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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 10 months ago

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Police Dog: Bigby Wolf x Fem!Cop!Reader - Chapter 1

Welcome to the rewrite :)

I made a reference to another game series, lmk if you guys spot it ;))

You stared at your monitor, the dim screen barely reflecting back into your near-lifeless eyes as you mindlessly scrolled and robotically clicked through the usual files only to have to actually go into another file to really make any work at your mind-numbing task. Why were you even given this bullshit to begin with? You leaned back in your horribly worn chair, the spine and back cushion creaking eerily as the wheels squeeked against the “polished” stone floor. You picked up the paper cup filled with coffee to take a sip, only to sneer and place the flimsy cup back down. Your coffee had grown to be ice cold, there was a strange grittiness to the brew and it tasted like someone had replaced the coffee with ink.

You heard the constant rushing of other officers in the background, whatever your cubicle really allowed you to hear past the tall wood and styrofoam walls really. Mindless chatter, the bubbling of the water cooler, some cop banging the shit out a vending machine, that horrible fucking fax machine you wished the captain would put out of its misery. You were going to hear those grating sounds in your nightmares for the rest of your mundane life.

At least it wasn’t too bad, today. Normally, the oh so “charming” lifestyle New York City made things pretty ridiculous sometimes. The main office was pretty quiet today, so much so you could hear the very faint classical music playing overhead you normally couldn’t hear over the rambunctiousness of your fellow officers.

That was, until the bullpen was let out.

Just hearing that door slam open and the cops inside spilling out almost made you knock over your nasty ass coffee onto your keyboard. You slouched in your chair, leaning back as you finished your work finally after doing this boring nonsense all week. You took out the usb drive with a content sigh, toying with it in your hands as you listened in on what the others were saying. Something about a shoot out somewhere in the South Bronx caught your ear when you saw a reflection move past on your monitor screen when it stopped behind you. Turning, you quickly saw the tall and brawny figure of one of the sergeants who was casually leaning at the entrance to your cubicle.

“The captain’ll have your knees for leaning,” you turned back to your monitor. You were about to mindlessly pretend to look through stuff just to get him to go away, but he didn’t seem to get the hint. Turning back around after a few minutes, you noticed the stupid smirk on his face that you wanted to smack off so badly. “What?”

“He’s been havin’ ya on paperwork for the past two weeks. Don’tcha think somethin’s up?” his thick accent teased.

“Considering I’m the only one who knows how to do things the way he likes them, not really.”

The sergeant gave you a pointed look before shrugging.

“Whatever you say, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie, I’ve been in this department for almost a year now.”

He ignored you and sauntered off, definitely eyeing one of the female cops that would bat their lashes at him to get out of work for the day. Just as you started fiddling with the usb drive, your stationary phone started to ring. You picked up the phone, noting how you needed to fix the coiled cord as it somehow became tangled yet again.

“(L/n),” you greeted with your last name.

“Officer (Y/n),” the captain’s smooth voice greeted you from the other end of the line.

“I finished all the paperwork, sir, I have the usb dr-”

“I know you have, you always get the job done. Please bring the drive to my office, and hurry. I have another assignment for you.”

The phone cut off with a monotone buzz. Placing the cradle back into the receiver, you stood from your squeaky chair and started for the captain’s private office which was past the bullpen that still had some cops. The few that remained inside eyed you as you neared the captain’s door, their voices hushed as they started bickering about what it was you could’ve done.

You didn’t need to worry.

You knew that if you had fucked up, the captain wouldn’t have hesitated to call your ass out from over the intercom and demand to come to his office louder than any military drill sergeant.

His door was closed and the blinds were drawn shut which was a bit odd unless he was speaking to someone important. You stopped before the door and knocked promptly, eyeing his placard with his name written in dark ink across the golden plate.

“Come in, Officer (L/n),” the captain called out.

“Are you sure that-” As you opened the door, the conversation that was just going on had cut off.

Aside from your captain who was in his seat behind his grand desk, there stood another man. Tall and broad but fairly thin, he was imposing for sure. Dark, slicked back hair. A tan tailcoat hiding the strength you knew this man had. And when he turned to you, you couldn’t help but feel a little threatened under his intense gaze. His eyes looked as though he’s seen some fucked up shit, he looked fucking tired too, like he hadn’t slept in days. His grown out stubble also showed that as well. He eyed you up and down, not saying anything, his face was hard to read.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but here’s the flash drive,” you spoke up, offering out the usb drive to your captain.

You captain stood from his desk and beckoned you to sit in one of the chairs provided, but not before accepting the drive from you. Your captain sat back down at the same time as you, but the other man in the room just stood. He moved away from the desk a little bit, his chest to you but he was now looking back at your captain.

“Excellent work, like always.” Your captain turned towards the stranger, giving him a look you really couldn’t read either. “I promise you, Sheriff, she is the right officer for the job.” Sheriff? He didn’t look like the sheriff from the boroughs, and especially not any deputy. Was he maybe from upstate?

“I’m still not sure about this.”

His voice was deep and gravelly, like something out of an edgy comic book turned into media.

“Nonsense, Sheriff Wolf.” There it was again. Your captain turned towards you once again. “Officer (L/n), I’ve asked you here to see if you were willing and able to help Sheriff Wolf here with… a delicate situation.” You eyed the two back and forth slowly, confusion painted obviously all over your face. “You can back out at any moment if you wish to do so, but I must iterate the importance of keeping something this delicate between you and yourself alone. Nobody else must know.”

You eyed the “sheriff” warily once again. There’s no way your captain would do something stupid like leading you off with this guy. There has to be a reason.

“Okay?” You cocked your head in question. “What delicate thing are we talking about?”

You saw the stranger pull something from his pocket but you couldn’t tell what it was as it rested in his hand.

“Are you aware of what societies live along with us?”

“You mean cults?” you cocked a brow.

Your captain laughed, the stranger stayed quiet and unmoving.

“No, but that was a good one.” He regained his composure. “Let me rephrase this: Do you believe in the supernatural? The unknown?” You eyed your captain as though he were just some crazy loon. “There lives another society among us, a good portion of said society live right here in New York City across the five boroughs. Sheriff Wolf here is the- uh, peacekeeper for said group. You were the first officer to come to mind for this position.”

“What kind of secret society are we talking about?”

“Fairy tale creatures.”

A part of you never stopped believing in that kind of stuff, especially with some of the weird things that have popped up on the news recently. Photos of creatures that can’t be explained, videos that weren’t ever proven to be edited, miracles that just seemed to pop out of nowhere.

You eyed the stranger again before nodding to your captain.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll help.”

Your captain’s shoulders slouched a bit in relief before he smiled at you.

“Thank you, Officer (L/n).” He motioned to the Sheriff as he stood. “You’ll be reporting to Sheriff Wolf here until this situation is done. He will give you all of the details.”

Sheriff Wolf pocketed the item - which, now that you got a good look at it - looked to be a perfume bottle? He walked towards the door and opened it, waiting for you to get up and pass through before he followed soon after. You uttered a soft ‘thank you’ before you both walked together towards the elevator.

You both stood in silence as the metal shaft rolled down. You stared at the numbers ticking down, wondering to yourself about what you possibly could have just gotten yourself into. You worried at the inside of your cheek and figeted with your hands until the doors swing open at the chime. You both started off for the front door of the station.

“So-”

“Not here,” he cut you off. He flinched at his own words. He stuck his hand out to hail a taxi. “Not here, there’s too many people. I’ll explain it all when we get there.”

A taxi driver finally caught sight of the sheriff and quickly pulled up to the curb. You were about to start for the other side when he opened the door for you once again. You couldn’t help the little flutter in your stomach at just a normal gesture as you quickly climbed in.

The Woodlands. You glanced at the seemingly solid gold plate slapped onto the stone pillar as you wait for Sheriff Wolf to pay for the taxi. You peered through the wrought iron fencing at the towering building. It looked as though they were luxury apartments and nothing more. It could use a good powerwashing, though. Other than that, from what he barely told you in the taxi, this would be where you were going to stay for a little while if you wanted. You honestly wouldn’t mind it; No crazy traffic, not getting wet when it pours, you get to stay in bed longer.

“So you’re all, um, fairy tale creatures?” you tried to strike up a conversation.

“Yeah.” Something told you he wasn’t exactly the type for small talk, but the silence between you both was suffocating. The sheriff opened the gate for you as you both walked towards the front doors to the apartment. “Gonna stop by the Business Office. Snow will wanna meet you if she’s still there.”

You beat him to the entrance this time, holding the door open for him to which he gave you a semi-amused look. As you stepped inside, it really was a shock at how dated the lobby was. Hell, it even had a security guard asleep at the front desk, slumped over the desktop, hat covering his bald spot as he drooled on his tie. The carpet was so discolored from packed on dirt, the wallpaper was stained from years of neglect, the chandelier in the center had a few bulbs that were that spiders had claimed to be their new homes.

Maybe you wouldn’t stay here…

“Snow? As in Snow White?” you asked as he called in an elevator.

How bad would that be if the lobby looked like this? Did you just sign your death certificate?

The sheriff hummed in agreement as he pulled out a carton of cigarettes, a brand you’ve never seen before: Huff n’ Puffs. He tapped the bottom so only one cigarette popped out the top and he took it with his teeth. He fished out his lighter but stopped before he could light the flame, eyeing you.

“You good if I smoke?” he asked you rather politely.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

He lit the cigarette and pocketed his metal-plated lighter, making sure to blow the cigarette smoke away from you. You could smell that the cigarette was stale and a little old, but the way he scrunched his nose a bit drove it home.

‘What fairy tale creature was he?�� you couldn’t help but think.

He didn’t look like any you’d recognize.

“Are you also a- uh- fairy tale person or…?”

He eyed you, throwing his brows up before puffing out another plume of smoke.

“Yeah.”

The elevator finally opened up, allowing you both to enter. You watched as he hit a button and the doors closed with an eerie creak before it jutted back to life. You were lying to yourself if you said you weren’t afraid of the thing collapsing underneath you and plummet into the basement.

“We never properly introduced ourselves.” You wanted to smack yourself across the face. Really? You bring that up now? He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, puffing out another plume away from you. “I’m (Y/n).” You stuck your hand out for him to shake. “You don’t have to say the whole Officer (L/n) schpiel, just (Y/n) is fine.”

He eyed your hand before he took it, and holy shit, his hand was big.

It was big and warm and calloused, and very strong. You could tell he was being gentle when he shook your hand.

“Bigby Wolf.”

Bigby? You never heard of a fairy tale character named Bigby Wo-

“Oh! You’re the big bad wolf?” you blurted out as your hands parted.

You felt like an idiot for not getting it earlier. Wow, just looking at him now, it kind of makes sense. But how was he… human?

“You got it right,” he gave an airy chuckle. “It took your captain a minute to get it.”

The elevator came to a direct stop, nearly toppling you over as the doors swung open. You quickly exited the damn thing, telling yourself you’ll take the stairs from now on as you followed Bigby down the halls.

“So - if you don’t mind me asking - how are you… human? Is that correct?”

“Normally, Fables that aren’t human need something called a glamour to make ‘em look human - to fit into the Mundy world.” He stopped and looked at you. “Mundies are people like you; Human.” He continued down the hall. “I didn’t need one after what Snow did to me before we all came here.” You briefly wondered what she did, but he filled in the blank for you. “She stabbed me with a special blade covered in werewolf blood.”

So he’s a werewolf? Like, a big, tall, hairy wolf man werewolf? Does he go crazy on full moons? Is that something you have to worry about now?

“Oh,” was all you could say. Your eyes briefly went to down to his coat pocket to see the faint outline of the perfume bottle. “Do you mind if I ask you another question?” He looked at you, stopping before a door and putting his hand on the door knob. “You had like a perfume bottle in your hand back in the captain’s office. What was that for?”

“It’s some magic shit the witches on the thirteenth floor concoted. It’s supposed to knock whoever out for a few minutes and make them forget about Fables. I would’ve used it on you if you said no.” He turned towards the door, looking at you barely over one of his broad shoulders. “Brace yourself, this isn’t shit you see everyday.”

What could he mean by that?

He opened the door and your jaw dropped. The place was fucking massive. Not only was it large enough to fit an entire circus in, it was also towering! You swore your entire station could fit in here with room to spare. You walked in, passing Bigby who was looking at you amused with his arms crossed. Your eyes scanned the towering bookshelves of books magically moving around and sorting themselves, spying the magical trinkets and statues that lined the carve outs of the wall. And the fucking ship. You watched as a fucking pirate ship lazily floated on by, the wood softly creaking as it turned in the air like it had down for so long.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. “This is your office?” you gawked as you looked back at Bigby.

The sheriff laughed. He actually laughed, the cigarette nearly falling from his mouth.

“Fuck no. My office is basically a glorified broom closet,” he walked past you. He eyed the three empty desks in the middle of the floor with a short frown. He sighed through his nose and took out the now near-burnt out cigarette before he snuffed it out on the heel of his dress shoe. “Stay here,” he looked at you, “I’m gonna go see if Snow’s still here.” You nodded silently, quickly wondering why he looked up at the ceiling as he walked away. “And don’t be scared if a green monkey with wings falls from the rafters, he’s just drunk.”

Your eyes widened as you watched him disappear behind a bookcase. You turned around, looking at all of the magical items that littered the room in awe.

You understood why something like this had to be kept a secret, but holy shit, this was wonderful.

You spied something out of the corner of your eye and slowly walked towards it. Stashed in between two rows of bookshelves laid a large mirror with a very intricately wound golden frame. It looked to be freshly dusted unlike most of the other items in the room. As you approached it, you quickly found yourself slightly dizzy as the mirror swirled to life with hazy green swirls. A theater mask appeared before you, no face or body attached. It blinked at you and smiled softly as the mirror hummed with life.

“Welcome home, such as it is. This squalid office, these corrupted streets, they are yours now, and are bound to them.”

It was hypnotizing, your body relaxing in the green glow as you stared at the mask before it quickly faded away. You blinked, seeing that the mirror had returned to just that, and Bigby was now standing next to you.

