#downside to it being long lasting is that it limits the window of when i can take it

[detergent3000]

im on vyvanse right now but ive been on adderall before. i dont really know when or why i switched from adderall to vyvanse honestly cause i really only just started paying attention to my medical stuff this year (ive been on adhd meds since kindergarten). i dont really care that im on vyvanse instead of adderall tho its just that adderall is the more well known adhd med so when i say im on vyvanse the only people who are like “oh! adhd!” are other adhders who are or have been on vyvanse too (where as if i were on adderall itd instantly click. and id be able to quote that one vine). anyways all that is to say that cause im on the less popular one its led to me looking into the differences between adderall and vyvanse (partly so if people ever ask what the difference is i’ll have an answer) and the conclusion ive come to from my occasional research is that vyvanse is just better. Like vyvanse last longer, vyvanse may be slightly stronger/more effective, theres been less reports of sexual side effects for vyvanse than for adderall, vyvanse is harder to get addicted to because your body takes longer to process the non-stimulant part of it (probably also why it lasts longer). all of these differences are only slight and ultimately theyre so similar its hard to really compare them but like if you had to pick which one was The Best i think vyvanse would win, only by a little bit, but it would still win!

[ceilidho]

tell me something nuclear winter ghoap NOW!! (bo)

BO!!!!! ok you wanna read what i've got so far?? it's not very much but here's what i have for my project that's tentatively titled "permafrost"

At first, it comes as a series of lights in the distance, a gentle rain like a cascade of falling stars. And then, it goes dark.

It happens over the course of several hours. By the time the dust settles—and it never settles, never really settles, always hangs in the air and renders it unbreathable, unlivable—and the sirens quiet and the last few screams die off, there’s hardly anything left. Hardly anything left living. 

The initial blast doesn’t reach up the country and, for that, Johnny lasts the months after the first nuclear bombs are dropped. Somedays, he can barely recollect the hours after the initial impact; they come back in foggy chunks, stumbling out of his house, boots crunching over the glass that had been blown clean out of the windows, covering his eyes against the flash of light and staring out into the distance at the mushrooming cloud of smoke just cresting the horizon. The bottom falling out of him at the sight.

More bombs hit other parts of the continent, several in Russia, throughout Asia and down into Africa, and across the pond as well. The world goes up in flames in an hour. In his cabin up in the Scottish Highlands, crutches jammed under his arms in his haste to limp his way outside, he sees the blast and then hears it a minute or so later. A roar rippling through the air. 

It shatters the world. 

In the present day, the boat sways where it’s roped to the wharf, the waters choppy. Johnny sits on the deck in a foldout chair, fastening a new head onto his ax, fixing the metal wedge over the eye to hold it in place. The blade is cleaner than the one that’d just cracked, sharp from being run over the whetstone. He pulls his scarf back over his nose when it slips down his face.

His cabin in the Highlands hadn’t been a viable choice for longer than a few months, not after the cold had finally begun to set in. Too far up north. He’d made his way down south over the course of weeks, bringing with him only as much as he could carry. A bittersweet goodbye to the summer home of his youth, a hand laid flat against the door before turning on his heel and starting the long trek south.

It’s not any warmer farther down south, particularly around the coast where the wind gets bitterly cold, sinking into the bone. He’d found the boat on a whim, the only structure still relatively intact and, most importantly, isolated.

Making his home on an old boat might not win him any awards for brightest idea, but the downside to traveling further into the country, away from the untenable glacial weather up north, is that it coincides with the areas where the bombs were dropped, leaving limited options for shelter.

Months pass. Years pass. 

His ankle healed funny all those years ago from prolonged bouts of starvation before desperation kicked in and from traveling miles on foot. He’d driven a portion of the way down north until the roads had outlived their usefulness—asphalt cracked, chunks of bedrock spiking up out of the ground. The rest he’d managed with his crutches and a single backpack, leaving the car to rot some three hundred or so miles up the country.

It's some strange occurrence, Johnny thinks at age thirty-something (he’s lost count), that his lot be murky, for death to miscount. He witnesses an apocalypse and comes out the other side. Happenstance. Coincidence, that he’s discharged from the military not a month before the first bomb hits London and leaves a crater that never fills, that never heals. A pockmark in the earth. 

His lips twist bitterly. The price of a long life is a barbed and slick soul. 

​​Immortality sometimes occurs to him, or godship, but neither option rests well with him and Johnny wonders if this is how gods are born: not of sea foam but of inevitability, of miscalculation, of death's err, of smallness, of acorns he carried as a child through pastures behind his summer house.

He sniffs. Cuts that memory off at the quick.

Johnny gives himself a couple more minutes to fiddle around with the ax before looping it into the gear loops on his backpack and buckling it in.

[MISSING STUFF HERE]

Much of the city has returned to nature, rubble encased in snow and ice; the stores have long been looted or reduced to ash from the blast. 

[its-an-obsession]

Lavender Haze

Outer Banks Masterlist | Full Masterlist

A/N: This imagine is inspired by Taylor Swift's song, Lavender Haze. I will post other imagines with songs from the Midnight's album.

Summary: Being a Kook had its perks, but it also had its downsides. You lived on the edge of Figure Eight and The Cut. Unlike most Kook parents, your parents let you live a carefree life and be friends with whomever you wanted. However, they were still set on you presenting a good image to the other Kooks. When you moved, you met Kiara and her friends. It shouldn't be surprising that you fell for the blonde surfing Pogue.

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nick Name

Y/L/N: Your Last Name

Y/F/M: Your Favorite Meal

Warnings: Long Imagine

JJ Maybank x-reader

The ceiling fan circle around and around, a gust of wind whipping past the wooden blades. My music hummed in the background with the soft sound of crickets outside my window. I flipped on my side with my shoulder against the mattress. In bold red lettering, my clock read 12:30 am.

Every night for the past few months, JJ had been sneaking into my room to see me. I had told him multiple times that my parents didn't mind him going through the front door, but he said that coming in through the window was more fun. I sat up in my bed to check my phone.

No messages from JJ, only one from Kiara about a funny TikTok she saw. I leaned back in my bed as I scrolled through my Instagram feed. A couple seconds passed until a knock came from the window beside my bed. JJ sat there with a smile.

I practically hopped off the bed to open the window. He stepped in, trying to keep his balance. "Sorry, I'm a few minutes late. John B couldn't find his phone and decided to tear the whole chateau apart," JJ said. I closed the window before joining him on the bed.

"Couldn't you have just called it?" I suggested. "Yeah, but he had it on silent for some odd reason," JJ replied. I chuckled as the two of us fell into a comfortable silence. He laced his hand with mine, running a thumb on the side of my palm. "You ever notice that your ceiling always shakes like it's going to fall?" he mentioned.

Meet me at midnight Staring at the ceiling with you Oh, you don't ever say too much And you don't really read into My melancholia

I turned to him with my brows furrowed, keeping down a laugh. He shifted his position, so he was on his side. "Now, why would you say that? Because now all I'm going to think about is my fan falling on me in the middle of the night," I replied. He let go of my hand, raising his arms in defense.

He sat up in my bed with his eyes settling on the view behind my house. My house was close to the water, perfectly positioned in front of the docks of other houses. I often would stay up just to see the moon sit above the dark blue waters.

Sometimes, I'd even do an all-nighter just to watch the sunrise. My head comfortably rested on JJ's shoulders, our hands still intertwined. I looked up at him and admired how the moon landed on his skin, illuminating his little sun freckles.

In the past, I never really had good relationships, not counting that one fling with Kelce in middle school. JJ knew that this whole relationship was new to me. I wasn't used to someone being there for me 24/7.

I've been under scrutiny You handle it beautifully All this shit is new to me

JJ must've felt my gaze. He turned away from the view to catch my eyes. "What?" he said. "Nothin," I responded, bringing my attention to the water. A few boats would coast by, which was normal. Sometimes a few reckless and adventurous Kooks - or Pogues - would spend all night on the water.

My friends and I occasionally do that, but Pope usually declines, given his parent's strict curfew schedule. "Were you looking at me again?" he said. "Looking at you? I always look at you," my attention was still on the window.

He sighed before setting a finger underneath my chin. JJ brought my focus back to him. Now, I noticed the limited space between us. JJ kept his finger underneath my chin before bringing his lips to mine. The same hand went to the side of my face.

I felt my stomach do flips at the feeling of his lips on mine. We've shared moments like these several times, but this is the first time it has felt like this. I couldn't keep my smile from going away when we pulled away for a pause. "So, since you're a Kook," JJ said.

"I'm not a Kook," I replied, "I'm a...."

"A Pook," he finished. I sat up in my spot, tilting my head in confusion. He chuckled at my expression. "What the hell is a 'Pook'?" I said. "It's a Pogue and Kook. You know, a Pook," he clarified. I shook my head in amusement and laid back down, now resting on his chest. He kissed my head until the two of us fell asleep.

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me. So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

_____

(Later the next day)

This morning, I had to leave JJ's arms to take an early shift at The Wreck with Kiara. Kiara and I stood side by side as we refilled the napkin dispensers and condiment trays. We had about fifteen minutes before the restaurant opened up.

It usually wasn't busy in the morning, but when the clock strikes 12:00, The Wreck gets really busy. "And he spent the night? Yet, you never told him?" Kie mentioned, following me as I set one of the silver dispensers at a booth.

I nodded and went back to our station. Kiara and Sarah were the only ones in our group who knew I loved JJ. Pope and John B were aware of my relationship with JJ, but they didn't know how I truly felt. Kiara sighed and finished filling the last bit of the napkins. She started working on adding the condiments to some of the trays.

"I just," I paused, "I'm worried that if I say something, it won't end well."

She nodded and handed me two trays. Kiara pointed to the other side of the restaurant. "I mean, that thing with Kelce in middle school and then Thomas freshmen year doesn't help," she said, "And, what makes you think JJ would make fun of you for telling him?" She grabbed one of the trays from me. "I don't think that. It's the anxiety and overthinker side of me that's thinking that," I replied.

My best friend chuckled and nodded her head in agreement. I married the two bottles of ketchup, making sure they were even. Kiara leaned against the table with her arms crossed. "Just skip the 'l love you part' and get married. God, it's like watching two feral cats fight over a piece of salmon," Kiara commented.

All they keep asking me Is if I'm gonna be your bride The only kind of girl they see is a one-night or a wife.

I looked at her with my mouth agape, trying to think of a response to her terrible analogy. Kiara trailed her eyes away from the floor to look at me. "Wha-what did you just say?" I chuckled between each word. She shoved my shoulder and went back to her job. "You know what I meant," Kiara replied. She sent me a look, preventing me from saying anything.

Her parents walked out of the doors of the kitchen. They looked around to check our progress. Mrs. Carrera noticed the two of us were laughing together. "Girls, could one of you go change the toilet paper and towels in the bathroom?" she questioned.

"I can do it," I set the tray at one of the empty tables. Kiara laughed to herself, remembering the stupid comment she had made. Mrs. Carrera cleared her throat, which caught her daughter's attention. I escaped into the bathroom, still laughing.

As I set a new paper towel in the bathroom, and some toilet paper in each stall, I couldn't get the talk with Kiara out of my head. My phone rang from my back pocket. JJ's profile popped up on my screen:

Mr. JJ Maybank: Hey! How's your shift going?

Me: Pretty good. Kiara compared me to a feral cat, so...

Mr. JJ Maybank: What? 😂

Me: It's a long story. What are you doing?

Mr. JJ Maybank: John B needed my help to clean the boat.

Me: By helping him, you mean watching him do all the work and saying he missed a spot.

Mr. JJ Maybank: Shhh, go back to work, Y/N/N.

I sent him a 'middle finger' Bitmoji before stepping out of the bathroom. Kiara was sweeping the dining area with a glum look on her face. I guess her mom tasked her with cleaning when she saw us laughing.

"Feral cats," I muttered when I walked past her.

She reached over and tapped me on the back of the leg with the spikey broom. I lunged at her as if I could fight her. "Oh, I'm so scared," she said. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the cleaning spray and some paper towels to wipe down the tables and windows.

A couple hours passed, and The Wreck was busy as usual. I balanced a tray of food on my way to a table outside. It was nice to feel the bright sun on my skin, immediately warming me up. "I've got a plate of fried shrimp, curly fries, and a small side of corn salad," I handed the plate to the little girl, "And crab cakes with potato wedges and coleslaw." I set the plate down in front of the girl's father.

"Can I get you two anything else?" I asked, tucking the tray underneath me. "Yes. Could we get some more napkins and one of the Lobster Bibs?" the man asked. "Of course, I'll be right back with those," I said. I dropped the tray off with the rest of them and grabbed some extra napkins and one of the bibs from the kitchen.

The man thanked me when I handed them the things he asked for. Today felt more busy than usual, I've already had three people ask me for things that weren't on the menu and an older woman asking for a nonalcoholic drink that we didn't offer.

"Hey, Y/N, table three was asking for you, by the way," George, another server, said. "Okay. Anything specific?" I asked, grabbing a pen from the stand. He shrugged and went back to the kitchen.

I sighed, thinking of endless possibilities as to what the table wanted. I hadn't served them, so who knew what they wanted. My worried demeanor was replaced when John B, Pope, Sarah, and JJ sat at the table. "Hey, what're you guys doing here?" I asked, setting my notepad into the pocket of my apron.

"Kiara said you two were having a tough shift. So, we figured we'd come and visit," Sarah said, smiling. I smiled and thanked them. "She's not wrong," I said.

"When do you and Kie have your lunch break?" JJ asked, reaching over to lace his hand with mine. I checked my watch. "In about twenty minutes," I answered. "We can wait," John B said.

I thanked my thoughtful friends and went back to my other tables. Twenty minutes felt like twenty hours. Kiara and I sat with the boys outside, away from the customers. We had snuck some food out of the kitchen. JJ and I shared a plate of Y/F/M with a side of fries.

John B went on a tangent about JJ not helping with the HMS Pogue. My boyfriend claimed he saw a 'huge ass spider' and refused to step foot onto the boat. JJ's fear of spiders was something neither of us could speak about.

"It was big, okay? You'd be scared if you had seen it," JJ said, his hand resting around the back of my chair. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure tough guy," Sarah scoffed and rolled her eyes. Our lunch breaks were usually around thirty minutes, sometimes forty if Kiara's parents were feeling generous. Since it was busy today, we probably wouldn't get a forty-minute lunch.

I opened my mouth to speak but was rudely interrupted by someone. Thomas Collins joined in on our conversation. This was the same Thomas that I dated my Freshmen year. He's one of those guys that won't take no for answer. I didn't realize that until four months into our 'relationship'.

JJ took his arm off my shoulders to set a hand on my thigh. "How's my favorite crew doing?" Thomas asked with a sly smirk. "We're doing okay, thanks," Pope replied. Sarah took a sip of her Lemonade, trying her best to ignore Thomas' presence.

"So. JJ, Y/N. How're you two doing? Can't help but see you two are enjoying yourselves," Thomas said. Despite our hints, he grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat with us. I discreetly checked the time on my watch.

Thankfully, Kiara and I only had ten minutes left of our lunch break. Kiara looked over her shoulder, trying to find her dad or mom. "Have you gotten bored of her yet?" Thomas continued, "Does she still do that thing where she'll ask you to help her with something? Because she'd do that all the time, it would get so f-"

I drowned out his statements, watching him move his mouth in an obnoxious tone. JJ ran a hand up and down my leg. I noticed Kiara would glance at her watch and then at me. During this whole conversation, I hadn't noticed that JJ wasn't paying any attention to Thomas.

Which was weird. He'd do anything to threaten any guy who spoke badly about me. I looked at JJ to find him with his eyes already on me. He reassured me that everything was going to be okay, he wasn't listening to Thomas one bit.

I find it dizzying They're bringing up my history But you aren't even listening

Thomas leaned back in the chair with crossed arms. I hoped the chair would break from underneath him, and he'd humiliate himself. "Y/N and I have to finish our shift," Kiara cut the conversation short. JJ grabbed my hand and led me out of the chair. "Thomas, why don't you come out with us?" Sarah offered. "We'll show you around The Cut, take you to our favorite places," John B added.

My ex-boyfriend glanced at the two and then at JJ, standing before me. "No. I think I'll stay here, keep Y/N and Kie some company," Thomas denied. "Now," JJ's voice was tense. Kiara took me from JJ before things escalated. We went to the counter and clocked back in.

"You okay?" she asked. I nodded and tied my apron around my back. Kiara handed me my notepad, setting her own into the pocket. "I'm alright. I really thought we were gonna witness a Kook vs. Pogue battle," I responded.

"Yeah, me too."

_____

(Later)

I stepped out of the shower and changed into a pair of clothes. My best friend sat on my bed, flipping through her TikTok feed. "Any word from the gang?" I set my bag beside the bedroom door. Kiara sat up in my bed with her cell phone in hand.

"Yeah. I told them we'd head over to Chateau when you were done getting ready."

She set her phone down, grabbing her sandals from the side of the bed. I slipped my shoes on. "Are you okay after what happened earlier?" Kiara stood up from the bed. "I'm fine. Thomas' comments don't get to me anymore," I slipped my arm into the strap of my tote bag.

