insane amount, but even holding something light begins to feel heavy after a while.”

“I will make sure you get a few more breaks tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” He pulls you in against his chest and nuzzles into your hair. “Th-th-thank you, me amour.” Even he startles himself with that slip of the tongue as he clears his throat. “We better make our way up.” He snaps back into a human appearance and heads up the steps two at a time, holding the door for you on the third floor.

You beeline for the shelf, knowing exactly where it is, ascending the small ladder. You feel Al take hold of it at the bottom. You remove the box from its spot, placing it on a small platform attached to the ladder. “Crank the little handle to your left and the box will come down.” He looks at the crank, but waits for your feet to be on the ground before following your directions. Al picks up the box smirking at the highlight of the top issue. ‘New Orleans Butcher Strikes Again!’ It’s paired with a photo of the victim and a blurred out render of the crime scene. “His body count was higher than mine ever was.” Al’s grip on the box tightens and you can feel the rage emanating from him.

With a knowing smile you interrupt his spiraling thoughts. “Can't wait to hear your side of these stories.” The shocked look on Al’s face is truly adorable.

“Really?”

“Most definitely!”

Al laughs heartily. “I shouldn't be surprised at this point.”

The remainder of the afternoon is rather routine. Al wanders around observing the daily happenings of the library while you complete your normal daily tasks. Making sure to print that article for Al to see later.

Before you know it, three-thirty rolls around and Heather comes into your office with Al. It seems they have been chatting for a bit. “Sunnifa, It's about time you're let out from this prison to enjoy your evening!”

“I would never consider this place a prison Heather.” You laugh until you hear heavy steps in the hall.

“Cliff, you're late!” Heather turns with a hand on her hip.

“I was dealing with a patron’s concern, my apologies. Seems our new friend made an odd impression on Mrs. Susan.” Cliff tries to stifle his distaste at seeing Al’s hand on your shoulder.

“Ahh, yes, I plan to interview her on Thursday.” Al lets a bit of concern slip into his voice.

“I recommend you smile, nod, and take notes. She isn't impressed with you...at all.”

Heather picks up on Al’s concern, waving a hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t fuss over her. If she wants to complain, I will take it and then toss it in our fireplace.”

“She always complains. We are used to it at this point.” You add, placing your hand over his on your shoulder.

“I would have never known!” Al laughs, put at ease by your touch.

Heather squeezes his arm affectionately. “Well Al, did you observe all you needed to?”

“Oh I could spend days gathering information! It is a library after all.” The comment has Cliff rolling his eyes and putting Heather and yourself into a giggle fit. “But in all seriousness, I am sure there is so much I could learn here, though I have gathered plenty to get my gears turning. I plan to get my questions and some scripts prepared this evening.”

“Wonderful, we will have some things to go over with the board tomorrow.” Cliff huffs.

“For now you two head out and enjoy some time together.” Heather leans over to Al. “Still going to take her to the place I recommended dear?”

“How can I not; your hype makes it a necessity!” He twirls Heather around and flashes you a big smile. “Besides, you did say Sunnifa deserves to be treated well; I pride myself on being nothing but a gentleman.” Al plants a kiss on your hand just like he did the day before. “Are you off the clock now dear?” You glance at the clock to see it is five minutes after four.

“That I am, Al.”

“Good, I have been dying for this all day.” He plants a chaste kiss on your lips, and you can practically feel the anger radiating from Cliff.

“Ohhhh!!! Al, you cheeky thing; you said you weren't an item!” Heather coos.

“Technically we are not, but I planned to change that this evening. What do you say my sunshine, can this be our first date?”

Your mind is racing, but as you look into Al's eyes, there's only one answer to his question. You nod as a smile spreads across your face. Heather has both your and Al’s bags in her hand and is standing between you and Cliff.

“You two get going and I want to hear all about it in the morning.” She rushes you out the back door as she whispers. “I'll handle the man, baby.” Al absolutely explodes with laughter as he picks you up and carries you to the car.

“So what is this place that Heather wants you to take me to?” Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Al’s blue ears bob as he hums along to the music from your radio. (No one can really see him in the car) He fishes out a piece of paper from his pocket and places it in your line of sight. Your eyes go wide. “Now I know why Heather told you to take me there!”

“Because it's your favorite!” His smile is so wide and so proud you can't help but mirror it.

“Aren't you from Hell?”

“D-d-did that not register after this m-m-morning?” He taps his finger on your wrist.

“And yet you keep making me feel like I'm in Heaven.” There's that purple glow again. You giggle at his flustered state. “Well you are adorable as Hell, so I guess I will believe you.”

Now Al is a babbling mess next to you, though his voice isn't loud enough for you to make out any of what he is saying. “You're only giving me more proof.” You flash him a grin and entangle your fingers in his, causing him to relax some, going back to his humming. You begin singing along, not catching Al’s stare from the passenger seat.

When the song ends, his wistful voice comments, “You have the voice of an angel, so maybe it's you who the Heavens sent me.”

You just look at him, giggling, and let him take his victory. “We will be there soon. Time to human up again.”

[tea-stained-notes]

Steve Rogers x OFC - Waiting On a Miracle, Chapter 5

After catching an infamous serial killer in the act, Julie Castillo is in line for the witness protection program. She is sent to a temporary safe house with U.S. Marshal Steve Rogers to protect her. Both of them scarred by trauma and tragedy, they find solace in each other. But how far will they dare to go?

A shorter one, but at least you're getting an update in record time :D Also, I finally got around to making a tag list for this - if you'd like to be added or removed, please let me know!

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4

Series warnings: violence, death, angst, trauma, smut

Chapter warnings: anxiety, trauma

Chapter word count: ~1600

Song(s) referenced: Waving Through a Window (Dear Evan Hansen) Santa Fe (Newsies), Where Did the Rock Go (School of Rock), Empty Chairs At Empty Tables (Les Misérables)

Tag List: @multifanworld @peguem-o-pombo-agora @cvanstagram @yslvtre @wandasrogers @littleredone88 @before-we-get-started @sophham @missaprilt23 @chrissusmissus @dvmb-whxre @daddydraco0 @quicksilversthings @thechoosenonecreator @rosellia-hudsons @lokirogersgirl @333vadubios

A couple of days later Natasha came by with a DVD player and a stack of movies. “I got about half of your list — even that should keep your busy for weeks,” she greeted us, then turned to Steve. “Never pegged you as a Disney guy, Rogers.” “Glad our relationship still retains some mystery,” he shot back with an easy grin. Natasha’s eyes widened infinitesimally, her gaze flickering between the two of us. “What have you done to him? I’ve never seen this man so chill in my life.” I chuckled awkwardly, heat rising in my cheeks. “Well, ya know how it is. Give a man a cute cottage and some books and suddenly his inner snappy Belle breaks out.” She stared at me for a moment, then burst into roaring laughter. “I like this one,” she said to Steve as she shouldered him out of the way to carry in our things. Our eyes met and I found a strange expression behind his amusement. “Yeah, me too,” he mumbled so softly I feared I had imagined it. Then Natasha dropped her big box onto the kitchen counter, breaking the spell. “Other than this treasure trove of entertainment I’m also bringing some good news.” “And what’s that?” Steve asked, closing the door before gently guiding me towards his colleague. My skin caught on fire where his hand grazed the small of my back and I tried to ignore his comforting scent around me. A rather impossible task. “Okamoto called. They actually got some good leads on Parker. If all goes well, you’ve only got a few days left here.” “Oh,” I whispered. “Wow.” “Yeah, exciting stuff. I’m sure that’ll be a massive load off your shoulders.” “Definitely.” What I couldn’t tell her was that if that load was finally lifted, another heavy one would settle in its place. My old life seemed light years away and without Steve I wasn’t sure it would ever feel like home again. “So you might wanna get cracking on your little cinema experience soon.” She winked at us. “I put some popcorn in there as well.” “Thanks, Nat,” Steve said, his voice a little rough around the edges. “You’re the best.” “And don’t I know it.” She snatched one of the cookies we had made, then sauntered back towards the door. “Be good, kids. I’ll let you know if there’s any new developments.”