“I never understand the damn thing,” he grunted and looked at you. “Snow isn’t here, probably went out for the rest of the day doing Deputy Mayor shit. I need to do some paperwork on you before we can actually start, come on.”

You were hesitant to leave the office so soon but you figured it wouldn’t be wise to make a bad impression on your first day. You followed him out and back down the office before stopping before another door similar to the Business Office. The same standard door with the same color of frosted glass for the exception of the writing of just his name.

He stilled his hand on the doorknob before looking at you sheepishly.

“I wanna start off by saying that I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting to actually get the help I need.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You should see what some of the cubicles look like at my current station.”

“Oh, I know,” he wore a look of disgust, “I smelled the shit the second I stepped into the building.”

“My old station had worse.”

Bigby shuddered, his thoughts now running rampant at just the smells he could conjure up. That was horrifying.

He turned the knob and opened the door, still holding a little bit of embarrassment on his face as you fully saw his office.

It wasn’t bad, but it also wasn’t great either. The walls which probably were painted white originally were now stained yellow probably from his smoking. You spied an extra large ash tray that looked to be from the 70’s when smoking wasn’t yet linked to so many horrors filled to the brim with a tower of snuffed out cigarette butts. There were files everywhere, some opened, most were closed. The file cabinets all sat overstuffed, his desk was covered with mugs of half-drunk coffee, his metal-mesh trash can was filled with dead pens and crumbled up paper balls. His poor office didn’t even have a window to even air out the smell, just a rinky dink fan in the corner.

There was something nailed to the flimsy drywall on the back wall, a plaque in the shape of the typical shield used for law enforcement and military. A gold panel had his name scripted, and underneath commended him for-

Three centuries of service?!

How old was this guy?

#the wolf among us #twau #bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #bigby x reader

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hirocimacruiser · 1 year ago

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A31

Powerful tuned Cefiro swapped to RB26DETT

Recently, the number of Cefiro tuned cars has been increasing, but this car is a bit more spirited. Although the appearance is close to stock, the engine was swapped to the RB26DETT for GT-R. This is a tuned car finished by Auto Salon Shonan based on the normal Cefiro. The engine has been carefully tested. Of course, the vehicle was inspected in this condition.

Turbine, intercooler, DETT

Since the parts such as the front cover are transplanted directly from genuine parts, the price is also quite low. The brake system was replaced with GT-R rotors and calipers. The main focus is fine tuning on the intake and exhaust systems, so you can ride with peace of mind without worrying about any trouble with a decent amount of power. Auto Salon Shonan is a great place to handle such discreetly tuned used cars.

It's a special shop.

The suspension is equipped with JIC coilovers, making it versatile from streets to mountain passes. If you want to pursue even better performance, you can install a roll cage or an additional meter to increase body rigidity.

The engine of this Cefiro runs smoothly and the acceleration is outstanding. It definitely seems to be producing more power than normal. The shift feeling is natural and there is no discomfort. However, unlike the GT-R, it is an FR model, so be careful when using the accelerator when starting off.

At the time of interview, it was a normal seat.

However, when the car is delivered, the two front seats will be replaced with genuine GT/R bucket seats. Cefiro equipped with RB26DETT comes with vehicle inspection at this price

If so, it might be worth it.

PIC CAPTIONS

-Equipped with a bullet-type 100 muffler that also accents the rear form. It delivers a powerful, sporty exhaust note with deep bass.

●As we increase the power of the engine, we also do not forget to strengthen the brake system. The rotor and caliper were replaced with GT-R NI versions, and the GT-R aluminum wheels were also installed.

●Equipped with RB26DETT for GT-R. The main changes are to the intake and exhaust system, and the engine, turbine, and intercooler are still stock, but they are still powerful enough and easy to ride.

INFO BOX

Cefiro

1991 model inspection October 2010

Mileage 69,000km 2,580,000 yen

Tune data: RB26DETT

Intercooler for GT-R

GT-R Caliper & rotor

JIC vehicle height adjustment

Cannonball type 100 muffler

Original Computer

Genuine bucket seat for GT-R etc.

SHOP INFO

Auto Salon Shonan

836-1 Tsutsumi, Chigasaki City, Kanagawa Prefecture 253

0467-54-8998

We mainly have 5-speed sporty cars, but we have a wide range of cars from normal cars to tuned cars. We also do nationwide mail order sales, trade-ins, and purchases, so please feel free to contact us. Fax is available 24 hours a day.

#A31 Cefiro #RB26DETT Cefiro #Cefiro #Nissan Cefiro #JDM

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sugarpopss · 2 years ago

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Better Uses for Company Time

ALRIGHT first installment of the 90's wall street chubby Aegon. I think I'm just going to do short snapshot style fics for this AU, but idk honestly we'll see. I KNOW that the next one is going to be blowing Aegon after he fills up on hors d'oeuvres at a charity event, that's already in the google doc babe.

tagging the babes I blabbed about this to @khaleesihel and who drew the LOVELY Aegon art that I stared at while writing @who-told-you-this-was-butter

Ummm Aegon is a sleazy trust fund baby, reader is fucken h o r n y, implied fem reader, slight mention of how hot I think Rhaenys is (I'm right)

You weren’t sure if Aegon actually worked at T&V Investments.

He was certainly around a lot, grab-assing on secretaries and making tiny paper airplanes out of sticky notes and generally being a menace to productivity levels, but he didn’t seem to actually work.

When you’d first been brought on as a receptionist, you’d been told to just ignore him.

“He’s like furniture.” Rhaenys had said. You’d nodded, but hadn’t really internalized the information. You were a smidge busy dealing with the fact that you were being shown around by the hottest hiring manager you’d ever met.

But it turned out that Rhaenys had a point. Aegon had, in the time since your hiring, become something of a fixture of the building in your mind. His presence was as normal as the weird noises the fax machine made.

This normalization did nothing to help that fact that you’d wanted desperately to ride him like a pony since your first day at the office.

It really wasn’t your fault. Aegon was hot, in a pathetic, trust fund kind of way. Besides, you had a feeling he knew exactly how difficult it was to focus when he leaned over the reception desk, smelling of nicotine and too much cologne, and said something absolutely disgusting to you.

Maybe that’s why you’d gotten the job in the first place; maybe he’d told the previous receptionist that he could ‘help her out of her pantyhose’ and she had straight up quit instead of entertaining Aegon's nonsense the way you did.

Good for her.

But you couldn’t quit. In addition to needing to pay the inflated rent of Kings Landing, you got to see Aegon in the office practically every day. It may have been distracting, when he got in your space, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You couldn’t imagine not taking the opportunity to get an eyeful of his pretty face-all soft, rounded angles and big violet eyes, just begging to be looked at, to be given attention.

It was hard to not give him attention, sometimes. You thought you were decently subtle, at least. You didn’t outright ogle-Aegon may have been an HR disaster in waiting, but not you-just took a ‘prolonged glance’ every now and then. Very casual, very professional, and not at all indicative of how badly you wanted to fuck the guy who slapped your ass when you showed up for your interview.

Alright, maybe you sometimes gave him a bit of attention. Maybe sometimes you made idle conversation out of his gross remarks, just so he’d keep leaning against the reception desk and you could keep stealing peeks at how the edge of the desk dug into his soft hip.

You weren’t one to defend objectifying people, but it was completely Aegon’s fault for wearing such tight jeans all of the time. Paired with the soft looking sweaters that probably cost more than your utility bill, he just looked so good all of the time.

Maybe it was how you could make out just the faintest shadow of his collarbones when he moved, or how easily you could imagine smearing your lipstick over his blurry jawline, or just maybe it was how badly you wanted to get your hands up under that stupid angora sweater, onto where you were sure he was plush and warm and sensitive.

All things you definitely did not spend company time thinking about, of course.

#house of the dragon #chubby aegon #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii fic #aegon x reader #90s wall street aegon

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sun-to-sorrow · 1 year ago

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So like, reading Maximum Ride again after like 4-6 years and like, there are so many things I’m questioning. For starter Manga reader only because I have this issue of not being able to read other forms of something I’ve already read. Brain kinda shuts down. So like

1) The whole Max, Martina (Martinez?), and Ella thing is just so strange. For starters Max is just awful. Prioritizing a random girl being cornered and has an easy escape route (Max took it after all) over your 6 year old sister who is in the hands of actual mad scientist who you know has actively done shitty unethical things is just, why?! Angel could’ve been saved just a bit earlier if you listened to Fang! But also the whole Martinez has something to do with the school but then it’s completely forgotten.

2) Max leaving the Blind guy and the 8 Year Old alone because “Angel (who is to young to know how to escape the school) might escape and come back here”. Gazzy has little combat experience because he is either told to run/hide or uses bombs and Iggy is BLIND!

3) Iggy really goes between I have the best hearing in the flock to I have normal human hearing. Like sometimes he can hear Erasers (like only twice?) or the homeless people in the subway and most of the time either he’s surprised by them (angel’s kidnapping or the ambush when Max and Fang leave) or Angel finds then before him (the two children). Like, JP make it’s consistent! Let Iggy be the Flock’s alarm so when they don’t have him in the group they suffer more casualties! Especially during when Erasers become robots so Angel becomes useless (like de buff the girl honesty)

4) speaking of Iggy. He has been shown enough times that he’s really REALLY smart. Building bombs, being able to remember recipes to cook, learning and mapping places out (E house and Anne’s place), yet JP literally doesn’t expand or utilize it to its fullest. Iggy could probably be the Flocks brain but no~, he’s to blind to be the flocks brain, let’s have Fang (the right hand man, second command of the flock, has invisibility powers and (I just learned) immortality) and Angel (child with telepathy, mind control, shapeshifting, and probably other things) be the brains and Max (leader and golden child) have moments here and there. The most I’ve seen of Iggy utilizing his brains was lock picking or making bombs/planning out traps. I could be missing some but JP makes it so hard to know.

5) the severe infantilism of Iggy

6) Gazzy still has no new power unlike everyone else (but Iggy’s are pretty shitty because they all are powers to “help him see without him actually seeing”). Like let him have telepathy or maybe a way that only him and Angel can communicate each other.

7) Nudge. Like she isn’t as bad as Iggy and definitely not the worst like Gazzy, but god she’s still really poorly written. She has this whole thing of not wanting to be a freak and wanting to find her family and wanting to be normal and not having to run all the time but every single one of these just stops on a dead note! It like stops existing after like 2-3 chapters and never brought up. Like she’s the most interesting girl in the flock but just so butchered.

8) their looks. Ok I’m not gonna harp so badly on the Manga artist because she is Korean and Korean beauty standards and all that is just bad in general but that’s just cultural differences. But one thing I never understand was that makeup transformation. Angel who has short hair suddenly has hair that goes below her neck. Nudge’s bleached streak somehow stays even though her natural hair should’ve shown by the 9 manga vol. Fang who always was shown with straight hair now has really curly hair. That’s not how hair works and let’s not talk about Iggy and those weird dark tips.

9) Fax and Ella/Iggy (which I learned was canon. I was wondering where all those Ella/Iggy stories came from) I don’t hate straight ships. I just hate these straight ships.

10) oh poorly written trauma handled even worse my beloved. Your telling me Iggy, the one who was awake the entire operation on his eyes doesn’t have trauma. Your telling me Fang, who almost died to an Eraser doesn’t have trauma. Your telling me Max, the one who continuously has a voice in her head, a chip in her shoulder, seeing an Eraser in the mirror doesn’t have trauma?! Angel?!

But like I could continue because there is so much but, there where definitely things I liked. I like how Iggy was drawn. Out of all the characters he looked always bony and skinny and long. Like even next to Fang who is supposed to be the same height he looks so twiggy and tall. Gazzy was so interesting because he was that grey “I suffered through the school but I was also way to young to remember” and I wish it was expanded more. I liked the Ari arc if you ignore every other Ari part in the story. Total was nice if we found nice as before he talked.

Like not to be the paranoid one but if I was in the flocked I would be questioning everything. A Gazzy photo from an abandoned apartment? They could’ve stuck it there after knowing their research was stolen just to trap the flock. Anna watching a new about Iggy’s parents? She purposely put it on so Iggy will be removed. Erasers still finding the flock? Did anyone thing that the others might have chips in them, especially when Fang, Gazzy, and Iggy where attacked. Also how does Fang still have his laptop when he was captured by the institute?

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autisdicksimmons · 2 years ago

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I could literally talk about all of Simmons’s body issues for hours (no I’m not projecting ahaha) but yes he’s trans and struggles with disordered eating and he’s trans and he’s autistic and all combined those things give him a super hard time enjoying functioning as himself especially in body-related ways (these thoughts are gonna be disjointed deal w it sorry dude)

But like, the way that he gets after Grif when it comes to food, and drinking, and smoking, and everything else? Yet despite this, we know that he has quite the self-destructive streak (crying and punching mirrors) which makes him a huge hypocrite— so why get after Grif like that? One could say that it’s because he has his body parts, but that can’t be all true because he’s still getting mad at Grif before the surgery, so it’s just things that he finds inherently undesirable traits— traits that have anything to do with a lack of self control, which Simmons believes himself to have. Not to mention the fact that he doesn’t seem surprised at all when Sarge uses withholding rations as a punishment— so either A. Sarge does that a lot, which could be true though we never see him do it after season 1 B. He’s accustomed to this as a punishment.

I think B is most plausible, given Simmons’s general demeanor and upbringing. He gets mad at Grif for not doing anything to earn food, then “overindulging” anyway, where Simmons views food as just that: something to be earned. Likely he was sent to bed without supper as a punishment as a kid, or forced himself to study through meals or similar behaviors at the very least. In my own mind it goes further than that, but his relationship with food is definitely complicated (especially with his mentioning going vegan after having to eat a dog at a previous outpost??? Holy shit that’s a trauma). Especially being trans (bc he is) even though he speaks far more positively about his mother than his father, the way that body issues get passed down from mothers to their afab children? Even if it wasn’t an intentional thing on his mothers part, those things are too easy to pick up

More on the having to eat the dog thing too, that history of food insecurity/starvation, plus being generally food anxious, is definitely something that lends itself to rationing and portioning and keeping their stock organized… which he does. And then consistently gets mad at Grif for eating more than his planning has allowed for. What’s one of the first things we learn he’s been doing in season 11? Growing fucking cabbage. Which, for one, how, but also the fact that he’s the only one of them to do something like that says a lot about who he is. Stupid, anxious about food, and resigned to the fact that no one is coming to get them (or at least planning for that scenario).