Kiara nodded. We hopped into my car and drove to the chateau, listening to Taylor Swift's new album. Taylor Swift was the number one artist that just the two of us listened to.

The boys hated it. Well, Pope didn't mind listening to her music. We often joke that he is a die-hard Swifty. When I pulled into the Chateu, John B and Sarah were sitting in the hammock while JJ and Pope were passing a football back and forth.

"Let's hope hanging out with Thomas didn't go haywire," Kiara said. I chuckled, stepping out of the car with my bag in hand. Pope caught the football before it fell to the ground. JJ was the first to greet Kiara and me.

He fist-bumped Kiara before bringing me in for a hug. JJ wouldn't let me go until we sat down on the hammock, stealing John B and Sarah's spot. John B stepped into the chateu to get some beers for everyone. "So, what happened to Thomas?" Kiara asked.

She sat down beside Pope on one of the benches. John B came out with the drinks. "Let's just say he won't be bothering us anytime soon," he handed me a beer. "What did you guys do?" I twisted the bottle cap off.

"Oh, you know, just told him that he's a terrible human being, and we that we saw him and his gf doin' it in the Cameron's pool," JJ smirked. "That'll do it," Kiara commented, tossing John B the bottle cap.

He caught it and dropped it into a trash bag beside him. I looked at Sarah when JJ said what they did. "That was the first time I heard anything about that," she said. JJ put his arm around my shoulder, bringing me to his chest.

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me. So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me I just wanna stay in that lavender haze That lavender haze

I felt his lips linger on the top of my head before pulling away. "So, what did Thomas do when you threatened him?" I asked. "Well, he did try to square up, but apparently, the boys are intimidating," Sarah replied. "Apparently?" Pope leaned forward to look at Sarah. She ignored his glance, finishing off her drink.

______

(Later)

As the night grew, I began to regret not bringing a jacket with me. John B started a fire a little while as the sun began to set. "Hey, your jacket's in my room if you wanted me to get it," JJ said. "I'll get it. I need to go to the bathroom anyways," I replied.

He nodded. I got up from the hammock, slipping my phone into my shorts pocket. "Could you grab me a water?" Sarah handed me her empty can of beer. "Yeah. Does anyone else need anything?" I offered. They all shook their heads.

I stepped into the guest room and found my jacket hanging on the bedpost. I could still hear my friends talking when I stepped into the kitchen. The fridge didn't offer much, but I was able to find water for myself and Sarah. As I walked back outside, I heard my name mentioned a few times, either by Kiara or Sarah.

Talk your talk and go viral I just need this love spiral Get it off your chest Get it off my desk

Sarah thanked me as I handed her a water bottle. I joined JJ on the hammock. "Hey, could I talk to you for a second?" he asked. "Sure," I replied. JJ took my hand, leading me over to the dock. The group whistled as we walked where the boat was tied. I looked over my shoulder to spot Kiara and Sarah giving me a thumbs-up.

JJ and I stood side by side. The sun was beginning to set above the marsh, creating a beautiful orange and pink glow on the water. JJ leaned against the dock with his hands resting on the wooden bar. I watched him as he thought to himself. "You okay?" I asked, noticing him playing with his bracelets.

His eyes darted from the water and then up to the long grass. I set a hand on top of his wrist, gaining his attention. "Do you ever start thinking of someone while you’re walking or doing something random, and you start smiling uncontrollably because you’ve got that certain someone on your mind?" he spoke.

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me. So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

I nodded in response. JJ sighed and turned to look at me; he leaned against the docks pillar. "You're..." he looked back at the group (GIF Above), "You're that person I think about constantly." I smiled. The same round of butterflies that happened earlier sprouted. "This whole feelings thing, it's still kind of new to me," he said.

"Me too," I nodded, looking out at the horizon. My mind reminded me of the conversation between Kiara and my thoughts that were rotating. Better say it now before I completely disregard it.

"JJ, I love you," I blurted. It took him a second to look away from the water to me. I hesitated to look up from the ground. The corners of JJ's lips lifted. "Really?" his brows rose. "Yeah," my voice was soft as I spoke. He let out a relieved sigh. JJ wrapped his arms around me.

I already knew that the group was going to have a field day. Hell, I bet they already are. They've got a good view of the dock. "I love you too," JJ said. His grip on me tightened when I rested my head on his chest.

Get it off your chest Get it off my desk That lavender haze I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

Taglist: @kasidy709 @soflties @elliecool123

[editorsusan]

At work this week I've been training to learn a new task - producing dynamic digital editions. This is a process that Janice has pioneered for the company over the past couple of years, and it has grown to the point where more people on our team need to know how to do it as the need for it expands.

So far McClatchy is using these in about a dozen of its products, but we'll gradually be adding more until all of the products are using it (I think?). I don't understand all the details yet, but I'm learning.

I've enjoyed learning this because it's about the closest I'll probably be able to get anymore to doing anything remotely related to page design (which I enjoy), and it's a new software system to learn (PageSuite), and I enjoy doing that, too.

The biggest downside to working dynamic edition shifts is the late hours; I've been on 4pm to midnight for the training, and the regularly scheduled shifts can be until as late as 2am (in my time zone).

I used to work until midnight quite regularly back in the old days of the Bee copy desk, but with all the evolution of our work processes, it has been years since the last time I worked any later than about 9:30pm. So working until midnight has been an adjustment - it's an entirely different lifestyle being on swing shift versus day shift.

I never minded being on swing shift before, but it's the switching back and forth between the day/swing shift that can become a grind. We'll just have to wait and see how it goes.

Anyway, here's a thumbnail of one of the digital editions I worked on last night. These dynamic editions are made to resemble regular newspaper pages, but the biggest difference is that the stories don't have to fit the space. The stories usually are longer than the space, and when a reader is looking at these (as I understand it), they just click on the story and it opens the full story in another window. When they're done reading that, they close the story window and return to the dynamic page (or pages) to continue reading.

This is McClatchy's strategy to give newsrooms a chance to push out fresher news (they can select up to 20 of their top stories per day, but most use fewer than that) to their readers with later deadlines than the print editions have. Janice could explain all of this much better than I can. I think of the dynamic editions as kind of a hybrid between the print product and the newsroom's website. So yes, readers can still just go directly to the website for the latest news, but the dynamic edition sort of connects the latest news to the product's daily e-edition.

As you can see, we don't have to follow the same character-count standards here for headlines that we use for the print editions. And because these pages are 100% templated (we have zero ability to adjust the size of the articles), if a story is too short to fill the space, the only tools we have left to force the story to sort of fit are to make the headline extra long (we can also add deck heds, but I didn't try doing that yesterday) or else manually recrop the photos to be more vertical in the hope that those actions will push the text down far enough to fill the hole on the page.

The current software functionality is pretty limited, but I hear that we're expecting to get a software upgrade of some sort next year that might give us more tools/control.

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 11

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin wouldn’t really say he was a good judge of character, the amount of friends in low places he had was a testament to that. However, even he could tell that this new alteon that had appeared was bad news.

There was something about the way the guy held himself--it was cocky and arrogant, as if he was certain he was the most important person in the room. Not to mention the sleazy little smile he was wearing that seemed to promise trouble. But what Gavin hated most was the way the guy looked at him. It was hard to describe, but the only thing Gavin could think of to equate it to was how middle school bullies looked right before they were about to trip some poor kid in the hallway.

The green-eyed giant had been speaking in the same language that Gavin had heard a couple times throughout his time in the alteon dimension. Of course, he couldn’t understand any of it, which made him nervous for some reason.

“Not really much to look at, is he?” the new alteon remarked, now switching to English. “I know all humans are pretty pathetic, but I was expecting someone a bit tougher looking.”

Gavin scowled. This guy had intentionally alternated to speaking in a language Gavin could understand so that he would be able to hear the insult. Why was he being purposefully antagonistic? Yeah sure, Gavin was a criminal, but even Rael hadn’t been that big of a dick at first.

“Ashryn, I suppose you’re stationed here? Rael inquired. Gavin could tell he was trying to change the subject, to shift this “Ashryn” guy’s attention elsewhere.

“Why can’t he just tell this asshole to screw off?” Gavin thought to himself crankily. He tried to catch Rael’s eye but was unsuccessful. It was like he was very intentionally keeping his eyes up and forward.

“Hmm? Oh yes, that’s right,” Ashryn responded absentmindedly. He was apparently too preoccupied with staring at Gavin to give Rael his full attention.

What was it with these alteons and staring unabashedly? Just because Gavin was a comparatively tiny person from an alternate dimension didn’t mean they had the right to gawk at him like he was some sort of zoo animal. It was like all their manners flew out the window when it came to humans.

Ashryn stepped closer, a crafty smile still on his lips. “This is your first time dealing with a human up close, isn’t it?” he said to Rael while still not looking away from Gavin. “You don’t really realize how entirely inferior they are until you get close to them,” he continued. “Sure they look tiny and pathetic from afar, but up close you can really get a sense for how insignificant they are.”

Gavin really didn’t have a short temper, it was one of his few good traits actually. For the most part, he’d learned to just brush off insults and move on. He had given up on being well liked the moment he decided to become a thief. However, even Gavin’s temper had its limits, and he had just about reached his.

Springing to his feet, Gavin glared up at the massive elf-eared bastard standing in front of him. “What’s your problem?” he demanded, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

If this guy really wanted to insult Gavin and the rest of humanity so badly, why couldn’t he do it in his own native language? Oh yeah, because he was a complete ass. Ashryn didn’t just want to disparage humans, he wanted Gavin to know about it. For whatever reason, this alteon had decided he wanted to start a fight.

Next to Gavin, Rael had tensed up. The human hardly even noticed, he was too busy shooting daggers at Ashryn. Besides, Gavin was none too pleased with Rael at the moment anyways. He was basically just letting his comrade, or whatever they were to each other, run his mouth freely.

The grin on Ashryn’s face grew only wider at Gavin’s outburst. He took a step closer. “Rael, I think I’ve angered your little human,” he commented with a chuckle.

Gavin didn’t wait to see how Rael would’ve responded. Forget getting him to defend him. Who cared if Gavin was miniscule compared to Ashryn? He was going to stand up for himself. Someone needed to teach these giants some manners. Gavin was already in trouble, so it might as well be him.

“Okay you big, pointy-eared asshole,” he started with a bang. “Just because you’re bigger than humans doesn’t make you better than us--in fact with an attitude like yours, I’d argue you’re substantially worse than most humans I know...and I know some pretty shitty humans.” The words were flying out of his mouth almost of their own accord. It was like he’d opened a floodgate that he couldn’t close. “You’re clearly just a pompous dick who--”

“Enough!” The words echoed around him like thunder. At the same time there was a rush of air, a flash of movement, and then a thud that vibrated up through Gavin’s feet.

It took a moment for him to register the giant hand next to him, and a few more moments for him to realize it had just slammed down beside him. Gavin looked up, following the arm connected to the hand, expecting to see it attached to Ashryn. Instead, he was met with the rage filled face of Rael.

And then all of a sudden he was back in that clearing, pinned under a hand bigger than his entire body. The fear, the intimidation, the betrayal--it was all the same, probably even worse now actually. The worst part was that he didn’t understand, he didn’t understand why Rael was staring down at him with nothing but fury in his teal colored eyes.

Despite their turbulent relationship, Gavin had...well he had come to trust Rael. For god’s sake, he’d nearly considered the alteon to be something akin to a friend. So why...why had this happened? How had Gavin screwed this up?

“You will show some respect,” Rael growled down at him, and it was like Gavin was looking at a completely different person to the one he’d been talking to only a few minutes ago.

-

Why had he been put in this situation? Why did the guard outside the office have to be Ashryn? Why did Gavin have to snap like that? These questions swirled around inside Rael’s head as he looked down at the fearful human standing mere inches away from where he’d slammed his palm down on the bench.

“You had to do it,” a dark part of Rael’s mind told him. “If you hadn’t, Ashryn would never respect you, and he’d defame you to the entire Imperial Guard.” It was true--if Rael had failed to scold the human that was in his charge after he’d blatantly insulted an alteon soldier, he would be viewed as a failure among anyone who was anyone. Still, he hadn’t enjoyed doing it.

It wasn’t like last time, when Rael had trapped Gavin under his hand. There was no sense of satisfaction or pleasure derived from the action. All he could feel was a mess of anger and guilt.

He was furious that Ashryn had essentially manufactured the situation, but he was also angry with Gavin for quite literally forcing his hand. If the human had just kept his mouth shut, if he’d ignored Ashryn’s goading, then none of this would have happened. Why couldn’t Gavin have just made things easier?

“Well,” Ashryn spoke up with an appreciative tut. “I must say, you certainly know how to put a human in their place.”

Rael shifted his gaze towards the alteon. He couldn’t stand looking at Gavin anymore, seeing the fear and betrayal in those hazel eyes only deepened the heavy pit that was forming in his stomach.

“And you apparently know how to rile them up,” Rael muttered as he moved his hand away from Gavin and placed it back on his own lap.

Ashryn gave an amused chuckle. “Maybe so,” he answered with a satisfied grin on his face.

Despite having a primarily amicable relationship with one another, Rael had never much liked Ashryn. While they were about the same age and had gone through most of their training at the same time, Ashryn was regarded more highly within the Imperial Guard. Rael attributed this largely due to the fact that Ashryn’s family has had a long history of involvement with the Guard. Perhaps that also explained why the man was so pompous and smug all the time.

It was then that the door to the Emperor’s office opened for a second time. This time, it was a group of some of the top Imperial advisors exiting. They all eyed Gavin as they passed, however none of them said anything, only acknowledging the two soldiers with brief nods. Rael noticed that the last advisor out failed to close the door behind her, leaving him with a view inside the office.

There, sitting at his desk, was the Emperor of the entire realm of Iaela. He wore a calm smile on lips and waved a beckoning hand at Rael. “Bring in our human guest,” he called, his tone authoritative yet somehow still polite.

Ashryn was quick to assume his position beside the office door. He stood up straight, his arms behind his back like a perfect soldier. However, the part that the Emperor wouldn’t be able to see was his face--with that, Ashryn smirked over at Gavin. “Why does he look like he knows something that we don’t?” Unfortunately, there was no time for Rael to ruminate on his uncertainties. The Emperor was the very last person to be kept waiting.

Rael turned to Gavin. The human had gone pale and his body was so tense that it looked like the guy might bolt at any second. Rael was sure that the last thing Gavin wanted was to be picked up after what had just happened. However, there was no choice. There wasn’t even time for Rael to allow the human to walk onto his palm of his own accord.

As gently as possible, Rael carefully scooped the human up into his hands. Thankfully, Gavin didn’t put up any kind of fight; he gave a quiet gasp, but otherwise made no audible complaints. Once Rael was sure he wouldn’t drop the little man, he began to make his way into the Emperor’s office.

Immediately upon getting past the doorway, Rael felt a whoosh of air and heard a soft thud, indicating that the door had been shut behind them. This left him and Gavin entirely alone with the most powerful person in the realm.

This wouldn’t be Rael’s first time speaking with the Emperor, however it was certainly his first time alone, without any advisors, scribes, or guards around. Rael swallowed hard. He couldn’t mess this up--he had to prove himself to be a proper soldier worthy of being accepted into the ranks of the Imperial Guard. He wasn’t a peasant anymore, he was a proud, noble soldier.

“Rael, correct?” the Emperor inquired, the name sounded so foreign coming from his lips.

Rael nodded silently as he dipped into a low bow, which proved somewhat difficult while keeping his hands horizontal and steady for Gavin.

“Very well, Rael, could you place that human on my desk please?”

(Also, as a side note, I fixed up some continuity errors in chapters 6 and 9 if you feel like skimming through and seeing the minor adjustments)

[drxwsyni]

Yandere Mirio Togata x quirkless!f!Reader x Tamaki Amajiki

Anonymous asked: “I recently read your headcannons for poly yandere Tamaki and Miro. They were so good!! I was wondering if you could do a one shot about their darling escaping for over a week and is finally letting her guard down. Maybe while at the store the two yanderes finally find her. (Maybe the punishment that ensues afterward). Female quirkless reader if you will. Keep up the amazing work!”

a/n: im sorry this took so long! i have a lot of requests that are really time consuming along with my other fics right now but i swear everything that’s sent in so far will be completed. And thank you anon! I actually really like this pairing so i’m glad people are asking more of it :)

_____

Isolation      (2.3k words)

_____

One week.

Seven whole days without the smothering presence of the two so called ‘heroes’ who’d delusionally kept you under lock and key without rest.

The smiles and reassuring sentiments they offered did little to calm the fear you had for the men. No matter how much they declared their devotion to your safety and general well being, nothing could hide the undenying brutality they were capable of should you ever slip up.

You’d seen them in action before. On the news or in a social media coverage―during the time prior to meeting them―demonstrating the extent of their quirks. Their personalities were so gentle, almost as if to distract from the severeness of their abilities. And for the general public, it did the trick.

It did it for you too.

The warmth to their compassion was irresistible. The worst part about it was how genuine it was―and still is. You would be gladly basking in their affection even in the present if it weren’t for the predicament they’d placed you in after you ever so foolishly opened up to them.

The realization on their end should’ve been nothing to think twice about. It came in an idle conversation one day―the fact that you were quirkless.