A long moment of silence followed her departure. Thoughts whirled around my brain at a million miles per second. I tried to convince myself that these were indeed good news. That with Parker safely behind bars I might finally be able to sleep through the night again. That I would soon see my friends, go back to work and… And what? With some distance I felt nothing but stuck in a life that wasn’t really leading anywhere. Talking about my past with Steve had brought up things I hadn’t allowed myself to fully feel in a very long time. I had been pushing them down for so long without realising how their leaden weight had held me in the same place for years. “How are you feeling?” I flinched, then slowly looked up at Steve. He was close, studying me with concern. “Strange. Relieved, I guess. But I…” My lip began to quiver. “I’m not sure if… if I can just go back.” “Yeah. I understand.” And when his eyes sank into mine I felt that he actually did. After all these hours together he could read me better than I was able to. I blinked away tears, gluing my gaze to the floorboards. “Would you like to talk about it?” “I don’t think so. Not now.” “Okay.” Out of habit I once more glanced at the piano. The strange object that was both siren and anchor in this room, calling out to me with the same force as the old piano in my house once had. I could almost see my younger self on that stool, my mom by my side, both of us smiling while treading the familiar path of a duet. “May I play something?” I surprised myself with the question spilling from my lips before the thought had even fully formed. I felt more than saw Steve nod, apparently too stunned to reply. A strange itch consumed me from the inside out, born of frustration and restlessness, of panic and longing. I didn’t know what I wanted to play, only that I needed to play, to sing, anything to release this painful tension. With newfound purpose I marched over to the piano, snapped it open and began to play before I had even fully sat down. Song after song poured out of me and I had never been so thankful for all the composers and lyricists who had labored to condense these emotions I could barely name into timeless ballads. Waving Through a Window turned into Santa Fe, then into Where Did the Rock Go. By the time I finally had to take a breath and stretch out my shaking fingers, I felt lighter, almost floating.

Steve had sat down on the sofa, watching me with a certain kind of wonder when I dared to turn to him. “Sorry about th—“ “No. Absolutely not. Don’t apologize.” He inhaled deeply, then gave me the softest of smiles. “That was incredible.” I blushed, my hands a tangled mess in my lap. “And it seemed very cathartic.” “Yeah. It really was.” I shrugged. “That’s one of the many reasons I’ve always loved musicals. There’s a song for every emotion, every situation. It’s not just the same tired pop songs you’ve heard a thousand times in a thousand variations. Theatre songs tell stories, real stories. Even mine.” Steve nodded thoughtfully. “I used to like that, too.” “But you’d forgotten.” “Somehow yes.” “I think I kind of had as well. Until that… outburst on our first day here. I used to do that all the time, just express whatever I was feeling through a specific song.” “People always find it weird when characters in a film or on stage do that but honestly, maybe we’d be a better society if everyone could just let out their feelings through song every now and then.” We both grinned. Steve sat back in the sofa, his legs casually pulled up beneath him. I once more marveled at the domesticity of our strange arrangement. “Would you mind doing a few more songs?” “Really?” “Only if you want to.” I was stunned to find that I did in fact want to. As if a dam had broken inside, letting something to flow through me that I hadn’t felt in ages. I nodded fervently. “Okay, you seem to really like ballads. So what's the saddest song from a musical?” “Wow, going right where it hurts, huh?” I blew out some air, contemplating for a few seconds. “There's so many good ones. And obviously the ones you relate to most hit the hardest. But a classic would be Empty Chairs at Empty Tables from Les Mis.” “What's that one about?” Steve smirked. “A failing restaurant?” “Not quite. Wait, let's see if I can still play it.” I sat down at the piano and ran my fingers over the keys, closing my eyes as I tried to recall the notes.

“There's a grief that can't be spoken,” I began softly. “There's a pain goes on and on. Empty chairs at empty tables. Now my friends are dead and gone… Here they talked of revolution. Here it was they lit the flame. Here they sang about tomorrow and tomorrow never came.” I slowly increased the volume in both my voice and the piano, getting lost in the piece. “From the table in the corner they could see a world reborn. And they rose with voices ringing and I can hear them now. The very words that they had sung became their last communion on this lonely barricade at dawn. Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me that I live and you are gone. There's a grief that can't be spoken, there's a pain goes on and on. Phantom faces at the window, phantom shadows on the floor. Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will meet no more. Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me what your sacrifice was for. Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will sing no more…” I let the last note ring out for a long moment, revelling in the ballad’s echo. And then I heard it. Broken sobs. I spun around, my gaze flying to Steve. His cheeks glistened with tears, teeth buried in his bottom lip to stifle the violent noises almost breaking through. “Hey, hey…” I whispered in shock. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—” A breath later I found myself kneeling in front of him, my hands gently holding his clammy, trembling ones. “Steve, I'm so sorry.” He shook his head and took a shuddering breath, falling back into the couch. I moved to sit beside him, trying to keep some distance but he never let go of my hands. We sat like that for a long time, our knees pressed together, while Steve slowly calmed himself. My thumbs kept caressing his knuckles, as naturally as breathing. “You were right, it hits much harder when you relate to it,” he eventually said, voice raspy from crying. I glanced up at his bloodshot eyes. “Will you tell me about it?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CHAPTER 6

MASTERLIST

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @waysofink

Who You Are:

El || They/them

I'm a creative writing graduate from Poland. A slavic witch, a solarpunk & an overall creative & crafty goblin. I write fantasy, mystery and lately I've been dabbling in horror. Nowadays also an avid audio drama enthusiast!

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Fanfic, Fantasy, Horror, Mystery, Poetry, Sci-Fi. New Adult and Adult

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

It's a split between fantasy and mystery. I feel like I like writing a story that is both. Can't live without dragons, but would also like to shroud the dragons in some mist, make them not so obvious in their dragon ways. Fantasy appeals to me so much because we can mold the aesthetics that acompany a setting we create and make them mean something, be a message, a metaphore, an echo of something from our world. I find that very cool. Mystery however sticks out to me, because secrets are enticing and I feel like many of us can relate to that feeling of "just wanting to KNOW". It's a good itch to adventure, following a lead of a mystery, it draws you right in and allows to explore puzzles of life.

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Romance. Simply because I am greyromantic and I honestly could not write a convincing plot that only revolves around a romantic relationship. I do write romance in my stories, don't get me wrong, but they are usually a subplot amongst the rest of the story.

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

My fellow queer people, my fellow anarchist and socialist people, my fellow neurodivergent people, my fellow nerds. I don't think a straight white capitalist man who hates science and D&D would like my writing very much 😂

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

Recently I've been focusing on the theme of change. I can't say I have a library of themes I reach for, but I'm pretty sure that one has always been quite universal in my stories. When it comes to tropes I like a lot of the popular ones - grumpy/sunshine in relationships, magic as extension of the self and tool for self-discovery. I write a lot of ensambles, I recently notices. So I like the trope of a community fighting, learning and growing together. Kind if should have see that coming.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

The Born Sexy Yesterday trope. Its the misogyny, your honour.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I'm currently writing an audio drama! Been working on it for maybe 2 months now? I just finished writing episode 1, I am quite proud of that :D

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

It almost seems like I was born a storyteller and I have to write, because I have too many stories in my head. It might be the adhd tho, I don't know xD.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

I've been writing since I was 12, but I was a storyteller well before that. My mom used to say I was making up characters as soon as I could talk. I know she wasn’t literal, but I'd like to think my first sentance was a story about a duck.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

Inspiration is everywhere, but my main destillery of scene & story ideas is music. I'm sure many writers can relate to envisioning scenes or scenarios in their head while listening to a particularly brain-sceatching song. My current peoject is a combination of that and my discovery of a different medium through which i can tell stories - podcast. Blame Rusty Quill shows and many others for what I'm about to put out into the world. It's all their fault.