Not to mention, trans people are WAY more likely to develop ED’s than cis people, and I don’t even need to go into all of the reasons I think he’s trans bc I feel like that’s a separate post and I’m sure someone else has already summarized it better— but anyway, picturing a young Simmons, struggling to fit in and be good enough for his parents and not hate himself entirely and have control over something? Yeahhh OOF plus, I’m also not explaining why I think he’s autistic rn, but adding autism to the mix? Having difficulty with certain foods and textures makes it hard to want to eat to begin with, and with the kinds of pressure he seems to have faced as a child to be strong and tough and athletic and generally not his nerdy self, having sensory problems probably made it just that much harder, making him hate the way his body responds to things other people, “normal people,” can handle fine, returning him to that cycle of self-hatred, and that’s just within himself ignoring all of the bullying we know that he’s faced. It’s no wonder the dude showers in his underwear still, like, bro’s self conscious and anxious and probably just generally does not like his body.

Also his ass is literally a fax machine. That’s gotta do a toll on the psyche

#dick simmons #rvb #red vs blue #animal death #trans dick Simmons #autistic dick Simmons #long post #food #tw ed descussion

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belschine · 2 years ago

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Hi! Tumblr crashed when I tried to answer this properly so I’m gonna try with a proper text post under the cut instead.

To keep things simpler I’m gonna separate mental/emotional exhaustion and physical exhaustion/injury. I’ve been having a long day (or week, or month...) so please forgive me if I forget someone, although I’m not doing the non-canon characters

Physical rating

Trevor > Simon > John > Shanoa > Jonathan > Julius > Grant > Hector > Charlotte and Eric > Christopher > Juste > Richter > Alucard > Maria

Trevor lost an eye and that chest scar of his looks like it should’ve killed him, Simon just got cursed, John’s having his life sapped away by the Vampire Killer.

I imagine that Dominus, even though it didn’t kill Shanoa, probably still took a toll on her.

Jonathan, if he uses the VK, is probably less hurt by it than his father thanks to ‘proving himself’ to Sara with that cool mental battle with Richter. I still don’t think it’s completely harmless, though, but that’s just how I feel about it and not canonically stated anywhere.

In 1999 Julius is the strongest Belmont and perhaps the strongest just normal human out there, but I feel like the very last battle Drac could put on would be the most vicious. I also loosely headcanon (as in I believe it but if it’s too inconvenient I will roll with something else) that he used a modified version of the Dominus spell - explaining his amnesia and giving a good reason to the complete, permanent destruction of Dracula’s body than just “it was prophesied” - so the Shanoa thing applies to him too somewhat.

Grant just spent probably like 3 months or so going from staging a rebellion to getting transformed into a monster to joining another rebellion and winning that time. Good for him! But that sounds exhausting.

Hector’s awesome and badass but he does still seem to eat shit a lot. Sorry, Hector. Charlotte is noted to be a really powerful witch, and Eric seems pretty tough. It’s been a really long time since I’ve played Bloodlines, since before the whole fax fiasco went down, so I’m not 100% on that one.

Christopher, Juste and Richter are pretty self-explanatory - they’re Belmonts, and the Belmonts get more powerful with each generation. Juste and Richter’s damage is mostly emotional, so we’ll get to that. I don’t have any thoughts on Christopher in the physical category beyond this either.

Alucard’s not human, so he’s got a leg up somewhat, but in SotN specifically it’s also notable that Dracula appears to stand down after Alucard passes on Lisa’s last words rather than be killed by Alucard’s hand directly.

Maria is fine. She’s 12 so she could fall off a building and walk away. You know how it is to be 12

Mental/emotional rating

Alucard in 1476 > John and Simon > Maria > Julius > Alucard in 1999, Grant, Trevor and Sypha > Jonathan and Charlotte (?) > Hector > Juste > Richter > Christopher > Eric > Alucard in 1797

Shanoa just lost her brother and left a cult, but things are looking up for her now that it’s over and she’s experiencing catharsis, so I’m not sure where to put her on a scale for that. Honestly she simultaneously fits at both ends in my mind.

Alucard in 1476 is obviously bad. He more or less goes out of the situation committing the closest thing to suicide he can get as a vampire.

John and Simon probably both know they’re going to die.

Maria is definitely not going to think about it for a long time but what she’s been through would have messed up an adult, let alone a child. She also just lost her parents so. Yeah.

Julius may have forgotten everything, but his dialogue in Aria suggests he still has PTSD over it anyway. As if amnesia wasn’t enough!

Alucard in 1999 is at the point where it’s like, at least it’s fucking over, but also I assume he’s left to believe Julius is dead and has been left to grieve his friend. Grant, Trevor, and Sypha are likewise grieving Alucard, an interesting inversion of this... *chuck supernatural voice* CIRCULAR NARRATIVE

Jonathan and Charlotte are grieving and stuff but it’s a cathartic experience too I think I havent played Portrait in so long I’m sorry. I need to get on the grind again maybe over winter break. In my defense I also got lead poisoning since the last time I played it which did make me forget a lot of other things from that time period as well (I’m ok ^_^’)

Hector is still grieving his wife and his revenge was kind of pointless and doesn’t actually make anyone feel better. But he made a friend.

Juste just nearly had to kill his best friend. He didn’t in the end, which is great! But still a really stressful thing to go through. He’s clearly agitated and upset about it. He also lies to Lydie about what happened, likely to try to protect Maxim, given his own family’s history of being driven to the fringes of society due to their power.

Richter was absolutely fucked over from fighting Dracula, but I think in the end things would’ve been worse for him if he hadn’t. He was socialized to believe it was what he existed for either way, and the second it’s over he’s basking in the glory of victory... For but a moment. Needless to say, it doesn’t last.

Christopher is like... whatever in his first time around I guess, but fighting your 15 year old kid has got to suck. Even if I do think he probably wasn’t a great dad to lead to that outcome

I honestly don’t know where to put Eric on this he’s just chilling I think. I have the same excuse for Bloodlines inaccuracy as for Portrait I’m sorry

Alucard’s conversation with his dad in SotN was probably really cathartic for him, even if he does try to go back to his old ways as soon as the fight’s over and kill himself again - there’s something to be said about how recovery is harder than continuing to perpetuate your own misery, and Dracula continuing to oppose humanity in all his resurrections after 1797 is a testament to this. So they’re kind of parallels when you think about it!

#castlevania #asks

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agent-yolk-writes · 3 years ago

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Friends Like You and US - Venom!Reader - Chapter 8

No, I did not forget to update on Tumblr. Totally all according to plan. Expect me to catch up with what's left to post throughout the week as a christmas gift of sorts. Thank you for your continuous support!

Read in its Tumblr entirety here*

Previous Chapter*

AO3 Version here

*Link functionality may vary. Please send me a message if you're having issues. Also I'm aware of the odd spacing between words, I tried fixing most of it but there's definitely still some there

Peter Porker was many things. A pig-spider with cautious foresight was not one of them.

By all the tricks in the book, this should’ve been the part where all the scientists would conveniently step out talking about something relevant to his search (“Hey Tresse, did you see the Bets game last night?” didn’t count.) and then he kicks out the grate and begins snooping. Once he finds it, he’ll have to make a daring yet stealthy escape outta there.

Hmm...Talk about a lack of security. Not even a barely functional security camera in the corner. For a lab owned by some kajillionaire, they’re really skimping out on the security budget. Where’s the laser tripwires? The pizazz?

Good golly, this is the most boring science lab he ever had to break in! Where’s the rube goldberg of fragile lab equipment? The questionable experiments shoved in mason jars? The foreshadowing? The complex machinery and the convenient outdated computer with ‘Password’ as the password? All there is in this lab is microscopes, disappointment, and that file with a huge ‘CLASSIFIED’ stamped on the manila folder in bold, red ink sitting unattended by the fax machine.

...Oh, that might be important actually. He should take a look at that.

With careful footing, Ham zips on over to the file. Overall, the file doesn’t look too thick. If he scums through it, then he’ll be able to read all of it. What information he’ll actually retain will be a problem only future Peter can take on.

The moment he opens up the file, his mind goes blank. It practically snaps in half trying to figure out what all these long words are let alone what they actually mean. It’s going to be a lost cause if he tries to cram it all in his head like he’s studying for an exam the night before...ah, screw it! He’s going to steal it! Peni is the one with the brain cells, not him!

Does anyone object to this?

…

...

The silence is not objecting, so he should totally steal it! He slips it in his handy dandy bag of tricks for safekeeping.

Missions success! Man, this was a walk in the dog park. He should web his way back up the vents and tell the oth-

It was a miracle no one else was in the elevator when the spasms started again. You remembered gripping one of the handles before it happened, and for a moment you thought you saw your hand going through it. And for one second too many, you lost touch with all your senses.

It was another miracle you didn’t clip through the elevator.

By far, this was the worst episode you’ve experienced. If this is what you’re going through, you can only imagine what the others are going through. Not to mention the way the pain lingers for a little longer than normal. You can only hope the others are okay.

You managed to regain your senses by the time the elevator door opened. You ignored the concerned looked of the scientists that were waiting for the elevator as you pushed through them without a word. There was no time for barely passing persuasion checks, it’s time to put on your serious face and power through like a law office intern.

You only know about Alchemax in your home life because they would sometimes send contract help to your aunt’s company should they need additional hands despite interns being a thing. Mary would do it on occasion just for the extra cash and that was it. It was usually clerical work or double-checking someone’s math from what she told you. Very disappointing in prospect, but it is what it is.

The only thing that’s preventing you from getting into the actual lab is yet another card swipe away. Who would’ve thought that your own guest ID, programmed primarily to get around Mary’s workplace, wouldn't work here?

“Well...I didn’t think this far.” You muttered. As much as barging in there sounded so tempting, you don’t want to ruin this for all the bystanders that’ll be involved. Plus your aunt won’t have her specialized job anymore if they were smart enough.

You were about to phone Peni to see if she can hack her way had it not been the soft sound of entry confirmation. In a bout of confusion, you looked at the hand that had a very stolen ID from one of the scientists you passed by. Whoever this Treece person was, you hope they don't realize what was missing.

But how…

You’re welcome.

Ah, you shouldn’t be too surprised by that now. Looks like you’re in the belly of the beast, and there’s no telling if you can make it out as safely as you got in.

Still, there’s no way of telling where in the world your teammate could be. You tried to consult your artificial sixth sense, but all you get is a dull tingle in the back of your neck. Wait, that might just be your anxiety. Looks like it’s going to be that kind of day, it seems.

You press into your ear. “C’mon, Ham. Tell us something...please.” You muttered. Of course, all you get in response is nothing...not even static. All you could do was quicken your pace, hoping you could outrun the fear before it has a chance to settle in your shared stomach.

As you turn a certain corner, your nose picks up something that almost sends you reeling. You had to close your nose as the onslaught of unknown chemicals mixed together in the once sterile air. It’s so potent that it made you gag. Guess this Alchemax branch wasn’t all cubicles, it seems. With chances of smelling your swine companion dashed, you pressed on.

Unfortunately, your eyes (Venom’s eyes?) began to wander over the passing lab doors. It, in all honesty, was disappointing that it was just thick doors with a small tinted glass window built in just above all the safety procedure signs. And of course, they all require an ID card to get inside. You could try opening all the doors willy nilly, but that could be more of a risk than anything.

“(First Name), look.” Venom whispered into your unplugged ear. “Over there.” He guides your head to something on the floor just a few feet away. It was small, possibly broken. It absolutely stood out from the bleach-white floor. Getting a closer look at it gave you a realization that you really didn’t want to know at the moment. You crouched down to pick it up.

You know what it was, there’s no use to denying it. As if your mind was craving for some kind of closure, you pinched your earbud out to get a side by side comparison. True to your intuition, it was indeed the matching earbuds Peni provided for all of you. Small, but just big enough to have that spider logo that mech of her donned.

Before the morbid clarification could really sink in, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Not the most appropriate time to be checking your messages, but it’ll make you feel better just in case the files you sent somehow didn’t go through.

maryyy: Tysm dear! youre my hero :-D you can pick dinner when i get back

maryyy: (thinking emoji) A dr. lester? (thinking emoji) no clue. asked some co-workers here if they know but theyy said nothing about a

maryyy: BRB, alarm’s going off

You: are u ok?

maryyy: Yes, but this doesn’t sound like a fire alarm.

maryyy: Sounds more frantic, like there was a robbery or smth. (shrug emoji) probably no big deal, but I have to follow procedure.

maryyy: Will call you l8r, love you! <3 (kissy face emoji x2)

While her answer sounded innocent enough, you could feel the goosebumps forming on your skin. Outside of the scientists you encountered earlier, there hasn’t been any notable signs of life in this lab. The holidays happened weeks ago, so who-

Look out!

You’re unable to process your body bending backwards in such an inhuman way, the wall to your right starting to open up with a myriad of bullet holes decorating it. The suddenness of it all made you lose your grip on your communicator in favor of Venom using it to support your shared body up. You could feel your voice making a sound equivalent to a surprised shriek, but the frantic beating of your heart was louder in your ears.

Oh, now your spidey-senses go off. This damn thing needs to get recalibrated.

It was a struggle trying to get back on your feet as more bullets ripped from the wall. It was starting to become a dangerous version of Twister at this rate. Some did manage to scrape your arms and legs, but it was healed as quickly as the damage was inflicted.

As the wall began to open up more, you could see more clearly the violent shenanigans that were occurring on the other side. The bouncing ball of red and blue, who you can only deduce to be your very alive swine companion, was up against someone who really needs to practice his aim. Through the holes, you can see the primarily black with white decal suit that practically screamed he’s a bad guy.