They’d already grown fairly protective of you since that fateful day in which they worked together to rescue you and your coworkers from a hostage situation. But after getting to know you more, and subsequently coming across this detail, the change was like day and night.

You didn’t even see it coming. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, wrists cuffed together with a long metal chain attached, padlocked to the headboard of a king sized bed. When you found out who the guilty party of this transgression was, you knew better than to fight tooth and nail despite everything in your being wanting to.

No, it was about outsmarting them. They were stronger―so much stronger. You wouldn’t stand a chance against one, let alone both Mirio and Tamaki. It came down to biding your time.

Fighting the bile in the back of your throat, you let them have their way. The two of them were smothering.

Mirio was a little more lenient. He spent a lot of time around you, but somewhere in his dysfunctional mind was the notion that you needed your space...sometimes. His downsides came in the form of a tight grip around your frame that threatened to squeeze the air from your chest and keep it out. More than once had it left you pitifully begging him to loosen his hold even in the slightest.

As for Tamaki, he was much gentler with his affection. You were allowed the space to breath, but it didn’t mean much when you could almost never pry the man off of you when he was around. Clingy was an understatement―he treated you more like a pampered pet than an actual human.

Together, they were suffocating. You’d never seen such a display of diligence until being forced into the confines of their home. There left absolutely no room for error on their part―something you became keenly aware of.

So, rather than brute forcing your way to freedom, you resolved to lure them into trust the way they’d done with you.

The ordeal took ages, and your will to go through with your plans was ashamedly growing weaker each day. But finally you’d caught them slipping up under the pretence that you weren’t watching their every move like a hawk.

First it was the passcode to the computer in the living room―to disarm the house’s security system, the cameras along with it. After that it was a matter of getting your hands on the spare keys to the locks, both those around your wrists and the digital ones keeping the front door shut. This feat proved to be significantly harder, but one of them was bound to falter eventually.

You’d never felt so grateful to Mirio as he carelessly left his keys on the side table in the entrance in favour of scooping you up in his arms and settling on the couch with you instead. And he left them there as he quickly went to change out of his work attire in his bedroom―just enough time for you to pry the spares off the metal keyring and pocket them for yourself.

They hated leaving you alone and without supervision, a worry that Tamaki held more than Mirio, so it left the window for escape impossibly small. But you jumped on the opportunity the second it came.

For some ungodly reason neither of them picked up on the missing keys.

Your luck must have been coming to existence all at once, as not soon after they were forced to be apart from you at the same time for particularly demanding hero work―not that you cared.

You’d gone over the plan in your head just about a million times, so when the moment finally came your body acted without pause.

The cuffs fell from your wrists. The computer was unlocked and the failsafes were shut down. A backpack was shoved with supplies―clothing, money, food―and then the front door was opened. You stepped outside for the first time in months, you’d lost track of how many.

From then on it was just about running, putting as much distance in between you and that dreaded house as possible. When you finally reached the city, you didn’t even bother going to the police. They wouldn’t believe you, not when it came to two of the most upstanding young heroes out there.

Instead you went to the nearest train station, purchasing a ticket for whichever one was next for departure.

You did that a few more times in whichever town you were dropped off at until you reached the limit for how much money you were willing to spend on traveling. Now it was about holing up in some cheap motel until you could scrounge up the cash elsewhere to keep distancing yourself.

By the end of your first week you were still left with the same sum of money as you were when you got there. The weight of your fear was enough to keep you inside. But you couldn’t live off of overpriced room service and the remaining energy bars from that glorified prison forever.

As much as the prospect of leaving the safety of your room terrified you, the thought of starving to death wasn’t any more appealing. You weren’t hungry yet, but the food would only last for another day―maybe less. It was regrettably the most rational option, should you not want to run out of the little money you had.

It was supposed to be quick. There was a convenience store just ten minutes from the motel. You would grab the cheapest options there and make a beeline back to the dingy building you were stationed in.

You felt their presence before you saw them.

A large, strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a broad chest. Mirio.

And then came the visual confirmation in the form of Tamaki walking out to stand in front of you―too closely for your comfort.

“What’s our little angel doing all the way out here?” Mirio’s voice was lighthearted, but you could hear the distinct lowness, threatening.

You couldn’t move, frozen in place by gut wrenching fear.

Tamaki took both your hands in his own, a grip that could crush bones if he applied even a little more pressure. “Do you know how long it took us to find you? I-I thought―”

“But she’s here now, right? And because she knows what’s best for her she’ll be good and come home with us.” His voice was near centimeters from your ear, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

You didn’t wait this long to be free from them to just give up so easily.

“I’m not going back.”

Mirio gave your hip a small squeeze, a nonverbal warning followed by the real thing. “You know we’d never hurt you baby. Not unless you forced us.”

“B-but we’re not against hurting the people in this store. They’d never find out it was us and you know that.”

Of course, they were too smart to leave a trail back to them, or back to you. And in an instant that strong defiance you once held vanished into thin air, replaced with pure dread.

“P-please don’t do this. You don’t need to do that, just―”

“That’s right, sunshine. We don’t need to hurt anyone. We just need you to come home, you can do that for us, right?”

Like you had a choice.

The blond was already pulling you towards to exit before you could respond. Tamaki hadn’t let go of his death grip either, and you weren’t about to fight him.

Instead you kept your eyes trained on the ground, head hung as if even looking at another person might have them thinking you were about to ask for help. Tears were silently falling from your eyes as they led you back to their car parked outside the convenience store.

“We’re so glad you’re okay sweetheart. You know how dangerous it can be without us to protect you.”

Tamaki was silent as he opened the back door for you, his partner doing all the talking.

The town you were in felt abandoned, especially now that you were off to the side parking lot of the rundown store. So there was nobody to witness the two men carting you off to that wretched place they called your home.

Nobody to witness when the blonde behind you covered your face in a white rag that was alarmingly sweet-smelling.

The ride home would be long, he said. No need to put you through any more stress today.

Before you knew it your limbs grew heavy, brain muddled with inescapable exhaustion. They didn’t even give you the chance to argue over the matter, but then again, it’s nothing they hadn’t done before.

_____

It was cold―so undeniably cold.

The concrete left your body aching when you came to. Your clothing had been replaced with shorts and a tank top―showing that they were still generous enough not to leave you completely defenceless.

You were in a room you didn’t recognize, questioning whether or not the two even brought you back. It was barren: grey walls, a bucket in the corner, illuminated by a single ceiling light that you couldn’t locate the switch to. Lastly, there was the heavy metal door that served as the only exit to the suffocatingly small enclosure.

And there was no handle, or observable locks.

The only sound was that of your own heartbeat as the thudding grew more intense with each passing second.

It stayed like that for ages. Left with the company of your own mind, the isolation began eating away at you quicker than you could’ve ever anticipated.

At this point you assumed this was how they were choosing to deal with your behaviour, but the absence of that clarification was worse than the initial shock by far. It made you paranoid.

Not even the hunger eating away at your stomach was enough to distract you.

Or the extreme drought in your mouth from dehydration.

Or the sharp pain in your tailbone from having remained unmoving from your spot in the corner.

When the sound of footsteps finally could be heard leading up to the doorway, you almost thought that you were hearing things.

The lock shifted in the metal compartments, echoing off the walls.

You would’ve stood up to greet whoever was behind the doors, but the pain that was spreading down your back, coupled with the sensation of your lower limbs falling asleep long ago prevented this.

The door creaked open, and you hated that you felt an ounce of gratitude to see that it was in fact Mirio and Takami who’d put you in this god forsaken room.

The blond started forward ever so slightly while his counterpart remained at the frame of the doorway.

You still feared the men, even though they’d done nothing to physically hurt you―at least until now. So you remained huddled in the corner, arms wrapped defensively around your legs as Mirio stalked over to your form, crouching down at your side.

“You know why you're down here, right?” A rhetorical question, all three of you knew the situation well.

“We don’t want to do this, but you need to learn you can’t just run off like that.” Tamaki’s voice was quiet, like he hated locking you up more than you hated being locked up.

Out of habit you kept your mouth shut. You’d held out for this long while still retaining your sanity, what was a little longer?

“This isn’t a punishment, sunshine. It’s more like...a lesson. You’ll stay here for a bit so you can learn that what you did was wrong, okay?” He reached out and patted your head, as if that would make you feel any better.

It baffled you how he could keep a smile even when subjecting you to such inhumane conditions. But you chalked it up to insanity as clearly neither he nor Tamaki had an ounce of an idea of how wrong this was.

There was a long moment of silence, the two likely waiting for a response which you had none to give. You couldn’t fight them, or talk them out of their plans.

You should’ve ran farther.

The blond stood up from his crouched position, walking back over to his partner.

“We’ll be back in a few hours so you can eat, don’t miss us too much!” Joyful as ever, Mirio led his partner out of room, motioning to close the door before pausing.

“Just know that we love you, okay? We’re doing this for you.”

You could just barely hear Tamaki’s voice before the door slowly closed shut. There was the sound of the locks once again, falling into place.

And then the lights went out.

But you told yourself that you would get through this. You had to.

Because you were scared of what would become of you if you started to enjoy their affection.

[morgana-ren]

For Anon: Just the alleyway scene! Here you go! 

There was no better display of the sickening plethora of filth that was ‘hero culture’ than the mall.

Hoards of humans crowding inside a concrete cage to throw their money at any cheap, shitty knockoff item with a famous face plastered on it. Kids ran amok, screaming and crying and leaving a trail of crumbs and slobber in their wake. Teenage girls and boys huddled around the hippest stores, fawning over the latest heart throb and shoplifting trinkets while no one was looking. It was absolutely disgusting.

They flocked to the stores like rats chasing poisoned peanut butter. Endeavor t-shirts, Uwabami makeup. Midnight lingerie. Fucking All Might everything. They all flew off the rack as fast as they could be stocked. Moronic NPCs shoveling every ounce of garbage they could find into their inventory. Every bone in his body longed to run his hand along the wall and just watch it all turn to dust.

His hatred of the general populace was one of many reasons Shigaraki didn’t make a habit out of leaving the bar. Assuming that Father had kept enough of his face hidden during his exploits for it to be somewhat safe, he still didn’t particularly enjoy crowds. People of all sizes, shapes, colors, smells, cultures, ideals, and morals but they all had one thing in common.

They all looked down on him.

In public, he always kept his head down, hood and hair covering his marred face. Hands steadily in his pocket, eyes on the ground. He pulled himself into his own body, doing his best to not draw any undue attention. It wasn’t for their benefit, of course, but his. If one more NPC stared at him, a single person let their eyes linger too long on his chapped lips, dry skin, scars, or emaciated form, he would snap and ruin everything. A massacre that ended in his incarceration would probably throw a massive sized wrench into the gears of All for One’s plan, and that was the last thing Tomura wanted.

Regardless, it made him so angry.

Not that he cared what they thought. They could drown in their own filth as far as he was concerned. He just didn’t like being stared at. It was so rude. These pack animals always pretended like they were so much better than everyone else, with their laws and their heroes. So superior. But the way they looked at him, the way their eyes crinkled in disgust, mouths agape, looking at him like he was a wet rat who crawled out of a sewer grate.

How would they look at him when their expressions were melting from their faces as they disintegrated into ash?

The situation made his fingers twitch and lip curl. Wasn’t it enough that idiot Stain had polluted the minds of the city’s villains with his ridiculous ideology? Did everything have to be such a pain in the ass?  

Luckily, Shigaraki had a few hobbies that helped to calm his mind. While drinking at the bar and crisping newspapers was always a quick and easy stress relief, he had always been particularly taken with video games. Not only did he enjoy them, but he was good at them. No one could look down at you for your appearance or ideals, the only thing that mattered in the end was victory, and that was a strategy he could work with.

It didn’t matter the genre, the rating, online or off, he knew he could dominate it. He never had much trouble climbing the rankings or leveling up. Nothing mattered but his prowess, his skill, both of which he had in spades. Not to mention, it allowed him to exercise his destructive and domineering personality without drawing any real attention to himself. In fact, it even made him cool. People would fight for his allegiance during battles or races, sending him an wave of friend requests and messages with offers from their guilds or promises of friendship from their groups. He didn’t care about that. He deserved the recognition. He was only getting what was coming to him.

But even video games weren’t completely safe from the influx of hero paraphernalia pandering garbage. Gaming companies flocked to video games featuring heroes like a fly to shit. It was easily avoidable, sure, but it still pissed him off that heroes could infect the one thing he genuinely enjoyed.

Still, he had to admit, it fun wiping the floor with famous heroes in those games sometimes. Even if the villains were hideously under powered. In fact, that made it even better. If he could win a fight with a nobody villain against a famous hero in a video game where there were limited controls, can you imagine what he could do in real life where the possibilities were endless?

Soon the whole world would see. This was only the beginning.

Frankly, there was only one downside to gaming. Most new releases from the companies he liked didn’t come out with PC ports for a little while after the game’s initial release, which meant he had to leave the safety of the bar and adjourn out into the world to get brand new games. Sure, he could send Kurogiri to do it, but more than once he had come back with the wrong game in the series, or even the wrong one entirely. It was a frustrating mess, and it was easier to just avoid it all together by going himself.

Besides, sometimes walks helped him clear his head. Sometimes.

That was how he found himself here. One of his favorite companies had just released a brand new action and adventure game that he’d been dying to try ever since he saw the trailer. He’d even had Kurogiri call in advance and reserve a copy. At least he could do that right.

Shigaraki needed this. Needed to get his mind off of the Hero Killer Stain and All Might and fucking all of it. He was driving himself mad going around in circles in his own head asking himself questions he knew he didn’t have the answers to. He needed to put his head in the clouds, if only for a little while.

So he dodged through the crowds of people, weaving in and out of families and groups trying to get into the game store before he finally lost his last ounce of sanity. There seemed to be more people here than usual, which just soured his mood even further. He should have known better than to come on a weekend. He grunted past several bystanders, biting his tongue to hold back the onslaught of insults fresh in his mind. It was only when he reached a rather impenetrable wall of people that he inhaled sharply, ready to start grabbing.

A large group of pedestrians had gathered in a circle around something, which was blocking off a large portion of the walkway and therefore his path. He mumbled under his breath, tempted to forcefully move them out of the way. What in the hell was going on that was so important that it saw fit to hinder him?

“Hey, isn’t that the hero class from UA?”

“Yeah! Wow! I saw them compete in the sports festival! So awesome!”

“You guys are so cool! What’s it like at UA?”

Shigaraki stiffened. So they were here. He peered upward for a moment and saw the class huddled together, some blushing, others posing, obviously basking in their new found fame. That kid was here too. The mop of hair and splattering of freckles was visible even from where he stood. That one willing to put himself in danger over and over again for All Might. Midoriya.

Maybe it wasn’t entirely a negative thing that he found himself here on this particular day. That boy obviously had his pulse on hero culture. Maybe he could explain why people were so taken with Stain and yet completely ignored him. An ear splitting smile cut through Shigaraki’s face, irritating one of the blisters on his lower lip. He wiped the blood and waited for the crowd to disperse as the students each went off in their own direction.

When it was only him and one other student, a young girl with short brown hair, he made his move. He started heading in the direction of Midoriya, grinning wider when the young girl sped off, leaving the kid all by himself. It was so perfect. He was about to reach out and make his move when he heard it.

A voice. A voice that made his blood pound in his ears.

He stopped cold, hand stopped short of the oblivious Midoriya’s shoulder. Instinctively, his head turned in the direction of the voice, heart thrumming in his chest. Surrounded by a couple of fellow UA students, she was standing in front of a window, joking around with one of the people nearest her.

Her. She was here

His fingers began to shake as he withdrew them from Midoriya, stuffing them back into his pocket before anyone noticed him. She was here. He should have known. She was in the class too. These kids stuck together like glue. If they were here, it was certain she was nearby. Stupid stupid stupid. He had almost blown his chance.

But he hadn’t.

He turned and stalked in her direction, staying only far enough back as to not draw attention, crimson eyes glaring into the back of her head. She was laughing at something some blonde idiot in her class had said. He felt his temper go through the roof, and allowed one hand out to scratch and dig at his neck. Why was she talking to him? Why was she laughing so hard? What he said probably wasn’t even funny. He didn’t like the way that guy was looking at her. Did he like her? Did she like him?

He felt a thin trickle of liquid down his neck as his scar reopened.

He managed to tame his anger just enough to keep from rushing him. Instead, he followed the group at a distance for a while, waiting for his opportunity. He overheard something about a camping trip and something about training. Interesting. He would have to make a mental note of it. However, right now, he had other things on his mind.

The opportunity finally came when a few of the students rushed ahead to drool over some restaurant while she stayed behind, digging in her bag for her wallet. They ran off ahead, yelling at her to catch up and complaining about hunger. He heard her laugh and tell them she’d be there in a minute, she just needed a second to get some cash out. She was alone. It was time.

He came up behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder, doing his best to mask his voice.

“Hey, you’re one of those kids from UA, right? You’re practically famous! Do you think I could get an autograph?”

He felt her stiffen underneath his hold. She knew something was off, a shiver rolling down her spine as she tried to turn and look at him. He was just out of the reach of her peripheral, hair and hood hiding his features.

