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theadventurerslog · 2 years ago

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King's Quest VII: The Princeless Bride | Part 6

The Adventurer’s Log

King’s Quest VII: The Princeless Bride Part 6

In which we return the moon to the sky and work on saving Attis and Ceres, visit old places and visit somewhere new.

First off I brought the salesman his magic statuette at last, but not without using it myself first. Looking in it brought a vision of Rosella in a dark place and generally in peril, which we know all about. Poor Valanice is just building up the urgency to find her.

In return for the statuette the salesman gave me a salve and informed me I had to add animal hair before using it. Well, I had the jackalope hair from the first chapter. If I hadn't once I was allowed back out of Falderal I could have gone back to the desert to get it. No dead ends here!

With that done it was time to return the Falderalians' moon back to the sky. Just using the cheese to throw it doesn't work though she does toss it up, just for it come back down. It's cute to be able to try anyway. It took a little looking around but I found a branch on the mockingbird's tree I could interact with and I had the rubber chicken, so...

Rubber chicken cheese launcher! The things these Daventry royals do. But it was enough; the cheese launched off and then the rubber chicken wandered off... a little creepy.

Yipyap was pleased and Valanice was granted a full pardon. Then he excused himself to hide in his sub basement as the volcano was smoking, uh oh. The town hall was also locked, so no going back there.

Now I was free to leave I went back to the giant stone statue that was sleeping. This was something I could have done in the last chapter with Valanice, but I didn't think to nor did I think to get the feather off the rubber chicken at that point. Just as well done now anyway, and so I tickled the statue's nose to wake him up.

Valanice informed him of Attis' and Ceres' plight. I was told to restore the river of life and cornucopia. Sacred drink was needed for the maiden's horn and sacred food for the maiden's cornucopia.

There were the two statues near the entrance to the woods from the desert and I already had sacred nectar from the bird I'd helped, so back I went to pour in some nectar.

The river was restored and Attis showed up. He drank from the water and changed back to his normal form.

A stag no more. And a rainbow bridge across the river!

Attis went back to Ceres and did manage to pull the stake out of her but the curse was too strong to do more yet.

Valanice was determined to press on to Ooga Booga to pursue Rosella. Attis warned her of a monster in the swamp that would block her way and while he wanted to focus on helping Ceres first he would come to Valanice's aid when needed.

I should have taken the hint to head straight to the werewoods but I wasn't sure if the food was something I could find now, so I wandered first and also fell in the river and got swept away for another death. Once I got my aimlessness out of the way I moved on at last to the werewoods and put that salve to use.

As it turned out it turns the user into an animal based on the hair used, so now it was Valanice's turn to be a giggly jackalope.

There she is!

And she streaked through the woods at top speed knocking the bit of clothing the werewolf had clean off and leaving him embarrassed in boxers with heart patterns.

I mean it's gotta be better than getting a chunk of silver hurled at you, right...?

On the other side Valanice transformed back but there was still the swamp monster to contend with. True to his word, Attis arrived and blasted it leaving us free to continue.

The three budded plant was still around and being annoying. They mentioned Rosella when Valanice asked but otherwise not too much of use, just more trying to lure her get eaten as well. They're nothing if not consistent.

Valanice's turn for Ooga Booga and more deaths. I passed by the ghoul kids' home and they were out and threw, I think a tomato, at Valanice before laughing at her and going back inside. I had a chat with Doctor Cadaver and confirmed Rosella was here a few hours before and that she'd been well, the liveliest in Ooga Booga even, and that she was searching for the troll king.

I went through the area where Lady Tsepish is mourning and this time the headless horseman was riding much lower down and I got run over for another death. I also attempted to talk to Lady Tsepish and died as well.

I found my way to the burnt out house and now the dog fully materialized and I couldn't get by him.

I ended up at the Boogeyman's home and the black cat was there.

She realized who Valanice was right away and shared some information:

Rosella is in great danger in the bowels of volcano, which will erupt soon. Seek help in Etheria, which floats in the clouds above. The Count Tsepish would be able to help Valanice get there, but lost his head. Find his head and he would be able help.

Once the cat left I of course prodded the bones a couple times to trigger that death. I wanted Valanice's reaction and I was rewarded. Her comment was: "Ah, I can't believe I got attacked by a pile of cranky sticks."

I also found the grave Rosella fell in and dropped into it as well to get the gravestone saying "Valanice. Rest in Peace."

But back to business, I wasn't quite sure what to do next. I tried going back to the werewoods and discovered the werewolves were back and couldn't be passed. There was another death.

A little more wandering and discovered the elevator was down at the kids' house. It just sometimes is and sometime isn't and all you can do is keep leaving the screen and coming back until it is.

In their house I got killed by the jack-in-the-box again. I need to see Valanice's reactions to things too, okay. And I went out to the little porch area and I guess lingered around too long because the kids showed up and shoved her off. Or at least it was implied they did, either way, you guessed it, death.

I did end up finding a bone in their house. From there I found my way back to the gravedigger area and I guess lingered too long once more because who should show up, but the boogeyman of course! I wasn't sure he even did anymore at this point. I did get a much better shot of him this time so, that's a plus...I guess?

Behold his ickiness. Before dying. Again.

I did need to put the bone to use, so it was back to the dog and I tossed it his way.

And he gave it a good chew. Then he spoke!

Valanice has been the first to be kind to him since losing his master and mistress. His master, Count Tsepish, was beheaded by Malicia's gargoyle and cursed to ride the skies in search of the head. His mistress died of grief. Dog friend here died trying to defend the home when the boogeyman came to burn it. It had started when Malicia led an uprising against Etheria and the crown. His master tried to go against her then which led to killing him. He gave me his master's medal.

Then we got a cuddle.

So sweet... He's a good boy!

And I needed to now find Count Tsepish's head. I went back to his tomb and was able to give the medal to Lady Tsepish which caused her to cry even harder, but she did leave. That let me read the tomb and confirm it was Count Tsepish's but it was also locked.

Once again I ended up at the ghoul kids' place but this time one of them was outside chasing the cat with a string of lit firecrackers. One of them fell off while he ran off screen and like any good adventurer I picked it up.

A lit firecracker in one's dress? What could go wrong?

Well, a locked door and a firecracker? Yep, I went back and shoved it in the lock which blew the door open to find his tomb inside.

Inside the tomb I found a skull, his head.

Back outside the horseman passed by again, but I missed my chance. It took me a few tries to get it right and on one of those I got run over again but in the end I managed to give it to him and he was restored.

Once he was restored Lady Tsepish came running back, shedding her cloak as she went and was much happier. They had a loving embrace and their dog came back too!

A happy reunion!

The count gave Valanice a fife which would summon his horse anywhere.

With it she could ride his horse to Etheria and hopefully we'll be able to find the help we need. And then I was railroaded in going straight to Etheria.

Which is a very colourful place and Valanice is trying her hand at camouflage here.

There were five routes here, 4 rainbow roads and a route to continue. I checked out each of the rainbows and they each led to a different place down below: the desert, swamp, Falderal and the area by the statues and river of life in the forest. I put the horse to work getting me back to Etheria each time.

Then I started exploring Etheria itself. I found a place with little fairies (I think) that played a tinkly tune then beyond there was another space with a harp... I fiddled but didn't get anywhere with it--sound puzzles oh boy. I left it for now and carried on exploring.

I came to a spiralling path with a ghostly horse occasionally swooping around.

Climbing the path led me to another screen with a cave and ambrosia.

I went for the ambrosia first. I had to climb the tree and was able to fetch it. Then I tried for the cave and there was a monster.

It sure did eat me. Valanice said she may need some help here so I gave that a wide berth.

I went back down to the forest to try putting the ambrosia in the statue's cornucopia and sure enough it filled up.

I was able to get a pomegranate from it and then I returned to Attis and the Ceres tree. He thought the pomegranate as the fruit of life and rebirth might help but he didn't really believe it. Attis was being too sad because of course it worked! I used it on the tree and Ceres was restored.

Another happy reunion. Valanice is making them all over but yet to get her own with Rosella...

Attis set off to Etheria to do what he could to help while Ceres remained behind to restore more of the forest.

I went back to see if I could get another pomegranate. I could. Then I wanted to stop by the desert to see ol' Eduardo again, but he's closed now because the volcano's about to blow.

The jackalope was crying too. Things are getting bad here.

I went back to Etheria and will have to puzzle my way through it next time. Help is needed; there's a volcano to stop! And Rosella to find!

Deaths: 35 Time: 6:26

#king's quest #king's quest VII #the princeless bride #KQVII #KQVII_Log #sierra #adventure games

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iivyhearts · 3 years ago

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main trio with a chronic insomniac who's always exhausted

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

jimmy

he gets it- he really gets it; he's actually on sleeping meds

always buys you your favourite coffee in the morning

in the classes you two share he doesn't let you doze off

loves holding your hand, lets you rest your head on his shoulder too

he also struggles with sleep, so the two of you sneak off campus to his lighthouse to try and sleep there instead

cuddles 100

loves cuddling you and telling you stories from past schools to try and help relax you

if you ever actually fall asleep on him he lays extremely still, does not move until you wake up

loves rubbing your back until you doze off <3

coffee dates are a must- spoils you with caffeine

doesnt mind you taking naps on him when he does stuff, he likes sitting down on his bed when drawing/painting so he lets you lay on his lap/stomach

forehead smooches when you're half asleep <33

petey

he actually sleeps soundly so he can't ever imagine what feeling that tired would be like

if you accidentally wake him up he asks what's wrong before giving you cuddles

he always falls asleep before you though, he can't help it he's a huge cuddle bug <3

also tries to buy you coffee everyday but he doesn't get money like jimmy so it's every other day

reads to you to try and get you to sleep, he has a great reading voice

likes when you lay on his chest, even if you're taller than him, your weight is so comforting (he will doze off tho)

i feel like he would try sleep aid with you, also tries pampering you/caressing your face until you fall asleep

tries his best to help you but it backfires a lot so he falls asleep instead <3

gary

before dating he would definitely make fun of you

poked fun at the heavy bags under your eyes too

also teased you for napping in class (still does)

when he starts dating you, he starts to realise just how serious it is

he's had his fair share of all nighters, but he's never seen anything like what you go through

if you go so long w/out sleep that you start hallucinating he will force you to bed with some sleeping pills that he totally got legally ;)

he's normally not one for cuddling but if you're that tired (and he's on his meds) he lets you curl up next to him as he schemes

you get spoilt with coffee more than what jimmy gets u bc gary comes from a rich background

when you do fall asleep he will be secretly pampering you, running his fingers through your hair, kissing your face, rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings

will always insist you were dreaming it all if u woke up

when he's asleep you can get away with cuddling him straight up

will never admit it but he loves chest to chest cuddling, especially if you rest your head on his shoulder or on his chest

if you want him to tell you anything about his past or read to you, he will laugh at you and tease you a little

however,,, because he loves you so much, he will tell you some things about his past that he finds funny when you're half asleep

he has to sleep with a fan on so if that helps you too then thats a plus

sometimes you're the one pampering him when he's off his meds and busy overthinking and scheming the end of bullworth

helps you stay awake throughout the day by generally being annoying

he pokes you, tickles you, scares you, he bites your neck sometimes too

absolute menace

#bully canis canem edit #canis canem edit #bully game #bully scholarship edition #bully se #bully x reader #jimmy hopkins #jimmy hopkins x reader #gary smith #gary smith x reader #pete kowalski #pete kowalski x reader #// 🛹 bully se #// 🪴 iivyhearts writing #// 🪴 iivyhearts

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joeldeservedbetter · 2 years ago

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The Girl Next Door OC Info

Basic Info:

Character's Full Name: Violet McElroy

Nickname: Vi (like bye but with a v)

Birth date: March 19 1990

Place of birth: Corpus Christi, Tx

Ethnic background: She's American with a majority of Irish-Scot ancestry

Religion: Catholic

Current address: House across from Joel's

Brief description of home: Two-story, porch with a swing. Decor is cute, cottagecore style. Lot of gingham, feels cozy and warm. Like laying in the grass on a warm sunny spring day. House smells like baking bread and clean linen.

Current occupation: A electrical engineer who works with a construction company. Same company that contracts Joel and Tommy.