There were two notable things about this guy. The first thing you notice is that black and white bullseye logo that practically stands out right on his forehead. The second thing...the realization of it filled your shared body with dread. He smelled strongly like sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate. If you remember correctly, those are the main ingredients used for gunpowder.

Dr. Lester also smelt like gunpowder when he entered your aunt’s office.

That’s no doctor. That’s a villain, and he tried to steal something from your aunt while she was away. The thought alone almost made you see red.

“A little help here, new kid!” Ham notices you through the wall, interrupting your internal buildup for carnage. “I’m starting to run outta jokes! Believe me, I’m not a good punchline either!””

Vee, mask!

On it!

You charged towards the tattered wall, breaking it down completely the moment Venom encased your body with your signature suit. You could only hope the dust and debris was enough of a distraction to grab Spider-Ham and high tail it out of there. Fingers instinctively reached for your communicator when you realized- shit! You realized that you dropped it so you wouldn’t get shot. Ham, on the other hand, could only blow a raspberry at the assailant from under your armpit.

Why couldn’t things be easier?! You screamed internally.

This floor is like a goddamn labyrinth all the sudden. There’s no indicator on where a possible exit could be. All you can do is shoot webs blindly and hope it lands somewhere important to the crazed killer behind you.

“What do we do?” You asked at Ham pretty loudly.

“I don’t know! I just do something that I think is funny!” He fired back. “We gotta ditch this guy first! I can’t think while being shaken like a baby.”

“What do you think we’re doing, then?!”

You pivoted on your heel to face your pursuer. In a fit of frustration, you threw Ham at him like a football. That’s right, you yeeted the pig right on the enemy's noggin. You could hear your partner’s confused screaming and the sound of the collision of cartoon meeting bones. Bullseye, his name henceforth, was obviously caught off guard by the sudden attack. You could see him stumbling back and grabbing at his head. Ham’s body squished and bounced off him like a rubber ball, making it easier to catch him and continue your escape out of here before Bullseye’s ass made contact with the ground. It wasn’t enough to punch his lights off, definitely, but it’ll give you two some extra time before he hunts you down.

It became clear, however, that there’s no way of getting out of here safely. Not in this direction, at least. So now the two of you ran into the closest lab and promptly barricaded the wall using whatever was available. Once it was clear that there was no way anyone could get in, you let out a sigh you didn’t believe you were holding.

Holy shit. You didn’t want to do that again.

The moment of silence and clarity was quickly ruined by Ham karate chopping you right in the middle of your forehead. “Ow! What was that for?” You complained.

“For using me like a boomerang! Do you know how much it cost to animate and render all those moves I had to do?”

“Uh…” For two beings sharing a body, your mind is practically empty. “Got me. Look, sorry that I used you as a weapon. We-We panicked, okay? Hopefully we didn’t, like, break anything important.”

Ham’s facial expression lit up as he remembered something. He dove his hand into an unknown pocket and pulled out a manilla folder. It’s a little bent in the corners, but going by the big, red, and bolden text that read ‘CLASSIFIED’ on the cover, it had to be important.

“I managed to snatch this!” He exclaimed. He opened the folder and skimmed through the pages nonchalantly. “And if I’m reading this right, it looks like Kingpin’s up to something.”

“Define ‘something'.”

“Hang on, there’s a whole lot of mumbo jumbo about quantum physics and nanomachines...Aha! Here it is...in collaboration with Dr. Olivia Octavius and Wilson Fisk, Alchemax is working on a…’Super Collider’? That would...open a window to parallel worlds...” He continues reading, eyes slowly scrunching up. “...It is unknown at this time if retrieving personnel from one of these parallel worlds will have any consequences, short-term or long-term. Testing is currently being conducted.” Both of you stare at each other with bewilderment.

“Parallel worlds?” You repeated. “Could it be...why all you guys are here? And-” Your arms spasmed out in it’s typical glitchy fashion. “...That? Hold on.” You crawled over to Ham to take a look at the files. “There has to be a way to stop it. Like a-a-a switch or something?”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there.” Ham flips a few more pages. “Let’s see...there is a failsafe inside the Collider just in case, but…”

“But what?”

The barricaded door rattled abruptly, making you let out a small shriek. God damn it, how did he find you guys already?!

“Shit, we have to get out of here. Now.” You said as you got up. “There has to be a way out of here.” With frantic steps, you look around the lab to see what you can use with Ham in tow. There’s a vent up on the ceiling, but it’s too small for you.

You got to be shitting me!

Calm down.

I am calm!

You're not calm at all. Let’s be real here, you can’t overpower Bullseye without exposing Venom. It’s been too long since you’ve properly ‘ate’ too, so even then you’re not at full power. Your back, quite literally, is against the wall this time.

Ham, meanwhile, had his head against the wall. It was like he was searching for something. Before you could even think about asking, a literal lightbulb turns on above him.

“I got it!” He said. “I know a way out! Rookie, put your ear to the wall.” You did so, trying to push away the nickname he gave you for another time.

You tried to ignore the rampant thoughts of your internal companion asking you why you are putting an ear to the wall. You weren’t sure yourself. All you can hear is pipes, machinery, electricity, and the howling wind.

Wait…wind?

“...Oh. My god.” You couldn’t help but blurt out. “Ham, don’t tell me…”

Ham looked pretty smug at his idea. “That’s right! We’re breaking out of this joint!”

“But-But how?” You flinched when the door gets slammed again, this time you definitely heard furniture being moved.

“With this!” He pulls open his pants with one hand and searches for something with another. You couldn’t believe it when you saw it, but he pulled out a battering ram. It even had the face of a ram at the end. “The ol’ reliable!” He spat on his hands and lathered them up grossly. “Alright, rookie. It’s time for your first lesson. Ever heard of the rule of threes?”

“No?”

“Well too bad. The best way to learn is by doing it on the job while under intense pressure!” The door got slammed again, this time you could hear the audible groans of the furniture being moved from the force. “Now come help me. This thing’s heavy.” With an annoyed sigh, you complied.

Good lord, this thing weighs a ton! How did this pig manage to move around with this in his pants?

“Alrighty. When I say ‘go’, we’re going to ram this into the wall as hard as we-GO!” Ham didn’t even wait for you to process what he said as both of you proceeded to try and knock the wall down.

The first strike made a lot of damage to the wall, and certainly a lot of noise, but it wasn’t enough to tear it down, much to your chagrin. You didn’t have time to finish cursing under your breath as the door gets closer to being kicked down.

Thankfully you were prepared mentally for the second go about on the wall. The hole was definitely starting to cave in, but it needs more force to really crack it open.

“Alright. This time should do the trick.” You tried to convey a panicked expression through your mask as Ham spoke. “We gotta give it our all, or else we’re gonna be chop liver.”

You, ever the ray of sunshine, asked “But what if it doesn’t?”

“You gotta believe in yourself. That’s all it is, kid, a leap of faith.” Those words rang in your head for only a second, but it was enough to adjust your grip on the battering ram. With a nod to your semi-mentor, the two of you faced the soon to be broken wall.

“Okay, on the count of three. Ready? One…”

“Two…"

“THREE!”

You could only hear your heart thumping hard as you charged towards the wall. You didn’t not stop, you couldn’t stop. You just kept running until you heard a louder crack than the first attempt. You thought you could hear the door behind you finally forced open, but you couldn’t look back as there’s nothing under your feet to stop you from free falling.

Before you could shoot a web to stabilize yourself, a painful spasm tore through your body. If you thought every nerve in your body lit up before, then you’re practically on fire now. Under the roaring whips of wind, you could hear Venom making a noise before going quiet. As you reached your hand to shoot a web again, an ice-cold shock formed in your belly as you saw your skin rather than your Venomized suit.

This isn’t funny, Vee. We need the suit. You said with panic laced in your thoughts.

He doesn’t respond. You could still feel him bonded to you.

Vee? You called to him again.

Nothing. Tears form on your face, but they are quickly dried by the wind smacking at your unprotected face.

“VENOM!” Your cry out to your unconscious friend was drowned out as you plummet to your demise.

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forestwater87 · 3 years ago

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Okay, for all of you who don't feel like watching Miles RP as David

Here are some of my favorite quotes. Context may be added if I feel like it. Reactions are my goblin brain screaming. All of these came from a discord so if they don't make sense . . . see goblin brain comment.

(That link should start directly at the point where he becomes David; if it doesn't, skip to 1:40:33)

In roughly chronological order:

David: "Teachers are sort of like camp counselors during the rest of the year."

The thing is David is absolutely up his own ass enough to think this.

David: "Trail mix is expensive!"

^ said to show he understands why not everyone can donate to the charity for teachers. Very adorable, am crying.

David's "ooooh" seeing one dude was extremely non-heterosexual. Fucking bicon. Him losing his mind that one of the arenas is called "Survey camp"

David: "A person's hitting me -- I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry this is just pretend!"

This is just canonically how David plays video games. Either this or he's unwilling to commit violence at all, but I'll defer to Miles.

David: "That's very goat of you!"

Spencer: "Is David popular amongst his campers?"

David: "I like to think so! There's only 3 staff members, so I'm definitely in everyone's top 3."

"That also means you're in the bottom 3."

David: "Well, I choose not to think of it that way."

(I have to keep adding reacts so you can tell when one quote ends and another begins. Judge not lest ye be judged)

I think the other person in the stream is named Spencer. Friend of Miles. I know literally nothing else about him and am not even confident on those facts.

Every time he says something so non-David in his David voice I die: "I have a lot of grenades!"

David: "Oh my goodness, would you look at this beautiful scenery! Can we hike that mountain?"

This is so goddamn cute. I am dying. Miles looked at his fans and said "they will eat tonight" and I am so relieved.

David: "Not to be a couple of Greedy Garys, but I say we get this [care package] and then I'll drop another one!"

The fact that Miles is grinning like a lunatic the entire time is very good. (Also if this is formatted badly then I'm sorry but not all that sorry. I'm doing my best and David would be proud of me.)

David: "Didja getim? Didja getim? didja getim? How 'bout now?"

Spencer: "I didn't get 'em."

David: "Well, you tried your best and that's all that matters."

He calls healing "a little health kiss." I'm not sure why but it's very important to me.

David: [while jumping to murder someone] "Hi! Scuse me!"

(i just need something to separate the quotes okay)

David: "Well you know what gang, we did our best. You don't always win the 3-legged race. You did a wonderful job!"

Then there's a bit where they talk about Spencer's time at summer camp:

David: "ooooh hand-holding's pretty serious!"

David is too pure.

David: [dreamily] "Did you fall in love, Spencer? A summer love?" [puts hands up to his face]

Then there's the fact that David/Miles gets to pick where they play each round, and he keeps insisting on going to the one called "Survey Camp" every single time because it has the word "camp" in it.

David: "Now, I don't like to disagree, but . . . I was thinking we could go . . . to Survey Camp!"

Spencer reminds him that technically since David's the one with the power to choose, his opinion is the only one that matters:

David: "Everyone's opinion matters. And my opinion is we're going to camp."

David just steamrolling over Spencer's interests is very good. There are these little selfish nuggets sprinkled in among the wholesomeness that really capture the full David experience.

David: "Well, he's climbing up . . . he's coming my direction . . . oh, he looks scary . . ."

Spencer: "Is he coming towards me?"

David: "Oooh, I don't know. I'm dead!"

The positivity is relentless. I think Miles said on twitter afterwards that this whole thing was exhausting and I can see why. Being David is no picnic . . .

David: "I have a question: do we have to shoot each other in this game?"

And then a few seconds later:

David: "I'm just wondering if maybe there's a way we can, you know, help others. Talk through our issues."

And a few seconds after that:

David: "I was asking if they wanted to be friends in the game!"

I believe that moved killed him, too. Precious.

Also we're interrupting the real Miles!David content to share something my friend suggested to me while I was watching this and giving her quotes; she said that maybe David just calls everything camp to make life more fun, and then sent me this imaginary exchange that actually killed me all the way to death:

David: Gwen Santos would you go to marriage camp with me

Gwen: I'm going to have to change this story when I tell everyone

It made me laugh quite a bit.

Anyway, back to the video!

Spencer: "How do you sign up for [Camp Campbell]?"

David: "Well, um, you can fax, uh, an application to [email protected]. And . . . you can know that myself and Gwen and Quartermaster and sometimes Mr. Campbell will do our best to make sure they get what they need! Which more than anything is love and support. And friendship."

Spencer: "How many dollars does this camp cost?"

David: "You know . . . it is, um . . ."

And then the conversation switches subjects and David breathes a sigh of relief.

Very shortly after this he changed his character from a woman (she was wearing a yellow shirt, which he liked because the campers wear yellow shirts) to "a Forward Scout with a positive attitude!"

"I like his style."

Spencer: "Does everybody abuse David verbally?"

David: "You know, sometimes people have harsh words. Mostly Max, and Neil, and Gwen, and Quartermaster, and Nurf."

Spencer: "Did you just list almost everyone?"

David: "Mmm . . . I'd say maybe a third."

Poor David. Somebody please protect him.

Spencer: "Yeah, I think people abuse David. I get that vibe. Or at least, I feel it in my heart. Like I wanna put ants in your bunk or something."

David: "Well, I think that says more about maybe some of the hurt you're carrying with you. And sometimes when people don't know how to process that, they act out. Do you want some trail mix?"

David just said his favorite part of trail mix is the raisins which is so cute. "They have a little bit of salt on them, which isn't typical for a raisin."

And he keeps telling chatters to watch their language.

David: "Who is my favorite camper? Aww, you know I couldn't pick a favorite! . . . But I know who has the most potential, even if he doesn't want to admit it."

I KNEW IT!!!!!

I've been saying for years that David doesn't have a favorite and gravitates towards the ones he thinks need him the most AND I FINALLY GOT ONE RIGHT!

David: "Well you know, Gwen swears and that's okay."

shipping intensifies

David: [gasp] "The moss is growing on the north side of the rock!"

Every time he nerds out about weird shit in the game I gain 3 seconds to my life.

Spencer: "Did you get teabagged?"

David: "What's that?"

Spencer: "It's where somebody places their most intimate bits on you for . . . friendship."