“Y-yeah, I am.” She raised her hand as if to pry him off, but thought better of it. “If you’ll just let me go for a second, I’ll get in my bag and get out a pen and some paper.”

Her voice was on edge, her shoulder muscles clenching. He couldn’t help but smile again.

“I saw you compete in the sports festival. You came in fourth, right? It was so cool. I bet you got so many offers from agencies. I bet everyone wants you to be their hero.” He could feel her breathing getting more shallow, feel her neck flex as she swallowed.

“I-um-Sir, I don’t really feel comfortable being touched by people I don’t know, but if you’ll remove your hand, I’ll get you an autograph or a picture if you want.”

Sir. She had called him sir. It was adorable. He wanted to hear it again.

“I noticed you got your costume fixed too. I liked better it the other way, but that way is fine too.” He chuckled. “Hey, you’re a little tense. It’s okay, we’re friends, remember?”

Realization hit her like a truck. She inhaled, biting her lip as she turned her head as much as she could in his direction. “Shigaraki!”

He leaned down, perching his head on her shoulder. “Careful, you don’t want to make a scene. All Might might not be busy this time, but there certainly a lot of civilians around. A lot of your friends too. I’d hate for something to happen.”

“What do you want?” She snarled, making a slight effort to jerk away. He didn’t let her.

“I just want to talk. Is that so bad? Or are you too cool now to catch up with an old friend?”

“We are not friends!” Growling, she reached up and dug her fingernails into his wrist.

He giggled. She had certainly gotten more feisty since their last meeting. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. I thought we hit it off pretty well.

Before she could respond, the same blonde classmate came running towards them from inside of the nearby building. Shigaraki sneered, tightening his grip on her shoulder in warning. He was no doubt coming back for her.

“Hey! We got a table and be-Woah! Who’s this guy?” The kid stopped a bit short of them, shifting between looking at her in confusion and peering suspiciously at him.

Shigaraki leaned further in and whispered under his breath. “Unless the next time you want to see him is in an urn, I suggest you get rid of him. Quickly.”

She pulled herself together, smiling happily while waving at him. “It’s cool, Denki. He’s an old friend.” A sly smirk pulled at Tomura’s mouth. “We ran into each other and thought we’d catch up a bit. Don’t wait up! I’ll meet you guys there!”

Denki continued looking back and forth between the two of them, eyes lingering on Shigaraki for a brief moment before retreating. “Okay, then. I’ll save you a spot. Don’t take too long or I’ll eat your food too!”

As they watched him walk back into the restaurant, Tomura hummed. “You’re certainly a good actress. If I hadn’t known better, I wouldn’t believe you were lying.”

���Say what you need to say and then leave.” She hissed quietly.

“Walk forward and turn into that alleyway on your left.” He gripped her with his hand, careful to leave his middle finger levitating.

“Like hell! You think I’m just going to walk into a dark alleyway with the leader of the league of villains? You’ll kill me!”

“You don’t have a choice, hero. Assuming that’s what I’m planning, it’s either you or everyone else in this area, starting with Denki.” He began walking, shoving her forward lightly. “And if I start feeling anything funny, I’ll dust you first and then move on to them.”

She exhaled in defeat, shuffling her feet forward as Shigaraki steered her toward the desolate alcove. That rendered her quirk completely useless. Shigaraki would know if she was trying to use it on him, and she didn’t want to test his promise. She had no doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t hesitate.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t get the drop on him though.

Remember your training. Duck and jab. Get out of his reach!

Not quite halfway down the passageway, she ducked and lurched back, sending her elbow careening into his stomach. He grunted in pain as he was driven back several feet away from her, taken too much by surprise to bring his hand down. She turned to face him, readying her defensive stance as he recovered from the blow.

“This again?” He wheezed, rolling his neck.

“I’m not going down without a fight!”

Sighing, he straightened his back and held his hands up. “Have it your way, then.”

She sent a few punches his direction but he dodged the brunt of them, only landing one on his injured shoulder. It was exponentially stronger than the last time they met, enough to send him reeling backwards while grabbing at his weakened limb. He coughed a few times, quickly evading her other jabs.

“You’ve been practicing.” He noted.

“I train with Midnight every week in hand to hand combat to keep people like you away!” She sent another loaded punch towards his face, which he easily sidestepped.

“Looks like it’s going well.” He deadpanned, seeming unimpressed. “I’m getting bored.”

She ignored his prodding, sending a few low kicks to his shins. He brought his own foot up, catching on the back of her knee and yanking, sending her toppling to the ground. She growled in frustration, pushing herself away from where he stood and standing back up, immediately taking stance again. She charged him one last time, sending her leg on a collision course with his hip in the hopes to knock him aside, but he simply raised his arms, catching her leg and holding it.

Her eyes widened as she began to lose balance, but before she could fall again, he slammed her into the wall closest her back using her own leg as leverage. She cried out, letting her guard down. He used the opportunity to move on her, pressing against her and pushing her further into the brick as one hand slid up from her calf to her thigh, never relinquishing its grip, while the other calmly wrapped around her neck, middle finger flexing.

He could feel her erratic breathing. She had lost to him not once, but twice now, and it barely even took any effort on his part. Her frightened eyes searched underneath his hair, but it was too shadowed beneath his hood to see much of anything. All she could make out was his teeth, visible underneath his simpering lips.

“Quiet now. Your little outburst is bound to have attracted attention.” He placed his forehead to hers, leaning forward slightly to cover her face in a curtain of his hair. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her neck “Unless you want a whole lot of nice people to die, you’ll play along.” He pressed her harder into the alley wall, crushing her body with his. He hiked her thigh up around his own and held it there with the hand that still had a grasp on it, maneuvering his hips between her now open legs.

She made a sound of disgust, trying again to turn from him, but he dug his fingernails into her thigh, eliciting a shocked gasp from her. Through the tendrils of his hair, she could see a few curious people beginning to peak into the alley entrance, drawn by the sounds of their fighting. He pushed his face so close to hers that she could feel him smile.

“You’re not making this very convincing.” He whispered. “All it would take is one little touch and I could dust them all.”

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes and preparing herself for what she had to do. Slowly, she raised her arms up over Shigaraki’s shoulders, one hand resting uneasily on the back of his neck, the other tangling up into his hair. She let her leg rest up in his hand instead of squirming, wrapping her knee around his thigh and relaxing her stance so it appeared more natural.

Shigaraki was absolutely not a fan of being touched. In fact, casual brushes in the street were often grounds for a permanent ashing. But this? Oh, he could make an exception for this.

“Good girl. Make it seem like it’s just two lovers in an alleyway looking for a little privacy.” He could smell her again, that scent he’d been dying for, trying so hard to emulate over the past few months. His heart rate was reaching peak levels, but the blood was beginning to divert away from his brain. He couldn’t help himself. He ground into her a little bit, the front of his jeans scraping against her body as he rutted, feeling the warmth of her body.

“You’re despicable.” She seethed, swallowing down a wretch.

He giggled, letting his thumb run small circles over her exposed thigh. “Prove how heroic you are, Hero. Convince me these people don’t deserve what I could do to them.”  

He pushed his mouth to hers, instantly trying to snake his tongue into her mouth. At first she was unresponsive, until he brought the fingers on her neck together and clasped at a necklace she had been wearing. It crumbled instantaneously, sending a splay of ash down onto her chest. Almost immediately, she allowed him access, pliantly opening her lips for him to invade and slowly responding to his ministrations.

She tasted like she smelled, and it took every ounce of self control he had not to push her further. Although her movements were unenthusiastic and light, it didn’t matter to him. He knew he wasn’t exactly experienced in any of this, going off of tips he’d learned on Internet forums or books. He tried a few things, like biting and sucking on her bottom lip or fighting her tongue for dominance, but it seemed to make little difference to her besides the occasional tightening of her fingertips in his hair.

Despite that, he was almost beside himself. He could learn how to make her react to him in time. He was too focused on engraving her into his memory to care. He could feel every last bit of her body pressed against his own, every movement and muscle. Every curve she offered up to him and him alone and it was just like how he had imagined it would be in the dreams that had haunted his few dreaming hours ever since their first meeting.

Shigaraki had certainly not woken up that morning with the belief that he would have his tongue shoved halfway down her throat that day. If he had, he likely would have been in a much more amicable mood. Right now, he felt absolutely ecstatic. He had her right where he wanted her. 

Well, not right where, but close enough. She was submitting to him because he knew her weakness. He wondered, in time, how far he could push that weakness. How far was she willing to go?

But he was nothing if not a strategist. He wouldn’t push it too far too fast. He wouldn’t risk it. He would chip away at her resolve slowly, breaking away her boundaries one at a time until there was nothing left but her submission. If it meant threatening her friends, her family, random children on the street, he didn’t care. She would be his. He decided that a long time ago. She belonged to him, and frankly he didn’t really care what she had to say about it. It wasn’t her decision.

Eventually, the last of the onlookers had left, leaving behind a handful of heckles from teenagers and reprimands from angry parents ushering their children away while covering their eyes. Her hand was yanking at his hair erratically, not in lust but in a likely plead for him to back off of her finally so she could breathe. He gave himself a minute longer, cherishing the moment before withdrawing himself, unable to stop the grin that crawled up his face.

“See? It’s not so bad now, it is? You just saved all those idiot’s lives and all it took was a few minutes.”

She couldn’t stop herself. Her hands were shaking in rage, stomach churning. She’d never felt so violated. So utterly disgusted. She could taste him in the back of her throat and feel his leftover saliva on her lips and it made her want to vomit.

She looked directly up at him, and spit in his face. It landed with in an undignified blob sliding down his cheek.

It took Shigaraki a moment to fully register what happened. He unhanded her leg, bringing it up to his face and squelching the small plop of liquid between his fingers. Slowly, he raised his head up, finally giving her a full view of his face for the first time.

She immediately regretted her actions.

He looked enraged, eyes open with beady pupils staring down at his hand. His cracked mouth was contorted in rage, snarling while rubbed three of his fingers together, spreading the coating around. His eyes flashed up at hers, and his hand clamped down on her throat, fourth finger twitching unsteadily.

“You little brat.” He spat, tightening his grip more and more by the second until she could no longer breathe. “You think you’re all high and mighty, that just because you’re a Hero that there’s no consequences for your actions. That you can treat people like trash.” His fingers dug in with bruising strength, and the longer he held them, the more little black dots began dancing in front of her vision. Her chest was trying desperately to inhale, but she couldn’t with his palm crushing her windpipe. Fear welled up inside her, and the longer she struggled for breath, the more overpowering it became. “I can show you how wrong you are.”

“I-I’m So-orry!” She croaked out, pleading with him for air. His eyes flashed dangerously, and he loosened his grip only enough that he could make out her words.

“Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry! It was-” Her mind raced, searching for the right words to placate him. “It was rude of me, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I beg your forgiveness, Shigaraki. Please forgive me!”

He let his hand sit firm for a few more seconds. He was still twitching with anger, but something about hearing her beg, beg him for forgiveness sent a wave of pleasure through him. Of course she was going to be defiant at first. He could forgive her this once. After all, she would be making it up to him in the end regardless.

He smiled down at her, ghosting his fingers on her neck as she coughed and sputtered, trying to catch her breath. “Just don’t do it again. I hate people with no manners.”

She shook her head, eyes bright and fearful. After that, she didn’t dare try using her quirk on him or bothering to fight him again. She was entirely at his mercy. This guy was insane. He didn’t even need to use his quirk to kill her. He would just suffocate her and leave her body in the alley way. What was his deal? Was he still harboring a grudge from their last encounter? Why was he here now?

Finally regaining her breath, she peered up at him hesitantly, studying his face. “Did you follow me here?”

He seemed taken back for a minute, before chuckling a little underneath his breath. “Follow you here? No. I was actually here for a completely separate reason and just happened to run into you. Isn’t that lucky?”

“Yeah. Lucky.” She grunted, lamenting her choices. She knew she should have stayed in bed today

“I was actually about to grab Midoriya when I saw you. I just couldn’t help myself.”

She furrowed her brows. “But why?” She didn’t understand what this man wanted with her. He didn’t seem to outright want her dead, but wasn’t content letting her live in peace either.

He let out a heinous cackle, letting three of his fingers on his free hand wander up to his neck and scratch. Why was he telling her any of this? “I guess I just find you intriguing.” He tore at his neck anxiously for a moment while she stared at him. The way she was looking at him was making him feel itchy and hot all over. Underneath his hoody, he felt like it was one hundred degrees, which given the weather, might not have been far off. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, anxious, stomach twisting in knots. He hated that she had this control over him.

He pulled his hand away from his sweating neck, reaching up to touch her face once more. He wanted to feel her skin, how soft it was. Just wanted to graze his fingers across her face so he could remember how she felt even after she’d gone. However, when he raised it up by her head, the sleeve of his jacket rode up his arm, revealing the piece of cloth he had tied around his wrist.

Immediately her eyes were drawn to it, and she gulped hard, a horrified expression etched on her features. “Is that… Is that my…”

Shigaraki realized what had spooked her. Tied around his wrist was the unmistakable pattern of her costume, ripped from her torso during the attack on U.S.J. His eyes darkened. There was no sense in lying to her now.

“You recognize it, huh?” He lowered his hand down, bringing it between both of their faces. “I’ve kept it on me since.”

Her breathing became inconsistent and staggered, mouth agape in terror. “W-why?”

He leaned in again, scraping the cloth against her neck, hoping to siphon some of her scent back onto it. “I think it helps keep me focused.”

Her vision spiraled. She could ignore a few consistencies but this was all to much to be a coincidence. Something she had done had gotten his attentions enough to keep it on her, even endear herself to him in some twisted way. He wasn’t just doing this because it made her uncomfortable or to spite her like she initially thought. If she didn’t know better, she would say it was something resembling a crush.

“S-Shigaraki, I don’t-” She cut herself off. What could she possibly say? ’Hey supervillain, not interested?’ ‘Thanks for the flattery but I’m a hero?’ Our careers kind of make it impossible for us to be together but thanks for the interest?’

It didn’t really matter, she had a feeling he wasn’t interested in her opinion on the matter.

“You’re everything I hate, you know.” His voice was soft, gentle even. He had hidden his eyes behind his hair again, and despite refusing to move away from her, he seemed a few miles off. “You heroes. You piss me off. If I had my way, I would have killed every one of you the first time we crossed paths.” There was a distant cold in his voice that made her shiver. “I wanted to. Kill you. It would have been easy too. All I had to do is wrap my fingers around your pretty little neck and squeeze and you’d have been gone before you could even scream for help. I bet that really would have thrown one over an All Might too. One of his precious students turned to dust while he was in the same room. Sometimes I think I should have.”

There was no deception in his voice. He was telling the truth. Somehow it terrified her more than when he had gotten violent. He lowered his hand back down, grabbing her chin with his thumb and index finger.

“But I have better ideas now. There are worse things than death.” He lifted his head, and she felt her soul plummet. His eyes were manic and deranged, boring down into her with the promise of unknown horror. His smile was wide and frenzied, nearly breaking his cracked lips into shards all over again. There was a strange flush across his pallid cheeks, something almost akin to a blush, like he was flustered even thinking about it.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to crawl away. Find a rock somewhere and hide under it, anywhere where he couldn’t find her. Something told her he wasn’t saying this just to frighten her. The possibilities that could run through a madman’s mind were things she didn’t want to consider. Things that he considered worse than death were beyond the realm of what she wanted to realize herself. He placed another soft kiss to her mouth, and she was too paralyzed in fear to stop him.

He looked like he was about to speak when Denki’s voice rang through the alley way. “Hey, what gives? We’ve been waiting forever!” Both she and Tomura turned their heads toward the entrance to see Denki standing there with a beaming smile, eyes closed and holding up several bags of food in his closed hands. “We didn’t wait for ya, but we got you leftovers! Took us forever to find you! What the hell are you doing down here anyway?” He opened his eyes and nearly dropped the food, face red with embarrassment as a few of her classmates crowded around as well with equally shocked expressions.

“Someone’s getting’ some.” Eijiro whispered to a blushing Mina who was giggling behind her hand. Momo scowled over at the pair, giving them a death glare.

“Are we interrupting something?” Fumikage asked, trying to be as polite as possible in the given situation.

“I didn’t realize you were with so many people!” Shigaraki immediately withdrew his hands, stepping away from her but taking care to keep his face shadowed. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to keep you held up.”

Eijiro chuckled at his words and she felt like she could just die.

“I’m off then. It was nice catching up. Don’t worry, we’ll see each other soon!” He spoke loud enough for them to hear before he leaned inconspicuously and whispered in her ear. “If any of you follow me, I’ll get angry. I’d hate to kill half his class without All Might here to see it.”

He started walking but stopped short a few seconds later. “Oh! One last thing, hero.” He pulled her in close to his side, hands fishing his phone out of his pocket. “You promised me a picture.” He held his phone up, getting one snapshot with her in frame. Although his features were still almost entirely hidden behind his hair, she was completely exposed, expression like a deer in headlights. It would do for now. He placed his phone back in his pockets, giving her one last look before turning away and ambling off down further into the alleyway, turning out of her sights after a few seconds.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” Mina called, still giggling behind her palm.

“No!” She shook her head vigorously, trying to hold back the tears and the sick that were clawing their way up her throat, acting as natural as she could. “Look, can we just get out of here? Please?”