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

Ask me in a year, maybe my answer will be "this audio drama I wrote and produced!". For now, I am only proud of having many, many fun & cool ideas I haven't finished yet 😅

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

I haven't publish anything finished, not really. I hope to do it this time. 🤞

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

The thrill of a finished project seems appealing, but I wouldn't know. The closest I got was publishing a fanfic on ao3. Getting kudos, getting positive feedback tho… that's quite a nice feeling. Least appealing would probably be marketing. I hate it, I don't know how to promote my stuff and that is probably why a lot of my projects end up unfinished - the lack of interest doesn't help the dopamine flow. And talking to people and promoting yourself is hard.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

Coming up with ideas, worldbuilding and shaping up the characters. That's the best. Worst would be the process of actually wrangling your ideas into a cohesive plot and putting them down on a page. A nightmare, truly a nightmare.

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

I work in spurts of energy, driven by dopamine, seratonin or spite. I'm a chaos incarnate and I am constantly ashamed of it, but I also love it and stand by my brain's ways. The vibes just gott be right. The music might help, or might not. Sometimes I just have to sit down and hype my story up to myself to write it - moodboards, playlists, all that jazz. And sometimes I simply sit down and hyperfixate on writing and voila - one chapter in a day.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

6 years it seems. I joined looking for likeminded folks, in search of stories and community. I did find a lot of good here, but I also learned how my brain can get really oversaturated with long posts and long conversations, so. I've been less active for the last 2 years for sure.

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

@drabbleitout is one of my favourite writers on here, I love their style & the way they write their androids. The wonderful @zonnemaagd (please verify that @, I am not sure if I spelled this right.) who enchants me with her words in her stories. @henrikedoeswritingsometimes had me at hello with their timeloop story. I freaking love time loop stories. More please.

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

Community? I only see positivity on here tbh. Though I have not wondered across the corners of the writeblr universe. So maybe its just that my little bubble is very cozy.

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

I tried to answer this question many times before - and I honestly don't know.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I don't contribute much these days. I wish I could do more. But life wants orherwise.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

silly posts, event posts, posts with writing references & snippets

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

I used to like sharing my writing snippets and wip intro posts, but soon there was too much pressure to publish more and more. and I just don't write things consistently enough to do that.

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

@waysofink on all other socials (that mostly Twitter & tiktok these days)

[dumdumsun]

To Nightfall

A/N: Enjoy!

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of alcohol and death

Word Count: 5119

—————————————

Chapter 17: Seven Bells

In mid-September of 1963, Sir Reginald Hargreeves found himself sending his daughter off to her very first outing with one of his colleague’s sons. He seemed to be a reasonable match for (Y/N). It was difficult to come by gentlemen her age with an intelligence like hers. Preston Hildebrand was in no way or degree of being smarter than (Y/N), but he would do.

“Reggie, she’ll be fine.” Grace reassured him from the lounge room. Reginald peeled himself away from the door, where he had been watching the two teens walking off down the street. “Come have a seat. Relax.”

Reginald sighed and sat himself in his usual armchair, gently taking his book from Grace that she held out for him. She sat herself down on the sofa and began looking through documents. “You don’t have to be afraid, Reggie. You know how your daughter is.”

“Yes, I do. Stubborn, relentless, emotional, sarcastic.” He turned a page. “She is also diligent… compassionate… sharp.”

“An absolute angel.” Grace grinned. Reginald hummed thoughtfully.

“May I repeat myself so confidently when I say that I truly believe (Y/N) is my greatest accomplishment?”

Grace chuckled. “You may.” Her laugh earned a small smile from him. “It’s crazy to think that she wouldn’t be in our lives today had I not been walkin’ down that sidewalk… She probably wouldn’t be breathin’ if we hadn’t met.”

Reginald lifted his head to watch her smile soften with affection.

“Makes ya think about how impressively the world works. How some of the best people show up in our lives when we least expect it… Like they’re meant to be here with us.”

“Yes,” He mused with a smile of his own. “Like they are meant to be here…”

-------------------------------------------------

A dull ache settled into Five’s temples as he opened his eyes. The orange light from outside casted into the bedroom, which gave it a soft glow. It was nice, he thought. The Kugelblitz could hardly be seen in a positive light, but it did give off a nice view. With a groan, he sat up in bed, the duvet sliding off his bare chest and landing in his lap. Five massaged his temples in silence, save for (Y/N)’s soft breaths beside him.

“What did I get up to last night?” He whispered, staring around at the empty bottles and mannequin legs littered about the room. Blurry images flashed through his mind. Images of him drunkenly giving some speech at the wedding, chasing (Y/N) through the halls with plastic mannequin parts in his arms, taking many breaks to copulate in nearly every hall of the hotel. But the last thing he very vaguely remembered was what happened in the White Buffalo Suite.

“There is no time.”

Reginald was talking to someone the slightly ajar door obscured.

“I can’t do this without you.”

He made a deal.

Five furrowed his brows, his fuzzy brain trying to recollect any clues as to who the mystery second party was, but all he could remember was (Y/N) pulling him away. He tried not to dwell on it too much, for the frustration was only adding to his throbbing headache. “What was the old man up to?”

Beside him, he heard the sheets rustle and he turned to see (Y/N), creaking her eyes open just the slightest in order to see him. She only needed to glance at their bare bodies to remember exactly what they were up to the night before, the two sharing a smile in recognition. With a tired sigh, she stretched her arms.

“I feel like I wanna take a bath.”

In his room, Viktor stirred awake. It had been odd, not seeing Allison in the bed across from his. He figured she had found a new room, any empty ones open to her now that the other guests were no longer in the hotel. Part of him was relieved that the tension didn’t have to follow them in the room, but another part of him was hurt that she couldn’t stand to share one with him.

He jumped in alarm at the sound of a throat being cleared. He turned his head to see Reginald standing next to Allison’s old bed, a tray of food in his hands. “Bad dream?”

Viktor fought off a wince at his headache as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Why are you here?”

“What does it look like? To feed you, child. I’m sure after last night’s festivities, a hearty breakfast should bring you a bright start to your day.”

“It’s all such a blur.” He groaned as Reginald set the tray down on the bed and took a seat at the foot.

“Ah.”

Viktor gratefully picked up the glass of water on the tray and raised it to his lips. He halted when Reginald continued to stare at him. “Is there anything else?”

“To be honest, I have some concern.”

“Since when do you care?”

“May I remind you, I am not the Hargreeves you grew up with. Yes, we share the same DNA, impeccable style, and mannerisms, but I can assure you our life circumstances are very different.” He opened the tray cover to reveal two berry scones and two boiled eggs. “And being the only sober person at the wedding, I had the unique opportunity to witness your argument with Allison. Such a shame to see a family struggle so.”

Viktor scoffed as Reginald popped the food into his mouth. “Family… What does that even mean?”

“Family are the only people who know us whilst we endure our most epic trials. I think that should count for something.”

“Why don’t you tell Allison that?” He removed the blanket from his body and stood from the bed. Just outside his window, the Kugelblitz seemed to have moved even closer overnight, its orange clouds consuming what was once a bright blue sky. “Jesus…”

“He’s due any minute now.”

Viktor’s head snapped to Reginald, eyes wide.

“That was a joke.”

He chuckled with a raised brow, earning a smile from his father. “You do jokes now.”

“Actually, what I’m here to discuss… is deadly serious.”

-------------------------------------------------

The drip of the water from the faucet into the tub every few seconds was the only sound within the spa. Five sat in the hot water that rose to his chest, absently staring at his wife, who sat across from him in the tub, eyes shut and brows raised. She seemed to still be waking up since they had gotten out of bed. She hadn’t made a single sound since they sat down.

“Feeling better?” He whispered, receiving a quiet hum.

“I needed last night.”

“See? Told you so.”

She didn’t open her eyes, but she still frowned at him playfully. Moving her brows so suddenly slightly worsened her headache, so she released the expression to continue riding out her pain. “It was the first time in awhile where I celebrated something… and then something horrible didn’t happen right afterwards.” She gently opened her eyes and smiled sadly. “I don’t think I’ll get another night like that…”

Five reached out and caressed her scarred cheek in his palm with a soft look. “I’ll try my best to keep you happy, Starlight.”