David: [softly] "Oh, I don't know about that."

Also David confirms that the whole show has been a single summer, so please see the "vindication" gif above.

David: "I know a lot of fun camp songs."

Spencer: "Sing 3."

David: [starts singing] "Bum-bum-bumblebee, bumblebee tuna, I love bumblebee, bumblebee tuna . . ."

Spencer: "Okay, please stop. I immediately regret this decision."

David: "Max said the same thing! One of my campers. And, uh, and my co-counselor, Gwen."

He's literally made of sunshine. I would die for this fictional man.

Spencer: "Are people at camp against their will? I feel like they are."

David: "No! . . . They don't always like it immediately, but it grows on them."

Spencer: "It sounds like they're there against their will."

David: "Well I just think that's a negative way of looking at it."

FWIW Spencer makes an excellent foil to David. Not as aggressive as Max or as dour as Gwen, but he brings a very . . . like, straight-man energy to the conversation. Like how a normal person would react to David IRL. I'd enjoy seeing these two interact more.

Spencer: "It's like your overpositivity is wanting me to balance it out with negativity."

David: "You know, I feel like that dynamic's pretty popular with me."

eeeeeeee <3

And the last one that I personally found noteworthy:

David: "One day we'll be able to afford safety equipment. Until then, we'll just have to deal with Quartermaster's Ropes Course. And a lot of pillows."

There's point near the last 20 minutes where either it got kinda boring or I just got too tired to keep track. But if there are any quotes you think I missed, please share them! This was a really lovely bit of content to feed our starving maw, and I appreciate Miles very very very much for taking one for the team.

#campcamp #camp camp #cc david #roosterteeth #rooster teeth #miles luna #this isn't content #it's more like a public service #also i threw the gwenvid in like the trash goblin I am

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icarushasfallenfromthestars · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! do u mind if i request? maybe a tommy x reader who’s been struggling recently, with like getting out of bed, doing homework and stuff, and one day she doesn’t respond all day (probably just lying in bed all day or sm) and tommy goes to her house to see what’s up and comforts her and tries to help (even tho he’s lowkey bad at it he can always make u laugh that’s fax) and they kinda have like a ‘self care/help day’ with face masks and movies and unending laughter? thank u so much!!

Oooooo my first writing request! By the way it's written, I assume the reader is a female so that's what is gonna be written! Thanks for requesting!

I accidentally made this a little more dramatic than intended...

I Don't Know What To Do (So I'll Make You Smile) (Plat!Tommyinnit x F!Reader)

He didn't quite understand why you became so... Unmotivated lately. You briefly mentioned that you couldn't drag yourself over to your desk, let alone bring yourself to do the homework your teacher assigned.

Normally he didn't care too much and always said (jokingly) about how you should drop out of school and become a minecraft streamer. He got heavily scolded by Philza for suggesting it though. Normally, though.

Lately he's been taking glances at your report cards when you weren't looking and saw you mostly has C's and D's down the board. You were failing.

At the time, he didn't know how to bring it up or whether or not he should, and asked Philza Minecraft for help on what he should do. Phil explained to him that your mental situation was actually looking pretty bad and he suggested that Tommy go check up on you as soon as possible.

So, like any modern day teen, he texted you way more often than before, anything from asking if you wanted to hang out or stream with him, or sending you some stupid tiktok he found.

At first it was working and Tommy couldn't help but feel proud of himself. But then one day you didn't text him back.

His brain just told him you were busy at that time and left it at that, but then it struck 6pm and he still recieved no response.

A little annoyed by being ignored, Tommy threw on a quick sweater and his shoes before heading to the door. After a quick shout to his mother, explaining that he was heading to your house, he stepped out and walked across the pavement.

Within a few steps, he was standing at your door awkwardly. Normally he would've just burst in with a lame yet some how dramatic greeting to your parents before storming to your room (it happened at least four times a week. They got used to it within the first month.) but now... Something held him back.

Were you okay? Were you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he was being a bit too dramatic?

Ah. Since when has that ever stopped him?

With a sudden burst of confidence, he grabbed the doorknob and let himself in. Your parents were at work so he made sure to be extra annoying this time, pay back for ignoring him! "I'm breaking into your home!" He yelled dramatically after reaching out and pressing the doorbell a few times to alert his existence even more.

He took his shoes off and made his way to your room, the pathway ingrained into his mind at this point.

When he reached the door, he gave a brief knock (he had manners. Sometimes.) Before turning the knob. "You better be decent for both of our sanity!" He called before finally opening it.

Your room looked... Empty... at first. In the beginning, he thought you weren't home, that is until the blankets began to shift and there was an annoyed groan.

"Soooo dramatiiiiic..." You huffed, unfurling yourself from your cocoon of blankets to glare at him jokingly, but he looked more surprised.

"You look like you got hit with a bus!"

"Well screw you too..."

Tommy snorted before awkwardly sitting on the edge of your bed. "So.. why haven't you been up today? Or... Well.. Passing your classes?"

You were definitely shocked that Tommy noticed, and part of you wanted to joke to ease the tension, but you figured that would make it harder on him. "Well... See... I've been struggling a lot with my mental state and everything just became really stressful, but even then I couldn't do it... And.. Well still can't.."

"Why... Not?" He looked at you in confusion and you just shrugged slightly, running your hand through your bedhead... Which you could see Tommy trying his absolute hardest not to snicker at.

"I don't really feel motivated... I can't even really get out of bed.."

The blond boy gave you an awkward pat on the arm, making you roll your eyes. "Uhhh.. You.. wanna watch a movie? Or... Oh! Maybe we could go egg Wilbur's house while he's off being a simp for Nikki!"

You scoffed and began to laugh into your hand which caused Tommy to greatly relax. "That's hours away, Tommy... We'd never get there before my parents get back. But we can watch a movie?"

"You're no funnnn!" He whined dramatically with a slight hint of a smile before shaking his head, "Go at least brush your hair while I find a movie, it looks like a porcupine got struck by lightening."

You rolled your eyes and slowly began to shuffle out of bed to make your way to the bathroom while Tommy turned on the TV in your room, having been here enough times that he knew how to use it.

When you came back, mostly cleaned up with a sweater thrown over your pajamas, you saw Tommy putting on one of his favourite comedy movies. There was also some snacks he had probably raided your kitchen or secret candy stash for, but you didn't mind. You flopped back down into your bed, while Tommy hit play.

"I never under stand why women always make such a bit deal over pulling those face mask things off of their face!" Tommy gestured to the scene that was playing in the movie. "Also why do they need so many face products? Doesn't water and dish soap do the trick?"

"You do NOT use dish soap on your face!" You gaped at his response to the movie. "And trust me... Those peel masks hurt." You saw Tommy roll his eyes for a moment before you got an idea. "Wanna try?"

The teen looked at you as if you were high on glue, but then he saw the challenging look in your eyes, and everyone knows that Tommy Big Man Innit NEVER backs down from a challenge. Or maybe he knew it would make you happy? "It can't be that bad!"

You knew he was gonna regret that.

You paused the movie while you scrambled to get your skin care products ready. First you made him wash his face, moisturize, etc etc, which he complained about non stop, but you always told him to quit whining or he was admitting to losing against the woman in the movie. He instantly quit complaining, calling the actress and pansy and hell bent determined to prove himself as an alpha male.

You made him put his hair back with a cheap headband you had, which caused his blond locks to practically flare out in every direction. After laughing about it for a minute, you made him sit down so you could paint the mask on.

"Sit still!"

"But it feels weird!"

"Keep quiet or this brush is going up your nose!"

"You wouldn't DARE."

"Wanna bet on it?"

After about five minutes of even more whining, you finally got the masks painted on you both as Tommy decided to take a picture of himself for Twitter to meme about.

Tommyinnit

Women are weird with their face skin care stuff...

While you both waited for the masks to dry, you had some how convinced Tommy to let you paint his nails but ONLY if he could do yours as well. We all know Tommy isn't about that toxic masculinity.

Once it was dry, you could see Tommy scrunching his face repeatedly, most likely not used to the unusual feeling. "Can I take this off now? I'm determined to prove myself better than those actors!"

You bit your lip to hide your grin as you gave a nod. Because yours was also dry, you showed him how to find an edge and how to pull it off.

"Ow! What the hell!?"

You snickered as you watched Tommy begin to yelp in pain as he began to pull the mask off, only able to do tiny tiny little bits at a time before needing a moment to gather himself, eyes watering.

You, being a boss, were already majority of the way done pulling the face mask off causing Tommy's jaw to d r o p. "You're a literal hell spawn! How are you not bawling your eyes out from the pain?!"

"I've done this quite a lot of times honestly. It's not that bad." You lied through your teeth. Honestly it hurt quite a lot, but you were just enjoying seeing Tommy gawk at you before trying to peel the mask off more, only to yelp and whine.

It took twenty minutes, and eventually, he got the product off and stared at his reddened face in the mirror. He decided to take another picture (with permission) for Twitter with you being a smug little shit while his eyes were still watery and his skin still irritated.

Tommyinnit

I respect women even more now...

(Yourusername)

@/tommyinnit Wimp.

#tommyinit mcyt #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x y/n #dream smp #tommyinnit #mcyt #mcyt x reader #platonic x reader

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sass-and-suspenders · 4 years ago

Text

Inquiry

GIF from plutoandpersephone

Pairing: Dr. Frederick Chilton x Reader

Author’s Note: In vain I have struggled …with the formatting of this story. Did I use html? Yes. Does it show up correctly when I preview it? Yes. Will it show up correctly when it’s posted? Knowing this website, probably not. I’m posting despite the (possibly) faulty formatting because I will snap like a stale rubber band if I have to fiddle around with it for a minute longer. That said, I hope you enjoy because this was fun to write (but not to format)

Frederick Chilton’s heart was beating far too quickly for something as mundane as writing an email. Normally, he could compose a message in a matter of minutes with little concern for how the recipient would react to his autocratic demands.

This time, however, you were on the receiving end.

And Frederick deeply cared what you thought.

It would have been easier if this was for a work-related matter. As the hospital administrator, Frederick often sent you updates about policy changes or questions regarding your patients. He wrote these emails effortlessly, addressing you like any other member of his staff while ignoring how his heart fluttered whenever your name appeared in his inbox. With the small exception of inquiries about your weekend (something Frederick never did with other employees), his correspondence to you remained strictly professional.

Until now.

It had taken months, but Frederick finally worked up the nerve to ask you on a date. It was non-traditional, asking someone out via email, but Frederick considered asking over the phone or in-person too risky; the chance of rejection was already high, he didn’t need to add to it by stumbling over his words or blushing in your presence like an imbecile. An email allowed Frederick time to organize his thoughts and select the right words to convey just how much you meant to him.

Writing may have been the safest medium, but it wasn’t the fastest. Fifteen minutes had elapsed and Frederick was still struggling with the salutation: ‘My dearest’ seemed too intimate, ‘Good afternoon’ too formal, ‘Ciao’ too pretentious, ‘Ahoy’ too …nautical.

Frederick fiddled with his pen and leaned back in his chair, refusing to acknowledge that he was out of his depth. His love life was preternaturally dormant, yes, but he was a man of science, not to mention a patron of the arts -he could write a simple email. He was just overthinking it, attaching too much significance to every word as if selecting the wrong one would result in rejection.

Sighing, Frederick left his desk to fetch some alcohol, a time-honoured cure for writer’s block. As he poured the amber liquid from the decanter, Frederick reassured himself of his literary prowess: he’d written a myriad of scientific articles, many of which won awards, and there was growing interest in a manuscript he was working on about the Chesapeake Ripper.

He sat back down at his desk with bolstered confidence and a glass of brandy. The opening still eluded him but, rather than dwell on it further, Frederick used a placeholder and began to work on the body of the email.

As he wrote, Frederick likened himself to a suitor in a Jane Austen novel confessing his fervent desire to his beloved. He only hoped that his prose would convince you to give him a chance since, considering the weather in Baltimore, he wouldn’t be strutting out of a lake anytime soon.

Inspired by this little reverie, Frederick soon finished. He took another sip of brandy before looking over what he had written.

To:

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Inquiry

[Insert salutation]

Ever since we met, I have ardently admired you. Your warmth, beauty, and quick wit are just some of the ways you brighten my day whenever I am graced with your presence. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?

I await your reply with hopeful anticipation.

Yours,

Frederick

Satisfied, Frederick turned his attention to the greeting, lightly tapping his pen against his lips as he thought. It took a few moments, but Frederick finally settled on ‘Dear’, a classic opening. After switching out the salutation placeholder for ‘Dear’ followed by your name, Frederick read over the email one last time. He took a large drink of brandy before selecting your email address and pressing send.

Contrary to his belief, the beating in his chest didn’t slow once the email was dispatched. What if you rejected him? How would he bear to see you at work every day? Worse, what if you never responded, leaving him to perpetually wonder whether it was a silent rejection or a lost email?

The familiar ping of an email notification snapped Frederick out of his self-made purgatory. He took a few deep breaths, a half-hearted attempt to quell his rapid heartbeat, as he wondered whether it was a good sign that you responded so quickly. His eyes flicked to his inbox: there, sitting atop of messages from psychiatry journals and irksome colleagues, was a reply.

Only it wasn’t from you.

Frederick’s brow furrowed. Why was a nurse replying to the email he sent you? It didn’t take long after opening the email to realize his mistake: choosing the hospital’s listserv rather than your email address, effectively sending out his declaration of love to the entire hospital. He let out an almost inaudible whimper, knowing it was too late to retract the message.

Apparently, he could control the content of the message, but not its audience.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Inquiry

Ask them out in-person, you insecure little weenie!

Frederick hastily deleted the email, but two more popped up in its place like some sort of electronic hydra. It didn't take long for the wolves to respond, and Frederick could only stare at the screen in horror as the replies began pouring in. He swore he could hear laughter in the hallway and began debating whether he should move out of the country or just the state. Depending on how widespread knowledge of his blunder became it may even be wise to leave the continent. Vienna was supposed to be nice this time of year.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Inquiry

Girl, you can do better!