Sexuality (e.g. straight, gay, bisexual, asexual, uncertain…): Straight

Physical Appearance:

Height: 4'11"

Weight: 110 lbs

Body type (thin, athletic, overweight, curvy, muscular, etc.): Petite, skinny but not skin and bones, got some curves that fit her size.

Eye color: Light blue

Need glasses/contacts/hearing aid?: Has Glasses for reading and working.

Skin tone (pale, ivory, tan, olive, ruddy, brown, etc.): Pale

Any prominent features, freckles/moles/scars/tattoos or other distinguishing marks: Small freckles all over body, one on nose cheek, arms, ect.

Whom does s/he most look like (e.g. famous person or relative)?: Emma Watson in Little Women

General health (good, excellent, poor...)?: Good

Any current health problems or chronic conditions?: Type 1 diabetes

How does she dress?: Casual clothing is usually floral and feminie t-shirts tucked in high waisted shorts/jeans. When she wants to feel pretty or going out she wears modest floral dresses.

Describe hairstyle (long, short, crewcut, locs, bangs, side-part etc.):

Long honey-colored hair. Wavy with some curls. Mixed textured.

Speech and Communication:

Voice: Soft, quiet, can be squeaky when excited.

Accent: Slightly Southern. Comes out more when she's angry.

Mannerisms/demeanor: Shy/Meek. When she's nervous she fiddles with her hands or crosses her arms and brings a fist to her mouth. When she says something funny or cheeky she gets a small smirk on her face. Same for when she gets playful or mischievous.

Everyday Habits:

Finances: A bit frugal, a big savor, but doesn't mind spending if needed.

Personal Habits: Smoking, Drinking, Drugs, Gambling, etc.? Are any of these addictions?: Drinks on occasion.

Morning Routine: Describe the character's morning rituals. Wakes up on the early side. During weekdays she gets up, wakes up brother, then get them both ready before driving him to school and then go to work. On weekends she'll let her brother sleep in (To a reasonable hour of course). She would wash her face and get ready for the day but enjoy a. cup of coffee out on the swing while she wears comfy clothes (sweatshirt and cloth shorts for example).

Afternoon/Workday: weekdays she'd be working at the construction company's office, occasionally going on-site to work or help out the builders. Weekend she'd be working in her garden or baking. Hanging out with friends and/or her brother at their place. Just time to chill and relax. Nothing crazy.

Evening: Usually spent cooking dinner and winding down from the day. Work at her desk if needed.

Sleep Habits: Fall asleep easily, or an insomniac? Any recurring dreams? Sleep soundly, or toss & turn?: Falls asleep easily, heavy sleeper.

What is she particularly unskilled at?: Socializing, being assertive, remembering things

Any hobbies (sports, games, arts, collecting, etc.)?: Fishing, playing guitar, baking, and gardening.

Family of Origin:

Mother: Mother had Violet early in life. Was a sweet stay-at-home mom, had a good relationship with both kids. Feminine. Overall a good wife and mother. Died when Violet was 12 from a drunk driver hitting her in a car accident.

Father: Father is a hard-working, good ole boy type. Loves his kids and his wife with his whole heart. Taught Violet to fish and how to play guitar. Works as a farmhand at a farm down the road from their family home. Usually worked from early in the morning to early evening, but after Violet's mother died he threw himself into work even more. Also became an angry drunk. This caused Violet to pretty much raise her brother.

Sibling(s): Name is Graham. 13. years old. Smart and knows it. A huge nerd, plays DandD, loves old tech, like old radios, phones, tvs. Likes to tinker with them. Has so much sass and attitude, but he gets away with it because he's a cute baby face boy with a lisp.

Friends:

Eugene: Same one from the second game but more age appropriate for the group. Met Violet in college. Works as an electrical engineer with Violet. Goofy fun-loving member of their group. Meets tommy at work and becomes close friends.

Robin: Friend from high school who goes on to be roommates with Violet throughout college. Super into the supernatural, conspiracy theories, and cryptids. Grunge style, pretty chill. Down for whatever kind of person. Can be a tad sassy when pushed. Super supportive of all her friends even when its something she doesn't like or care about. She'll be all about it if her friends like it. Works as a counselor at a mental health clinic. Definitely psycho-analysis everybody.

Conner: Another friend from high school. Kind of a metal head that seems goofy and kinda scary and eccentric on the outside but is a soft teddy bear on the inside. Always there for his friends. Similar to Graham in being a huge dork. Loves comic books and movies.

#tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us part 1 #tommy miller #tlou part 1 #joel tlou2 #tlou2 fanfic

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cherry-lipbalm · 4 years ago

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double trouble. spencer reid.

4.8k words.

masterlist

where y/n pulls the short straw and has to double up with spencer.

There is a chart within the BAU: a solid, concise graph that portrays, arguably the most, vital information within the FBI. Intricately designed, Garcia and Y/N had managed to construct a comprehensible guide to who in the team was the most pleasant to share a room with. At first it was a joke, originated from a slow day of nothing but paperwork Y/N had spent in Garcia's lair. Conversations arose, and soon after so did the chart.

It's built up on categories such as conversation, tidiness, sleeping conditions and even hygiene. There are ten available points per category, and Emily loses said ten points for sleeping conditions because her snores can be heard from China. The points are the basis of the game, essential in order to rank the team individually and compile them into a list of favourability. Spencer is at the bottom of that list.

"I don't get it, I'm a delight," Spencer argued, strolling alongside Morgan up the small flight of stairs to the BAU room. Another case had forced them to prepare for the jet in 30 minutes, but Hotch and the rest of the team had very different perspectives on preparation. Especially after what he said when they entered the room.

"Okay, before we start you should know I called ahead to book a hotel and they had limited rooms. We all have one but you're going to have to double up."

Y/N had never seen an American Western movie before, but she imagined that the cliché standoff looked a lot like what happened in the BAU room subsequent to that announcement. Those that had been sitting launched to their feet, uncaring to the chairs rolling free behind them. If someone was holding something it dropped onto the table, or even the floor. Communication faltered, and all anyone dared to do was stare at each other.

When Hotch looked up from his file, he had to do a double take because of the drastic change in atmosphere. His team were all standing metres apart; Y/N had a hand over her gun.

"I think we all know what this calls for," she said.

"Get it," Morgan gestured to the back of the room. Y/N's movement caused a surge of motion as everyone sat at the table attentively. Hotch tried to turn the attention back to the screen with the crime scene photos, but even JJ was more focused on the whiteboard rolling into the room.

Y/N stood by it's side, and on her way forced Hotch into a seat. She grabbed the top corner and flipped it over to reveal the coloured array of pie charts, bullet-points and bar charts.

"I still don't see why this is necessary," Spencer whined from the back of the room.

"I don't see why you've obviously spent more time and effort on this than any of your cases," Hotch added.

"Okay, you two are just jealous because you're at the bottom of the list," Y/N snarked, then addressed the team. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today, in holy matrimony, to judge your fellow coworkers and deem who is the least likeable. Spoiler alert: it's Spencer."

At this, the aforementioned agent threw his pen directly at Y/N's head. She shrieked, then turned to him with a glare as she tried to untangle it from her hair. He laughed wholeheartedly, and the team snickered not only at Spencer's attack but the way they were so obviously and obliviously in love with each other.

"This chart makes no sense! I mean, how do I only have five points for hygiene? We all know I'm the cleanest out of everyone here."

"I agree with you Spencer," Y/N said, "your hygiene is at a ten point standard but unfortunately people don’t want to compete with said ten point standard, so that loses you five points, gorgeous.”

Spencer didn't reply (only sulked into his seat), half because he's shocked by the injustice of the chart and the other half because he's shocked Y/N just called him gorgeous.

"Alright! The hat, please," She exclaimed, enticing Spencer from his trance. Garcia presented the fedora over the table, and Y/N began talking immediately when she saw Hotch's mouth open in objection because were they really using the fedora from the unsub they caught last week?

Only four people took turns in picking names out of the hat; ever since in incident in '04 where lack of coordination made for everyone picking a name of someone who had already picked someone else. It resulted in a few brawls when Morgan wouldn't budge from his choice of Garcia even though his name had been pulled by Reid.

It never took them long to pick names out of desperation, considering the name-picking determined how the next 24 + hours were going to go. So when Y/N picked out Spencer's name, no one blamed her when she practically collapsed to the floor.

"That's karma," Spencer said upon her unraveling.

"I thought you didn't believe in karma," she sneered, stomping back onto her feet.

"In situations like these it seems to be the only viable explanation."

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him on her way out of the room, muttering under her breath that she'll be briefed when she's aboard, because she needed a moment alone for a pep-talk on how murdering your colleague apparently isn't socially acceptable.

On her way out, faintly in the background, Morgan caught sight of Emily and JJ fist-bumping victoriously, and realised that Y/N's demise more than certainly involved some foul play. Oh well, he thought, it'll make for good entertainment.

———

"Science shows us that we feel more personally connected with people who have similar postures, vocal rhythms, facial expressions and even eye blinking. If you consciously sync these factors your brain activity could follow, resulting in what many people call 'clicking' wi-"

"I cannot believe you asked me why you lost seven points for conversation and then followed with that."

"What? What's wrong with science?"

"Oh, Spence, you're so gorgeous but so oblivious," Y/N sighed, exhausted from a mixture of jet lag and Spencer's enthusiastic take on the science of conversation. They had only just stepped foot in the room, and she was already drained from the mere thought of having to bunk with him for the next however many hours.

Y/N is quick to throw her things down as soon as they enter the room. She dumps her suitcase by the door and launches a few more things on the cabinets around her, then tries to ignore Spencer's sounds of distaste as she does this. She's frankly too tired to care, and jumps onto the bed without thinking; she's so enervated she doesn't even realise there's only the one bed.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Spencer suddenly asks despite the silence that passed and the obvious fact that Y/N is trying to get some shut eye.

All he receives is an incomprehensible mumble from under the pillows, but he takes it as a response anyway.

"Why do you keep, uh, keep calling me 'gorgeous' I mean, I'm not, uh..." he stammers, fidgeting with the room key in his hands while he stands in front of the wardrobe to make it seem like he's doing something and doesn't care as much as he does.

"I'd say it's pretty self explanatory."

He senses the fatigue in her voice, so just leaves it with a shrug of his shoulders and a content smile, then goes to organising his array of sweater vests onto the hangers. When he's done with this, he turns around to make himself a coffee; taking a different approach to the jet lag than Y/N.

At the thought of her, he looks up to see her sprawled out across the bed. She's clutching onto a pillow and seems so relaxed that Spencer has to look away for a moment because he's more than certain he shouldn't be seeing a coworker like this. Nevertheless, he smiles upon her peaceful ambience, and hopes the boiling kettle doesn't disturb her too much.

When it's done brewing, Spencer sips the coffee cautiously and strides over to a small chair in the corner of the room. Here, Y/N's slumped figure is directly in his view, so he can't help but see her so casually on the bed. Wait, the bed... oh shit.

He knows that the chances of him getting the bed are slim. For one, Y/N's pretty much already claimed that territory, and, even if she hadn't, Spencer knew she'd put up one hell of a fight for it. He only hoped there were some extra blankets and pillows that could aid in making the floor at least somewhat comfortable.

"So, uh, Rock Paper Scissors for the bed?" He asks, then slurps his coffee. His voice rouses Y/N for a moment, and he's sure she's dozed back off again until his words sink in and she turns around to him with bleary eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"One bed. Two people," he says nervously and gestures to the space between them.

And it takes Y/N a moment. She looks from Spencer to the bed, then stares at the pillows for a long while, then she looks at Spencer again, then the bed. Then, she lets out a blood-curdling cry so loud that Reid has to cover his ears.

"Why!" She screams, slamming her hands down on the mattress. Spencer can't help but laugh, snickering behind his hand which only infuriates Y/N more.

"Okay, okay!" He moves to calm her down when he can practically see the steam coming out of her ears, "rock paper scissors, come on."

"Oh, I don't want to do that, Spence," she whines.

"Why? 'Cause you know you'll lose?" With his patronisation he raises an eyebrow at her when he approaches the end of the bed, his fist already raised. His condescension makes Y/N irrefutably stubborn, and she knows he's doing it on purpose -because he always does- but she doesn't care when it means she has a chance to beat Spencer at something.