“You already do… I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He whispered, leaning forward to sweetly kiss her lips.

Within Luther and Sloane’s room, the couple looked up from where they were sitting on their floor, in hardly any clothing, to see Allison standing in their open doorway. “Sorry.” She rapped her knuckles against the wood. “Door was open.”

“No, don’t worry. Come in.” Sloane scrambled to stand, Luther doing the same. “Sorry for the mess.”

“Oh, don’t be.” She smiled and stepped into the room. Sloane grabbed a cup of yogurt and sat in a chair on the side, Luther straightening to look at his sister. “Uh, look, I just wanted to come by and say I’m sorry. Okay, I’ve… I’ve been a really shitty sister lately.”

Luther widened his eyes at the unexpected apology, assuming Allison would never come to her senses. “You know, if you’re handing out apologies, Viktor should be top of the list.”

“No, I know. I’m…” She nervously stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I’m gonna get to him. I just, um… Working my way up.” She chuckled.

“Okay.” He whispered. “Well, I forgive you.”

Her smile widened, a gentle look in her eye. “‘Kay.” She smiled at Sloane, who smiled back, before heading towards the door. She stopped abruptly as if she remembered something and turned back around. “Oh, uh, Dad called a meeting at noon today. Are you both gonna come?”

His look of confusion melted into a sarcastic smile. “Oh, I see.” He pointed at his sister with narrowed eyes. “I see what this is.”

“Luther, he has a plan.”

“Mmhm?”

“No, a plan he thinks can save the universe.”

“Really?”

She sighed at his feigned interest in what she had to say. “So, please, come. Both of you.”

“No.”

“We’ll be there.” Sloane stood.

Allison grinned at her, then at Luther. “Great! Okay.” She nodded before leaving, Luther sighing as she shut the door behind her.

Back in Five and (Y/N)’s room, the former had just gotten dressed, the latter looking through the drawers for an outfit. He adjusted his tie and walked up to her, snaking an arm around her waist from behind. “I’m gonna have a drink outside. Feel free to join me when you’re ready.”

“You just got over a hangover, baby.” She looked over her shoulder to press the side of her forehead to his. Five smiled and kissed her cheek.

“Can’t let all those bottles go to waste.”

“No, I guess you can’t.” She chuckled. “Alright, go ahead. Love you.”

“Love you.” He pecked her lips and walked out of the room. Within time, (Y/N) shed her robe and put on her undergarments along with a pair of black slacks before a knock could be heard at the door. Thinking it was Five, she called for the person to come in.

She was taken aback when Allison opened the door and walked in. A long silence passed through as they stared at each other. Averting her gaze, (Y/N) went back to looking for a shirt. With her inebriation slept away, she no longer had much patience for Allison’s recent behavior. If she came in to argue once again, then (Y/N) was prepared to tell her off.

“Um… so…” Allison sat down on a small sofa near the bed. “I wanted to talk about… everything that’s happened between us. I’m… I’m not proud of it. I just wanted you to know why it went down the way it did.”

“I know why it did.” (Y/N) pulled on a light grey long-sleeve that stopped just above her navel. “You lost your daughter and your husband in our last jump and no one seemed to care. Barely even mentioned it, which just made it look like it didn’t matter. You were told to just accept it and move on. You were angry… angry that I appeared to be doing exactly what you weren’t. I get it. But I wasn’t.”

Allison stared as (Y/N) buckled harness straps to her waist and her shoulders. Her sister’s new style wasn’t one she particularly understood, but it did look very flattering on her. “You just… You looked so happy and I… didn’t know what to do with that.”

(Y/N) sighed and leaned against the wall behind her. “I’m sorry about Claire. Really, I am. I miss her, too, you know. She was my favorite niece.”

The two chuckled, Allison wiping away a tear. “She was your only niece, (Y/N).”

“That’s why it hurts so much more,” She pushed off the wall and strode up to Allison, sitting beside her on the sofa. She shook her head as her throat became restricted with unreleased sobs. “I lost my babies, too, Allison. I feel like… like I’m dying every second I’m not with them.”

Allison sniffled and pushed her sister’s hair back. “I know… I know. I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) sniffled and deeply inhaled, tears falling as she gently gripped her sister’s hands. “This family is all I have… And I’m holding on tight with everything I have. I need you to hold on, too, Allison. Because if you let go… you’re gonna slip, and you’re gonna fall.” She let out a choked sob. “And I don’t want you to fall, Allison. I wanna be in your corner, and I want you in mine.”

Sniffling, Allison pulled (Y/N) into a tight hug, letting out her own cries. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, (Y/N). No matter what, all I’ve wanted for you was for you to be happy. But I couldn’t understand how you managed to do that when I couldn’t. Then I realized that… you weren’t telling anyone how you felt. You were just keeping it all bottled up. And I hated that.”

She pulled away to hold (Y/N)’s face in her hands. “Just… no matter what happens… I want you to remember that. No matter what I’ve done or said, or what I haven’t done or said yet, I just want you to be happy. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Allison nodded and hugged her sister again before they released each other and sat back. “Also… I’m sorry about the Sparrow (Y/N). You guys seemed close.”

(Y/N) sniffled and nodded, twisting the white bracelet on her wrist. “She deserved happiness, too… But it’s very clear that the children of Sir Reginald Hargreeves will always live in misery…”

“You’re still pissed at him?”

“Pissed? I-I’m fucking infuriated with him. A-And then he calls everything he’s done a fucking ‘rough patch on a verdant lawn’? What the fuck?”

“(Y/N), you have every right to feel that way. You do. But Dad has a plan that can fix all of this. And he called a meeting-”

“No-”

“-at noon. It’s at noon, and I really think you should come to at least hear him out.”

“I’m not hearing shit out, Allison. You expect me, after I nearly killed him with a promise in my actions, to sit there and listen to anything that man has to say? No. Hell fucking no.”

Allison sighed and stood. “Do what you want. And I know I’m not anyone to ask you to listen to me, either, but you said it before. We can’t think about ourselves when it comes to the end of the world. So, maybe, you can put aside some of that hatred to hear what he has to say.”

(Y/N) looked away with a clenched jaw.

“Okay… If you don’t, me or Five can just relay it to you. Think about it, though.”

Allison sighed and left the room, closing the door behind her.

-------------------------------------------------

At the edge of the world sat Five, tipping back a bottle and gulping down its contents. Behind him, on the other edge of the world, was the Kugelblitz. Everything on the other side was being sucked into the radiated black hole and he wasn’t trying to stop it. It was a jarring thing to think about.

He turned his head slightly when he heard footsteps approach him. For a second, he was about to call out to (Y/N), but those weren’t her footsteps. He’d recognize hers anywhere. Trailing his eyes up, he was met with-

“Reginald.” He greeted with a disregard to the man who stood beside him.

“I take it you know why I’m here.”

“How ‘bout I save you some time? Give you the ‘no’ upfront. I’m not the least bit interested in this bullshit plan you’ve been cooking.”

“It’s not, as you so colorfully called it, bullshit.”

Five only took another drink.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Actually, appreciate some…” His nerves were irked when Reginald sat down beside him. “...solitude.”

“Mmhm.”

“It seems I won’t get any.”

He handed the bottle over to his father. Reginald took a drink of it and winced. “Dear god!”

“Mmhm. Louis XIII, it ain’t.”

“I’ve had worse.” He set the bottle down and looked up at the new sky. “It is impressive, isn’t it?”

Five followed his gaze. “All the ways we could have screwed the pooch, this way is the most complete. I’m relieved, actually. This time, everything goes. There’s no Commission, no leaping away. No life spent going mad… with the desperation to see a familiar face.”

Reginald took another swig. “I’ve seen worlds end in ways that would knock your socks off, old man.”

“Wow! Reginald Hargreeves, you never cease to surprise me.”