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Please remove me from this list. Thanks

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

EVERYONE STOP REPLYING ALL!

Sent from my iPhone

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

‘Ardently’? Who does Chilton think he is, Mr. Darcy?

Gillian Coverly, M.D.

Psychiatry Resident, BSHCI

[email protected]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

More like Mr. Collins, am I right? LOL

Jonas Dhavernas

Security Services | 555-3193 ext. 0315

Frederick harrumphed (he was definitely not a Mr. Collins) and made a mental note to schedule those two for the night shift for the foreseeable future. However, his indignation quickly gave way to woe as he continued to scroll through the other emails in his inbox.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

lol desperate much

Luis Torres, PhD

Director of Forensic Psychiatry

(Tel.) 555-3193 ext. 0583 | (Cell) 555-2391 | (Fax) 555-8942

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

I’d like to remind everyone that this listserv is for work-related emails only.

Please be professional.

Ralph Chlumsky, Patient Care Manager

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

SERIOUSLY STOP SENDING EMAILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sent from my iPhone

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

As a member of HR, I would like to remind you that you are not obligated to say yes to a date just because Dr. Chilton is your superior.

Please let me know if you would like to file a complaint against him for harassment

Sincerely,

Judith Mulrooney

Senior Human Resources Manager

(Tel.) 555-3193 ext. 3598

Nothing is impossible. The word itself says ‘I’M POSSIBLE!’ – Audrey Hepburn

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Can everyone please stop replying all? Our servers can’t handle the load and might crash if this continues.

Thanks,

Your friendly neighborhood IT Department

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Hi, can anyone give me a lift to work tomorrow? I’m in Federal Hill

To: [email protected]

From: ellen.ostrowski @bshci.com

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Everyone please stop replying all! It’s not that hard, and IT said our server will crash if we keep on doing it!

Warmest regards,

Ellen Ostrowski

Administrative Assistant for Dr. Bryan Dancy

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Ellen, your “everyone stop replying all message” was also a reply all!

Ugh, I work with IDIOTS!

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Don’t get all high and mighty with me, Shawna, you also used reply all! Frankly, your use of reply all when the server is unstable is just what I’d expect from a lunch thief.

Warmest regards,

Ellen Ostrowski

Administrative Assistant for Dr. Bryan Dancy

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

FOR THE LAST TIME I DID NOT STEAL YOUR LUNCH!

A groan escaped Frederick’s lips. How could this have happened? He wasn’t a tech genius, but he kept au courant with the latest gadgets and even implemented smart technology throughout his house. Of course, there had been small mishaps in the past, like when his iPhone autocorrected his last name to ‘Chicken’ and he couldn’t stop it, but nothing of this magnitude. As much as he wanted to blame his snarky colleagues for his misery, he had only himself to blame.

His iPhone was right: he was a chicken.

Frederick was in the middle of researching jobs in Austria, the dramatic part of his brain having overpowered the rational part, when your name appeared in his inbox. His eyes flicked to the now empty glass of brandy on his right before clicking on your reply.

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

I would love to, Frederick. How about Friday?

-Your Elizabeth Bennet

P.S. Judith, no need to get HR involved

Frederick blinked, not quite believing it. Despite his cowardice, and the mortification which ensued, you’d said yes. A smile slowly spread across his face, unaffected by the multitude of emails flooding his inbox in reaction to your answer.

He was still smiling when the hospital’s servers crashed a few moments later.

Tag list: @madpanda75 @obsessionprofessional @madkingcrowley @im-like-reallythirsty @burningg-red @nikkijmorgan @misssirenlove @zoeykaytesmom @mommakat32 @thatesqcrush @southern-magnolia @evee87

#frederick chilton x reader #dr frederick chilton x reader #chilton x reader #frederick chilton #dr frederick chilton #hannibal

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luminescencefics · 4 years ago

Text

fade in, fade out - part two

story page // chapter moodboard // read on wattpad // banner credit

previous | story masterlist | next

***

The Backstory

September 2006

In Nora Priestley’s fourteen years of life, she’s never lived this far away from the ocean before. It’s always been just right outside her window, a quick ten-minute trek from Thames Street until she reached the rolling dunes of Rejects Beach. Smelling the salt in her hair and feeling her skin grow sticky from the feeling of the ocean air was practically second-nature to her, but ever since she moved to the middle of nowhere Connecticut for boarding school, she’s never felt more disconnected from normality in her life.

Nora’s never really been a big fan of embracing change. She’d like to blame that on the fact that she’s never really had any monumental shifts to her tectonic plates so far in her short life, and she’s not quite sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.

It’s always been just her and her mom. A dynamic duo. A tag team of epic proportions.

Growing up in Newport, Rhode Island could be worse, Nora thinks. She was lucky enough to grow up in a small coastal town where everybody accepted her in one way or another. Even though she was much different than the other kids her age, considering she spent most of her time alone while her mother worked, she never felt unhappy. Life was simple. Life was easy.

Nora and her mother, Shannon, lived in a small apartment in a renovated old colonial townhouse at the bottom of Thames Street. It was a third-floor walk-up, and in the heat of the summer when the humidity made the wallpaper begin to curl at the edges of her tiny paisley-coated bedroom, Nora had to sleep with her creaky window open with nothing but a thin sheet to cover her sweat-soaked body, the soft sounds of the rolling waves crashing against the shore lulling her to sleep.

Shannon Priestley was the ultimate leading lady in Nora’s life. She referred to Nora as her perfect mistake, because having a baby the summer she turned eighteen with a boy she thought would be her forever was the very definition of that phrase. But she handled it like she did everything else in her life—with grace and dignity, and nothing but a big gleaming grin on her face that always made Nora and everyone else lucky enough to be around her sunbeam feel that everything would be okay.

With a one-year-old baby on her hip and a bright and shiny high school diploma under her belt, Shannon found a job listing to be a nanny for the Clemonte’s. Without a second’s deliberation, she packed up her things and moved to the tip of the state to Newport.

The Clemonte’s were one of the wealthiest families in Newport, hailing from an impressive lineage of old money with an expansive estate of fourteen acres overlooking Ochre Point and the Atlantic Ocean. They were one of those families that named their properties, and when Shannon Priestley first stepped foot inside The Breakers mansion, she knew right then and there that her new bosses had very high expectations for her.

Shannon became the singular nanny to Warren and Jane Clemonte’s baby son, William. He was born three months after Nora, and even though Shannon felt slighted that she had to spend most of her days with another family’s child while her own was being watched by their downstairs neighbor, she promised to split her time evenly. And even though twenty-four hours in a day was never enough for Shannon, she made sure to spend most of it with Nora.

And Nora was always grateful for that.

The second Nora was old enough to take care of herself, she started going to The Breakers after school so that her mom could walk her home. It was at that very moment when she had her first taste of ostentatious luxury, and from then on it never failed to amaze her. The other half certainly did live differently than Nora and her mother, and stepping foot inside the Clemonte’s mansion made that realization startlingly clear.

This was when she first met William Clemonte. Nora always knew he existed, considering her mother would sprinkle in small anecdotes about him while doing other mundane tasks. “Willy was very quiet today,” Shannon would tell Nora on their walk home from Ochre Point to Lower Thames. “Mr. and Mrs. Clemonte want Willy to take piano lessons and learn Latin. How on earth is a seven-year-old supposed to handle that?”

To Nora, Willy was somewhat of a fictional character living behind the towering walls of The Breakers. She imagined him being a smaller boy, blonde with blue eyes and wearing some sort of matching ensemble sitting inside the thick walls of his mansion, overlooking the deep cobalt ocean through a grand wall of windows. But when she meets him one afternoon after her first day of second grade, she could not be any more wrong.

Sure, Willy Clemonte was a small boy, but he was by no means shy or scared of her. He took her on a tour through the grand halls of The Breakers, showed her all of the secret passageways built inside the walls from when the mansion was first erected back in the early twentieth century, and shared his brand new toys with her.

But most importantly, he listened to her. He asked her a million questions about public school, about the world outside of his tall fortress, about the television shows Shannon let Nora watch after dinner, and the different kinds of popular music other kids their age were listening to.

“Wait, so *NSYNC isn’t just Justin Timberlake?” Willy would ask whenever Nora would show him what was inside her portable CD player (which was almost exclusively No Strings Attached until she reached the fourth grade).

“Oh my god, Willy! *NSYNC is a boyband! Justin is just the best one,” Nora would scold right back, shoving the plastic headphones over his blonde head of hair so that the felt cushions would press against his ear, the vibrating thumps of “Bye Bye Bye” playing through the electronic equipment.

Whenever he would ask her about school, Willy was always shocked to hear how different her experience was from his own. Nora would tell him about the yellow school buses that picked up and dropped off her friends, she would show up to his house afterward wearing jeans and a pink Gap sweatshirt and he was always surprised to learn that kids could wear whatever they wanted during the day, and when she would come over on Fridays and tell him that her mother gave her a dollar for pizza day at lunchtime, Willy wished more and more that he could go to public school with her, too.

While Willy was nothing but sunshine and kindness, Warren Clemonte was the complete opposite. A cold and distant man, stern and grumpy with a perpetual frown on his face, he sent a terrifying chill all the way down to Nora’s bones until they rattled together like a hollow instrument. And one Thursday afternoon when Shannon was busy packing Willy’s bags for the Clemonte’s annual Christmas trip to Aspen, Warren caught his son running around the main hall searching through every nook and cranny for Nora’s impressive hiding spot. It was only once she heard the bellowing yells when she emerged from behind an old armoire in the library, peeking her head around the corner to watch Warren yell at Willy in the echoing hallway.

“What do you think you’re doing, running around when you’ve left your Latin workbook unfinished?” Warren demanded, his low voice bouncing off the thick walls.

“I’m sorry, dad. I was just—”

“—Just what? Playing around and avoiding your responsibilities? How are you supposed to learn anything if you spend all of your time dilly-dallying with that girl, William?”

Willy began to cry then, and before Nora could interfere, her mother was already ten steps ahead of her, entering the main hall and apologizing profusely while her daughter stayed hidden behind the old armoire, watching everything with regretful eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clemonte. I was just packing for Willy, I didn’t realize he had run off. I’ll make sure it never happens again, sir,” Shannon said, placing a comforting arm around Willy’s shaking shoulders while his father stood barely five feet away, watching his wailing son with lifeless eyes.

“Please do, Miss Priestley. William does not need any more distractions.” His voice held a clipped finality to it, and when he walked away and Nora appeared from behind the wall to approach Willy who was clutching her mother for dear life, she never understood how his father could just leave his son to fall apart in front of him like that.

That was the last afternoon Nora ever spent at The Breakers.

Up until four months ago, Nora was almost certain that the entire Clemonte family had forgotten that she existed, and that treacherous afternoon with Willy nearly seven years ago was just a sad memory that could be tarnished for the rest of eternity. But when her mother comes home with a thick black and red folder, the words Townbridge Academy in capital letters splayed against the front page above a golden crest, Nora’s never been more confused in her life.

When she asked her mother what she was doing with a boarding school acceptance letter in her hand that Nora had never heard of before, the answer she received was definitely not what she had expected. Apparently, Mrs. Clemonte found out that Nora was planning on attending the public high school on Broadway Street, and apparently, she believed that she could offer Shannon a lending hand. Nora would like to blame it all on Jane Clemonte’s philanthropic tendencies, but a few phone calls and a faxed copy of Nora’s stellar transcripts later, Nora was appointed a lofty scholarship to attend Townbridge Academy in the fall.

All things considered, Nora did not want to go. She liked her middle school friends, she liked being her own person, she liked knowing that her mom was only a twenty-minute walk away, and most importantly, she liked not having to be associated with a family like the Clemonte’s. She didn’t want to be seen as a charity case, and accepting the scholarship on Mrs. Clemonte’s behalf to attend a prestigious boarding school like Townbridge Academy was exactly that.

But when her mother sat her down and told her how amazing this opportunity was, and how much Nora could accomplish with a diploma from one of the best schools in the country, Nora couldn’t bring herself to say no. Especially when her mother held her close and whispered in her ear, “God, Nora, you can do all of the things I never could have done,” Nora knew that there was no way she could break her mother’s heart.

Because now, standing in her new dorm room with deep oak walls, a creaky polished hardwood floor, a red ornamental rug that smelled a bit like Warren Clemonte’s cologne, and a small twin bed nestled in the corner underneath a window overlooking the bleak green hills of Connecticut—Nora Priestley wishes she had told her mother no.

Before she can even wallow in her own self-imposed misery, the front door opens revealing an older man carrying a trolley holding a matching six-piece set of luggage. Nora looks down to the singular old leather suitcase she purchased at a surplus store on Spruce Street resting on the floor, comparing it to the monogrammed navy blue set with the gold letters ARW spanning across each piece.

The man begins placing each suitcase onto the floor without uttering a word to a very confused Nora, and suddenly the door opens wider, a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair floating into the room. She’s wearing a white tennis skirt that rests a few inches above her kneecap, with a powder blue collared shirt cuffed at the wrists. For a brief moment, Nora wonders if her mother purchased the wrong uniform set for her, but when the girl lifts her eyes from her Blackberry and looks over at Nora, she notices a sailor’s crest embroidered on the right side above her chest with more initials, and she begins to breathe a little.

“Hi! You must be my roommate, I’m Nor—”

“—Where are the rest of your bags?” the girl interrupts, eyeing the old leather suitcase disdainfully. Nora’s fingers immediately fly up to her scalp and begin raking through her blonde hair, a nervous habit she’s tried her hardest to get rid of.

“I have a duffle on the desk chair, too,” Nora explains quietly, removing her hand from her hair so that she can point towards the old wooden desk that holds her mother’s duffle bag.

Nora watches as the girl’s piercing gaze shifts from her two flimsy bags to her outfit. And when Nora watches beady hazel eyes take in her old white tank top, her mom’s grey knit cardigan, thrifted bootcut jeans, and sandals from two summers ago, Nora’s never wanted to disappear more in her life.

Before she can find the words to speak, Nora hears a shrill “Alyssa!” echo through the hallway, until a matching set of girls wearing nautical-inspired clothing and thick headbands are hugging the strawberry blonde-haired girl who just so obviously judged Nora a few moments ago.