Her friends all looked at her confused for a moment, shrugging before following her as she took off.

As he heard their voices drift further and further off, Shigaraki brought his fingers up to his lips, grazing where hers had been. He still tasted her, and he was trying to savor every moment. He didn’t know for sure how long it would be until she was in his arms again, only that she would be. He needed to calm down. He needed to be patient.

He forced himself down the streets and passageways away from the mall, farther from her but thinking of nothing but all the while. His head didn’t feel any clearer, if anything it felt more clouded and stimulated than it had before, but he was fine with that. He didn’t get to ask Midoriya what the difference between him and Stain was, but that mattered little to him now. There would be other opportunities for that. He did curse himself as he remembered he had forgotten to pick up his game, but he shrugged it off. If his estimates were correct, it wouldn’t be available for much longer anyway.

The sun sank behind the horizon, giving way to the darkness of the night sky. When he felt secure enough, he placed Father back on his face, making his way back home under the cover of shadow. His body was shivering, but not from the cold. He could hardly believe anything that happened today.

When he finally turned the knob to enter the bar, Kurogiri immediately turned towards him in a panic.“Tomura Shigaraki, is all well? The mall you attended today has been shut down. I was worried that you were detained and perhaps incarcerated.”

“Don’t be stupid, Kurogiri. I’m right here.” He lumbered over to the bar, sitting half-haphazardly in the seat. Kurogiri decided it was better not to question him, opting to pour him a drink instead. He turned towards the TV, which was playing news footage of the mall, giving minimal details about the incident but describing a notorious villain spotted there. “So she told.” He muttered under his breath, smirking. “I figured she would.”

Kurogiri heard his words, but decided it would go against his mental health to question Tomura on the incident if it was indeed what he thought it was. Revealing his face would have far reaching consequences for the league. Judging by the way he was lovingly picking at the ratted material tied around his wrist, he had found that girl again. So his obsession hadn’t in fact died. This would not bode well.

The rest of the night continued on relatively average. Tomura drank and cussed and ranted about All Might and the Hero Killer Stain, staring down at his phone in the intervals. Kurogiri polished his glasses, offering advice where he could and bearing the brunt of Tomura’s abuses when he couldn’t. It almost gave him hope that maybe Shigaraki could put this whole incident behind him instead of obsessing over it like he often did.

That is, until most of the way through the night, Tomura stumbled off the bar stool, clinging onto the counter as he shambled towards his room in the back. He paused momentarily, turning to face Kurogiri for a few seconds before slamming his door.

“Hey Kurogiri, you know those old storage rooms we have? I need them cleaned out. We’ll be having a guest soon. I want to make sure she’s comfortable.”

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Off Limits (Spencer Reid) #2

Here is chapter 2!! I’m excited about the start of this. I have many plans for the future chapters ;) I really hope y’all like it. Also, let me know if you would like me to tag you in future chapters. 

Chapter 1

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Tag List: @on-my-way-to-erebor​

NOT MY GIF

        It was Ava’s third day of working at the BAU. She didn’t have anything to complain about and everyone had been more friendly than that first day. She had spoken more than a few words to them. Even Spencer. Yesterday, she arrived to work at the same time he did and rode the elevator up with him. She found out he had three PhDs- chemistry, mathematics, and engineering. A very smart man. Sadly, the conversation was short, only as long as the ride to the BAU floor. Oh well, she’ll have to find another time to talk with him and she looks forward to it.

       The assignments Hotch had given her were simple and easy. Organize the file room, create new folders for the new cases, make copies, etc. She had finished the first page of the assignments list and was working on moving boxes of case folders around the room. Hotch wanted them organized and updated. Anything before 2010 set aside to go into storage. Luckily, moving boxes all the way to the basement storage unit was not her job. She got to tell someone else to do that job.

She blew a piece of hair out of her face as she stepped up on the step ladder to put a particular heavy box on the top shelf of the rack. First step up… second step… and third- oh no. She underestimated how heavy this box actually was and could feel herself falling back with the box.

“Woah, woah,” a panicked voice spoke, followed by large hands grabbing her waist, steadying her. Her heart was pounding, eyes wide. She looked back at the person who had just well, saved her. It was Spencer. “Easy there.” His eyes were looking her over, making sure she was steadied before slowing releasing her waist.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her face flushed, “I underestimated how heavy that box was.”

“here, let me,” he took the box from her hands, letting her safely step down off the ladder before he reached up, without the help of the ladder, and slid the box onto the top shelf of the rack. She fixed her hair behind her ear and fixed her shirt, taking a deep breath, “Thank you again.”

“It’s no problem,” he turned around and looked at her, “you shouldn’t be putting such heavy boxes on the top shelf, especially by yourself. Hotch would rather you not get hurt on your third day here.” He chuckled a little and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face.

Ava shrugged, gave a little laugh and looked around, “It is kind of my job… so I have to do it.”

He noticed she looked different today. More laid back. No heels. She actually didn’t have any shoes on at all and her toes were painted a baby pink. Cute, he thought to himself. She had on pants instead of skirt. She was still so beautiful.

“What other boxes need to go on the shelf?” He asks. He can take a quick break from his desk. He had been sitting all morning. Plus, she doesn’t need to be doing this alone. She could get hurt. I mean he almost didn’t make it in time. He had happened to be going to get coffee and saw her take the first step. She had been wobbly, so he waited a second and watched her take that second step before starting to walk over to her. He knew she was about to lose it. Luckily, he had been there in time.

Ava looked around the room and put her hands on her hips, “Well those by the window are to storage, which someone will be up later to get,” She glanced around at the other boxes and pointed, “those are the only ones. I’m putting them on the shelf by year.”

He nodded and went to pick up the next box and she put her hand on his arm to stop him, “No no. It’s ok, I can get them. I know you have work to do.”

He smiled, “I don’t mind, and I can take a break to help a pretty lady put boxes on the shelves.” She blushed and nodded, releasing his arm. Shit, had he called her pretty out loud? He stacked the rest of the boxes on the top shelf, her safely putting the ones on the bottom shelf. They finished in half the time it would have took her alone. She was grateful. They spoke more while stacking the boxes. She found out he was from Las Vegas, NV, had a high IQ of 187 and could read 20,000 words a minute. He had been working for the BAU for 5 years and was the youngest member of the FBI BAU. This was the getting to talk another time she had been looking forward too.

“Done!” he exclaimed as he slid the last box on the shelf.

She smiled, “yay! Thank you for helping. You saved me a lot of time.”

He nodded, “of course.”

An awkward silence fell upon them. He really didn’t want to go back to his desk. He wanted to stand here and talk with her. He had learned a lot while helping her. She grew up in Atlanta, GA and was an only child. She moved up here after graduating high school and graduated from Georgetown University in Washington D.C with a Bachelor’s in Business Administration. She landed a job with the FBI through a family friend.

“Do you want to go get coffee?” He asked. She was surprised, was he asking her out on a date? This quickly? Surely not.

He added, seeing her surprised face, “I mean.. in the kitchen. I was on my way to get coffee when I saw you almost fall.”

“Oh,” she nodded, understanding, yet disappointed that it wasn’t actually an invitation out for a date. “Yes, I could use some coffee.” She smiled, sad she wasn’t getting asked out on a date, but happy to be able to talk with him more.

They walked out of the file room and headed for the kitchen. Spencer started the coffee maker when he entered, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the room. He grabbed his mug from the cabinet, which was hidden on the top shelf, “can’t have anyone stealing this,” he smirked. She laughed, pulling hers from the bottom shelf below, “I don’t have that luxury. Downside of being short.” She was only five foot one. She didn’t get the tall gene of her family.

“Creamer?” She asked, pulling a small container of half and half out of the fridge. “Yes please,” he grabbed the sugar and started pouring it into his coffee.

“Woah, want a little coffee with that sugar?” She laughed, setting the creamer on the counter. He chuckled, “haven’t heard that one before.” He teased, handing her the sugar. She fixed her coffee, two and half teaspoons of sugar and a splash of cream. He made a mental note for future reference, pouring a little cream in his coffee.

“I’m a huge coffee drinker. I can drink it all day long, no matter what time of day,” she states, slowly stirring her coffee. “I like my coffee until about 2 o clock then I switch to tea.” He sips on his coffee and leans his back against the counter, watching her. God, she’s beautiful.

She wanted to ask him what kind of tea he drinks but was interrupted by Morgan walking in, “Reid! We just got a case. Hotch wants us in the briefing room to go over the case.” Damn it.

“Ok, be in there in a second,” Reid sighed and looked at Ava, “well duty calls.” He pushed himself off the counter and followed Morgan. Another conversation interrupted. She sighed and cleaned up the kitchen before heading back to her desk to finish the assignments list.

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Oooooo we got a little action going on. Wonder how it will pan out?? ;) 

Hope you guys enjoyed chapter 2! I apologize if it seemed rushed or jumbled together. I have a hard time with organizing when I write. I have lots of ideas in my head and when I go to write it all down, it’s like it all runs together, unorganized. If you have any tips to help with that, please message me! I’m all ears for advice. :)

Let me know what you think and if you want chapter 3 :)

[bltngames]

SAGE 2020: Fan Games

I’d hoped to have this article out a little bit sooner, but I overestimated how long it would take to write about some of these games. Whoops! Like I said when I outlined the posting “schedule” on the first day, we’re playing it fast and loose, so this is just what you get.

Today is the day I talk about fan games! And even though SAGE has “Sonic” right there in the acronym, it’s always hosted fan games from all types, so today we’ve got Mega Man, Mario, Rayman, and even fan games of fan games, if you can believe it.

Sonic Pinball Panic!

Pinball is one of those things where I’ve always been obsessed with it, but never very good at it. And now, with access to digital pinball collections like Pinball Arcade and Pinball FX, I don’t actually find myself playing as much pinball as I thought I would when I was 14 years old. Still, I find myself fascinated by a good pinball table, and this honestly caught me off guard. This could very easily be an official DLC release for one of those aforementioned pinball collections and I wouldn’t even bat an eyelash (in fact, if you ask me, this is better than Pinball FX, which has always had weird ball physics). This looks, sounds, and functions exactly like a real pinball table should. My complaints are minor: for starters, the table feels kind of easy. I’ve never been a pinball wizard, but I was losing balls left and right here and it still took a good 15 minutes before I finally got a game over. Score accumulation is also pretty slow; most pinball tables will dump millions and millions of points on you, but here, it felt like a struggle just to reach the 379k I finished with. Both contribute to the fact that the table feels a little flat, like it’s missing a spark to really put it over the top. And, third, it would be nice if it had controller support. The keyboard works just fine, here (it’s just pinball, after all) but I find that the triggers on a controller feel really good with pinball flippers, and mapping the plunger to the right stick is great, too. This is a Unity game, so I wouldn’t think it’d be that hard to hook it up to the controller mapper. Still, I came away impressed.

Mega Man: Perfect Blue

There are two things out there that always give me pause: fan-made Doom level packs, and Mega Man fan games. Fan made gaming content generally has problems when it comes to difficulty balancing anyway, but these games have earned a certain reputation for their difficulty, which creates a problem when you have content made by fans, for fans. This insularity means these things are usually way too hard for what I would consider “normal” people (read: casual fans and outsiders). Add on to the fact that I’d even say that there are official Mega Man games with bad difficulty balancing, and you have a recipe for frustration. Sadly, this is how I’d characterize Perfect Blue: though this introductory level isn’t impossibly hard, it’s definitely pushing that edge where it’s not very accommodating to someone who hasn’t played and finished every Classic Mega Man game ever made. It almost immediately throws you into scenarios where you have jumps you can barely reach, insta-kill spikes, and enemies that not only actively dodge your shots, but invincible enemies that launch counter attack homing missiles. And then it starts making you juggle all of this stuff, together, at the same time. None of this is insurmountable as long as you’re paying attention, but as a very casual Mega Man fan, it’s an unfriendly first impression and makes me worried about what the rest of the game is going to be like as the challenge naturally ramps up. For those hardcore Mega Man fans among you, the rest of this is solid, at least. The presentation and controls are excellent, and the new sprites are beautiful. It’s a game I’d love to enjoy when it’s done… but I’m assuming I’ll be left out in the cold. A shame, really, because there’s so much promise here.

Sonic and the Mayhem Master

There’s a lot to like about this game, but there’s a part of me that really wonders if this should even be considered a Sonic fan game. Mayhem Master’s depictions of Sonic and Amy Rose are atypical to put it mildly. Here, Sonic seems to be a bookish nerd of sorts, a sidekick to Amy Rose, who has been turned into a burnt out, cigar-smoking detective. Most of the game plays out as half an adventure game, half an RPG, where you roam around the world talking to NPCs and gather clues while being assaulted by random battles. The battle system is super off-the-wall, too, perhaps taking inspirations from games like Mario & Luigi and Undertale. This means that battles aren’t passive -- you spend most of each fight dodging or nullifying incoming attacks with simplistic action-based commands. It’s weird, and different, and occasionally even a little bit overwhelming. That’s kind of the whole game, really. It’s the sort of thing that really doesn’t feel like a Sonic game at all, but it also doesn’t feel bad. The artwork is very charming, I’m interested in seeing the characters develop, and there’s plenty of worldbuilding and mystery. Would this still be as intriguing if you removed the Sonic connection, even if it’s so threadbare? That’s a hard question to answer. I know that some of my interest in this game is seeing how it spins more familiar Sonic elements into something that’s completely different. Worth checking out, for curiosity’s sake if nothing else.

Sonic and the Dreamcatcher

This is a fairly brilliant little game with two unfortunate quirks. If you didn’t know, the special stages in the original Sonic the Hedgehog were inspired by an arcade game of the era called Cameltry, published by Taito in 1989. Now, Sonic’s special stages were different enough from Cameltry that it wasn’t a case of Sega outright stealing the gameplay, but there’s a clear lineage there, and it only becomes clearer when you compare the special stages in Sonic 4 Episode 1 to Cameltry (spoilers: in that game, they’re nearly identical). Dreamcatcher is also from this lineage, but is infinitely more charming than either Sonic 4 and maybe even Cameltry itself. The idea is that you must collect a specific number of blue spheres in order to reveal the Chaos Emerald, after which you have a limited amount of time to find and collect it. It’s very simple, but the presentation really sells the game’s charm. It’s just a game that looks good and sounds good, with an interesting premise executed very well. Also, you get a dedicated “& Knuckles” button to spawn infinite Knuckles to help you collect blue spheres and bash enemies. Being able to have unlimited numbers of these guys sounds like it would break the game, but once that countdown clock begins, the last thing you need is 20+ echidnas clogging up the route back to the emerald. The first quirk this game suffers from is that there’s only two levels. Parts of this have a very “game jam made in a weekend” vibe to it despite the rock-solid music, sound, and gameplay, and only having two levels contributes to that. Hopefully more are coming in the future. The other quirk? You can’t actually download this game -- it’s embedded in a webpage. I’m sure this is to make it easy to play on any platform with a web browser (phones, PCs, etc.) but I find myself greatly desiring a hard copy of this game that can live on my computer forever.

Sonic Galactic

Now here’s just a good old fashioned Sonic fan game. Though it clearly takes inspiration from Sonic Mania’s aesthetics in some places, it’s clearly doing its own thing, featuring not just the core cast of Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles, but also Fang the Sniper, and even a brand new character named Tunnel the Mole. Unlike a lot of Sonic fan games at SAGE, this appears to be using something besides Clickteam Fusion, Game Maker, or Unity. Here, it’s the “Hatch Game Engine,” whatever that is. Whatever the case may be, the game runs very well and is basically indistinguishable from just playing Sonic Mania. Visuals are sharp, music’s good, the two included boss fights are surprisingly fun to fight -- everything seems to be in order. As a result, there’s not really a lot to say. This is just a good, fun game. Anything else I’d say would come off sounding like nitpicks. For example, there’s no way to set graphics options yet, so the game is stuck in 2x Windowed mode. Fang and Tunnel are cute additions, but I wonder how much utility they have as characters. Unless I missed something, Fang’s pop gun is mainly for a weak double-jump ability, and Tunnel’s ability to dig and ricochet off floors, walls and ceilings is cool, but it doesn’t have quite the universal utility of Tails’ flight or Knuckles climbing and gliding. It’ll be interesting to see how or maybe even if their abilities have a chance to grow into something special. Anyway, like I said, those are nitpicks, so try to give this a shot if you can.

Sonic Robo-Blast!

Remasters seem to be a bit of a theme this SAGE, between Sonic Triple Trouble 16-bit, Sonic 2 SMS, Sonic 1 Revisited, but this is perhaps the most surprising of them all: a loving remaster of the original Sonic Robo-Blast. SRB1 was perhaps one of the first true “landmark” fan games, given that it was basically a whole entire game that people could play. It's not a stretch to say that SRB1 probably helped kickstart the fan gaming community that still survives to this day -- I certainly owe my involvement in the community to seeing SRB1 for the first time. The problem is, as historically significant as the game might be, it’s nearly impossible to go back to nowadays -- it’s much, much too dated to be any fun. This remaster completely re-envisions SRB1 as a regular Sonic game, while also pulling in gameplay elements from Sonic Robo-Blast 2. It’s a bit of a time paradox mindwarp, but it helps give it a bit more personality than just making a bog-standard 2D Sonic. It works, aided by the fact the sprites, music and overall presentation are fantastic. The only downside is the Act 2 boss, which commits the cardinal sin of taking away player agency and making you wait around far too much. Here’s hoping this gets finished, because it’s definitely on my radar now.