“That is some comfort.” He smiled a bit. “You know, they all run together after awhile. But you never forget your first. Your home. Your original sin. You never stop wondering, ‘Did I do enough to save the people I loved?’.”

“Did you?”

“No… but I was hoping you children could help me out with that.”

Five raised his brows. “There it is.” He tossed back some more alcohol. “You can go ahead and scratch (Y/N) off your list of recruits. I think you’re the first person to ever land on her blacklist.”

With a genuine sigh of disappointment, Reginald glanced down at the nothingness below them. “One of my deepest regrets was hurting her so.” He looked up to meet Five’s curious gaze. “It seems I have underestimated the relationship you have with her. I see much of your influence in her, and I can’t say it is necessarily unhealthy.”

“What, is this your blessing or something?”

“You wouldn’t have accepted a blessing of mine.” He chuckled. “(Y/N) would have none of that. She has gained more nerve than she had when I last saw her. Though, it was only days for her. It was a change she needed, and perhaps a change that would not have occurred had you not been with her. That is the difference between her and my second-selected version of her.”

Five shook his head at that. “There were many differences between the two of them.” He gulped down another swig. “Sorry, Reg, but you can cross me off, as well. I got a message from the future.”

“What future?”

“My future self told me very explicitly not to save this world.”

Reginald quietly laughed in disbelief. “You are an arrogant son of a bitch, aren’t you? ‘Future you’. ‘Present you’. The past is as much a mystery as the future.” When Five only continued to drink, his amusement washed away. “You ruined your life once before by not listening to me. Are you prepared to do that again?”

Five stared him down with a clenched jaw, his teeth grit behind his closed lips. With a sigh, he relented. “Fine, I’ll attend your stupid meeting.”

“Excellent!” He smiled, standing to his feet.

“If…” Five gained his attention. “...you tell me what happened with you in the Buffalo Suite last night. Who were you talking to? Was it Klaus? Was it Ben?”

“No one. I was alone.” He shook his head. “Though, I doubt you were in any condition to remember. We should go. Don’t want to be late for the meeting.”

Five remained seated.

“I would move if I were you.”

He furrowed his brows. “What, are you threatening me?”

A sudden rumbling shook him, prompting him to hurriedly get to his feet and step back, the part of the ground he was just sitting on breaking apart and falling into the endless pit below.

“Shall we?” Reginald smiled and walked back to the hotel. With a scoff, Five set the bottle down and followed him.

Upon entering, an outburst of claps and cheers for the boy sounded from where the family sat. Five sighed and approached them as they all applauded for his drunken speech at the wedding, where, apparently, he had said some very heart-warming words. To the side, though, Reginald caught sight of (Y/N) walking to the lobby from the elevator she had just exited. With a deep breath, he approached her.

“My child.” He greeted, the girl flinching with a glare. “Before I commence the meeting, I wanted to deeply apologize for (Y/N)’s death. I can see that it has wounded you, and I regret my actions in the entire ordeal.”

(Y/N) sighed and crossed her arms, looking anywhere but at him. “You know, out of anyone, you should be apologizing to her. But she isn’t here for you to do that… Not even her clone.”

He sighed, scrambling to find the right words to say. Reginald Hargreeves wasn’t usually someone to be caught speechless, but (Y/N) never failed to bring out the unexpected. At his silence, she shook her head. “Why did you even do it? What was the point of it all?”

“My child… the day you and your mother left in 1963, it formed an unforeseeable hole in my life. Even your mutt left.”

“Mr Pennycrumb…?”

“Taken by Grace. All I ever wanted was a family like ours once again. So, in order to have even a bit of the past, I adopted you again in 1989. However, I never took into account that a different environment would cause such a drastic change in her character. She was nothing like you, (Y/N). In hopes of repairing what I had already damaged, I coddled her. I made sure to be more attentive with her than my other children. In my attempts, it only resulted in her nature to become cocky and entitled.”

(Y/N) frowned in confusion, but let him continue.

“My Sparrow (Y/N) suffered from underlying issues. She was a very disturbed and… sadistic individual. I first realized it when she was only thirteen, in a time when she was my Number One. She could not lead a unit to success, for her wickedness held her back. It held her siblings back. I was afraid… I was afraid that if she continued the way she did, she would shape the Sparrows into a team of endangerment.

“I demoted her and isolated her from the rest. She was unreasonable, ridiculously headstrong. There was no need for the Sparrows to know the truth, as it would only cause fear and rebellion. With a clone, it was a means to start once again. A blank slate. I instilled an entirely different personality within her clone. One where she was subservient and constantly seeking validation from me. From everyone.

“You have to believe me, it wasn’t what I wanted for her. It was a finer alternative than the person she truly was. I was keeping the children safe… I believed I was keeping her safe. I see now that my intentions blinded me from what I was truly doing to her. I would have ceased my wrongdoings if I had known I was corrupting her mind.”

(Y/N) stayed silent for a second, taking in everything told to her. The entire situation seemed so superfluous. All he had to do was talk to her. Her whole life, it seemed Sparrow (Y/N) just needed someone to talk to her, not isolate her. It didn’t make sense. “You were such a good father in ‘63…” She shook her head. “I wonder what happened in between.”

Reginald gave a small smile. “You were not there.”

“Don’t put this on me. If I had such an impact on your life, then how did I not teach you to be a good father to any other child of yours?”

“In every timeline, (Y/N), you are my daughter. I suppose you are the only one I planned to truly raise, for there is no other child to raise like you.” His smile widened a bit. “I love you very much, my child.”

She scoffed and walked past him, walking in the seating area. All irritation she had just felt washed away when she came face-to-face with her family, who greeted her warmly.

“Hey, there, Miss Maid of Honor.”

“Quite the entertainer last night.”

“Oh, yeah, the life of the party.”

“We need to book you more for events.”

(Y/N) chuckled and jokingly curtsied before walking over to the armchair Five sat in, sitting herself on one of the arms. Reginald returned to the room to stand before everyone. Without any context, he began to explain.

“The Norse had seven sleepers. The Blackfoot, seven stars. As a boy, I heard the legend of the seven bells. All these stories are the same. The village is under threat by flood, by fire, by a night that never ends. A shaman brings his disciples to a sacred cave. He tells them if they can ring the seven magic bells, the village will be saved, and all will be restored just as it was.”

Lila raised her hand. “Reggie? Can we get a little less Brothers Grimm and a little more ‘What the hell does this have to do with us’?”

“There is a truth to these myths. None of you can deny what’s going on around us. All of existence will be gone by the end of the day, but whoever or whatever wove together space and time, they left a way to put things back together if the universe ever faced total annihilation. There is a portal in the universe. I built this hotel around it… and on the other side… is the answer.”

Luther shrugged. “And… we’re supposed to, what? Just stroll in there, ring some bells, and fix this shit?”

“Sarcasm aside, you are mostly right. Except for the guardian.”

“What kind of guardian?” Viktor asked.

“Kinda guardian that does this.” Diego lifted his hand, where two makeshift prosthetics took the place of where his fingers used to be. “He had a sword.”

“It is a force to be reckoned with.”

Luther shook his head. “See? Yeah. This is where you lose me.”

“This is where he loses you?” Lila raised her brows. “I checked out at the sacred cave.”

“Why would the builders of this ‘back door’ need to have a guardian?” Viktor asked.

“Ah!” Sloane pointed. “To protect it from people who want to use it for nefarious means.”

Reginald nodded. “That is correct, Sloane.”

“So, I guess it’s gonna take all of us to defeat the thing protecting the bells.”

Five glanced over at Allison from where she sat in an empty luggage cart. “You’re actually buying his crap?”

“How is a guardian and bells any crazier than time-traveling briefcases and assassins with cartoon masks?”

“Actually, she’s got you there.” Luther agreed.

When no one else spoke, Ben stood and walked up to his father’s side. “I’m in.”

Five thought back to last night.

“I can’t do this without you.”

Could it be Ben?

“Me, too.” Diego stood, causing Lila to gently fall back on the couch. Five looked over at him.

“Do we have a deal?”

Diego? Did Diego make the deal?