“Who’s this?” one of the girls asks Alyssa, breaking away from their hug and looking over at Nora with interest.

Just as Nora reaches a hand out to introduce herself, Alyssa says, “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go, girls,” and the three girls spin around without even uttering a goodbye.

Nora watches as they walk down the hallway, giggling the entire way as if they hadn’t singlehandedly just ruined her first official day away from home.

***

October 2006

The first month at boarding school is just a series of Nora playing catch up. While she thought going to public school and hanging out with normal people would be enough to prepare her for high school, three weeks in she’s never felt more lost in her entire life.

She’s one of the only students who doesn’t own a cellphone, she wears second-hand Sperry’s instead of fancy loafers with gold links on the front, her backpack is a maroon Jansport while most students opted for leather messenger bags, and when people ask her how she spent her summer, she’s gotten used to the wide-eyed look they give her when she explains that she scooped ice cream near the beach for tips.

Nora’s not naive. She knows that she’s referred to as The Scholarship Girl behind her back, she knows that Alyssa complains to her elitist friends about how dreadful it is to be forced to room with a girl who wears hand-me-down clothing, and she knows that adjusting to life at Townbridge was going to be the very definition of arduous.

But she remembers what her mother told her—how Nora’s skin is thicker than she thinks, and no matter how different she is to everybody else, she’s still just as deserving of a top-notch education.

Even though Nora was at the top of her class for most of her life, she still felt far behind the rest of her classmates at Townbridge. She spends the first few weeks getting very acquainted with the walls of the library, making the nearly twenty-minute trek from her dorm in Emerson Hall to Millikan Library across campus. Classes have only just begun, but Nora can’t afford to fall any more behind than she already has. So instead of making friends and signing up for various clubs and sports teams, Nora’s allowed her backside to practically mold into the stiff wooden chairs inside the empty library.

Nora would have completely forgotten about the First Year Mixer being held that evening if not for Alyssa and her friends getting ready in her dorm room. When she walks in still wearing her uniform well after classes have ended for the day, the three girls look at her as if she were crazy.

“Did you forget about the mixer tonight, Nora?” Grace, one of the twins, asks with a shocked expression decorating her pretty face. All three girls are wearing colorful Lilly Pulitzer dresses, passing along mascara and eyeshadow amongst themselves in preparation for tonight.

“Uh, no I was just—”

“—Making friends with the books again?” Alyssa sneers, earning a giggle from the girls.

Nora chooses not to respond. It’s just easier that way.

Walking over to her wardrobe, Nora sorts through her limited selection of clothing to find something appropriate to wear for tonight. She didn’t even want to be in attendance, but she’s figured that she’s probably spent enough time on her own, and that maybe, in the off chance that Townbridge has some normal students, she can make a friend or two.

The only two dresses she brought with her were a simple long-sleeved cream sweater dress that fell just above her knees, and a thin summer dress her mother bought her two years ago that was tighter and fell around mid-thigh. She goes with the sweater dress, deeming it the best outfit she has to just simply blend in. Once it’s over her head, she reaches for her thigh-high socks and brown boots she got as a graduation gift, slipping them on quickly. October has left a brisk chill in the nighttime air, and considering her jackets consisted of a worn-in winter parka and an oversized flannel she scored at Goodwill, Nora thinks this combination will be more than fine.

She reaches for the comb on her desk and begins to rake it through her knotted hair, smoothing out the kinks and leaving the strands to fall in their messy, wavy natural state. Just as she’s digging through her backpack to try and find her lip balm and mascara, she can’t help but overhear Alyssa gossiping to Grace and Erin loudly from across the room.

“Harry’s plane landed a few hours ago,” Alyssa gushes, plucking the blush from Grace’s hands and beginning to apply it to the apples of her cheeks.

“Oh my God, no way! You must be so excited, Lyss!” Erin squeaks, reaching for the lipgloss that Alyssa just used. Before she can even remove the lid, Alyssa swats at her wrists and tells her to pick another color.

“Have you been texting all summer?” Grace asks from behind the vanity.

Alyssa nods, readjusting her freshly curled hair. “Ever since he left the Hamptons in July, yeah. We’ve been messaging back and forth. He told me he can’t wait to see me tonight.”

“That’s so romantic, Lyss!” Erin says, and Nora tries her hardest not to roll her eyes. “I can’t believe they let him miss the first three weeks of school.”

“He’s Harry Styles, Erin,” Grace chides, turning to face her sister with slanted eyes. “He can do whatever he wants.”

Nora twists the mascara wand back into the tube before backing away from her desk, double-checking her outfit to make sure that it was suitable enough. Just as she gives her hair one last fluff, she hears Alyssa ask, “Are you really not going to do anything with your hair?”

Nora turns towards her with a sheepish look, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t own any styling tools so…” she lets the words fall from her mouth, watching the three girls in front of her look at her as if she had a second head growing out of her neck.

“You’ve never straightened your hair?! I’m sure Alyssa will let you borrow—”

“—Erin! Enough. Let’s go, we’re going to be late,” Alyssa scolds, ending the conversation abruptly. Before Nora can even shoot a smile in Erin’s direction, the three girls are already out the door, leaving Nora to walk to the Great Hall by herself.

The problem with spending all of her time walking from her dorm to the lecture halls on East Campus to Millikan Library is that she seemingly forgot where every other building was. Trying to locate the Great Hall in daylight was already difficult for Nora, but now with the sun practically set behind the horizon and her sense of direction completely shit, she starts panicking when she’s walked by the dining hall for the third time.

An upperclassman saves Nora before she can have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of the quad, and with two minutes to spare, Nora finds a row with a few empty seats towards the back of the room.

Nobody seems to have noticed her, save for the girls in the row in front of her who turn around when Nora’s boots jostle their chairs. She offers them a muffled apology, and just as quickly as they turned around to look at her, they swivel their necks to face the front again.

Nora sighs to herself, before lifting her head to hear the Headmaster begin his speech. After listening to him drawl about the mission statement and his expectations for the first-year students, Nora immediately wishes she never left her dorm room. She can feel her eyes begin to droop, and before her body can slump further down into her chair, the sound of a heavy oak door closing echoes throughout the Great Hall, and Nora feels her body springing upwards.

Headmaster Clayton pauses in his monotonous ramblings, and before the entire collection of students in front of Nora can turn around to see what the interruption was, a long body falls into the chair next to hers, and the Headmaster resumes his speech as if nothing ever happened.

“Did I miss anything?” an impossibly British voice whispers in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit surprised by the low timbre of it. She looks over at him and finds herself staring into green pools with a golden shimmer surrounding his irises. Nora’s never been captivated by a boy before—but the one sitting next to her with fluffy chocolate curls falling over his forehead, surrounding his ears, and ending at the nape of his neck might possibly be the first. His hands are shoved inside the pockets of an expensive-looking black trench coat, and his upper body is leaning towards hers as he awaits her response. When Nora notices his pink lips forming into a small smirk, she’s almost positive that she’s been caught staring at this boy for far too long.

“Uh, no. Not really,” she whispers back, scrutinizing the way her voice squeaked at the beginning of her sentence.

His smirk shifts into a full-blown grin, and Nora can feel her cheeks begin to burn. “Hm, sounds like somebody wasn’t paying attention in the first place.”

Before Nora can retort, the boy near her chuckles softly at her nervous expression. “Can’t say I blame you, love. Clayton’s a fucking fossil.”

Nora giggles, causing the girls in front of her to turn around again with a murderous expression on their faces. She stops abruptly, and after they’ve snapped their heads forward for the second time, she looks over to the boy on her left and finds him trying his hardest to stifle another chuckle.

He shifts his body so he’s no longer leaning in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit saddened by the sudden distance between them both.

Nora replays the interaction in her inexperienced, fourteen-year-old mind, wondering if the boy near her was just flirting with her. There’s no denying that she thinks he’s cute, considering she finds herself sneaking looks at him every few minutes during the duration of Headmaster Clayton’s speech just to get another glimpse of his soft hair and sunken dimples. And on more than one occasion, he catches her in his periphery, shooting her that charming smirk that never fails to make her cheeks blush.

The moment Headmaster Clayton wraps up his speech and the rest of the students begin to stand, Nora turns towards the boy and finds that he’s already looking at her. Now that they’ve exited their row, Nora notices how tall he is, taking in his long legs clad in black denim, his even longer torso in a similar black shirt. The all-dark ensemble somehow makes him look older. Makes him look mysterious. Makes him look even more handsome—and suddenly Nora’s grown a bit nervous.

“I’m Nora, by the way,” she says, sticking her hand out for him to shake. He hesitates, looking between her face and her outstretched hand with a smile on his face, finding it incredibly cute that a girl his age would greet him so formally.

Just before his hand can fall into hers, another hand claps him on the shoulder and he’s forced to look at the intrusion, his own arm falling back to his side. “Harry, my man! How was the flight?”

When Nora looks over his shoulder, she notices two boys greeting him warmly. She hasn’t really met anybody at Townbridge aside from Alyssa, Grace, and Erin, so she’s not surprised when she doesn’t recognize the two other boys infiltrating their small bubble.

But upon further inspection, Nora realizes that she does, in fact, recognize one of them.

Standing directly in her line of vision is none other than Willy Clemonte. Although it’s been seven years since Nora last saw him, there’s no denying that the sandy-haired, blue-eyed teenager in front of her is him. He’s practically almost the same height as his father now, towering over Nora in his khaki pants and a white cable-knit sweater. His hair still tangles in his eyelashes and his cheeks are still dusted with freckles, and Nora’s stunned at the sudden rush of memories that flood her insides.

He seems to have made the same startling realization as Nora did, because his eyes begin to widen almost comically, and a strained expression falls over his features. Before they can give away that they’ve been staring at each other, the boy from before, now known to Nora as Harry, spins around on his heels and gives her a small smile.

“Nora, right?” he asks, and she nods hesitantly. “Where are you from?”

“Uh, Newport,” Nora answers.

“Oh, wicked! So you must know Will, then?” Harry asks, seemingly oblivious to the awkward tension radiating from the two of them.

Before she can respond, Will clears his throat and takes a step forward. With one last panicked look at Nora, he tells Harry, “Yeah, man. Her mom was one of our maids.”

“Wait, what?” Harry asks, confusion written all over his face. Nora’s surprised that she can hear it over the sound of her breath leaving her lungs from Willy’s comment. Sure, she knew that the last time they saw each other he was crying into her mother’s arms over a remark his father said, and sure, she didn’t expect them to resume their friendship as if nothing had happened.

But to blatantly lie about Nora’s mother, a woman who took care of him for years? Nora never thought that he would grow up to be so cruel.��

To twist the knife lodged into her chest even further, Alyssa and the twins approach the group with annoyed looks, all aimed in Nora’s direction. They seem to have overheard Willy’s previous comment, and before Nora can even defend herself, Alyssa reaches out and wraps her hand around Harry’s forearm as if she were claiming him in front of everybody.

“Yeah, apparently Townbridge is letting just about anybody in this year. Just ignore her, Harry, we all have been,” she says, her tone nothing but dismissive.

Nora watches as Harry shifts his gaze from Alyssa to her. His green eyes fall down her body, and for the first time, he notices the loose thread at the hemline of her dress from overwear, the tear in her socks behind the knee, her brown boots that lack the distinction of a designer label. With one last look at her, he takes a step back, and Nora knows right then and there that she’s been condemned as an outsider.

“C’mon Harry, tell us all about the rest of your summer in France! I want to hear all about it,” Alyssa enthuses, and without a second look, the group turns around and leaves Nora staring after them.

No matter how attractive she finds Harry, there’s no denying that his personality is undeniably ugly. And as she watches him wrap an arm around Alyssa’s shoulder, Nora thinks it’s quite fitting that they’ve both found each other.

***

November 2007

Summer has always been Nora’s favorite season (living permanently near the ocean sort of makes that inevitable), but that summer after her first year, Nora’s never been more excited to be home. She missed her mom, she missed the beach, and she missed her normal friends who didn’t care that she wore sandals that were falling apart and shorts that were fraying at the edges.

When Nora came back from school, she begged her mother not to send her back to Townbridge for her second year. She told her how she couldn’t make friends, how everybody made her feel like a social pariah, and how she was absolutely miserable being so far away from her.

“Oh, Nora baby,” her mother said, holding her close. “You know exactly who you are. You’re strong, you’re beautiful, you’re intelligent—and you’re so much better than those kids who make you feel like you aren’t.”

“You don’t understand, mom,” Nora said through hiccups, wet tears soaking her cheeks, “They hate me. All of them. They never even gave me a chance.”

“Everybody?” her mother asked. And when Nora just stared at her with her lower lip trembling, Shannon combed her fingers through Nora’s blonde hair comfortingly. “I’m sure there are people at Townbridge who are just like you. I just don’t think you’ve tried to find them yet.”

Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Nora knew that her mother was right. So after another summer filled with scooping ice cream for tips and spending every second of her days off at the beach reading romance novel after romance novel, Nora packed up her things for the second time—this time with another suitcase—and set off for Connecticut with higher hopes for her second year.

Things seemed to be turning around for her when she discovered that her roommate was no longer Alyssa Whalen. Instead, it was a girl named Lydia who lived a few towns over in Madison by the beach, just like Nora. They bonded instantly over their shared love of having sea-knotted hair and the feeling of having sand squished between your toes and letting your fingers wrinkle from wading through the briny water for too long. And when Lydia encourages Nora to sign up for the swim team with her, Nora’s grateful that she’s finally found a friend in this hellhole.

Her second year is leagues better than her first, considering in the first three months, she barely had to cross paths with Alyssa and Harry. On the rare instances that they do run into each other, they simply ignore the other’s existence, and Nora doesn’t mind it one bit. It’s just easier that way, she supposes.