"Fine," she grumbles. She sweeps the hair from her face and sits up straight, shuffling to the end of the bed and letting her legs dangle down; they brush against Spencer's own and he clears his throat amid the contact.

The slap of her fist against her palm indicates the beginning of the game. Y/N knows that she's unlikely to win, because Spencer is bound to have calculated some sure-fire plan to succeed in every round of Rock Paper Scissors.

This is why, when Spencer pulls paper and she pulls scissors, she screams in delight.

"No," Spencer says bluntly, then demands, "best out of three."

"Oh no," she chuckles, "it's never been that way before, it isn't now, gorgeous."

Spencer throws his head back in a groan, kneeling on the floor in defeat. He stays there because he figures he ought to become acquainted with it.

———

When nighttime rolls around, Y/N is pretty excited. She's already texted the BAU group chat a record seventeen times about the matter, yet somehow the team hasn't gotten sick of it thus far, and may even be more exhilarated than she is. It's the one good thing to come out of sharing a room with Spencer: that she gets to watch him wiggle in discomfort on his makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor.

Except, when it comes down to it, it isn't that fun at all.

He's wriggling, yes, but it's doesn't exactly fulfil her with any satisfaction; if anything, it's just sad. He struggles to reach any form, never mind pinnacle, of relaxation, and Y/N actually feels pretty guilty at the subordination. So when the clock hits midnight and she's still hearing Spencer grunting when he hits a certain incessant bump in the carpet, she gives in and sits up.

Upon the sudden sound of bedsheets rustling, Spencer freezes because he thinks he's going to get shouted at, but it's the opposite that scares him even more.

"Do you want to get in bed?" Her voice sounds, the hush penetrating through the air.

Immediately Spencer rises; he wants nothing more than to take her up on her offer, but he is, unfortunately, chivalrous.

"No, no, it's okay," he whispers back, already delving back under his covers.

"Spencer. Just take the bed, I can't sleep with you tossing and turning," she says, hoping the complaint will cover up her caring behaviour.

"Be careful, Y/L/N, it almost sounds like you care."

"Shut up, do you want the bed or not?"

"I do but, unlike you, I'm actually a good person and wouldn't want to see you lying on the floor-"

"Uh, I'm offering you the bed, aren't I? That's gotta earn me some brownie points," she remarked, now having turned on a lamp. "Besides, if you're that bothered about it, we'll just share."

This makes Spencer stop: his torso is turned abnormally in his angle to see Y/N behind him, the blankets feebly draping across him show the Doctor Who shirt he's wearing, and his hair is a tousled mess that Y/N just knows will take him hours to fix in the morning. Well, that was tomorrow's problem, she contemplated, right now the issue lied in who, if either of them, was going to sleep on the floor.

"Uh, share? You.. uh, you really wanna do that?"

"As long as you don't snore, or kick; whats the harm?"

Spencer avoids dumping information about the harm of them sleeping together: how this kind of physical contact releases oxytocin, a chemical compound in the brain that exhibits feelings of empathy, trust, relaxation and even reduces anxiety. He saves her this because it's just past midnight and he doubts she wants to hear about the scientific risk of them growing to like each other.

"Oh, okay," he agrees instead. He clambers up from his pile of blankets and clutches a pillow to his chest while he stumbles over. Y/N shuffles to one side and pulls the duvet back, and he's more than happy to get under warm, comfy sheets.

"Let me just make something clear," Y/N says while Spencer adjusts into the pillows. He doesn't do this for long because one is snatched from under his head. When he moves to object, he sees it being planted next to his arm, creating a definite border between them.

"Your side, my side," Y/N says sternly, "that clear?"

"Crystal."

———

It's around three am when Y/N stirs awake. At first she can't grasp what's roused her, but then she hears a noise, and assumes there's got to be some construction going on outside because what she hears is alike to the humming of machinery. When she gains a reasonable amount of consciousness, she realises the sound is a bit too close to home.

Her hand reaches out across the bed, and when she accidentally whacks Spencer on the chest, she worries she's awoken him, until the noise starts again and it's here she discovers it's coming from him.

Oh shit, she thinks, please don't tell me my co-worker is having a sex dream while I'm lying right next to him.

He isn't, but Y/N isn't sure the reality is any better.

The moaning sound he first emitted has progressed into some sort of panicked grunt, accompanied by occasional whines. Soon, his body is flinching away from an invisible force.

Y/N knows it's probably best to leave it, that if she wakes him up he might be too confused and scared, he'll be disoriented, but when he starts screaming, she doesn't have anything else to resort to.

"Spence, Spencer! Wake up, hey," she shakes him, and he's awake in seconds. Sitting up straight, Y/N sees him hitting things that aren't there; it's only when she turns the light on that he eventually calms down.

"I'm sorry," he croaks immediately. Then his head is in his hands as he leans on his knees, and Y/N is overcome with a feeling completely foreign to her in regard to Spencer: empathy.

"Don't be, it-... it's okay," her voice takes a calm turn, and she even puts a hand on his back because anything that happens after three am is as good as forgotten anyway.

"You were right, I'm sorry," Spencer mutters. "This'll lose me ten points for sleeping conditions, huh?"

His attempt at cracking a joke does make Y/N smile, but even he can tell it's one of pity.

"Don't be silly. Do you want to, uh, talk about it?"

"I just wanna sleep," he sighs, and falls back into the pillows. Y/N creases her brows in sympathy, then lies down next to him; she stares at the ceiling for a while, and the steadying of Spencer's breathing makes her think he fell asleep a while ago, so she leans to turn off the lamp before his voice breaks the silence.

"Can you keep the light on?"

His sudden ask makes Y/N jump, but she steadies under the softness of Spencer's voice. When she turns to him his eyes are barely open, but he can see the benevolent smile she's giving him; something he rarely sees from Y/N.

"Of course," she says, then lies back down into the indent she's made in the bed.

"Thanks," he replies, and Y/N notices this is the least she's ever heard Spencer talk.

"You know," she starts, "it's not silly to be afraid of the dark; it's basic human instinct. I mean, it's evolution: humans have a... a tendency to be afraid of the dark, our visual sense vanishes and we can't detect anything around us. It's primal instinct, or... something, I guess."

At the end of her ramble, she's afraid she's sent Spencer to sleep, because he's gone uncharacteristically placid, but -yet again- he surprises her.

"Now who's losing points for conversation?"

Y/N's laugh after this is so hearty and genuine that Spencer can't help but smile, grin even. His chest rumbles with a chuckle, and Y/N feels the mattress shake under their collaboration of laughter, when it dies down they're both still beaming.

"Maybe I've been hanging around you too much," she declares. It's a jab, but her cheek rests against the pillow when she turns her head to him because her smile is so wide, and Spencer reciprocates; the act is unfamiliar to the pair, but warming nonetheless.

When it goes silent, Y/N doesn't expect to sleep at all. The Pavlov affect of the light being on tricks her brain into thinking she should be wide awake (something she learnt from Spencer), so she lies there patiently; hands intertwined resting on her chest. She twiddles her thumbs, almost as if she's waiting for something to happen.

"I'm sorry you have nightmares," she mutters.

Spencer's eyes flutter open, and she goes to make another apology, this time for waking him, but he clears his throat so she lets him take the lead.

"S'Not your fault, I just, I don't know. I get these dreams, these weird dreams - ever since I was a kid. I guess they just... developed into nightmares since I joined the BAU," he mumbles. "We see some pretty bad stuff."

Y/N hums, "we do, don't we?"

Her speech doesn't warrant a response, so Spencer just smiles again and they both silently call it a night. Reid is asleep in seconds, which Y/N finds admirable, while she stays still for a while. The way the orange light is bouncing off Spencer's physique makes him look like he's centre stage of an oil painting. The detail she's gaining of his pores and his eyelashes from being so close to him is both daunting and beautiful at the same time. His resting body reminds her of the pieces on display in an art exhibit Spencer dragged her along to one day last autumn. She wonders if he took anyone else to that exhibit, and hopes he didn't.

She soundlessly admires the rise of his chest: the melody of his breathing amid the chagrin of an occasional nose whistle. His hair, once a foreseeable inconvenience, is now an abundance of, what Y/N can only describe as, natural radiance; it's all curls and frizz and length that she's begged him to never lay a hand on. She can't help but run a hand through it. When she does, it's a lot softer than she expected and makes her think, wow I've really got to find out what conditioner he is using while she's untangling any knots she comes across. It only results in more frizz but he'll gel it back with product in the morning (much to Y/N's disappointment).

The noise he exudes when Y/N scratches his scalp makes her heart melt immediately. It is the sound of innocence wrapped up in a ball of revere, the way it comes from his chest and catches in the back of his throat in a small, naive whine. Then he subconsciously curls into her hold and is practically purring when she continues to scrape her fingernails gently across his head.

The ambivalence of it all is what makes Y/N stop. Spencer Reid isn't the kind of guy she ever anticipated to have a crush on. He didn't fit into the pattern of her list of exes, not even one feature of him came close to anything of her usual type. Where she'd normally be taken to movies and dinners, Spencer ventured with her to museums, public symposiums, art exhibits. Y/N can't resist fondly reminiscing on a library trip they took last week that resulted in them checking out each of their favourite books for one another. And while, on paper, this was romantic and harmonious, they were strictly platonic. Barely that; they took the piss out of each other at every opportunity, not even always as a joke. Y/N had collapsed in sorrow when she pulled his name out of the hat.

But the smile on Spencer's face... his serene expression and soft hair makes Y/N's knees weak for a totally different reason. And she figures this feeling trumps whatever feigned resentment she has been portraying over the years.

Fine, she thought, stubborn as always when it came to Spencer, I'll tell him when he wakes up. She began to bask in the peace that came before whatever storm could potentially riot tomorrow when she told Spencer how she felt. She guessed she had at least a few hours to relish in their friendship and the love they had built.

She guessed wrong.

Spencer's eyes were fluttering open before Y/N had even began conjuring up what she was going to say. Unfortunately, when she made a plan she stuck to it; she was beginning to see why her stubbornness could be such an unattractive quality.

Spencer squinted harshly with the light, and the first thing he managed to see clearly was the discreet panic in Y/N's eyes. He took a quick survey of the room to eliminate what visible factors that could reason her alarm; when he ruled out any unsub with a gun to her head, he relaxed.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked to the window, and it didn't seem to be daylight yet.

"Haven't you been to sleep?" He asked, more than prepared to educate her in the necessities of getting a good night's rest.

"Not yet. You've only been out a few minutes," she said softly, retracting her hand from his locks. Here, Spencer realised he didn't like the feeling of Y/N's absence.

"Oh," he hummed, "I was dreaming. I think Darth Vader was there..."

Y/N chuckled lightheartedly, "of course he was."

Spencer seemed willing to remain awake, but time was limited and Y/N wasn't sure when he'd be dozing off again. So, she made her move.

"Listen, I wasn't going to say anything until morning but, you're awake so I may as well tell you now..."

He's visibly intrigued; with a quirked eyebrow and digging the knuckle-joint of his finger in a rubbing motion in the corner of his eye to try and gain some sense of vivacity. Still, all he can respond with is a drone.

"And I don't want this to, I don't know, freak you out? Or to make anything awkward, so if it does, we can just... pretend this never happened, okay? I mean it."

This manages to obtain Y/N the attention she needs, because, without delay, Spencer has both eyes open and his eyebrows are knitted together in mostly concern. Now, with his eager expression, Y/N wishes he had stayed nonchalant.

"What's wrong?"

"I just... I guess. I mean, I like you? I think? I know, really. I just - you're not like any other guy, and I like that, that's a good thing! I mean, what other guy knows how to build a rocket and make a coin appear behind your ear?"

Spencer chuckles, and his eyes are wide and bright like he's been suddenly granted passage to a whole new world. Mouth agape with wonder, he's like a child being told he can finally play on the big-kid swings: buzzing with excitement and anticipation, just like said rockets he launches and gets in trouble with Hotch for.

"You mean like this?" He asks and leans forward to brandish a dime from behind Y/N's earlobe.