“But I think some of us should stay back. Like Lila.”

Five immediately scrapped the idea. Diego only wanted to protect his girlfriend. It was the kind of person he was. He wouldn’t team with Reginald. Lila raised her brows at Diego and stood.

“Uh… or you can stay, and I can go.”

“No.” Allison spoke. “This is much bigger than all of us. Nobody can stay back.”

“You, my children, are all that stands between us and oblivion.” Reginald tried to convince them further. “Are we ready to go?”

Viktor looked around. “Well, I say we vote.”

“This isn’t a democracy.” Ben hissed. “Dad’s calling the shots.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “No the hell he isn’t. If there’s a chance we can avoid ending up like Diego or worse, I’d like to know it was because we actually thought on it first.”

“I agree.” Five grabbed her hand. “We vote.”

Reginald frowned at them. “The world is ending, and you want to count hands?”

“You’re asking us to risk our lives,” Luther reasoned. “I think it’s only fair you give us time to discuss it. Privately.”

With a disappointed scoff, Reginald left the lobby with a pat to Ben’s shoulder. Luther looked around and nodded. “Why don’t we meet back here in an hour?”

“Agreed.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Whatever.”

“Sounds good.”

Allison tried to hold back her anxiety as she clenched her hand into a fist. After the family dispersed, she quickly went after Viktor, who had known she was following him the whole time. When she called out for him to wait, he sighed and turned to her.

“For what? So you can hand me my ass again?”

“Look, I was really drunk last night-”

“Okay, you don’t have to make excuses. I get it. I am your least favorite sibling. I ruined your life-”

“Okay, no, that’s not-” She sighed. “Will you just stop and listen, please?”

Viktor motioned for her to speak.

“Last night, you were right. Claire and Ray are gone. But… hating you won’t bring them back. And my pain… doesn’t give me permission to hurt you.” She turned to lean against the railing, her next words choked on her welling tears. “But it’s real. And it’s something that I have to carry. Which is why if I don’t… If I don’t do something, if I don’t- if I don’t act now… it’s just another thing that slips into nothingness.

“If we stay here, we die. But if we go through the portal, we could… we could save the universe. We could save… everybody. So, can we just put our past behind us and move forward together? Can you give me that?”

At a loss for words, Viktor nodded, which caused Allison to smile.

“I love you.”

The words he had wanted to hear from her, the ones that he thought he lost, were finally spoken once again, pulling him into the routine to immediately repeat them back. “I love you, too.”

Allison moved forward and pulled her brother into a hug, Viktor reciprocating it. This was everything he wanted. All he wanted was for he and Allison to apologize to each other and make amends. To hug and become siblings again. However, something didn’t feel right. He tried to push the feeling down as deep as he could, but he couldn’t dismiss the suspicion he felt. He just hoped her intentions were pure from here on out.

On the other end of the hug, Allison blankly stared forward, all her sadness and guilt wiped away. Her mask had fallen. She was an actress, after all. She had to improvise.

—————————————

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[cherry-berry-candy]

okay TLoRS complaints and nitpicks sorry folks

(ft. my headmate nyx cowriting lol)

yes i am 100% going to be overly critical but i feel like i can nitpick if im open about this being partially nitpicks. this episode has just been really sticking in our brain, so we found ourselves with a lot to say about it, especially as we rewatch it. this also slowly turned into me thinking "okay, truman show theory has to be real because i feel like things wouldn't be this Weird otherwise, there's no way it was just written this way"

OKAY i put a cut so i can justify how ungodly long this got 😭

why are we going to unit about this right now? what spurred this on? (this is a bit of a pattern this season, stories just kind of... starting. truman show fixes this, but otherwise...)

why is the immediate assumption that susan MUST be this exact susan related to the doctor? why is this so quickly accepted as fact? was the TARDIS anagram supposed to be enough justification? (maybe we're being overly critical here... i can see ruby having the immediate thought with TARDIS/susan, but even then i feel like im filling in gaps for the story just to justify that)

also, why are we also working on ruby's mystery mom right now? is there a reason outside of... we need to get involved with her story for the purpose of the narrative? (again there's some version of the truman show reveal that could explain this, but right this second...)

is there any reason for the "is there any chance they're... the same woman?"? like, we as the audience are assuming that these things are related, because they're the season arc. the show is nodding to the fact that we as the audience are assuming this. but why is morris making this assumption? (this is very much nitpicky i feel, but i cant help it! 13's era has made me a lot more vigilant to purely-for-the-plot lines)

does it make sense for rose to come with ruby for, like. any reason? 😭i mean, she needs to come with, so that carla can have the 20 second interaction that makes her decide to come to UNIT, but like... 😭??? they just met, and i like that they immediately vibe, but it's still weird, no? even when we get there, she's not even in any shots until she says the two lines that lead to carla going to UNIT. is this intentionally supposed to feel weird, is it just kind of awkward, or am i just being nitpicky again?

speaking of carla... it's so weird for me that she decides she's joining unit just because rose's mom is part of it?? especially since this decision is split second 20 seconds into the scene 😭and the music just reads so cheesy to me. it feels unearned with how little carla we've had this season, especially compared to rose tyler's family, martha's family, donna's family.... okay just the RTD families tbh LOL, but those are the only families who were ever directly involved in the Major plot points. (again, maybe truman show reveal retroactively fixes this- well of COURSE she thought she needed to join unit, that needed to happen for the plot to happen, wink!)

"do you think it's her?" wait. okay, so... we're not working under the assumption that she is already? when did that change? 😭we were full in on "well yeah, that's who she is!" to "are you sure she is?" to "she is, you should go say hi!" (though... rewatching it seems like it's mostly ruby who sticks to this assumption? but no one ever like... denies the assumption or throws doubt on it until kate briefly thinks it, before quickly going back to the assumption. idk, am i reading this wrong?)

wait, we... already knew susan triad was human? we did??? why and how did we already know that what 😭 (edit: we misunderstood a line from earlier! for whatever reason, we thought "no alien traces" referred to her technology- turns out it actually refers to her biology! oops!)

kind of going out of order now but who the hell is this UNIT guy. not the one who dies, the other one (looked it up, Ibrahim!) it's because he's going to be a main character in the inevitable UNIT spinoff, right? like there's literally no other reason to name him? lol 😭

goes doubly for the vlinx. we don't know what it is, but we just really don't like him. we can't put it properly into words, it's just weird that he exists 😭he does nothing for me he's just supposed to be this Sick Epic robot UNIT has for some reason. feels very kids show sci-fi. i guess it's a family show, but we'd been doing fine as a family show without this kind of thing, correct us if we're wrong

aren't we, like. incredibly concerned about susan twist? no offense ruby, but i feel like finding your mom should be a little lower on the priority list here! the doctor prioritizing his companion makes sense but... morris and kate? why are they just cool with this detour? there's just no protest at the doctor sidelining the susan stuff? not to mention it makes the episode feel kind of weird pacing-wise.

"but what happened? what happened on that night?" oh yeah, carla's in the room! im so sorry but carla being here really doesn't feel like it adds much to the scene 😭this question could have been asked by literally anyone, and the delivery doesn't exactly help how i feel about it. everyone else has a verbal reaction to the time window, but carla (well, and ibrahim) are just kind of... in the room about it. until this line, that is. (her next line makes me feel a bit better about her inclusion though, actually a character moment instead of an expositional question! but still... how much would've been lost without her, especially with the flimsy reason for her coming?)

okay no seriously why is ibrahim introduced like he's a character and then get not a single piece of dialogue in this scene

"i know its name... its the beast!" does have some greater significance, especially considering the impossible planet and the beast below- shared VA and satan and all that- i feel like carla being the one person otherwise disconnected from this UNIT/alien stuff does make this line make sense for specifically her. so maybe i really am being harsh on her inclusion at UNIT.

hmmm then again, chidozie makes the connection by mentioning being "in hell", so im still not entirely sold? especially when this connection will probably not be that important- it just adds fun extra context... right?