Super Mario Flashback

This has been floating around for a few years now and I’m glad to see it’s finally starting to get some more substantial content as it moves towards becoming an actual game. That being said, this is also one of those games that’s kind of hard to talk about because it’s just… really polished. The art is incredible, it controls exactly like a Mario game, and there’s already a decent mixture of ideas at play in the demo. Anything else I’d say would sound like nitpicking -- like, for example, the backseat game designer in me wonders if maybe the game is prioritizing aesthetics a little too much. This is a wonderfully animated game, absolutely gorgeous, but some actions, like the butt-stomp and the wall kick, feel a bit sluggish, and I think it’s because they show off fancy animations. Even if it’s a split second, waiting for Mario to attach to a wall to kick off of it feels slow. Really, though, that’s an insignificant complaint. This demo is still well worth checking out.

Sonic Advance 4 Advanced

This game seems like a greatest-hits of Dimps best ideas, spanning the first Sonic Advance all the way to Sonic Rush. There’s just one problem: the game seems broken. Now, my desktop PC is starting to show its age. I built it four and a half years ago, and though it can handle game like Gears of War 5 on high settings at 60fps, slowly, newer games seem to be leaving it behind. That being said, I don’t think a game like Sonic Advance 4 here should be running at what appears to be half its intended speed. It also originally launched in a teeny-tiny window (we’re talking, like, smaller than a postage stamp) and even though the options menu has a toggle for full screen mode, it doesn’t want to work. Something about this game under the hood seems to be struggling very, very, VERY hard. It’s a shame, because if this actually played at the proper speed, it seems like it might actually be an alright game, if a bit complex and busy.

Sonic 2 SMS Remake

Here’s a game I was all buckled in expecting to enjoy. Like it says on the tin, this is a remake of Sonic 2 for the Master System (and Game Gear), but with wide screen visuals and huge expansions to the mechanics, roster of playable characters, and levels. On the outside it seems really impressive, and to a certain degree it is, but something about the controls feel a little off. Sonic’s heavier here than he is on the Master System, perhaps to simulate “real” Sonic physics a little more accurately, but you can also pretty much stop on a dime, and the combination of the two feels awkward. The camera also needs a lot of work, as it’s basic at best and does a poor job of letting you see what’s below (to the dev if you’re reading this: there’s actually video tutorials out there on how 2D scrolling cameras work, it might be worth looking a couple of them up). It also leans into some of the tech limitations of the Master System, like how you aren’t given any rings for boss fights (and even hiding the HUD, a move done to save on resources for the large enemy sprites). I could be picky on a bunch of other little stuff, too, like how the flight mechanics feel, but there are other games to play at SAGE and I’ve got at least two more articles to write. Needless to say, this is a solid (impressive, even) foundation but it’s missing a lot of late-stage polish to clean up the tiny little rough edges.

Rayman Redemption

I tell this story every so often, but it was about three quarters of the way through Rayman 2 on the Sega Dreamcast when it struck me, suddenly: I love this game. I was being chased by a pirate ship through some rickety bridges and even though I was dying over and over and over again, I realized I had been enjoying Rayman 2 enough that I might put it in my top ten Dreamcast games. But that was 2002, and the years haven’t been so kind to ol’ Rayman. From the strangely celebrity-infused Rayman 3, to the tragedy of Rayman 4 (eventually becoming Raving Rabbids) to the endless, careless ports of Rayman 2 to every platform under the sun, one gets the impression Ubisoft maybe didn’t know what to do with Rayman. Especially now, when most of Ubisoft’s games are some form of online live service or cookie cutter open world experience (or increasingly both). But the fans know what they want. Rayman Redemption takes the original 1995 Rayman game and lovingly gives it a fresh coat of paint. The results are akin to what Taxman and Stealth did for Sonic CD in 2011, with wide screen visuals, improved controls, touched up level design, but gameplay that still feels faithful and accurate to the original experience. Except that Sega charged money for that, and here, fans have released this for free. Ubisoft’s loss, I guess. I didn’t play Rayman 1 until well after I’d finished Rayman 2, and I’ll admit, I kind of bounced off of it back then. It felt slow, and awkward, and when the difficulty ramped up, it got very hard, very quickly. Now, admittedly, I’ve only put about 30 minutes into Redemption here, but just the addition of a run button is incredibly welcome, and the retooled level design and powerup mechanics helps the game feel way less obtuse overall. It’s just a cleaner, tighter, more accessible and more polished version of Rayman.

Stay tuned for the next article: Indie games.

[asphalt-cocktail]

For the Sake of Content- Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Pseudonym: Sugar

Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.

A/N: Hello my lovelies! I’m so happy with the reception I've gotten with my fic! I’m really excited with what I have written out so far and I’m really happy seeing everyone enjoying what I have written, i have big plans for this little cutie. Not a lot is going to happen during these first few chapters other than establishing the foundation because it is a slow burn, but don’t worry, once we get there it’ll be like a fucking avalanche of chaos. My tag list is open, so if you are interested feel free to send me an ask! I will be reblogging with my taglist and links to the previous chapter, so please be patient with me!

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex work, masturbation, some friendly banter between roger and reader, not proof read, short chapter but don’t worry it gets better.

Word Count: 1.7k

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

It was your first night living with Roger and you were secretly thankful he was busy with a gig which allowed you to unpack your things in peace. He made it very clear that you were to stick your side of the apartment, i.e. your room, and not ruin the ‘aesthetic’ he had worked so hard for his apartment to have. It disappointed you to say the least, considering your only qualm with the apartment was the hideous wood paneling that made up the walls of the living room. It looked like a scene straight out of a 1970s porno.

The later it got the more you progressed in unpacking what little boxes you had and the closer it got to Roger coming home. You finished with what you decided would be the last box of the night and now laid in your bed, door closed, your colored LED lights dimly lighting your room a deep red color.

Your frowned going through your emails and reading rejection letter after rejection letter from the jobs you had applied for. You were thankful you were quite the penny pincher and were able to survive to for at least a month, but the dread still loomed over you like a dark cloud.

Your mind drifted to Freddie’s suggestion from earlier that week, “Try camming, love, it’s all the rage right now!” his loud voice echoed in your mind until you finally caved and grabbed your phone typing in your search engine how to be a camgirl.

Several articles popped up;

How to Become a Cam Girl

TIPS FOR BECOMING A CAM GIRL & HOW I DID IT

Camming on a Limited Budget?

You sighed, your eyes felt strained from reading article after article. You’d seen several reoccurring websites, the two most popular being Twitter, Snapchat, and some live stream sight called WatchMe. Skepticism filled your brain, why would people be so into buying nudes from people or watching them masturbate on camera when they could do it for free on some porn site?

The sense of intimacy that one got, anonymity, and personal interactions with some who was literally paid to be nice to you over ruled the financial aspect.

The financial aspect also caused you to throw what little shame you had left out the window and soon you found yourself impulsively signing up for all three sights starting first with WatchMe. You pursed your lips when you found yourself being prompted to enter your name, what the hell would you put? You certainly couldn’t put your real name, could you? No, you couldn’t. You found yourself smiling while entering Sugar into the name space.

The application process was surprisingly long and bureaucratic, but it was probably good they had you submit a picture of your license twice, once just on its own, and once next to your face just to confirm you were of legal age. The only downside was that it would be a three day wait for the information to be processed.

You scrolled through your imaged looking for some pictures or videos to put on your premium snapchat, but much to your dismay you found that you had a few vanilla nudes taken ages ago back when your and Harrison’s relationship was still young and romantic, but not much else. You reluctantly got out of bed and rummaged through your underwear drawer, picking through your cotton granny panties you wore when your period made you bloated and finally found a black lacy pair of panties that had a matching black lacy balconette bra that pushed your breasts together giving you the perfect amount of cleavage.

You put it on and stood in front of your full-length mirror, it had been ages since you’d last put on lingerie. It felt nice to put it on for yourself and not for someone else; you twisted in the mirror, observing how the lace delicately cupped your cheeks and hugged your hips perfectly. You chewed on your bottom lip and posed, kneeling in front of the mirror, your legs spread and your back arched to give your chest a little extra pop while you positioned your phone over your face and clicked a few pictures.

The red lighting in your room caused a complimentary glow against your skin, showering you in red light and somehow making your images look more erotic. You smiled a bit to yourself, you looked hot!

Our relationship is boring

The word hammered against your mind, causing you to frown and your brows to knit together in frustration.

You were NOT boring, did boring people take pictures of themselves to sell to other people? No.

You found yourself getting hot with frustration and strangely enough, arousal. You didn’t know if it was from how you were dressed working in tandem with the lighting or if it was your pent-up frustration from not having a proper orgasm in so long, but you soon found your hand traveling south while you remained kneeling in front of the mirror. Before you began you carefully positioned your phone, just enough to keep your face out of the picture and rubbed your thighs, leaving teasing touches around the band of your panties.

Your chest heaved with anticipation, you didn’t know why but the fact that you were being videotaped added a feeling of naughtiness to your actions. You gave your slit a teasing rub, your hips twitching at the sudden pressure before your fingers harshly rubbed yourself. The rough fabric of the lace adding an additional tingle to the pleasure that shot through you. You moaned, leaning back ever so slightly to angle yourself and rubbed yourself through your panties, strumming harshly at your clit.

“Ah, fuck.” You whined, reaching up with your free hand and kneading your breasts, pulling your bra down and allowing them to freely spill over. Your nipples reacted to the cold air and hardened almost immediately. You pinched and twisted at them while your fingers began to move faster and faster against your wet core before you decided you needed to fully touch yourself.

You stripped off your panties and spread yourself for the camera, allowing your glistening cunt to be on full display. You slipped your fingers between your folds and began to rub harsh circled around your clit, rolling your hips along with your motions and allowing unfiltered moans to fall from your lips. Roger wouldn’t be home for another few hours, but for some reason the idea that you may get caught enhanced the arousal you felt.

You dipped two fingers into your tight hole, letting out a high-pitched sigh and now feeling contently full. You pumped them in and out of your tight cunt, the slick sounds squelching as you pumped them in and out rapidly. Your stomach clenched when you brushed against that spot inside you and a knot in your tummy began to tighten, getting tighter and tighter each time you thrust your fingers into you. You used the heel of your hand to rub harshly against your clit, the slickness guiding you with ease “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You whimpered out, rolling your hips against your hands.

The tightening knot in your stomach snapped and your body jerked while a wave of pleasure washed over you.

After you recovered, you sat up, did you just masturbate in front of a camera? You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face; it was like you had a dirty little secret of your own.

When you finally ventured out of your room you found Roger lounging in the living room “Wow, out of your room for once?” Roger asked, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“No company tonight?” You chimed, noting the absence of some bar floozy hanging off his shoulder, “Did your show go all right?”

Roger’s brows were tightly knit together, he was obviously tense over something and the long sigh he let out before answering you practically told the story; “No, it was complete garbage.” He mumbled, “The venue, not us.” He quickly followed with.

Right, of course Queen was perfect, but you decided to entertain the idea, inching closer into the living room, “What was so bad about the venue?”

It was as though he were waiting for someone to ask him that question, “The crowd was total shit, I know Freddie is damn good at interacting with the crowd, they were just,” He took a surprisingly aggressive drink from his beer bottle, rolling his eyes at the memory, “Stiff as hell,” He mumbled, “Then! That wasn’t even the worst part, on top of that the power cut out not once but three times!” He dramatically raised his arms in frustration, “I practically threw my set off the stage after the third time.” Roger scoffed. Despite your distance from him you could smell the combined stench of sweat, cigarettes, and alcohol that seemed to seep into his garish outfit.

You arched an eyebrow at him “You threw your kit off the stage?” your voice pitched in disbelief.

Roger shrugged “Yeah,” he was so nonchalant, “What about it?”   

“Well I guess you won’t be going back there anytime soon,” You mumbled, and Roger raised his bottle in agreement, “You know, I was thinking we could paint the walls a nice cream color.” You mentioned, lightly running your hands across the drab wood paneling.

Roger narrowed his eyes at you, “Paint over wood panel?” He scoffed, “It’s original finish, you can’t do that!”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, “I can tell it’s original, I can practically smell 1970 seeping out when it gets too hot in here.” You chastised, “Plus painting the walls a lighter color will brighten it up a bit, what the hell are you trying to live in, a cave?”

“Fine, you get to paint the accent wall and I’ll take the others.”

“I pay half the rent here too!” You constantly reminded him that he wasn’t the only one who lived here anymore.

Roger let out a frustrated sigh, “Fine you get two walls and I’ll get two. Have fun painting them Saffron Ivory of whatever boring color you decide on.”

Well, guess your civil conversation is over, you sighed, “At least it’ll look better,” You mumbled, turning back to face him "Shouldn't you shower, you filthy bastard" You scrunched your nose up at his pungent post show odor.

"Ah, fuck off," Roger muttered flicking you the V.

You flashed him a closed mouthed smile "Pleasant, as always." you sarcastically stated before you found yourself slinking back into your room. You truly had no idea how Freddie expected you to coexist with this man.

[parkeraul]

maybe a investigator!shawn oneshot where he's involved with criminal!reader and like.. unable to resist her??

trapped up on a tightrope | s.m (oneshot)

a/n: sorry this took so long. i was out of inspiration to this one but luckily something popped up into my mind today. by the way, not that anyone cares, my requests are closed and i’m writing the ones i already have. a special thanks to my babey @mbappekylians for giving me a little feedback about this. volim te.

warnings: kinky stuff, dirty talk, kinda smutty, kinda angsty, use of guns, mentions of crimes and swearing. words: 3,297k.

masterlist | previous work

“Why have you dragged me all the way to this place again?” She asks him, her long dress swaying shyly as he comes straight to where she is after closing the door to his hotel room. Shawn must’ve lost count of how many times he failed on gathering proofs against Y/N to finally trap her somewhere else rather than his bed. And this time wasn’t different since he was already cornering her, pinning her to the beige wall of his enormous bedroom on a building that she’s been in before. It sucks so much to get defeated by her silhouette wandering around the hall so delightfully embraced by an expensive red dress that clung to her body so tightly — and sure that cloth wasn’t properly purchased. Neither were the jewelries. As per usual. 

“Thought it would bring you some sweet memories,” He says almost whispering, stretching his tattooed arm to limit her space even more. Her makeup is breathtakingly perfect, with sharp and well-defined eyeliner under her long and curved lashes. The unforgettable tone of red colouring her lips matching with the dress — this one disappearing at the middle of her chest where the cleavage showed him all the beginning of his insanity. God, and she wasn’t even trying. “Am I right?” “What a stupid way to remind me about the Carlson case,” She rolls her eyes, letting out a breathy chuckle. “See, Mendes, for an investigator — that’s sure a fool for me, by the way — you should act smoother,” Her sarcastic expression lightens in him the most extreme feelings: the love and the hate. As much as he loves her cocky attitude, it sparkles his nerves with anger. Who the hell does she think she is? “A girl hates when the guy comes off too strong, you know? Pay her a drink before; think before you speak; choose the right words—““I’m not kiddin’, honey,” He softly takes her chin in his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up a little bit more to look her deep in the eyes. “Let’s not waste our time. I hate this as much as you do,” Shawn can barely see her in the darkness of the room, depending on the moonlight breaking through the balcony’s window to watch her features. It’s poorly, but it’s enough to see the details he admires the most. “But you owe me an explanation, if I’m not mistaken.” “You believed me? When I said I’d give away an information if you helped me sneak out from Edward’s office without making a scene?” At this point, his jaw is clenching and his eyebrows are frowning gradually. “Come on! By now you should know my mind like the back of your hand.” 

His mouth threatens to fall open in surprise but he doesn’t let it happen. Instead, he presses his lips together forming a thin line while she smiles devilishly, taking the desire out of him for a moment. Shawn’s hand travels from her chin to her neck and he adds a light pressure, making her close her eyes and bite on her lower lip. Fuckin’ bitch. Nothing seems to ever scare her, she manages to turn it all into a joke and this might be the thing that pisses him off the most. 

“You promised me,” Shawn groans lowly, ignoring the sensation of his dress pants getting tighter and the tie around his throat going uncomfortably taut. “And you’re not leaving this building until you spill the tea. Heard me?” “Mm, I like that,” Y/N makes sure to say this as sexy as possible and she knows it worked because he’s now breathing harder, chest moving heavily as he inhales and exhales. “What’s the downside, again?” “You think this is a fuckery, don’t you?” “Is there anything else but that between us?” 

Yes, he thinks. An incomprehensible passion for a woman that can pull up the most beautiful lies and make a fool out of anyone she wants effortlessly. He feels handcuffed, ironically. In a prison where he’s locked by mistake, by his mistake of letting Y/N take over his mind like he’s a puppet. Fuckery it is. 