"Okay, like, who does that!" She screeches way too loudly for three am. When she clasps a hand over her mouth Spencer chortles and slowly removes her grasp. He's timid, so initially only presses a chaste kiss to her knuckles, then feels the ambience in the room shift; suddenly everything has devolved from blushing antics and stumbles of words to serenity in a matter of seconds.

Spencer's pecks adhere to Y/N's hands, lingering on the skin of her knuckles and occasionally peppering to her palms. It isn't until a few kisses later that he brings himself to move closer, and even here his courage only brings him to her cheek.

When the corner of his lips press lustfully upon her face, Y/N doesn't hesitate in turning her head ever so slightly. His lips part, and he breaks away to glance at her and make sure this isn't all one big misunderstanding. But her gaze is matched to his mouth, and soon her lips. In a fumble to close the (already compact) space between them, the kiss they share is warm and breathy, it's passionate and lewd, especially with the arrangement in which Spencer places his hands: cupping one side of her face and the placing the other at her neck so he can rest his fingertips in the hold atop Y/N's spine.

Wherever his fingers touch leaves a trail of goosebumps which Y/N hopes never diminish; she wants every piece of evidence she can muster of Spencer's caresses, however this changes when Spencer's lips begin on the formidable task of her neck.

"Stop," she pants, and the hands that had inevitably reached his hair again are now pushing slightly on his shoulders. Her request makes Spencer drop his hands immediately.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't. It was nice. I just, I don't want everyone to see," she gestured to the red patch that had already formed above her clavicle where Spencer had only been nibbling a moment prior.

"Right, yeah," he breathed. A giddy smile forced its way onto his face when he looked at the way Y/N's lips had reddened and become swollen, especially her bottom (now essentially permanent) pout originated from the persistence of Spencer's tendency to drag his teeth along her lip and enclose it in a bite.

"You know, I predicted this would happen. Scientifically, people are a lot more likely to be attracted to one another after sleeping together. Subconsciously, we feel more capable in our ability to trust that person because we've been so vulnerable and open in a compromising position. The oxytocin we get from sharing physical contact like that is the same we produce in an orgasm."

"Oh," Y/N squeaked, while Spencer lay there with a proud smile on his face, not really registering the effect he'd had on her by using the word 'orgasm'.

"Oxytocin is heavily released during kissing too, so... I guess we're pretty bonded."

Y/N chuckled, smiling at his blushed cheeks. "I guess we are."

"It's, uh, it's actually also called the 'cuddle hormone' because it's primarily recognised as being released during hugging.”

"And that's your way of asking me if I want to cuddle?"

Spencer's smile was unmissable: shifting nervously between tight-lipped and beaming wide, his eyes were the only part of his countenance that stilled; locked on Y/N.

"Yes, I, uh, I believe it is."

She tried to suppress her grin, but it was no use.

"Big spoon or little spoon?" She asked.

"Oh, little spoon... obviously."

fin.

#spencer reid gifset #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid imagines #Spencer reid one shots #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid x reader

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

Text

To bargain for immortality pt.5

Another few good weeks passed before they heard from their so-called goddess, gone who knows where. Not that anyone would ever question her absences, even the lords knew better than to stick their noses in her business.

When Nicole found herself once again following Emma through blue-lit underground corridors, there was an odd determination in her strides. She wanted to figure out what the hell was going on with her and Miranda, if nothing else, was a scientist who above all loved solving an equation. And what else could her situation be described as if not an intricate equation with a bit fat X as her missing factor.

She was right in thinking that Miranda would find her issue of interest, as when she finally brought it up the woman furrowed her brows and turned to face her, a clipboard grabbed from a nearby table.

“And there was nobody else?”

“No. Just me, Cassandra, the pharmacist and some guy that came for his medicine,” Nicole answered with a barely contained huff.

“What for?” Miranda tapped her pen against the paper in anticipation, a clear sign that she may be onto something and was only putting together some puzzle pieces that nobody but her could see.

Nicole had to dig through her memories for a moment. “An infection. At least that’s what the pharmacist mentioned.”

Miranda hummed and scribbled something else. There was no point in trying to decipher what exactly, the woman had the handwriting of two drunk doctors put together. How very fitting for her.

Without another word, she was on her feet, unbuttoned lab coat flowing after her the same way her black robes did when in goddess mode. “Follow me. I want to test something.”

And what else was she supposed to do really?

Quick steps took them down the hallways, black stone walls surrounding them and taking on an odd shine under the unnatural neon lights above. At least Nicole didn’t have to jog for once, Miranda not being that much taller than her.

The journey was short and they reached their destination quickly, which seemed to be a door not unlike the one belonging to the lab they had just vacated, except this one had the number 24 engraved on a small plaque on it. Miranda pushed it open to reveal a small hospital looking room, four beds divided by grey curtains but only one seemed to be occupied, a sleeping woman hooked to a heart monitor whose rhythmic beeping caused some memories to resurface in Nicole's mind.

Those memories however were quickly pushed down by a sudden burst of nausea at the decaying smell that seemed to forcefully crawl its way down her throat. Nicole all but slapped a hand to her face and turned around in a pathetic attempt to block out the overwhelming sensation. Some blood also started to trickle down her face and past trembling fingers, although thankfully not an ungodly amount like before.

By some mercy of well… herself, Miranda didn't stop her when she decided to do a wobbly turn and hastily exit the room. She followed Nicole out and observed as she slumped against a wall, pulling a tissue from a pocket to wipe at her face.

"What… the fuck," Nicole breathed out.

"Was that the same as before?" Miranda's eyes were full of a weird kind of glee that could only belong to a mad scientist. Not that that would be an inaccurate description for the woman.

Nicole only nodded, trying to get her face on a more presentable level before speaking again. "Is she-..."

Miranda scoffed. "Are you deaf? I can assure you the woman is quite alive," she responded with an eye roll.

The soft beeping monitoring the heartbeat could be heard faintly from behind the closed door, so her words had to hold some truth to them. Though her intentions were still shrouded in mystery.

"Then why the hell does she smell like that?"

"She doesn't," came the nonchalant reply and it had Nicole almost seething.

Is your ego stuffed up your nose, is what she wished she could snap and say, but she knew better.

If Miranda noticed the daggers in her eyes, she paid them no mind. Instead she noted something down on the paper precariously attached to the clipboard she got a hold of before exiting the lab they had been in previously. When she finished, she simply motioned for Nicole to follow and continued further down the hallway, without a second glance.

She only stopped once to exchange a few words with an unfamiliar assistant on the whereabouts of certain patients. Patiens. Why would Miranda keep any sort of patients down there?

Before she had time to dwell on it, Miranda pushed another door open, this time leading to another corridor dimly lit by strategically placed torches. Apparently nobody bothered to get electricity to this particular part of the underground maze of tunnels, the warm light so pleasant on the eyes as opposed to the harsh neons of the previous area. The tunnel was also long, way too long for it to be an often used path, especially given how awfully humid the air was becoming. Nicole tried to take a mental note of where they were heading, squinting her eyes in an effort to imagine what was above them, but with how convoluted the tunnels down there were, it was fruitless.

After maybe fifteen minutes of walking, awkward silence -at least awkward on her part, Miranda didn't seem to care- only broken by the echo of steps and the soft sounds of crackling fire from the torches, the tunnel ended in what looked to be a far too modern stairwell. Nicole had to pause for a second, looking at the unnerving contrast where dark ancient stone gave way suddenly to gray concrete and steel, going up in sharp angles and blocking the view to whatever laid above. The overall architecture did look vaguely familiar though, but Miranda didn't seem to have the patience for sightseeing as she quickly started walking up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase stood a steel door that was quickly unlocked to finally reveal a place that Nicole recognized. She blinked rapidly in surprise, all but freezing in the doorway at the sight of the hospital corridor she had walked down on so many times before, complete with a handful of nurses discussing in a corner. She shook her head and slowly followed the woman, not wanting to remain behind. It didn't take long before they came across the one person Miranda was apparently searching for.

"M- Mother Miranda," Salvatore's voice came in an oddly high pitch, at least for him, when he almost crashed with her in his hurry to get somewhere.

"Moreau," Miranda greeted with a nod and unreadable expression. "I need the documents on each of your patients and where they're staying." Straight to business apparently.

He simply nodded and moved his attention to one of the nurses standing nearby, instructing him to finish whatever task he was supposed to before their arrival. The man moved rigidly, painfully aware of Miranda's presence. Then, Moreau led them to his office, starting to pull out a consistent number of files from a large bookcase.

His office was, unsurprisingly, a mess aside from the one place he held the documents keeping track of all his current patients, complete with a few books and office supplies haphazardly placed on the desk. A few spare white coats were hanging just by the door, together with a long and worn leather jacket that he often times wore when outside the building. A familiar string of bones was also peeking from one of its pockets, nowadays worn as a necklace since, after the effects of his mutation were lessened, he found the crown quite unsightly.

"Are you coming by anytime soon," his voice came from behind, snapping her out of her exploration. "We could use a hand sometimes."

Nicole turned to give him a polite smile. "I may, but I have some things to get out of the way for now."

A glance in Miranda's direction revealed the woman hunched over the documents on the desk, writing down a list with the aid of whatever she was reading. They could do some small talk for the time being.

"How have you been," Nicole asked, turning to him again.

She and Salvatore were on quite friendly terms ever since she started occasionally helping out in the hospital that he was in charge of. Not that they had much time to ever hang out, but the few times they did, it's always been a pleasant interaction among colleagues.

"Some days are better than others," he responded with half a shrug.

Judging by the deep purplish circles under his eyes, today wasn't particularly stellar. He was slightly hunched, whether it was out of habit from a time when sitting straight was quite impossible or from tiredness, she couldn't tell.

"Any news from the castle?" He asked with a chuckle. He was rarely welcomed in Alcina's home so the curiosity wasn't unwarranted.

Nicole shrugged. "Same old same old. Bleeding out prisoners, stopping Daniela from breaking vases and all that boring pseudo nobility stuff."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Nobility? Should I start calling you my lady?"

Nicole snorthed, giving his shoulder a small shove that didn't make him move in the slightest.

Their joking banter was interrupted by Miranda all but shoving her way in between them and out the door, calling for her to follow. With a small wave, Nicole was quickly after her, falling in step just slightly behind the other woman. Though it was a small building after all, so it didn't take long to reach the first door on Miranda's list.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you feel," she flatly told Nicole while pushing the door open.

She frowned, eyes slightly narrowed in confusion and glued to Miranda's back as she stepped inside the small room after the woman.

Any incredulous question died on her tongue when she seemed to be yanked back in time, to the yearly family trips her father insisted they all go on. It was to a relative, or family friend, Nicole couldn't quite recall, who owned an old cabin near a lake. Problem was, the lake was always murky and full of algae, the water gaining an unpleasant scent under the August sun. She and Alex never tried swimming.

"Well?" Mirada raised an eyebrow, impatient.

Nicole scrunched up her nose, both wanting and desperately trying not to take a deeper breath. "Pond water? The kind of water that's stagnant and muddy in summer, full of dead fish and weeds."

She tried not to fidget, her mind running a thousand miles an hour. The so-called goddess seeming completely uninterested in shedding light on what the hell they were doing was not of much help either. A frustrated sigh threatened to escape when another person spoke up.

"Doctor?" A meek voice came from the only bed in the room, from a young woman who seemed asleep when they had walked in. She looked between the two of them confused and with squinted eyes.

Miranda simply raised a hand, not even sparing the girl a glance. "Pay us no mind, we're only here to check on something. We'll be on our way in a moment."

Nicole couldn't help the confused look she threw the girl's way. Was she not recognizing the woman this whole town worshipped? An amused snort almost escaped her but she knew better. Besides, who could really blame her? Mirada was wearing an oversized lab coat, blonde hair held back in a ponytail and there was no trace of the makeup that usually accompanied her ceremonial robes and mask.

Not that Nicole had time to appreciate the odd humanity of Miranda's outfit, as the woman turned on her heels and exited the room as soon as she was done writing. She was starting to grow annoyed with the uncooperative and know-it-all attitude, but decided against voicing any opinions and settled for following along to the next door.