"i think susan triad is a part of it" okay but seriously where is this connection coming from. like she is a part of it, but why is this the assumption we made? (maybe this is the doctor making an excuse to be selfish, and it's on me for taking him at his word?)

yeah okay if i didn't know what sutekh was, the way this reveal was handled would really do nothing for me 😭like to make the direct comparison to professor yana (especially with the sue tech screen stuff and the typing of "yana", i feel the comparison makes sense... hm especially with the master vainglorious playing... okay tv theory shut up for a second) the master is a recurring villain. not only that, but there are implications that we can gather from the rest of the episode, and the rest of the season. there's a big deal made about the doctor being the last of the time lords, and speaking so highly of them. and then, when he learns he's not alone, he's actually afraid. he's dreading it. it also helps that "the master" is such a similar name to "the doctor", so all this gives us the implication that this is something like an evil doctor. really all the info you need for this reveal. and then, the reveal is even BETTER for people who actually know the master already. sutekh had only showed up once- so folks who didn't watch classic who have a lot less reason to know about them. not only that, but there's not really any, like... themes or anything that show up this season, right? like, the doctor is scared of him, but yeah, he's like. superdeath or something. there were a lot of... triangles! this season! that's something i guess 😭and we didn't really have the context until now that sutekh is part of the pantheon, from what i understand? it just doesn't feel like there's really anything significant to connect sutekh to... anything. kinda losing steam because a billion other people have pointed this out already, but. yeah, it just doesn't hit that hard.

anyway, feel free to yell at me or disagree or what have you! im totally willing to be that i missed something, or overanalyzed something, or was overly critical, or just said something weird because our sleep schedule has been terrible LOL, but i wanted to put a lot of these things down

[republicsecurity]

Exhibition II

Jack stared at the portrait, his eyes narrowing with a mix of shock and intrigue. "What's going on in that one?" he asked, pointing to the conscript from the Paramedic Corps, electrodes affixed to his shaven skull.

IU664 followed Jack's gaze, offering a nonchalant shrug. "Just some conditioning. Standard procedure for us."

"Conditioning?" Jack's curiosity was piqued. "What kind of conditioning?"

IU664 leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "Neuro-based VR conditioning. They tweak our personalities, fine-tune our responses. You know, to make us more efficient, disciplined, and all that jazz."

Jack's eyes widened, "You let them mess with your brain like that?"

IU664 chuckled, "It's part of the deal. Makes us better at our jobs. Reduces openness, amps up conscientiousness, and, well, let's just say it makes us the epitome of stoicism."

Jack frowned, "But doesn't that, you know, mess with who you are?"

IU664's expression remained impassive, "It's a trade-off. We get to be top-notch paramedics, and the Corps gets the kind of recruits it wants."

IU664 chuckled, "Is there nothing like that for you guys?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Jack's expression turned thoughtful. "Nah, not really. We get to keep our heads as they are, free of electrodes. Our conditioning is more about getting dirty, planting trees, and making the world a bit greener. It's not a bad trade, if you ask me."

IU664 raised an eyebrow, "No changes to your personality, then?"

Jack grinned, "Well, we do learn to appreciate the beauty of nature and the satisfaction of a hard day's work. But no fancy neuro tweaks. Just good old-fashioned gardening and environmental know-how."

Jack, still fascinated by the idea of conditioning, turned to IU664. "You know, do you have a list of what exactly has been done to your mind? Can you read it all?"

IU664 nodded, "Mostly yes. We have access to reports and statistics. They lay out the changes, the tweaks, the conditioning. It's all there in black and white, or rather, in red and green on the HUD."

Jack raised an eyebrow, "And you're okay with that? Knowing every little detail about what's been done to your brain?"

IU664, donned in the distinctive paramedic armor, shrugged nonchalantly. "It's even more transparent than you think. This way, we know why we think the way we do. It's out in the open, clear as day."

Jack furrowed his brow, processing IU664's nonchalant response. "So, you're telling me that this transparency, this openness about tweaking your brain is a good thing?"

IU664 nodded, his shaven head gleaming in the ambient light. "It's more than just okay. It's a necessity for the job. And, it helps us understand our own minds, why we think the way we do. It's not hidden or mysterious; it's open for us to see."

"That's what they look like right after the conditioning?" Jack asked, his tone laced with concern. He eyed the portrait, the vacant stare and shaved head sending a shiver down his spine.

IU664 grinned, his expression momentarily breaking the disciplined facade. "Yeah, that's the aftermath of the initial conditioning phase."

Jack's gaze lingered on the portrait for a moment longer. The thought of someone's mind undergoing such an intense alteration, reflected in that vacant expression, made him uneasy. He couldn't help but wonder about the person behind that zoned-out face, now reshaped by the Corps' conditioning.

IU664 chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. "They pictured him right after the conditioning sessions, capturing the moment when we're still recalibrating to reality. It's like a temporary glitch."

As they walked through the exhibition, IU664 shared more details about the conditioning process, explaining how it aimed to streamline their thought processes, make them more disciplined, and align their mindset with the Corps' objectives. Jack listened, absorbing the information, but the unease persisted.

The tasks on the paper guided them through different exhibits, prompting discussions on the similarities and differences between the various conscript forces.

The paper told them to take a picture with them and the exhibits.

"AS555," IU664 began, "could you do us a favor? Take a photo of Jack and me with this exhibit. Make sure it captures the moment."

AS555 responded with a curt nod. "Sure thing, IU664. Just stand over there, and I'll get it sorted." He positioned himself, adjusting the camera embedded in the chest plate of his armor. With a clear and direct command, AS555 initiated the photo capture process.

Jack, intrigued by the advanced technology of the paramedic suit, asked AS555, "How do you get the picture? Do the suits have printers or something?"

AS555 chuckled, a metallic echo in his voice, and replied mockingly, "Ah, too bad we don't have printers built into these suits. That would be quite convenient, wouldn't it? No, I'll just send it to your device. What's your designator?"

IU664 provided his designator, and AS555, with a few swift commands through the suit's interface, transmitted the image directly to Jack's handheld device.

IU664 chuckled, reminiscing about a past encounter. "I once saw a cute admin specialist from the Paramedic Corps," he said, "wearing one of those light armor suits. They had this small printer attached to a hip holster. Quite handy for on-the-spot paperwork."

Jack is intrigued that the suit has a camera.

IU664's sigh carried a hint of resignation as he continued detailing the extensive camera system integrated into the tactical paramedic suit. "Yes, not just the front, back, and helmets. The facial camera captures expressions and reactions, helping analyze our emotional responses. The 360° vision ensures situational awareness, while night imaging guarantees visibility in low-light conditions. And, in case you were wondering, there's even one in the right arm, chest armor, and back armor for comprehensive coverage.It serves multiple purposes. The cameras allow our superiors to monitor our actions, ensuring we adhere to protocols and maintain discipline. The helmet cameras provide a firsthand perspective, useful for post-mission analysis and training"

Jack tilted his head, grappling with the sheer granularity of the monitoring. "So, they track every little thing you do and feel? Doesn't that feel invasive?"

IU664's response was measured, "At first, it's an adjustment. But as they say, control is necessary for discipline. The Corps needs to ensure we're not just physically fit but mentally aligned with the mission objectives."

IU664 elaborated on the multifaceted nature of the surveillance apparatus embedded in the tactical paramedic suit. "It's not just about mission logs; we've got a comprehensive system. There's the mission log for recording and assessing our operations, the life log that scrutinizes everything from our food intake to our mood, and extensive training logs. Sensors continuously monitor our physical data, ensuring peak performance and, well, adherence to the prescribed standards."

IU664 chuckled, "You could call it the ultimate welfare state. They ensure we're physically fit, mentally sharp, and emotionally stable. In return, we serve the community effectively. It's a symbiotic relationship, and they've mastered the art of maintaining control while making us believe it's all for our own good." He paused, reflecting on the intricacies of the system.