“Could you start already and save me some hours?” “Without a kiss first?” She fakes puppy eyes, jutting out her lower lip dramatically in a childish pout. Her hands are coming up his chest, grabbing the collar of his white dress shirt and eventually sliding to play with his tie. “You know how long has it been since I last saw you in a black tie?” Y/N tries to distract him.Shawn stays silent, shoving a punch on the wall with the hand that was giving him support before. “Oh, I see,” Y/N says, jumping lightly in revelation and faking a comprehensive expression exaggeratedly. “You’re mad at me because I wasn’t a good girl. Am I right?” She pulls him closer by the tie, brushing her lips along his jawline as she smells the unforgettable scent of his cologne. Marking him with soft red lines from her lipstick, she watches it nearly mix with the rosy tone adorning his cheeks. “Thinkin’ I don’t deserve a reward for dressing up this good for you today and waste it all by being a brat,” Smirking, she tilts her head to bite at the lobe of his ear and fan her breath against it purposely, earning goosebumps from him in return. “I love it when you get rough but you know how much I hate when you’re quiet for me.” She shifts her leg up his side in order to bring him nearer, forcing his hip towards her with her shin pressed to his ass.In a swift motion, he lifts his thumb from her throat and puts it under her chinbone, still holding her neck by the nape. Inching her head back quickly, he hears it banging weakly against the wall and it makes her hair fall partly in front of her eye. She gasps, out of breath but not defeated enough to stop running her hands down his frame, feeling the muscles of his abs under her palms through his shirt. Shawn steps closer, trapping her hands between their bodies and interrupting her teasing. He knows better and hates that he has to stop her so his mind is clear to think straight. “What do you want to tell me how and why have you killed Carlson Reagan?” He asks with no ceremony. It’s an amusement to look at her being dominated by him, face tilted up at his mercy and her intimidating glance only getting more and more intense. It’s always a fight of who rules over whom. She whines like a baby, squinting her eyes and he knows what it is. Pity. “Aw! Still hurt because I didn’t keep my promise?” Y/N pitches her voice, acting like a regretful teenager who couldn’t fulfill her partner’s expectation. “Or hurt because he took me to bed that night?” 

The pain on his face is more than noticeable. Shawn can’t control his impatience and moves his hand to her hair, tugging at the locks and pulling her to his own face. 

“Go to the point.” He growls and he’s not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to believe she fucked with someone else, or because he thinks she’s lying. “Funny of you to interrogate me like that when you could be putting my mouth to a better use,” Lifting one eyebrow cockily, she drags her hand up her own thigh where the fabric of her dress opens to reveal her leg. “You wanna save hours that you could be enjoying instead, right in front of me. Exactly how you are. I’d just, you know… Need some space to knee down and bring you clothes with me, investigator,” Shawn doesn’t notice her hand disappearing inside the flat skirt of her dress and uses his fingers that aren’t tangled in her hair to play with the strap of her cloth. “I’ve been thinking about that gagging thing you’re head over heels for. Reagan wasn’t really into raw sex like you are, kinda boring,” She makes a sad face as she finally feels the material of lace belt around her thigh, sliding her fingers to the outer side of her leg where her gun is at, tucked in and held by the drapery. He’s twirling the strap with his finger, bringing it down her arm and letting it rest there. Eyeing her round breast showing up more, he takes his hand off her to place it on top of his belt. “We could try that. ‘M pretty sure you’re crazy to punish your babygirl tonight, aren’t you? Mm?” Their lips are brushing together now that he’s dropped his face next to hers, his irresistible smile pearling in the soft darkness for his jaw to close no longer after, making her wonder if his teeth might even shatter. 

Rapidly, she grabs the gun in a handful while Shawn moves his hand to his pocket, finding his gun. He lets go of her hair and, at the same time, they put the guns out as he takes a step back, pointing the object to her just like she points hers to him. 

“Very good, investigator,” Her back leaves the wall and she stands on her heels properly, spine perfectly aligned and straight, ready to react. If they weren’t in a moment of tenseness, he would melt in a puddle for her laugh right now. “Brilliant! Someone’s getting better, eh?” 

Y/N loads a bullet, making Shawn do the same and the clicking of the guns sound deafening as it echoes throughout the room. She’s smiling and giggling like this is a moment of joy, walking slowly to him as he keeps on walking backwards. The barrel of her silver gun shines through the nightfall and so do her eyes, standing behind the pipe attentive on him. 

“What, Mendes? Cat got your tongue?” Questioning, the noise of her high-heels hitting the wooden floor reverberate as she steps carefully. “You wanted me to talk but I’ve been such a big mouth for most part of the night already,” Shawn’s left arm is supporting his right hand — that’s holding the weapon — and he’s more than observant, fearing any impulsive actions that he knows she’s capable of. He’s seen her fight with guns, without guns and all of these moments made him learn that she’ll definitely not falter. More than pretty, she’s smart. She’s clever. She’s fast. No wonder why she’s been escaping for so long, making his career look like a trash can. “If you were good at investigating, as good as you are at shooting or in bed, you’d find out by yourself that Reagan wasn’t murdered by these hands.” Y/N shakes her hands playfully and his heart miss a beat. Shit, she’s not here to fuck around. “If you’re so innocent, then why do you keep on running from my questions?” With that, Shawn makes her smile fade away gradually and she wears a frightening face, trying to be the winner of this endless battle again. This time, he’s the one who smiles as his back reaches the power switch on the wall behind him, lightening up the room and seeing her face concentrated, brain working hard to build up a way to beat him on arguments. “Not so talkative now, are we?” “What makes you think you can put me down with your pitiable pressure?” “Can see your legs shaking from here.” “Don’t lie to yourself—“ “From all of the times I felt them shivering around my head, let’s say I’m a pro by now. Been making them tremble to me for so many nights, very bold of you to assume I wouldn’t notice so easily.” 

Y/N drops her head back and laughs loudly, putting her guard down but totally okay with this, because she knows he won’t do a single thing, too fucked for her to even think about pushing a bullet towards her body. His words surely made her heat wet in anticipation and it’s getting harder for Shawn not to give up and finish what he started, her dress falling more and more as she moves her silhouette next to his between chuckles. As he wants, she’s in front of him and he shifts his gun down below a little bit, hand resting on his own front as he holds the object still. The arm that gave him support before is now going up so he can run his fingers through his brown curls, soon falling to his pocket. Y/N surprisingly fixes her weapon back to its previous state, completely locked and saving the bullets from coming through the metal tube and she tosses it on top of the bed. 

“You were right,” She says, getting rid of the remaining strap of her dress and Shawn is more than confused, never putting his weapon down though. “This place brings me sweet memories.” He knows she’s not talking about the crime that’s happened in here. She’s talking about the first night they’ve met right on this same building. She was planning smaller things, like stealing a wonderful diamond necklace she’s been dying for and get some money out of unknown rich people’s wallets. Discreet and charming as only Y/N is, she obviously did it perfectly and as a bonus, she made out with the hottest man of the party in her eyes: Shawn Mendes himself. Since then and since he found out who she really is, it’s been a running back and forth like they’re stuck together by chains. She would never admit, but a few crimes here and there are just to catch his attention and make him come crawling back to her. The only thing he regrets about all of this is falling in love with her before knowing that she carries thousands of accusations, giving his work team a big headache. “What are you doing, Y/N?” Shawn asks, frowning as he watches her unzip her dress and pull it down her frame. She’s wearing a black strapless bra, matching with the belt hugging her right thigh and the lace underwear that he loves so much. Stepping out of her cloth pooled around her feet, she easily removes her heels with her feet and kicks them aside right after. “I’m doing what you really want me to do,” She calls him out unconsciously, looking him in the eyes seriously. “Or do you want to carry on with this little game?” “I told you I’m not kidding,” He prompts, forcing himself to ignore how stunning she looks in that lace set that gets him drooling. Gulping, he loosens the tie around his neck a little as he feels himself hardening to the sight of her. “Stop dissuading.” “You stop dissuading,” Y/N responds faking indignation, closing the space between them but being stopped by the cold metal of his gun. “Making me wait way too much, I’m getting impatient.” “Shut up and tell me what the fuck happened to Reagan.” “I can’t do both, love. I can either have you shutting me up or—“ “I swear to God I’ll—““You’ll what?” There’s a moment of silence after her question, making Shawn decide to put his career and rationality in front of his feelings. They’re glancing at each other, expressions falling flat and Shawn is huffing, puffing his chest and it makes the dress shirt get more constricted to his muscular middle. The anger is clear by the way they’re furrowing their brows, and Y/N makes the first move. Unbuckling his belt and keeping eye-contact, she releases the leather and pulls it away nonchalantly. The material goes behind her head and she lets it rest on her neck, sure that he’s wondering how hot she would look under him with that belt around her throat while her mouth opens for her to moan his name. She tucks the strap into the belt loop and, instead of inserting the pin into the hole, she takes his hand out of his pocket and makes him hold the belt. “You know why I’m not afraid of you, Shawn?” Y/N asks indifferently, undoing the buttons of his shirt and watching his skin being uncovered. Noticing more chest hair than he had last time they were together, she licks her lips and finishes the last buttons calmly. He’s holding the belt without a single dose of strength, too compelled by her body and skilled hand undressing him. “Because I’ve been giving you lots of chances to make your move and you’re letting them pass, as always,” She’s right, though. She let her guard down when she relaxed her body to laugh, as when she threw her gun away and kept on coming closer without a proper weapon to defend herself and, as if it isn’t enough, he’s got his belt decently arranged and ready to choke her at any second. Poor Shawn, too weak and too fucked. “But if you wanna do your thing like you say you want to…” Y/N starts, taking his wrist and closing the space between her and the gun — this one glued to her chest and he feels her heartbeat vibrate through the object, sending motions to his shaking hand. “Then go ahead. You know I’ve got nothing to lose.” “Y/N, what the f—““Go,” She assures, gulping and her eyes are starting to burn but she’s not planning on welcoming any tears. “Pull. The. Trigger.” Shawn squints his nose and his lips part, eyes widening while his fist shivers. She’s never played this far and although his reputation is slowly getting ruined, he’s thinking twice. Her look cuts his heart in half, making his chest ache and blood boil through his veins. “You can’t? Need help?” Her thumb descends and touches the trigger. She tilts her head to the side, making her hair cascade to her shoulder as she waits for his answer. Analysing his face tenderly, she notices the tears pooling in his eyes and they both ask quietly to themselves what the fuck are they doing to their lives? “I—““Again: You know why I don’t fear you?” Imperturbably, Y/N says in a sweet tone as her hands release the grip on his and go to cup his face, digits rubbing lovingly along his cheeks. “Because I know you’d never hurt me. You’re way too much in love with me to rip me apart with your bullets, investigator.” That burning sensation takes over his face and he’s sure he’s blushing, still shocked by this entire situation. As if nothing happened, she walks back and finds her dress long gone on the floor. Before, she catches her gun and puckers it back under the lace adorning her leg and tucks her feet inside the golden shoes. Soon, Y/N throws the dress above her head and covers her body while Shawn is frozen in his place, facepalming and massaging his temples. Why is she so hard to let go? Why can’t she prove him wrong and make him feel less guilty about loving her so much? He’s nothing but a joke when it comes to stalk and inspect her because the end is predictable: he’ll be on top of her, tangled into her legs surrounding his hips as he pounds forcefully inside of her core, making her scream as she praises him and begs for more. That’s all he wanted for tonight, if he’s honest. Shawn hears Y/N zipping up her cloth again and the footsteps back to his direction. She places a hand on his cheek and the other one on the doorknob beside him. “Promise me next time will be funnier than this and I’ll drop the name you’re dying to know,” She finishes and opens the door. “After an orgasm or two, of course.”

[cozycryptidcorner]

The Unlikely Alliance, Chapter 2

Hey, everyone! A donor who wishes to remain anonymous has paid for a continuation of Sally and Ronan’s story! Please enjoy. I’d like to thank both the original commissioner and the anonymous donor for  their support!

You can read the first chapter here, if you haven’t already!

The watercolor wash of yellow and orange begins to dry as Sally starts mixing the perfect shade for the bright red foliage of the surrounding trees, the large window on the side of the living room giving her the perfect view without her having to go outside in the cold. Three mugs sprawl out in front of her, one for cleaning the paintbrush off, one for untainted mixing water, and one for her tea that she might have accidentally placed her brush in once or twice. Gently blowing on the first layer of paint to get it to dry quicker, Sally glances up at the old clock, mentally calculating how long Ronan has gone. About… two hours at this point.

She can’t look at her phone to call or text him; it’s been turned off and placed in the safe that Ronan has in the basement. There is a single, ancient-looking landline with Ronan’s phone number scribbled on a notecard to the side, and when Sally had lifted the receiver, she heard the telltale hum of the connection. Even though she had debated calling him, she didn’t want to come off as clingy. Hanging out by yourself in a cabin that’s so far away from civilization with only a single ratty old dirt road to get to and from it can give anyone an extra dose of nervousness, so it’s not like she’s irrational with wanting company. While she could just hang out in the room Ronan had presented as hers earlier in the day, with the gorgeous cross-stitch piece hanging in a frame on the wall, she feels strange sitting on the bed as if she’s invading someone else’s space.

Instead of spiraling down with her insecurities and fears, though, she begins to paint a beautiful maple tree. A part of her wishes she could have her phone to play some of the music she wants to hear, but at least there’s a little portable radio that she has tuned to a station with a decent array of music. The only downside is, of course, the advertisements that she can’t just skip after five seconds or pay for premium access, leaving her to suffer through it. By the time Ronan gets back, she’s already shouting alongside the ’BIG MAC is BAC’ commercial with great success.

“I leave you for what, a few hours, and you’ve already been brainwashed by corporate propaganda.”

She hadn’t heard him come in since the radio had been turned up to the maximum volume to try and drown out her anxiety. In fact, Sally has been so wound up that she is one hundred percent prepared to stab him in the eye with the back of her paintbrush, knuckles white against the wooden handle as she spins around. At the sight of him, hands full of grocery bags in the posture of someone who will only make one trip from the car to the fridge even if it kills him, she lets out a sigh of relief, setting the makeshift weapon back down on the kitchen table. Maybe she should turn down the radio, even if it’s just a little bit.

Ronan sets the reusable (reusable!) bags down on the counter, the plastic-like material crinkling slightly as he does so. As he unloads the different groceries down- bread, eggs, bacon, and so on- he’s already separating some of the items away from the others, putting almost everything away except a select few. Within moments, he’s got a cast iron skillet on the old gas stove, lighting a match to ignite one of the burners. Oil, then vegetables, stirred with a wooden spoon, the smell almost becoming too much for Sally’s empty stomach to sit quietly. She tries to distract herself from the hunger by clearing away her art supplies out from the center of the table, setting everything carefully to the side.

After just a moment of mixing on heat, he adds eggs, waiting just a moment before lifting the panhandle with a cloth, shaking it back and forth for a moment, flipping the omelet with nothing more than the help of physics. Sally almost bursts into laughter, but she’s too shocked to do anything more than stare as it finishes cooking. Ronan slides the food onto a plate he had quickly rinsed and dried, placing it just in front of her as if he’s a professional chef. After the moment of shock wears off, Sally picks up the fork and takes a bite, and, okay, she won’t lie. She was expected it not to taste anywhere near as good as it does.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you can cook?” She asks, incredulously, as she shovels an unladylike amount of food into her mouth. “I wouldn’t have ordered all the takeout if I had known!”

“You never asked.” Ronan’s mouth curves in a slight smirk. “And besides, I never turn down free food. Or the opportunity to not work as hard.”

Sally lets out a puff of exacerbated breath because of course, but doesn’t feel the need to complain as she eats the rest of the food. Of course, she volunteers to do the dishes, might as well offer up some productivity, so while she starts filling the sink with sudsy water, she watches Ronan’s movements like a hawk. There’s something about the awkwardness of invading someone’s house that feels like it’s increased by threefold because… well, it’s Ronan, and she doesn’t know anything about it. The fact that she is in his cabin with a hypothetical window into his life, it feels strange.

Once the dishes are done, Sally realized how little there is to do. Yes, she can finish this painting today, and another one tomorrow, and another one after that. But with the limited amount of things to use as subject pieces, ohhhhh noooo, she’s going to get so restless. Pulling all her supplies back from the corner of the table and spreading everything out again, she tries to distract herself with the inevitability of cabin fever as she continues painting each and every leaf that she can see. The few hours before dinner fly by quickly, as they tend to do when she’s engrossed in her work, and Ronan is soon back in the kitchen, working on whatever recipe he has up his sleeve.

“Question,” Sally starts as Ronan sits across from her, “and feel free to shut me down if you think I’m acting xenophobic, I’ll knock it off. I know that werewolves feel the urge to change during the full moon, but I don’t think you’ve disappeared in the couple of months you’ve been with me.” Inwardly, she cringes at her choice of words. Sounds almost like they’re a couple.

Ronan cocks his head to the side slightly, eyes flickering in thought. “Well, you know how people who are violently allergic to things have epipens, right?” At her nod, he continues, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something about the size of a thick pencil. “Werewolves have something similar. If we feel the need to turn, we’ll slam this into our thigh, and that should stave off anything for a good couple of hours, which normally is enough time to get away from whatever the trigger is.”

Oh, it suddenly makes sense now. “That’s convenient,” she says, unable to think of any other words to describe having to stab yourself whenever you felt on the edge of a frenzy. Good isn’t quite the term she is looking for since this isn’t really a situation that could be construed as positive.