Halfway through Nora’s swim season, she turns sixteen and discovers that everybody around her is getting their license. Lydia’s parents bought her a used 2005 Honda Civic when she passed her driver’s test, and when she told Nora that she could use it whenever she needed, Nora felt bad lying to her new friend. Because once again she was playing catch up, getting her learner’s permit over the summer when everybody was already scheduling their exam, and with the way things were going, Nora wouldn’t be able to get her license until she was home again for summer break.

She also didn’t want to admit to Lydia that she couldn’t afford a car, and that her mother would never allow Nora to take her 1997 Toyota Corolla to campus.

After swim practice one November afternoon, Nora leaves the Athletic Center with wet hair to head back to her dorm in Donahue Hall completely across campus. Normally, Nora walks with Lydia, but since it’s Friday and students who live in-state with a license are allowed to leave campus for the weekend, Nora’s forced to make the twenty-minute journey alone.

With her gym bag slung over her shoulder, Nora begins to walk through the parking lot to head towards the footpath that will bring her through campus. The sky is awfully dark for four in the afternoon, and when she looks up and notices the menacing grey clouds, she kicks herself for not packing her umbrella before she left her room this morning.

Just as she’s almost in the clear, she hears a familiar giggle that makes her skin crawl. Living with Alyssa for one excruciating year has allowed Nora to recognize that sound almost immediately, and sheepishly she tucks her chin deeper into the neckline of her jacket, praying that her face is hidden as she walks past the group.

When Nora reaches inside her half-zipped gym bag for her water bottle, she swears to herself when the strap detaches from the siding and the nylon bag falls to the cement. Making sure everything is strapped appropriately, she heaves the bag over her shoulder once it’s zipped up. As she swings her elbow to place the bag comfortably around her body, she doesn’t take into account her proximity to a particularly shiny black SUV—and just before she can escape the parking lot undetected, her bag smashes against the hood of the car, causing the headlights to flicker on and off and the alarm to blare piercingly through the space.

“Hey!” Nora hears from behind her. When she turns she sees Harry jogging towards her, his brown hair dripping from the shower he just took. He’s wearing joggers and a Townbridge Academy Soccer sweatshirt, and when he reaches inside his pocket and reveals a shiny key fob, Nora swears for the second time knowing that the fancy car she just accidentally hit belonged to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” His voice is booming through the parking lot and it’s enough to make Nora feel incredibly small. When he finally presses the alarm button on his key and the blaring stops, she can hear his exasperated breaths in its place, and she’s not quite sure what’s worse.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“—I saw the whole thing, Harry!” Alyssa calls over from her spot across the cement, walking towards the pair of them with an accusatory finger extended in Nora’s direction. “She slammed her gym bag against your car.”

“It was an accident!” Nora screeches, feeling her face turning red. “My bag strap fell off and when I went to put it back on my shoulder, I bumped your car. Not, er, intentionally.”

Harry looks between the two girls with an annoyed expression on his face. “Just be more careful, yeah? It’s brand new.”

When Nora looks at the behemoth of a vehicle to her left, observing the shiny black exterior with the words Range Rover written across the front in chrome lettering, she can only imagine the outrageous price tag it has. Which is why she nods, apologizing one last time.

“Won’t happen again.” Nora begins to turn around on her heel, just as the air begins to get cooler and the slightest smell of rain can be detected in the distance.

“You’re walking all the way to Donahue in the rain?” Harry asks suddenly, and Nora begins to wonder how he even knows she lives in that building. She pauses, thinking if he or Alyssa or any one of their stupid friends lives in Donahue, and when she comes up with nothing, she turns around with a confused expression on her face.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t have a car.” Before she can feel the first drop of rain hit her skin, laughter erupts from the small group surrounding Harry and his car. Nora hides her face, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

With one last gulp, Nora turns around and begins walking towards the footpath, shoving the hood of her flimsy rain jacket over her head.

“Well, at least your hair is already wet!” Nora hears Alyssa call out from behind her, with more laughter following until Nora’s a safe distance away from where she can no longer be scrutinized by Harry and his rude friends.

As Nora reaches Donahue Hall with her tracksuit bottoms sticking to her legs like a second skin and her jacket completely drenched, all she can think about is how she’d rather walk another ten miles before ever having another conversation with Alyssa Whalen and Harry Styles if her life fucking depended on it.

***

A/N: Here’s chapter two! We’ve finally met Harry and Alyssa (yikes), so feel free to share with me your thoughts and predictions for the next part! High school is a funny time period to write about, and I’m excited to share the next part with you all. Look out for it on Friday, February 19th, which will be the normal update schedule. Until then, stay safe! x

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 years ago

Text

L.D.S.K: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst, fluff

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

Hotch wants everyone to reenact the shooting at the park to get a better idea of where the unsub was located. One of the cops is playing the unsub while the BAU team is on the field where the other victims were. With the help of the cones as well as your abilities, everyone has a place to call their own. The only people not on the field are Detective Calvin, Hotch, and Gideon.

Elle is standing where the father and son were playing catch. You, Spencer, and Derek are standing where the guy was flying the kite. Other officers are standing where the last victim was shot as well as bystanders. Everyone has comms in their ears to communicate with the agents at home base. They have cameras everywhere to get a good idea of where everyone was. You hold your camera and scan the area to see what your victim might have seen.

“Elle, Jerry Middleton was facing a little further south. Can you give it to us?” Hotch instructs over the comm.

“How’s that?” she asks when she turns the camera more to her right.

“Perfect. Hold your camera right there.”

“It doesn't look like Jerry Middleton had a clear view of the sniper's vehicle when he was shot. The tree branches were in the way,” Gideon observes.

“I do have a clear view of the vehicle from here. Tim Reilly would have seen it if he'd looked down from the kite,” Spencer informs.

“Good. Have the unsub pop the trunk. See if Reid can see it,” Hotch orders.

A few moments later, and the trunk of the car pops open big enough to get the barrel of the gun through. You can see it, but only because you know that’s not how the unsub did things.

“No, sorry, I can’t.”

“Hotch, I don’t think he popped his trunk,” you blurt out.

“It’s the only way to stay hidden from everyone else.”

“That depends on the kind of car the unsub uses. Didn’t the really old cars used to have their gas tank behind their license plate? That pops open.”

“We’ll keep that in mind. Thank you. Okay, everyone, move to position two.”

While everyone was shifting to the next positions, you take a few steps to your left to approach Derek. He’s looking at Spencer as he scans the area, and you nudge his arm.

“You have to go easier on Spencer.”

“What are you talking about?”

“A couple of mornings ago? You know how he feels about failing, and it feels like you’re kicking him when he’s down.”

“I was just teasing him. He knows that.”

“There’s a difference between teasing and being mean.”

“Why do you care? You got feelings for him or something? I heard about the two dates you’ve been on.”

“So? We just went to see a movie,” you shrug.

“That’s not what I heard. A little birdie told me you two kissed.”

“It was the cheek, and damn it Penelope,” you curse.

“How’d you know it’s her?”

You just give him a look that screams, “are you kidding me?” You turn back to the car where Officer McCarty is playing the unsub. You look off the right to see JJ, Gideon, and Detective Calvin hassling a news reporter. Something isn’t right. The Detective walks over to Hotch who is on the phone with who you presume to be Penelope. Something is definitely not right.

A SWAT team approaches the car McCarty’s in from behind. They get out a smoke bomb and unleash it so that McCarty’s view is tainted. Shit, something is definitely wrong.

“Derek, Spencer, get down!” you hiss and grab both men’s sleeves.

You yank them to the ground as you get down. They yell out in shock, but once they see the smoke, they are on full alert. You can’t hear what’s being said, but McCarty throws out the assault rifle and his sidearm out of the trunk. He gets out with his hands in the air, and once it’s clear, a SWAT member takes him down to handcuff him. They get him up, and as they are leaving, someone shoots McCarty in the head right between the eyes.

“Get down!” Gideon tells once the shot is fired.

You reach over to place your arm over Spencer’s head as if to protect him. You look up and notice a car lingering in the back. The license plate is gone until it’s shifted back into place. You can’t read what it says, and the car peels out of there quietly before you have a chance to see or do anything.

However you did get one thing… a flash of a hospital. That’s when it all clicks into place.

You knew it.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, right?” you ask Spencer once you get back to the office.

“No. I’m fine,” he whispers.

“How did McCarty end up playing the unsub?” JJ asks.

“Weigart punished McCarty for mouthing off during the profile briefing by making him the unsub and sticking him in the trunk of the car all afternoon,” Detective Calvin answers.

“Wait, then how did the unsub find out about the reenactment?”

“Come on. Cops talk. Pissed-off cops talk loud—at home, at the bars, at gyms, and to anyone who'll listen,” Derek sighs.

“What do we know? Our unsub went from wounding civilians to executing a police officer, so he's escalated. He's not staying on script,” Gideon thinks out loud.

“Sometimes, it's what they don't do,” Hotch points out.

“He did not pick McCarty at random,” Spencer adds. “He didn't take the gut shot.”

“Why?” Hotch asks the group.

“He wants to send a message. ‘Nobody takes credit for my work’. His ego won’t allow it. He feels under appreciated. He doesn’t have contact with the media, but he does have contact with the victims. He’s not a police officer,” you just get started.

“Go on,” Gideon encourages you.

“I saw something out there. I saw a car. I wasn’t able to get a license plate number, but I did see the license plate shift back into place which confirms my theory of how he shoots the victims. When we got here, I mentioned something about where the victims go when they get shot.”

“Where do people who get shot go? The hospital. Was he getting away to get there to see the chaos, or is there another reason entirely?” Spencer repeats what you said word for word.

“Right, that,” you say slowly before getting back on topic. “The shooter isn’t a cop because he’s a surgeon. He wants to play the hero when the victims come in for surgery. He doesn’t kill them because he wants them to die, he does it to save them. It’s what fuels his ego.”

“Alright, thanks,” Derek says into the phone before hanging up and rejoining the group. “Garcia nailed down the geographic profile. The crime scenes are centered on two separate locations.”

“The hospitals,” you and Hotch say at the same time.

“I believe it's a case of hero homicide,” Gideon says.

Detective Calvin is driving with Gideon up front with her and you and Spencer sitting in the back. The rest of the agents are in another car following.

“What's that?” the driver asks.

“The best-known case was hospital nurse Richard Angelo. He would inject toxins into his victims, then wait for them to crash so that he could run to the rescue and save them. He killed 25 people, and that's just what we know of,” Spencer explains.

“If he attacked then to save them, why'd he kill 25 people?”

“He wasn’t very good at it,” you shrug. “And hospitals don’t keep records of people who almost died.”

“So, what's the profile on one of these guys?” the detective asks.

“Arrogant, conceited, and feels superior to everyone around them,” Gideon answers quietly.

“You've just described every surgeon I've ever met.”

“Landman,” Gideon says suddenly.

“Who?” you wonder.

He doesn’t answer but instead takes out his cell phone. Whoever is on the other line picks up quickly, and Gideon doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries.

“Let’s start with Landman.”

Before going to the surgeon in question, most of the team gathers in a conference room to discuss Dr. Landman in detail as well as a course of action. The only person who isn’t here is Hotch because he’s checking out Landman’s car.

“Okay, courtesy of Garcia,” Derek says when he takes the piece of paper she faxed over. “Landman was in the army, and started out in M.P. School.”

“There’s your law enforcement,” you scoff.

“But he was smart, got a degree on Uncle Sam, and ended up a doctor with special forces. He bounced around from hospital to hospital since his discharge in 2001,” Derek reads from the paper.

“Has Dr. Landman been under any unusual strain? Has he had a reprimand? Has he had any kind of major blow to his ego?” Gideon asks as he stares out the window.

“Last month, he was passed over for chief of surgery,” the woman in charge, Cheryl Marston, says.

“Let's get a warrant for his house. Let's see if we find the weapon.”

“Okay,” Derek nods and gets up to do so.

“What can I do to help?” The stranger asks.

“You can tell me where he is right now.”

One look at the suspect in question, and you knew he isn’t the shooter. You saw bits and pieces of what the shooter looks like, and Landman doesn’t have any of the distinctive marks. How can you tell this to the team? How can you prove it wasn’t him? How can you make them see what you see?

As Gideon is talking to the surgeon, Hotch approaches everyone from behind. You, Spencer, and Elle are standing outside of the glass watching the interaction.

“You get anything from his car?” Elle asks the older agent.

“It's a red 2-seat Maserati.”

“It’s not him,” you say.

“How do you know?” Hotch asks.

He claimed earlier in the week that he wants to understand what you can do, and this is your opportunity.

“Remember when we checked out the crime scene at the park before the re-enactment? I saw the car pull up to the spot. A man got out. I didn’t see his face because there were three black holes where his eyes and mouth were supposed to be. Everything else was distinctive. Landman doesn’t have the same build as the person I saw. Landman has a full head of hair. The shooter doesn’t.

“It’s not all in my head. I don’t see things because I want to see them or because my mind is twisting things. I see them for what they are. Landman isn’t the shooter. No matter how arrogant he may be. It’s just his personality.”

“Okay, I trust you. Where is he?”

“Dr. Pate isn’t the only person who thinks I’m a God,” Landman practically shouts so that everyone on the other side of the class can hear.

“This way,” you instruct and walk away from the group.

“Let’s go, Reid,” Hotch says and takes your crush with him.

“Check out Dr. Pate if it’s necessary. But I can say with 100% confidence that it’s not Landman. Richard Angelo wanted to be a hero because in his everyday life, he was a nobody. Landman’s a great surgeon, and with that, comes with respect and power all on its own.”

“Yeah, but you know, surgeons are a different breed. There are stars in the field, and Landman is definitely not one of them,” Spencer spits out.

You three approach the nurses desk where a gentleman is standing with his back turned to you. You stop short in your tracks as the vision of the car comes into your mind.

“Excuse me. I'd like to speak with Dr. Pate,” Hotch says and flashes his badge.

The nurse turns around, and it’s like the whole picture is cleared up for you. The man you saw in your vision becomes clearer to match the person in front of you. The black holes disappear to show the face of the man standing before you. He looks at the three of you before nodding.

“Yes, sir. I'll go find her for you,” he says and walks off.

Your eyes stay glued to the man.

“He’s not a surgeon,” you whisper fearfully.

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