The display in the exhibition elucidated the Republic's distinctive position as the epitome of the fourth type of welfare capitalism – the surveillance welfare regime, a concept born from the ingenious fusion of technology and governance. In this state, the omniscient gaze of advanced surveillance mechanisms intertwines seamlessly with the intricate web of social welfare programs, creating a symbiotic relationship that is as pervasive as it is insidious.

In the surveilance welfare regime, citizens willingly surrender personal information, from biometrics to daily activities, in exchange for an illusion of security and care. The all-encompassing surveillance apparatus, fueled by cutting-edge AI and advanced data analytics, orchestrates a delicate ballet of information gathering, processing, and control. Every action, every heartbeat, is meticulously monitored to craft a tailored and efficient welfare experience.

Here, the welfare state doesn't merely provide a safety net; it weaves an intricate tapestry of surveillance, conditioning, and control.

The Paramedic Corps deploys cutting-edge technology, blending Big Brother oversight with an ostensible commitment to individual welfare.

The so-called welfare state extends beyond traditional notions of healthcare and social services. It delves into the very psyche of the conscripts, guiding and manipulating their emotions, reactions, and interpersonal dynamics. The Corps ensures not only physical fitness but emotional stability, portraying an illusion of care while wielding control in the shadows.

[lexicaldreamer]

Tagged by @thewalrus-said

Last Song: Angry Too by Lola Blanc on my way home from work today, because it's a very satisfying song to sing along with and also..... fic ideas ooops

Favorite Color: a narrowly defined band of purple and almost all kinds of green :D

Last Book: just finished I Cannot Reach You 1 by Miki, which is very sweet and funny and fluffy and I will absolutely be continuing the series. I'm also in the middle of Ruby Fever by Ilona Andrews, which is the last book in their paranormal mystery/romance series and I'm so hype for the conclusion. Such good plot and tension and world building.

Last Movie: god fuck if I could tell you uhhhhhhhh some anime movie or something I watched in the background at my parents house probably

Last TV Show: Heaven Official's Blessing season 2 with @azraelyz my love during our last binge date 😘

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: uhhhh savory but I will never turn down sweets if they're rich (or if they're cake)

Relationship Status: single seeking bun companion

Last Thing I Googled: "tumblr drafts" bc I'm doing this on my phone like an idiot and I couldn't figure out where the draft went okay??? im a bb don't judge me 😭

Current Obsession(s): My Hero Academia is my full time brain rot and I will not apologize

Looking Forward To: fucking finishing Deep in Their Bones (I will, I swear), next binge date with aze, someday having a pet, not being tired in the future

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Let's go Alien Hunting with Demi Lovato

Famous pop star goes hunting in the desert for proof of extraterrestrial life! Sounds like an ironic movie plot, right?

Photo from https://www.primevideo.com/detail/Unidentified-with-Demi-Lovato/0FVWMCXF9DU9CCO11ZX6GSHRWQ

Today, we're diving headfirst into a galaxy of entertainment to discuss something that's truly out of this world: Demi Lovato's Unidentified TV series. When I first heard about Demi Lovato's foray into the world of unidentified flying objects, I must admit, I was intrigued. I mean, who wouldn't want to see former actress turned pop-star donning a tinfoil hat and chasing little green men across the cosmos? It's like "The X-Files" meets "Camp Rock," and honestly, I was here for it. Former actress, turned pop-star, turned reality-TV-star, partnered with streaming service, Peacock, in 2020 in order to create the TV show: Unidentified with Demi Lovato. The show kicks off introducing Demi and her ragtag team of UFO enthusiasts, who are about as qualified to investigate extraterrestrial phenomena as I am to perform brain surgery (spoiler alert: not at all). With the help of two brothers working as UFO conspiracy theorists, Demi, their best friend Mathew Montgomary, and their sister Dallas Lovato, all dive head-first into the profound existential question that has thwarted humanity since the start of time: are we alone in the universe?

Demi's claim to qualification is their alleged alien encounter back in 2019. Out camping in the California wilderness, they and their (unnamed and uninterviewed) friends allegedly saw a blue, glowing orb that remained a steady 20-30 feet away from them at all times. Later that night, Demi claims that aliens visited and asked to take them (Demi Lovato) to their home planet. Agreeing, Demi claims they then had an out-of-body, astral-projection-like experience where they were "flying above the planet". Whether it was our wonderful, familiar, home planet Earth, or a foreign alien planet, they never clarify. After watching the first episode of this series I am left with far more questions than answers. Regardless, it is always entertaining to see out-of-touch LA locals armed with nothing but their wits, a questionable grasp of astrophysics, and a few pop singles as they set out to unravel the mysteries of the universe.

In the 2010's, television made a huge leap from the precedent of cable and live TV to paid streaming services. Following the large success of streaming service, Netflix, many former-cable companies have shifted their positioning to include a streaming service option. Comcast, a telecommunications company, known for their cable TV services, made this shift in 2020 with the launch of their streaming service, Peacock. In July of 2020, the service was launched to be available to everyone in the United States. That September, Unidentified with Demi Lovato premiered to anyone with a Peacock subscription. So why did Peacock partner with pop-star Demi Lovato? And why did they create a UFO investigative reality TV series together?

As we've discussed on this blog before, celebrity endorsements are a great way for any product, service, company, or brand to gain mass attention very quickly. As people already recognize a celebrity name, such as Demi Lovato, tying this name with a lesser known one (such as Peacock) is a way to gain the highly-competed-for head space of millions of consumers who are fans of said celebrity already. If you are a fan of Taylor Swift, and she partners with credit card company Capital One, you may not give a crap about credit cards but you'll watch the commercial anyways, because you want to see Taylor Swift. Then in the future, when you want to buy a car or a house and need to a credit score, maybe you'll remember that time Taylor Swift told you to get a Capital One credit card. At least, that's what the people who paid for the endorsement are hoping. This is a successful approach because celebrities are extremely memorable characters who are constantly and consistently in the news and the spotlight.

Partnering with Demi Lovato not only gained the attention of their loyal fans, but it also gave them the added value proposition of a reality TV show. Reality TV is known for being raw, uncut, unfiltered, and unscripted. Whether it is or not, fans are given the illusion of an intimate encounter with their favorite pop sensation as they open up about their feelings of ostracism from society due to their other worldy beliefs. Even if you aren't a Demi Lovato fan, the thought of seeing the celebrity attempting to find valid proof of extraterrestrial life may be enough to grab your attention anyways. It definitely grabbed mine.

Celebrities taking on ludicrous, bizarre, and mysterious exploits have always captured the publics attention. A four minute video clip on Youtube, posted by Peacock, titled Demi Sings Skyscraper to an Extraterrestrial Entity | Unidentified with Demi Lovato has gained over 850 thousand views in just over the two years it has been uploaded on the platform. The footage filmed during this four-episode single season TV show is a valuable asset for Peacock to hold. Considering the streaming service world is still so young, they can use the name and image of Demi Lovato indefinitely.

And let's not forget the expert interviews sprinkled throughout the series. Such as Kesha, who appears in a clip from her Podcast, where she speaks to Demi about their UFO encounter. We also can't forget that guy who runs a UFO-themed diner in the middle of Nevada's desert, because who better to shed light on the existence of extraterrestrial life? Forget NASA scientists and astrophysicists; we've got Larry, the self-proclaimed alien whisperer, ready to spill the beans over a plate of questionable pancakes. Larry may not be a celebrity or household name, but putting homey people like him next to Demi Lovato make this starlet appear more authentic, relatable, and real, even in layers of diamond-studded jewelry.

Demi and their group never find valid proof of extraterrestrial life, but they find themselves in some hilarious situations trying to get it. They stumble upon a mysterious crop circle in the middle of nowhere, only to discover it was just Farmer Joe's failed attempt at modern art. They also accidentally crash a local cosplay convention, mistaking it for an intergalactic summit.

So, if you're looking for a good laugh and a healthy dose of skepticism, Demi Lovato's Unidentified might just be the show for you. Just don't expect to uncover the secrets of the universe – unless those secrets involve questionable fashion choices and a profound misunderstanding of astrophysics.