It kept on being a rinse and repeat of the first room, only variables being the patients inside and her answers. Sometimes the change wasn't too obvious, maybe just a more metallic undertone or a new faint smell latching onto her senses, like the sickly sweet aroma of honey. A handful of times though she had to all but slap a hand over her face to not be overwhelmed by the enveloping stench. One room in particular made her almost stumbled backwards and out the door, when a strong metallic smell contrasting the accompanying one of decomposition hit her like a slap in the face. The man inside, who was evidently not doing particularly well, didn't seem appreciative of the apparently crazy woman coming in and rudely interrupting his rest.

Nicole didn't look forward to lingering around by that point, but there was one more room to check.

They pushed open the door, and the familiar stinging scent of decay immediately overtook her senses, seeming to latch on to the very inside of her throat. A small rivulet of blood also started dripping down her face, and Nicole quickly pulled out a paper tissue from her pants pocket to press against her nostrils. It was both to stop the bleeding and to shield her senses from the smell.

Once outside, Nicole was trying to catch her breath while Miranda was simply writing something down. Another set of steps approached them, who turned out to be Moreau coming to check on their findings. Upon being given the clipboard to read -he could actually decipher her chicken scratch, really?- he let out a curious hum.

"I need to go over John Abbott's file and compare them," Miranda started, clicking her pen and putting it back into her pocket. "I'll send an assistant after it later." Then she looked her way and waved a hand dismissively. "You're free to go, I'll send Emma after you when you're needed."

Nicole blinked, dumbfounded, her voice coming out harsher than she probably should've allowed it to be. "That's all? What did you find?"

The exasperated edge in her voice did not go unnoticed nor was it appreciated. Miranda rolled her eyes slightly and gave her an answer. "You can distinguish illnesses by smell. We'll do a more comprehensive test and list, but for now we have enough to say that's how the Mold manifested with you," Miranda explained, half turned away and ready to leave.

And she did turn to leave as soon as she was finished. With a nod towards Salvatore, she made her way back down the hospital corridor and presumably towards the passageway that led back to her lab.

Nicole wasn't particularly keen on going down there again if she could help it, so she instead stuck by Salvatore's side as they walked back to his office.

That day wasn't the first time Nicole had entered that room, so the fact that it also served as some kind of archive did not go past her. The office itself was decently sized, and even had a storage room attached to it with the sole purpose of keeping old files that may be important but Miranda didn't need at hand. Although, in all honesty, Salvatore wasn't particularly skilled in keeping everything organized. That's what my secretary is for, he would say, ignoring the fact that Miranda would gut anyone who touched those documents if they weren't part of the small group of people she deemed worthy. Therefore, the files were a mess, the only saving grace being that he at least had the foresight of organizing them by decade.

With a sigh, he started looking through the binders all but stuffed on one of the many shelves. Nicole sat down at his desk, occupying herself with a crayon that she started twisting around her fingers absent mindedly. There was some semblance of relief in finally figuring out what had so cruelly changed in her body, and what an ironic twist of fate said change was. To have spent years pouring over books learning about the illnesses that now were recognizable by something as simple as an acidic smell of blood. On the other hand though, the knowledge that Miranda had a tendency to find some kind of use for all her experiments left a sensation of dread slowly making its way into the deepest crannies of her chest, where a certain parasite had burrowed and made a nest for itself.

"Mind if I call the castle, I don't really feel like walking all the way back," she asked, eyes settling on the phone pushed to the side by a couple books and scattered pens.

"Sure," he responded without moving from where he was pulling out papers, only to shove them back inside their folders when they weren't the correct ones.

Her hands hovered over the keys for a moment. She wasn't about to call Alcina's personal phone to ask for a ride, heavens no. The phone in Carolina's study, where the Constable would spend her time when not in the stables, would be the best choice if only she could remember the number from memory. Nicole decided that the one in the main hall was the best next thing, where one of the guards at the entrance would probably hear the ringing and answer.

She dialed the number and listened to the typical ringing sound once, twice, until she thought nobody was actually around, but at last, a voice came from the other end.

"Alo?"

Nicole took a moment to recognize the voice as Dalia's, the head chambermaid.

"Hey, it's Nicole," she started toying with the pencil again. "I'm at the hospital, can you send Carolina with a horse to pick me up?" She sensed the slight hesitation on the other woman's side and thought to clarify. "I'm not injured, just with Moreau."

She heard a slight exhale from the other end of the line and had to entertain the thought of whether the woman was relieved due to genuine concern for her wellbeing, or she was well aware of how irritable her wife could be. Her being injured definitely made its way on the list of things that would bring out the anger and cruelty carefully crafted over almost a century.

Before hanging up the phone, she sighed and thought better of her request. "Actually, tell Cassandra to come."

She could almost feel the slight grimace from Dalia at being asked to go talk to the most sadist of the sisters, and with a request no less. Oh well, there's to hoping that Cassandra wouldn't be too peeved at said request coming from her wife.

She hung up after hearing an of course, my lady.

With a way to get back home without having to do the trek on foot assured, she leaned back in the chair, watching Salvatore continue on his search. He was standing with his hands on his hips, eyebrows pulled into a frown that slightly wrinkled the already rough skin of his forehead. He looked almost as if he resorted to glaring at the piles of papers, hoping that enough intimidation would scare the right file into jumping into his hands.

It almost made Nicole snort, were it not for the curiosity that both acted as a distraction and pleaded to get some more answers. "So, who's this… Jack Abbott?"

"John Abbott," he corrected without tearing his eyes from the shelf in front of him. He grimaced then. "He was one of Mother Miranda's earlier experiments, and had a very similar mutation to yours."

At that Nicole's eyebrows shot up past the low line of her fringe, interest successfully piqued. She turned in her seat to fully face him, one arm thrown over the back of the chair. When he didn't continue talking, instead pulling out one of the last binders on the shelf labeled 1930's, she impatiently prodded for more information. "And?"

Moreau pulled a face, probably wondering if he was even supposed to talk about it. It didn't take long for him to let out a defeated sigh, the demand to play dumb were Miranda to ever ask about this going unspoken, but more than understood. "Same thing as you really. He could tell what illness someone had by a specific smell, down to the nasty nose bleeds whenever it got too much," he started, noticing a few drops of blood that had dried on her upper lip.

He turned back to pulling out the very last binder dedicated to that decade and relaxed his posture ever so slightly when he saw JOHN ABBOTT written in big letters and black ink on one file. Another frown tugged his cracked lips downward, the information written in such a clinical way only mudding the memory of the frail man he had briefly met so many decades ago. "His body took well to the Cadou until… well ,until it didn't. I don't know what went wrong, but his body just rejected it at one point and he died being slowly consumed by the infection."

At that Nicole's face fell, dread now overtaking her usual curiosity. He must've noticed, for his next words came the slightest bit rushed and with a strained kind of reassurance that wasn't convincing to either of them.

"It may very well not be connected."

Nicole almost scoffed, not at him but at the situation at hand. The hand holding the pencil was tense and, had she not been as weak as she was, the wood would've probably cracked by then. "Did you know him?"

With a slight shake of his head, he answered, not a negation but more a gesture of pity. "Barely. I was brought here only after he started," he narrowed his eyes at a wall somewhere behind Nicole trying to find the right word. He didn't. "...deteriorating."

That was about as much as her brain wanted to know at the moment, letting a heavy silence fill the space for endlessly too long. She was caught in her own thoughts that started to twist and turn into countless what ifs. Thoughts that crashed to a halt when a nurse knocked on the half open door to announce her presence.

"Lady Cassandra is waiting outside," she told Nicole, expression pulled in a poker face that could only belong to someone who had to deal with her wife and tried to seem unbothered. Tried and failed.

Nicole sprung to her feet, circling the desk and about to make her exit when he called out. "Take care of yourself," Moreau told her, looking up from the papers he was reading.

Her lips turned slightly upwards into a smile. "You too." And then she left, rapid pace taking her through off-white hallways and slight smells that she was now painfully aware of.

Stepping outside was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one, the orange hue of the setting sun welcoming her after the hours passed under the harsh lab lights. How ironic was her hatred for the damned neon lights, when not too long ago she would've gladly spent her life under their bluish glow.

Even better than the warm sun on her skin, was the sight of Cassandra, dressed in her usual riding attire and absent mindedly scratching the furry muzzle of one of the castle's Clydesdale horses. A big beast of a horse, black and white with its feathery legs that, Nicole realized with an eye roll, she wouldn't dream of getting on without help.

Her pace quickened until she found herself embraced by a pair of strong arms, the stable smell mixed with Cassandra's cologne filling her senses with something finally pleasant. She didn't let go until she felt a gentle kiss placed on top of her auburn hair.

"Darling," Cassandra greeted her once she pulled back, gloved hand coming to rest on a pale cheek. "How are you?"

Nicole sighed and pushed into the touch, the kind of tiredness that could only be felt after a day spent bending over backwards to every one of Miranda's whims settling into her bones. "Ready to go back home."

Cassandra simply nodded once and moved her hands on her hips, getting a good enough grip before picking Nicole up to where her foot could reach the stirrup so she could pull herself up. Her wife decided that climbing in the saddle was below her at the moment, choosing instead to turn into a swarm, only to retake her human form a mere second later, on the horse's back, her front comfortably against Nicole's back. With a few taps of her boot against the stirrup still occupied by Nicole's foot in a silent demand to let her guide the horse, she took a hold of the reins and they finally started moving down the stone paved road.

There was no complaint on Nicole's part, taking it as a good opportunity to sit back and enjoy the ride, pressed to her wife's chest.

A few eternally long minutes were spent absentmindedly scratching the horse's muscular neck, where short black fur met the mane held in a beautifully done french braid, that only their Constable could pull so seamlessly. A few long minutes spent mulling over what she had found out, thoughts twisting cruelly with every worst case scenario her mind could conjure. Had she made a mistake? Was the infection a mistake to begin with? How cruel could fate be sometimes. Back in New York she had come to terms with a meaningless life, the only truly important thing she had amounted to at that point being choosing a career path to spite her father. But now, after finding a place to call home where she ached to stay to the point of seeking eternity for it, the very thing that could allow her to remain there forever could also take her life away, miserably so.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice snapped her back to reality, so much so that she even shook her head a couple times to chase away the lingering thoughts. She gave an inquisitive hum in an attempt to play dumb. The attempt was met with an incredulous eye roll.

"You're quiet," she simply responded.

"I'd think spending decades with Daniela would make you appreciate quiet people," Nicole jokingly threw back.

"Not you," came the reply, one hand leaving the reins and coming to rest on her thigh. "I love hearing you talk, even when you're blabbering about proper medical technique."

At that Nicole let out a light gasp, turning around with mild offence written in her eyes. She couldn't find anything to retaliate with for once, setting instead for giving her wife a slight shove with her elbow, that only elicited a laugh.

She shook her head and let out a sigh. "We did figure out what's with the damned nosebleeds." At a curious hum and Cassandra's chin coming to rest on top of her head, she went on. "Apparently I can distinguish illnesses by smell. Now that would've been useful during med school," she finished with a bitter laugh.

Her wife responded with a snort. "If I were Daniela, I'd say you're joking to hide how you really feel." She shrugged. "However I'm not her, and I'm assuming you'll simply tell me without the need of an impromptu psychoanalysis," she said almost smugly, the hand that was until then lazily placed on her leg finding its place around her waist.

The times when Nicole wished to curse her wife's apparently impeccable observation skills were rare, but this was one such occasion.

She almost let out a groan, pushing further back into Cassandra's form. "There was this other man, John Abbott, with the same mutation. Except his body rejected the Cadou and he died slowly and painfully," she explained, her voice quieting halfway through, but almost flinched when the arm around her went stiff with an almost vice-like grip. The realization of how long Cassandra has really been in the Village for slowly crept its way from Nicole's memory, having been filed away and almost forgotten in a metaphorical drawer of obvious things that however were rarely brought up. "Did you know him-"

"You won't end up like that sorry bastard."

The conviction behind that one simple sentence almost had Nicole letting out another short bitter laugh. Not out of bemusement of course. Irony perhaps, at how determined her wife was to double down on cheating death, not only for herself but her too. Even when death could be brought by the very thing keeping them alive.

"Not much we could do about that," she said in a small voice, one hand toying with the black fabric of Cassandra's sleeve.

"Don't think for one moment that I'm joking," she started, an edge of a warning behind her tone. Her hand came to rest more gently on the bottom of Nicole's sternum, where the skin had healed in a dark scar that seemed to send jagged cracks all the way to her stomach. "I'll pull the wretched little thing out of your chest myself if I have to."

At that Nicole actually let out a laugh. "Way to go with something morbidly romantic."

Cassandra chuckled close to her ear, bending down slightly to leave a peck where her neck and shoulder met. "You're not going to die. I won't allow it."

A silent possessiveness accompanied her words. An implication that she now belonged there, in her arms, and frivolous things such as death had no place to come between them. She should flinch at such implications, were it not for the fact that it was mutual and Cassandra knew better than to recklessly throw herself on death's path, knowing well that soon her wife would follow in her steps.

The soft kiss was returned when Nicole bent back again, until the angle between their bodies allowed for their lips to meet tenderly, in a way that anyone would believe was so utterly uncharacteristic to the both of them, ruthless in their own ways but soft like velvet running on smooth skin with each other.

They rode in comfortable silence up until the gates to the stable, where they dismounted and handed the reins to one of the servants waiting there. The sun had set by then, purple and dark blues reigning the skies as they entered the castle through one of the secondary doors.

She parted ways with her wife, saying that she would soon join the rest of their family as she headed up the stairs. A change of clothes was due. That and a request to their seamstress.

Oh her way back down, she stopped by the open door to the woman’s studio, busy with readjusting some garments for one of the ladies. A curt knock on the wooden frame of the entrance got her attention and had her pulling a face upon realizing that she had probably lost count of whatever she was mentally keeping track of. Nonetheless, she offered a polite smile when greeting Nicole.

“My lady, what can I do for you?”

“I need a facemask,” Nicole started.

The woman’s eyebrows pulled in a confused frown. “I thought a new batch of surgical masks just arrived the other day.”

Nicole raised a hand when she went to check on the shipments list. “I meant something I can wear for longer and outside the lab, surgical masks have a tendency to clash with an elegant gown, you know,” she explained with a chuckle. “Preferably that can filter out any smells?”

“Oh. Of course, I’ll just need to take your measures to make sure it’s fitted for you.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” she proposed and, after the seamstress gave her an hour, she continued on her way down the hallway to where the rest of the Dimitrescus were gathered.

Being home brought some peace of mind, thoughts of dying and being forcefully ripped away from her life momentarily placated in favor of enjoying a few hours by the fireplace with her family. Leaning against Cassandra as she draped an arm around her shoulders and listening to Daniela and Bela have a hilariously heated debate over the latest book they've read felt downright blissful in its mundane aspect.

Although no matter what, the little parasite that now called the inside of her chest its home, was quietly gnawing at her worried mind.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #salvatore moreau #to bargain for immortality #fanfic #big reveal is big

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isakvaltersmut · 5 years ago

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I love the idea that Chris had isaks back at nissen. Like, before Issy came/met even, Chris accidentally walks in on him getting a guy off at a party and Issy is so scared & embarrassed but Chris doesn't tell anyone. He learns Issy has stuff going on at home so Issy crashes with Chris a lot and Chris notices he has a bit of an anxiety problem, doesn't make a big deal of it, but keeps an eye on him and calms him down when he gets a bit panicky. Defs gave Even the 'hurt him I'll hurt you' talk😍🤗

Anything to do with Chris secretly having a soft spot for Issy is a fave tbh

Like even before they start talking Chris sees him around and sees the way his face kind of changes sometimes and he remembers, he doesn’t know what it is about the kid, all he knows is that he wants to make sure he’s okay.

Then one day he goes to a party with his friends, it’s not a Nissen party so when he walks into a random room and sees Isak sitting on the bed with a guy next to him as they kiss slowly, the guys high up on Isak’s thigh, Chris is shocked to say the least. Even more shocked when Isak gasps and turns towards him with wide eyes, and the second he sees it’s Chris the third year sees the way his shock turns into pure fear. But Chris just apologizes and leaves the room.

A few minutes later, as Chris is standing in the living room and taking one final sip of his beer, about to leave to go get another one, he sees Isak practically running up the stairs, the boy pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands as he frantically looks around the room. And then he sees Chris and his eyes stop on him, and straight away Chris knows what it’s about so he nods his head towards the back door and heads towards it. He only waits outside for a few seconds before Isak comes out and Chris can’t help but feel bad for the kid. He sees the way he’s shaking, how he’s wrapping his arms around himself and looking at anything but Chris, so he decides to spare him the misery.

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry about it.” He leans back against the railing on the back porch and crosses his arms as Isak looks up at him through his lashes, still nervous and still tense.

Chris decides not to fuck with him, not to mock or tease him for what had happened cause just like the first time he saw him, he still feels like he needs to protect him.

“Promise. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

After that Chris kind of makes sure to keep an eye out for him, makes sure he’s doing good and that nothing’s going on, always smiling at him when he sees him. And then one day, after the first time they had started planning for the fight, Chris offers Isak to give him a ride home and Isak goes tense straight away, stuttering out excuses and telling him he’ll just crash some place else, and Chris gets it, Isak doesn’t have to say anything about it cause he knows something’s going on. So he just suggests they go back to his place and get some food, after that he just says that it’s too late, Isak can just stay over at his place. Chris leaves the room at some point, Isak laying back on the bed, and when Chris comes back he finds Isak asleep, so he just covers him up and lays down on the couch in his room and goes to sleep.

It becomes a regular occurrence after that, Isak comes over, Isak crashes at his place. And Chris knows when Isak needs it, he sees the dark circles under his eyes and straight away texts him asking him to come over, says he’s bored, makes something up just to get Isak to come to his place in hopes that he’ll fall asleep cause apparently Isak just does that around him. Just falls asleep if things are quiet for a while and Chris can’t help but feel touched that Isak feels safe enough and comfortable enough at his place to just fall asleep in his bed (after a few times it happens Isak tells him to stop being an idiot and stop sleeping on the couch ‘You’re stupid Chris, just sleep in the bed, I’m not gonna touch you, I have some sort of standards.’ ‘What the fuck, bro? Fuck you.’) Soon enough though, Isak tells him what’s going on, what his home life is like, and after that Chris doesn’t have to make excuses, Isak just comes over to his place, one time even coming when Chris had a hook up over, and Chris will never admit that he made the girl leave just so that Isak could get some sleep.

Eventually (doesn’t take that long) Chris realizes how anxious Isak gets so he always makes sure that he feels comfortable, sometimes he even walks up to him in public and drags him away when he sees Isak getting too fidgety, and no one gets it. No one has any idea why the fuck Chris, one of the most popular guys in school, is suddenly babying this first year, but no one dares to say anything cause the one time someone was bothering Isak at a party Chris stormed over and pushed them away straight away, earning himself a punch in the face but also a hug from a shaking Isak, and after that no one bothers him. But still, Isak is anxious, so Chris makes sure to give him hugs, to tell him it’s okay, he even goes out of his way to google calming scents and buys some candles with that scent so that he can light them when Isak comes over.

The day of the fight is the first time Chris realized how much Isak means to him, how much he feels the need to protect him cause the second some big guy started to walk towards Isak, ready to punch the kid, Chris practically jumped on him, pushing him away and punching him just to take his attention away from Isak, and right before the guy punched him back, Chris used a hand to push Isak away from the fight, to make sure he’s at a safe distance.

Later that night, when Chris is at home, Isak comes over, and Chris practically melts when the boy grabs his chin and moves his head to the side so he can look at the bruises covering him before he drags him to the bathroom and grabs the first aid kit, making sure to put cream on him. But then Isak looks at him for a second before wrapping his arms around Chris’ neck, hugging him as tight as he could before whispering a soft ‘thank you’ into his ear, and Chris couldn’t help but hug him back, wrap his arms around Isak’s waist and press a kiss onto the top of his head.

When Chris graduates they still keep in touch. Chris still lets him sleep in his bed, Chris still ruffles his hair and hugs him when he needs it, and Isak soaks it all in, he just nuzzles closer to Chris whenever he hugs him. Chris messages him whenever he can, just making sure he’s okay and that he’s safe.

When Even breaks up with him after the locker room scene Isak comes to Chris and Chris ignores the fact that Isak has tear tracks on his cheeks, he ignores the fact that Isak holds him tightly when they lay down in bed, he just pulls him in and makes sure he sleeps, that he gets some rest.

And then, when they actually get together, Chris finally meets Even at the Christmas party. He keeps an eye on him during the whole thing, carefully observing his interactions with Isak cause no matter what Isak says this guy still broke up with him once, he still hurt him, and to Chris that’s just unacceptable, he can’t take that.

At some point during the party Isak walks up to him, Chris can sense Even watching them but he doesn’t care, he smiles softly at the boy and just spreads his arms and Isak hugs him tightly before moving away. They talk for a little while, Chris ruffling his hair and going to the kitchen to get a drink, but when he walks in Even is already there, leaning against the counter and typing on his phone.

They say hi to each other and Chris can sense that Even wants to say something, but he has something to say as well, and he needs to get it out.

“You know, I’ve been looking out for him since his first year at Nissen,” He can see the surprise on Even’s face, but he ignores it, “I’m the one that made sure nothing happened to him and that he had a place to stay. You have no idea how many nights he slept at my place when he needed to get away from home.”

He then sees the way Even raises his eyebrows in shock, and he knows what he thinks happened. He rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms against his chest.

“Did you two ever-”

“God, no, we never did anything, he’s like a little brother to me, you don’t have to worry about that.”

He watches the relief in Even’s eyes and holds back from rolling his eyes that time, there’s only so much kindness and patience he has in him and it’s all reserved for one person only.

“Basically, what I’m saying is that I’ve protected him for a long time. I’ve made sure he’s safe no matter what and now I want him to be happy, he doesn’t deserve to hurt any more than he already has.”

Even tilts his head to the side, about to say something when Chris keeps going.

“So, if you hurt him you’ll have me to deal with. I’ve fought for that kid before, I’ve taken punches for him before and I’ll gladly do it again. Don’t fuck with him.”

Even stares at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Chris walks over to the fridge, grabbing some beer and opening the bottle, tilting it towards Even in a salute before he leaves the kitchen.

A few minutes later he sees Even enter the living room, he watches the way Isak’s face lights up, the way Even smiles softly at him before walking over to him and bending over to place a kiss on his forehead as Isak closes his eyes and smiles up at him. And Chris can’t help but smile at the sight.

#anon #hc's #chrisak #skam #i looove chrisak a LOT

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wildfaeworld · 6 years ago

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Pidge with someone tampering with her food? Like on a planet and Hunk Allura and pidge are invited, they offer them food but Pidge and Hunk eat some (Hunk is quickly pulled away so he doesn't eat enough for the poison to affect him) and they try and take Pidge because she's passing out from the "poison") thank you so so much!!!

Administrative stuff: This is for the @badthingshappenbingo, in the Voltron: Legendary Defender Fandom.

Red has been done, blue requested.

*PSST*: You can also read this on AO3.

Yikes. This is about 3100 words.

“Pidge, you gotta try this,” Hunk gushes.

“No.”

“C’mon, just a bite,” he wheedles.“It tastes just like hazelnuts.”

“No, Hunk.”

“Fine, fine,” Hunkrelents, and returns to his own plate. But Pidge can feel him watching her outof the corner of his eye.

“What?” she finallysnaps - quietly, she can be diplomatic too.

“Nothing!” he sayshastily. “I just-” here we go“-are you sure you’re ok? I know this was a pretty big let-down.”

And suddenly, eating is lookinglike a better option than talking to Hunk. Pidge grabs a spoonful of whateverthis newest alien gunk is on her plate and shoveled it into her mouth, barelytasting the weird flavor. Hazelnuts, her ass. This stuff is nothing likeanything on Earth.

Damnit, Hunk is still watchingher.

“I’m fine,” she saysshortly. “It’s just a setback. Stop pussyfooting around for once and leaveme alone.”

“We’ll find them, Pidge,”Hunk says steadily, and he’s so warm,so fucking comforting that she nearlyloses her shit right there and the only alternative is to shove more terriblealien food into her mouth, chew, swallow, and repeat the process until he getsthe message and leaves her alone.

And he does, he’s damnperceptive, that’s what clued him in in the first place, but now she thinks shemight have screwed up because he’s not gushing about the food anymore, andLance is shooting her a chastising look before turning to devote his entireattention to Hunk and before long the two of them have excused themselves fromthis latest banquet with one of their hosts, going to seek out yet anotheralien sunset, and Pidge can’t find the motivation to get up and find them toapologize so she stays, letting the joyful atmosphere batter at her rockysolitude. It’s great, really. Another planet liberated, another victorysnatched from the Galra’s grasping claws, but the air is bitter, like theaftertaste of what Hunk swore was hazelnuts, tainted by Pidge’s own personalmetric for success or failure. Still no leads on her father and brother. She’sbeen through every scrap of data the Galra on this planet had, every scrap ofdata from every mission they’ve been on, and she’s no closer to finding herfamily than when she hunched on the roof of the Garrison, seeking fruitlesslyfor confirmation of what she knew in her heart, data to back up her bone-deepconviction that her family was alive, somewhere.It’s been over a year since she left that lost, lonely little girl behind onthe roof, and she’s got jack-shit to show for it.

Suddenly it’s all too much andnot enough, too much input and not enough distance and she shoves her chairback to desert the banquet abruptly, ignoring Allura’s disapproval. Thecoalition can go fuck themselves, because if they can’t help her find herfamily then what good are they? Besides, these aliens seem a little too interested in the paladins and theirbond with the lions. She’s had to fend off one too many questions that probejust a little too deep, are a little too personal to her connection with Green.

Distantly, she’s aware that thisis just frustration and too little sleep on top of an extended adrenaline crashon top of more than a year of tension and doubt speaking, but in this moment itfeels much better to let anger course through her hot and swift, buoying herwith a feeling of power and force which that distant part of her knows willfade to cold ash all too quickly.

The corridors in this place areall curved, echoes of the buildings’ outer walls, and it’s all very lovely fromthe air but she can’t seem to find a straight line to her lion for the life ofher and right now all she needs is Green, her cool analytics and rationalprocesses which will bring Pidge back to the mindspace in which she’s at herbest. She’s not the most well-versed in dealing with emotions, others’ or herown, and so when everything crashes over her like it has tonight she’s often ata loss in how to break free of vicious emotional currents that can’t beexplained or sorted or put away.

She needs Green. She needs herfucking lion, like, yesterday. It’s getting harder to breathe, and these damncurvy corridors are fucking with her depth perception and that distant part ofher is piping up again, is this apanic attack? Physical symptoms are similar – elevated heartrate and shortnessof breath colliding to produce dizziness, her temperature perception is off,it’s hot and then cold, shit herecomes nausea. Not a panic attack, then, her analysis provides helpfully.Probably poison. Something about that banquet wasn’t safe for humanconsumption. Fucking hazelnuts.

“Green,” she whispers,curling over herself as she finds stability against the wall. She’s got anemetic in her first-aid kit, if she could just get to her lion. But she’s lost,now, she thinks she was headed the right direction when she left the banquethall but everything is spinning and she’s not even sure if she’s crouched onthe floor or lying on the wall. Maybe the gravity is switching up on her? No,she’s just falling, sliding down the wall to land on her ass and even that’snot good enough because her traitorous spine is curving, bending to deposit heraching head on the floor and maybe she should just sleep this off. That soundslike a great idea, actually, until her analytic side screams at her to get up,keep moving, find someone because ifshe goes to sleep she might die and that gives her enough of a push to rollover and try to get her legs underneath her once more.

She manages to get to her knees,but she keeps tipping forward when she tries to clamber to her feet so she optsto crawl. She leans against the wall as she creeps forwards, using it to remindher of what equilibrium should feel like because she sure as shit can’t keep itstraight for herself. Her vision is greying out, pulsing in time with thenausea in her gut, and her lungs keep squeezing tighter and tighter. Where iseveryone? Why hasn’t she come across anyone?Oh god, the last thing she said to Hunk was so shitty. She can’t remember whatshe said to any of the others, but it probably wasn’t anything more than civil,if that. If she can make it through this she’ll be nicer. And she’ll puttogether a food testing kit for each of the paladins. Really, it’s a miraclenone of them have accidentally ingested something fatal before now. Green,where’s Green? She needs Green.

A pair of feet enter herappallingly narrow field of vision, standing firm and upright with annoyingease. She sinks back to a hunched, seated lean against the wall, using itsstolid support to tip her pounding head up until she meets the gaze of one ofthe aliens hosting them. What are they called again?

“He…lp,” she manages to rasp out.

The alien watches her for aminute, while Pidge’s vision tunnels further, grey leaching inwards inexorablywhile her ribs squeeze tighter and tighter against her lungs. He’s not going todo anything, she realizes. He’s just going to stand there and watch her die.Maybe they think if Voltron loses a paladin while on their planet that one oftheir own will be chosen. Maybe they’re secretly still in league with theGalra. But that doesn’t make sense. She can’t think well without oxygen,apparently.

Pidge tips herself backwards,ready to worm-crawl away from the alien who’s still watching her if that’s what it will take, but the suddenshift in her center of gravity proves to be too much for her overstrainedsystem, and blackness crashes in to take her.

When she wakes, she’s strapped toa table, and the spike in the heart monitor they’ve put on her wipes out anychance she had of faking unconsciousness in order to evaluate the situation.

With subtlety off the menu, Pidgeopts for belligerence. “What the fuck are you idiots doing?” she demands,testing the straps they’ve put on her while they’re hopefully distracted by herrunning her mouth. “I’m a Paladin of Voltron. We literally just saved your entire planet from the Galra. Let me go,before this goes further than you can smooth over with an apology.”

The alien ignores her, insteadreaching across Pidge to pull a contraption that resembles a cross between adentist’s mobile x-ray machine and an optometrist’s phoropter over her torso.It’s getting harder to push her fear aside, and the adrenaline from her awakeninghas worn off, leaving her drained and empty. Pidge casts her mind out forGreen, pulling desperately on the tenuous thread of their connection. It’s hardto marshal the focus necessary to connect with her lion; she’s still feelingthe effects of whatever it was that she ate, nausea and dizziness and tightlungs all conspiring to muddy her thoughts and dull her mind.

The alien finishes hispreparations and peers around the edge of the machine at her. “We have askedyour princess to explain to us the bond between paladin and lion, and we havesought the same answers from each of you, but you will not share this knowledgewith us, and we are forced to take what should have been freely given. This isyour last chance to elucidate the bond to us.”

“Why do you want to know?” Pidgedemands. “Voltron saved your planet.” She pauses to fight the nausea and try tobreathe. It’s getting harder, and she feels a pale, petty satisfaction at thethought that they probably won’t get to study her as much as they want if shecontinues to deteriorate at this rate. “This is pretty shitty thanks,” shemanages, “to kidnap someone who just risked life and limb for your people.”

While she talks, she’s stillreaching for Green, pushing past everything that hurts to bridge the distancebetween and her and her lion. Dimly, she feels the connection snap into place evenas her vision greys out further, and the alien’s retort washes over her in ajumble of indecipherable sound. But even as her body is failing her, Green’spresence surges through her mind, lending clarity where she can’t marshal herown, analyzing the situation with her while sending a constant flow ofassurance that she’s on her way. Pidge tunes the alien out, cataloguing her symptomsfor Green, helping her lion assemble them into a file for the rest of her teamwhen they arrive. She’s pretty sure she won’t be up to explaining anythingherself.

Cause: high probability of ingestion of a substancetoxic to human biology, likely at the feast.

Symptoms: gradual onset of shortness of breath, leading toelevated heartrate, approximately fifteen doboshes after beginning ingestion ofthe suspected substance. Note to Hunk:that stuff did not taste like hazelnuts. A sample should be obtained foranalysis and synthesis of an antidote.

Shit they’re drawing blood – no, Green, keep the file going.

Symptoms, continued: Dizziness presented next, though whether aneffect of the substance or a result of previous symptoms undetermined. Nauseabegan soon after. Seems resistant to actual emesis, however. Suggestion: tryinducing emesis to evacuate whatever’s still in my stomach. Vision is greyingout, progressing steadily towards complete loss of sight. Symptoms combinedlead to pervasive muscle weakness, inability to stand. Oh, and balance is affectedas well.

What was that? Pidge snaps out of her compilation of the file forGreen at the trembling of the room around her. Oh. It’s Green. The room shakes harder, sending instrumentsrattling off of trays and sending her captors into a babbling frenzy. Pidgehears Lance’s blaster and Hunk’s shoulder cannon going off, and beyond that thecrashing that usually results when Keith and Shiro start throwing peoplearound.

It all erupts at once, Greenbreaking through the wall while the team charges through the door on the other sideand subdue the aliens that managed to keep their feet in the shower of rubble. Somethingglances off of Pidge’s ribs, and a smaller spray of sharp rocks skates acrossher face. She closes her eyes, since she can’t see anymore anyway.

“Pidge, oh my god, Pidge, wake up!”It’s Hunk. She hears his bayard dematerialize and then his hands are cuppingher face, fingers tapping gently while someone else fumbles at the strapsaround her wrists. Cold fingers – Lance. Someone else is taking the vein tapout of her arm – Keith?

“’M here,” she mumbles. Heroxygen shortage is starting to worry her. “Poi..s’n, Hunk,” she twitches her handto tap at his. “File. In Green.” She has to stop, take a minute to try tobreathe, while he lifts her, cradling her against his big warm chest like ababy and she can’t even find it in herself to be annoyed by the position. It’snice, this time.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he rushes. “It’sgonna be okay. We’ll get you a pod, just stay with me.”

Oh, pod. Probably not going towork. “Not… pod. Poison,” she manages. “File. In Green.” They’re heading up.Sounds like a ramp. Green? Oh, there she is.

“Yeah, we’re in Green. She’s lettingShiro fly her back to the castle. We’re almost there, hang on.”

“No… Hunk. File. In Green.” Howmany times does she have to say this? She’s wasting precious oxygen.

“What file?” Lance picks up on it.“There’s a file here in Green?”

Speaking is too much, now, so shetips her head forward against Hunk’s chest and it must be enough because shehears Lance tapping through Green’s logs. Pidge nudges at Green to bring Pidge’slog to the forefront of the system display.

“Poi…son,” she manages one moretime, and now she really needs to focus on breathing so they’re just going tohave to figure the rest out for themselves.

“Dios,” Lance breathes. “It was the food. That hazelnut stuff.”

Finally.

“Oh, god,” Hunk moans. “You and Iboth ate some too, Lance, why aren’t we sick?”

“You’re bigger than her,” Keithobserves. “And you both only ate a little. Pidge ate a bunch.”

Gee, thanks, Keith. Way to callout a girl on her eating habits.

“We can’t use the pods,” Shirorealizes. “They don’t work on illnesses, and this is too close to a disease.”

“She says we’ll need a sample foran antidote,” Lance continues.

“I’ll go get it,” Keith saysdarkly, and Pidge has a sudden vision of him stomping through the curved halls,fighting his way through their former allies (because she’ll be damned if theylet this particular planet join the coalition after this) in a quest forhazelnut gunk. The thought forces a huff of a laugh out past her laboringlungs, but that was a bad idea because now she’s choking, fighting to get backthe air she just lost. Hunk adjusts her position against him, his large hand rubbingcircles on her back, and it helps a little but she’s still panting for air, blindand achy and dizzy and nauseous and unable to throw up and she just reallyhates this so much.

Green touches down in the castle’shangar, and even though she can’t see she feels it when Hunk stands andeverything spins wretchedly.

“Keith, wait, Keith-” it’s Lance,chasing after the red paladin, judging by the sound of his rapid-fire footsteps.“Wait, Keith, Dios, idiota, I’ve got some of the hazelnut gunk!”

“What?” everyone choruses, andPidge would join in, too, if she could. How the hell did he pull that off?

“It really does taste likehazelnuts,” he says apologetically. “I only tasted a little bit, but we’ve gotthat space cocoa, and I was hoping we could make something like Nutella, butnow that’s seeming like a really bad idea-”

“I could kiss you right now,Lance,” Hunk half-sobs. “Bring it to the medbay, quick.”

Pidge loses track of things for alittle while after that. She focuses on trying to breathe, on the too-slow intakeof oxygen, trying to keep as much of it as she can when every exhale seems to addto the tightness squeezing her lungs further closed.

Something covers her nose andmouth, and she panics for a moment until oxygen rushes in, and she’s never feltso grateful for anything in her life. She gulps it greedily while Hunk andCoran discuss her over her head, using the file from Green and the sample Lancekept to synthesize an antidote.

She loses a bit more time, awashin dizzy nausea and unable to see beyond the field of grey that encompasseseverything when she bothers to open her eyes. The oxygen is helping, but it’sstill hard to breathe and harder to think, so she drifts until something pricksher arm and slowly, so slowly, she feels the relief creep through her body. Thenausea is the first to settle, then the dizziness, and then her lungs easewhile her sight fades back in.

Hunk is leaning over her, hissmile watery and wavery but still there, and Coran hovers at her other elbow, adjustingthe flow from the bag of antidote that’s hooked up to the needle in her arm.Everyone else is at the foot of the bed, Lance and Keith and even Shiro andAllura, and they’re not her family by blood or by name but damnit if they haven’tshoved their way into her heart anyway. Her space family is weird and most ofthe time she doesn’t appreciate them nearly enough, but they’re still here forher, even when she fucks up.

And speaking of which – “Hunk,”she says, rejoicing in the feel of breath flowing freely in and out of her lungs.“I was a major jerk at the banquet. I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Hunksniffs. “I already forgot. You were just upset, I get it.”

“Good,” Pidge breathes, feelingher eyes slip closed again. Being poisoned really takes it out of her, apparently.

“Rest, Number Five,” Coran says. “You’vegot some recovery to come, still. That substance was quite toxic to yoursystem.”

That sounds fun. But the firstpart was good. She’ll take a nap. And when she’s feeling better, she’ll makethose food-testing kits for everyone.

#bad things happen bingo #voltron #pidge #hunk garrett #writing #cuivienenwrites

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amaintainedrisk · 6 years ago

Text

i'm sorry if anybody is worried about me.

I think the most disturbing thing about the century is that I’m not even scratching the surface about what has been going on around here and what my family has been doing to me but I don’t have it in me to tell everything right now. It’s going to have to wait until this headache passes.

Still don't have a phone. The abuse has gotten so much worse and I cannot get anyone to help me. My mother and my aunt have done nothing but torture me since my grandmother died and taking it out on me. I've spent the last three months locked away in my room, and I'm lucky if I eat once a day. They have turn the Internet off so I can't use my iPad to tell anybody or talk to anyone to tell them about this. The only reason I can update right now is because I waited for my mother to leave and I want and ask my neighbor for her Wi-Fi password. She was kind enough to let me use her Wi-Fi.

One of the reasons the abuse has gotten so much worse is because my grandmother completely destroyed her house and we didn't know it. We were trying to clean it up but we didn't have time and they gave us an evection notice and now we are being sued for the damages my grandmother left. They have been taking their frustration out on me. My medicine has been stolen over and over again and I can't tell my nurse because I'll get put into a group home with people who have mental illnesses and don't take their meds. there have been reports of people being attacked there and I'm blind and can't defend myself. I know I'm being abused here but it's the evil I know. At least hear there's no chance of me being sexually assaulted again like at the Cleveland clinic.

Today alone on my mother has done is scream at me and tell me I'm worthless and how much life for her would've been better if I had been born. How much she loves my aunt and my cousins more than me. How much easier it's going to be for everyone once I'm gone. I've spent all day in my room crying while they told me this and laughing. I would not let them in my room but that didn't stop them from doing it outside the door. They wanted me to hear. I have always known he hated me and considered me a burden but whenever they get stressed out they take it out on me. Now because of what my grandmother did to her house, we might get sued and obviously we don't have the money. So it's been taken out on me and for two months straight it's just been me at the age of 32 years old being locked in my room all day long. Some days I don't even go down to eat. It has gotten so much worse since my grandmother died and that's why I haven't said anything because I'm so tired of giving bad news and talking about how much my family hurts me.

even worse, my mother seizure condition has gotten worse so I have to listen to her tell me I'm worthless every day and then turn around and take care of her at night. So she doesn't throw up in her sleep or swallow her tongue. I'm barely getting any sleep and it's worse when I don't have my meds because they're being stolen and again, if I report them, I'll get put in a group home with people who could really, really hurt me. my mother has been screaming at me all day and I can tell she starting to have a seizure so I have another long night ahead of me of taking care of the person who told me recently that if I had a heart attack and died. She would be happy. I actually recorded a bunch of stuff my mother said to me, about how I deserve to be beaten when I was a little kid and I recorded her laughing at me when I fell and hurt myself and I uploaded it all to my vineo Account. I password-protected The videos because they are embarrassing and I didn't want anybody but my friends to hear it. The password for all of my password-protected videos is just my name: "dani" without the quotes.

to make matters worse, my health has been declining as well. As my brain sinks down into my spinal cord, I am now myself having seizures. It means I've entered the last stage of my condition. but I have to suffer through my seizures alone. No one will help me so I just collapse alone in my room and wake up whenever it's over by myself and if I say something I get called a liar and that I'm making a big deal out of nothing. I'm terrified one day soon I'm going to have a seizure and I'm not gonna wake up and I'm just going to be laying up you're dead for weeks because no one will check on me. It scares me the most for Carly because I don't want him to starve to death because nobody knows to feed or water him because I'm not allowed to do it. The doctor told me I had less than two years to live in June and I've spent the last seven months alone and dealing with this by myself and knowing the end is coming and my life has been completely wasted and I can't do anything about it now without making it worse on myself. I don't want to die in a homeless shelter or being assaulted in a group home, Which my social worker has said there have been reports of in every group home in this area.

I had to stop typing this because my mother came upstairs to pick a fight with me and told me she hates me and she loves my aunt and my cousins more and she doesn't care that they abused me. They are her family and I am not . I'm her worthless burden daughter who does nothing but disappoint her. And I'm going to have to take care of this woman all night to make sure she doesn't swallow her tongue or throw up in the middle of the night. I don't have my medicine. I won't be able to sleep and I haven't eaten today and I'm having my own seizures but I have to take care of my mother because if she doesn't have me she will die in her sleep and it will be all my fault and then that would make me no better than her. I am not my family. I may be a burden and yes, it would've been better if I wasn't born but I'm here now and I'm not going to do to them what they do to me every day. I even put up a video of my mother telling me I deserved to be beaten at the age of three years old because I left the room. It's on my vineo.

do you see why I haven't updated? Nobody should have to sit through my whining and crying about the same old thing again. About a 32-year-old woman who is being abused and letting it happen. I've been waiting six months for a new phone and now the Internet is gone so i've beensk for my neighbors Wi-Fi password and I am praying she doesn't tell my mother she gave that to me. I couldn't ask her not to say anything because that would've drawn too much attention to it and probably would've screwed me over even worse. so I have the Internet again now… Kind of. It's really spotty. But it's better than nothing.

Another reason I didn't want to update is because I know that Monsie and Christina would ask me to move in with them. and I can't with my health declining so much. I cannot ask my friends to literally be my nurses aids. Especially now that I'm having seizures and I've entered stage four. It is going to be much worse later on if I don't want to spend the last few months I have being a burden on me only two people who care about me and don't abuse me. I refuse to do that I will slowly lose my functions and I am not going to be some unholy burden that… I can't even say because it's so embarrassing. Let's just say the symptoms, near the end, we're going to make me lose control of every single one of my functions. if that wasn't the case I would leave in a second because I am getting just so fed up with life but I'm just having thoughts of ending it every day. Not because of the physical pain but because of the mental pain of being told I'm so unloved and worthless and a burden. The mental pain of knowing my life has been a waste and at the end I'm going to die unhappy and alone. Never experiencing love or life of any kind and Diane a complete failure of a human being. I have tried so hard to get away from these fucking people but I can't without hurting myself more. my grandfather is dying now too and I can't even see him. I have no family here because my mother has told every family member that I have left a bunch of lies about me so they think I'm a horrible person too. They don't know that I spend almost every night sitting by my mother's bedside making sure she doesn't die from her seizure, only to be told I'm worthless and hated all day the next day. The only reason I ran for my neighbors Wi-Fi today is because today it has been particularly hard and abusive and it's caused me to have two seizures today alone. I'm so tired of all of this and I'm just ready to die already because there's no point in staying. Last night at 6 AM after I was done with my mommy duty and watching her over her I just laid in bed and cried and raised my arms and screamed out please help me to a God I don't even believe in. yelling out to the ceiling for someone to hold me and tell me I'm not worthless I'm not a burden. To tell me I'm loved. To tell me not to be scared to die because I won't have to die alone and my life hasn't been a waste. But of course my pleas went

unheard. I am so tired of my mother choosing my aunt over me after all I have done for her and I would do anything to get away from her but I'm out of options, especially with no phone and now no Internet except for the spotty Wi-Fi.

So that's why I didn't update. I had no Internet but even if I did, what good would it have done? It's just the same thing every day. I am so alone and so broken and so scared and it's my own fault because of the age of 32 I shouldn't be allowing this to happen. I'm so ashamed of my family, and of myself. if I could find somewhere to go that would take my Medicaid and a doctor would treat me, and it wasn't a homeless shelter or group home and it wasn't where I would be a burden to my friends, I would go in a heartbeat. in a heartbeat. but I can't find a place like that. My aunt stole my great grandmothers rings when I was in the hospital and my mother knows it. It happened years ago but today she brought it up again and said she didn't want to hear me talk about her stealing it because she's sick of me picking on my aunt for little things. Stealing family keepsakes given to me by a family member that died when I was 12 that I deeply loved isn't very little but she said I was a bad person for bringing it up. My aunt isn't bad for stealing it but I'm a bad person for talking about her stealing it and it just got worse from there when she started talking about all the ways she cares more about my aunt than me even though my aunt treats her like shit as well and refuses to help her. Even though she knows I'm the one taking care of her all night long she still packs my aunt over me and all I heard about today is how I'm not part of the family and how everyone has always been sick of me.

Yeah, this whiny shameful update really needed to happen. It's just the same abusive shit that has just gotten so much worse since my grandmother died. I was hoping it would get better but I was completely wrong and completely stupid for even thinking that. Of course it got worse.

And again my mother is now outside the hall so I have to whisper. She's faking a phone call to somebody or she actually is talking to somebody and she's doing it loud enough for me to here so I can hear her telling them all these lies about things I said or did today that I never did or said just because she wants me to suffer because she stressed out and wants to take it out on me.

… It's been 35 minutes since I wrote that last line. I just had another seizure. The stress is literally killing me faster and I don't know what to do. If I tell on them I go to a place that's extremely dangerous and a blind person cannot defend themselves like that. I'd rather be yelled that van raped or beaten, the way people have been in there Group houses that are my only option. I looked up news reports and police reports and they are just not safe so I have to put up with this.

if you can see this or read this, thank you for your friendship because it's the only thing that has kept me going even though I haven't talk to you in months. You are all I think about and you were the only reason I have ever felt loved in my life. without you I would be dying never knowing what love felt like at all so at least you gave me back and for that I am so grateful and I miss you so much. thank you for being my friends. I'm about to go to bed tonight feeling alone and hated by my family. Going to cry myself to sleep wondering why my mother loves my aunt more than me to the point where she's happy that my aunt abused me. It's going to break me and give me nightmares like it does every night. But every morning I wake up and think of you and I hold on and I would give anything to be with you right now if only I would be such a burden. You can try to text my iPad. Hopefully I will get it now that I have Wi-Fi but my phone is completely a no go. I miss you guys so much and I love you so much and I'm so fucking sorry for being a bad friend and for once again doing nothing but whine and complain. I don't deserve you but I'm so glad to have you anyway. I love you.

I love you.

this is the link to my Vimeo Page:

https://vimeo.com/user79298455

although I just noticed that I don’t think the password-protected videos are listed so I have to post each link one by one down here. I’m not asking anyone to listen to all of them. Or even one of them. I just put them up here so I can document the way my mother treats me so people know I’m not making it up or lying when I say my mothers abusive. The password to each video is the same one: dani

Deserved to be beaten

https://vimeo.com/300103444

Mental and physical

https://vimeo.com/300103444

when they abuse me, it’s to protect my feelings

https://vimeo.com/297632955

worthless

https://vimeo.com/270006846

nervous breakdown

https://vimeo.com/266402098

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