Ronan shrugs as though it’s nothing. “It’s easier than being locked up in the slum camps.”

Sally bites down her tongue and doesn’t say anything else. Once a were ends up in the slum camps, whether it was for petty crime or a fully fledged change in a populated area, it is very, very difficult for them to get back out. Even if they do, they need to have a human sponsor, an upcoming job with on the book wages, and those are the only two qualifications that she, a person who has lived a somewhat sheltered life, knows about. She has little doubt that there are so much more hoops those poor people have to jump through simply to be able to walk around unchained again.

Silently, she pokes at the food on her plate, scrambling for a way to turn this conversation somewhat positive, but the first thing that pops into her head is, “I’m glad that you’re the one protecting me.”

There is a pause, during which she is mentally kicking herself before Ronan responds. “This is the best job I could ask for given the circumstances.”

Which isn’t really an affirmation of any kind, more of a double-edged sword. They finished their food in silence, and Sally immediately started clearing the table. There’s no dishwasher, which she is only momentarily grateful for since that’s thirty minutes she doesn’t have to think about how she should be productive. Instead of hanging out in the living area with Ronan as he begins to clean and oil a wickedly sharp looking hunting knife, Sally finally decides to retreat to the room she’ll be staying in.

While it might not even be close to the most luxurious place she has ever been to, it most definitely is the homiest. And, as Sally thinks about it, homey is something she favors much more than whatever money can buy. Home is someplace that someone works to get, their emotions bleed through the surface, their love and hard work pouring into every crevice of the log walls and wooden floor. At the same time, Sally feels almost like she shouldn’t be there, that she is intruding on someone else’s life, and that she doesn’t deserve to catch glimpses of what Ronan is like outside of his job.

In any case, she lays down, the sheets stiff from years of unuse, pillow so saggy beneath her neck that she has to fold it in half for any kind of support. While the curtains have been drawn shut from whenever Ronan was last here, Sally eyes them suspiciously, as though someone might be on the other side, biding their time. With the tossing and turning she does, it’s a miracle she can even get a wink of sleep in the night, her heart thumping at any kind of creak the house sounds as it settles. That’s the thing about different buildings, they make unique noises in the night. It’s funny how little it took for Sally to forget that just from living a single year in an apartment.

Just as she had predicted; the next days of monotony begin to drive her mad. Sally tries her best to stay busy, she does, but she can only do so much homework without her professor’s instructions before she begins to lose it. She’s painted almost every interesting position out of the windows, and then gathered up some random objects from the cabin and tried making a still life. That painting only partially developed before she got bored of the subject material and abandoned it, still taped to a random piece of wood board she found for stability. Ronan walks with her outside, but only in short, quick bursts, not nearly enough to make Sally feel less isolated from the rest of the world.

Even though Sally would rather very much prefer that Ronan doesn’t leave her side, he still has to go out and buy food, without her. She watches him leave in another motorcycle he had stashed away in the adjacent shed (apparently he has more than just one), since taking her car might catch the attention from the wrong person. The moment he leaves from view, she begins to feel nervous once more, and even while she tries to rationalize it, you really can’t logic anxiety away.

Before she has a chance to spiral, the door knocks.

Her mouth goes dry.

Ronan always just strolls through the door like he owns the place, because, you know, so someone knocking would mean that this is someone else; theoretically, she thinks, trying to calm herself. Ronan might have just forgotten his keys, the ones he used to… leave… on the motorcycle. There’s a hunting knife that hangs on the wall like some antique trophy, so Sally stands on the tips of her toes to snag it before approaching the door. Biting her lower lip from nervousness, her fingers close around the cold doorknob as she tries calming her breath. Then, slowly, she opens it.

It’s a little girl, only about as tall as her waist, clothes filthy, puffy hair full of dirt, leaves, and twigs. The side of her quivering mouth is dripping with blood, her faded jeans ripped around her left knee. The eyes, though, are what catch Sally’s attention the most; bright, ruby-red, the color vivid enough to feel like it glows against her dull, earthy skin. In a small, mousy voice, she asks, “are you Ronan?”

“I- um, Ronan isn’t here right now, can I help you with anything?”

Wrong thing to say, apparently, because the little girl sticks out her lower lip, tears filling her eyes, and begins to bawl as if Sally had just straight slapped her instead.

Immediately panicking, she bends over, trying to get to the little child’s level, and begins to let out a hasty bit of comfort. “It’s- it’s alright. Ronan should be back any minute, really, he just went out to get food.” She realizes that she still has a machete the size of her forearm in hand, and not only is it probably terrifying the kid, but it’s also too late to do anything about it. Camly, robotically, she places it up on the coat hanger shelf that sits on the wall, directly to the side of the door while the girl goes hysterical.

Sally has never really needed to deal with a screaming child, and as the girl’s breath comes out in uneven gasps and chokes, tears clearing away the dirt from her cheeks and chin, she just sort of stands there, watching for a moment in complete befuddlement. Without any other idea of what to do, Sally ushers her in, setting the girl on one of the couches while she searches for something to wipe the grime with, going through the drawers frantically as she temporarily forgets where anything is with the impending stress. Finally, Sally is victorious, lifting up a small washcloth before running it under warm water from the tap.

The little girl doesn’t protest as Sally begins to gently scrub the mud off her face, her sobs slowing down to quiet, miserable hiccups as she gradually gets cleaner. Now, Sally doesn’t exactly have anything that could possibly fit this girl’s skinny, tiny frame, but there is no way she is going to let this poor creature stay in those dirty clothes a minute longer. One of her painting shirts should do the trick, and since it exists merely for the express purpose of getting dirty, Sally doesn’t mind its fate too terribly. Sally helps the girl change after she locates the shirt, slipping the oversized thing over her dusty hair, the stick-like arms popping out of the sleeves after Sally reaches through the holes to help guide her hands.

Soon enough, Sally has a much calmer child sitting at the table, pouring glass after glass of water for her to drink as if the poor thing has gone days without. There are billions of questions circling inside Sally’s head, what is a child doing out in the forest, why does she look like she just clawed her way out of hell, and how exactly is Ronan involved with this, but she starts with something small, something easily given up. “My name is Sally, what’s yours?”

The girl looks up at her, like a deer in headlights.

Sally feels almost guilty, the poor thing looks like she’s ready to be punched in the gut at any moment. “It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me, that’s you’re choice to make.”

It takes only a moment of silence. Quietly, as though the girl fears some kind of reprimand, she speaks. “Bernadette.”

Sally tries not to revel too hard at this step in the right direction. “Bernadette? That’s your name?” At the girl’s nod, Sally tries offering some encouragement for the show of trust. “That’s such a beautiful name! Not quite as fancy and pretty as plain old Sally, huh?”

Bernadette’s mouth twitches upward in a way that reminds Sally of Ronan, the hesitancy for showing any positive emotion was so on par that she gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Just as she’s about to start wheedling the story of why a kid that can’t be more than eight years old is out and about in the deep wilderness, more knocking comes from the door. It’s not like the girl’s knocking, which had been quiet and timid, but loud, demanding. Bernadette’s eyes glance up to drawn curtains as if they would suddenly disappear to reveal her worst nightmare lurking on the porch.

As Sally approaches the door, she feels her heart lurching in her stomach as she hears thick, dull sounding footsteps just outside on the porch. If this were a few months ago, Sally would automatically assume it’s Ronan, clomping on the wooden porch and waiting to be let in. But something is off about the rhythm of the steps, the sound of the boots, ticks and shows that someone would only catch if they are just shy of being intimately familiar with a person.

Carefully, she retrieves the machete back from the top of the coat rack, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turn white. There is no peephole to look through, so Sally just opens the door quickly in the hopes of throwing whoever it is off their game, giant knife hidden behind her back in a not so subtle manner. “Can I help you?”

The sight of this man makes her skin crawl.

For one, his smile is far too wide for her comfort. It reminds her of that one man her dad still does business with, one that watched her with eyes a little too hawk-like when she was younger, showering Sally with strange compliments that made both her and her dad uncomfortable. Second, while his uniform is of a police force, it isn’t exactly one that Sally is intimately familiar with, but she is confident that Ronan must be. CCU is embroidered on his uniform, just above the left pocket, and she knows that he isn’t here for any humans.

“Can I help you?” She asks, hoping her dull green eyes will help put him off.

“Pardon the intrusion, ma’am, but I’m here to do a scheduled checkup to the were resident listed in the lease.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sally doesn’t know where Ronan is or when he’ll be back. “Um, I’m sorry, my bod- er, boyfriend, will be back from the grocery store shortly. Can you come back in a few hours?”

The officer waits for a beat, blinking his icy eyes only once. “I didn’t realize that Ronan had a girlfriend, nor one so… human, as you seem.”

Sally forces a smile and begins to shut the door. “I’ll let him know that you stopped by, nice meeting you!”

He sticks his foot in the threshold, stopping the door just as Sally thought it was all over. Calmly, she opens the door again, throwing up a poker face so quickly that even trained detectives don’t even notice.

“Will that be all?” She asks, her tone an unfriendly an echo from when she first opened the door.

“Mmm, we’ll see.” He digs through his pockets, retrieving a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it carefully with his pale hands, he flips it around and shows a picture of a little girl, hair in careful, precise braids. When the officer shoves it towards her, she takes it reluctantly, not wanting any part of this in the slightest, needing to play along only until he leaves. “Have you seen this girl? She’s been missing from her family, her poor mother is absolutely frantic.”

Even though she tries to only pretend to look over the picture with no real intention of memorizing it, she realizes that the sparkly red eyes look familiar. Too familiar. Something in her face must have given it away because the officer snatches the picture back victoriously.

“Where is she?” He asks, voice no longer holding up a facade of friendliness.

Lie. “Oh, her,” Sally waves her hand nonchalantly. “I don’t know. She came looking for money and scraps, so I sent her to the nearest poor house. Don’t know what a were kid was doing all the way out in the forest, but it can’t be anything good.”

Out in the distance, Sally can hear the steady putter of an oncoming motorcycle. She does her best to not show any shred of excitement as the officer’s face twitches, ever so slightly. “And where would that be?”

Sally offers a shrug. “I don’t know, aren’t there ones in every city? She’ll find it.”

Then, miracle of all miracles, Ronan pulls up. Sally can already see that his muscles are tense, ready to fight, but still cautious about having to go toe to toe with this man.

“Ah, Mr. Kazimir! How nice of you to join us. I was just chatting with your girlfriend!”

Ronan didn’t even give much of a reaction to the last bit, just as Sally had hoped. Two grocery bags in each hand, he walks over, calmly standing to the officer’s side. “Did you need anything, sir?”

“No, no, just doing a wellness check. You didn’t come in for your annual appointment, as promised, and haven’t answered any of your cell calls. The only reason you haven’t been arrested yet is that your boss has been vouching for you.”

Ronan looks exasperated, but he does his best to keep his cool. “That was yesterday, wasn’t it?”

The officer chuckles, giving Ronan a not-so-friendly pat on the shoulder. “Well, if I had a girl with a body like that, I might forget a few things here and there, too.”

Neither Sally nor Ronan laughs along.

“Is that all, sir?” Ronan asks, voice tense.

The officer sighs, “well, there is a kid on the run from the institution, but your girl says that she sent that runt away. Now I have to go look all over town, maybe even out in the next.” He looks at Sally, almost petrifying her with the murder in his eyes. “Next time,” he says, voice no longer holding a shred of faux friendliness, “just invite the child in and wait for me to show up, eh?”

“Sure,” Sally says, trying to keep it together.

Ronan waits until the officer gets into his sleek, fancy car, driving off with the roar of an engine before coming in. Sally steps away to the side as he does so, letting the machete hang limply by her leg as she closes the door, locking the deadbolt. For a moment, everything is completely silent, then Ronan turns towards her, eyes livid.

“You turned away a- a- child? What is wrong-”

“Will you shut up for a second?!” Sally surprises herself by her tone and how much his words hurt. “Do you honestly think I’m that- that malicious? That I’m stupid? Is that what you really believe about me?”

Ronan blinks, half shaking his head, and is about forming another sentence when Sally beats him to the punch.

“I thought you would know me better than that.”

One of the bedroom doors creeks open behind her, and by the look in Ronan’s eyes, Bernadette must have stepped out. Without another word, Sally stares him down as the little girl takes a step into the short hallway, the floor creaking against her slight weight.

“I was hiding,” Bernadette says, her voice timid and airy.

Sally immediately spins around, dropping the anger so Bernadette won’t have to witness the ugliness of it all. “And that was a very, very smart thing to do, honey. If that man had come in, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him.”

Bernadette nods, and actually smiles at her for the first time, showing off a gap where her front teeth should be. Without another word to Ronan, Sally takes the bags from his hands, then sets them on the kitchen counter to take stock of what they have to use for dinner. Bernadette is probably starving, after all, and Sally wants this little girl’s first meal to be a good one.

“Thay man is going to be back with a search warrant,” Ronan says, “once he realizes there is no sign of the girl out in town.”

“Then, I guess,” Sally pulls out a loaf of bread, “we should think about moving on, huh?”

“Running would look suspicious.”

“And staying for him to find her is a better alternative?”

Ronan closes his mouth tightly, knowing that she’s right. “Not only did that CCU guy see your face, he probably is going to figure out that there’s a hefty price on your head once he starts asking around. There’s no way I can transport you anywhere, anymore, at least nowhere with federal were regulators.”

Sally presses her hands against the counter, hoping the pressure against her palms will help steel her nerves. “Give me my cell phone, I’ll call in a favor.”

“Sally-”

“I said to give me my godda-” she lets the curse word sizzle out as he glances over to Bernadette, “- just get me my phone.”

Ronan stares at her, just for a second, but doesn’t utter another word of argument as he spins around, retreating back to the safe. As he does so, Sally taps her fingers against the fake granite, and asks Bernadette, “what are you feeling for dinner? Grilled cheese? Pasta?”

Her ruby eyes sparkle, if she were any hungrier, she might start drooling on the floor.

Well, Sally doesn’t want the kid to eat herself sick, so she can’t just slam down a feast of unprecedented carbs, no matter how much she wants to spoil her. “Why don’t we start with some grilled cheese and soup? It’s warm you right up.”

Ronan comes up, just in time for Sally to relay the dinner plan to him, handing her the phone.

Calmly, despite the butterflies ramming up and down in her stomach, she walks over to her room. After shutting and locking the door, she flops onto her bed, watching the cell phone’s screen light up as she turns it on for the first time in what feels like years. After typing in her password, her thumb hovers over the phone app for a minute, listening to the muted voices of Ronan and Bernadette on the other side of her door.

Breathing in and out, trying to get a hold of herself, she types in the phone number she’s had memorized by heart.

It only rings once.

“Sally?”

Deep breath. “Hey, dad. I need a favor.”

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #433

Top Ten Things I Want from Xbox Series X

June is Games Month here at David’s Top Tens! That’s right, all month long we’re exploring the majesty of what we all used to call “computer games” before we became too cool. That’s because it’s the time of year when huge multinationals tantalise us with pre-rendered cinematics showcasing gaming experiences utterly divorced from what we’ll get to play. Even in this Time of Crisis (as opposed to a Time Crisis), games companies are still Touting Their Wares, and as such, I am brimming with fanboy fervour, tantalised at the prospect of Gaming Yet to Come. This week alone has seen sexy new videos from the likes of EA, Pokémon, and Sony – whose PlayStation 5 reveal gave us the best glimpse yet at exactly what the next generation could look like. I was impressed; although there wasn’t too much in the way of radically new concepts or whatever, games looked good, with plenty of sexy, shiny new bells and whistles, and it looked like environments will be bigger, more fluid, and more reactive than ever before. Plus seeing the ray-tracing in Ratchet and Clank: Rift Apart gave me serious “Quake II running on a 3D accelerator card” vibes. Suddenly I was sixteen again, getting all sticky-knickered over texture filtering and coloured lightning.

It was great.

However, I’m pretty much an Xbox-first gamer; mostly, I suppose, due to inertia, having gotten used now to how an Xbox works, to the point where a PlayStation always feels a little alien (still wanna play The Last of Us Part II, though). I’m more of a fan of the Xbox game franchises – the main reason I bought an original Xbox in the first place (way back in 2001) was to play Halo: Combat Evolved, and because of the promise of Fable. This love of Xbox games has only grown with the acquisition of Rare (despite the slight misstep of Perfect Dark Zero) and the release of games like Crackdown, Gears, and Forza Horizon. So as much as I try to be open-minded – and certainly I try to avoid any kind of partisan mud-slinging – I guess I’m pretty much in the tank for Xbox. As such, I’m phenomenally excited for Xbox Series X. I got an Xbox One at launch, and despite all of the hullaballoo and criticism, I’ve always really liked it. I think it’s kind of struggled compared to its predecessors (cult favourite OG Xbox and revolutionary Xbox 360), and hasn’t quite had the era-defining games that both of those enjoyed. All that being said, though, I’ve had loads of fun with it, and so have my wife and kids. But I’ve stuck with the same machine all these years, never upgrading to the more streamlined Xbox One S or the super-duper-sexy Xbox One X. So when I do upgrade, I think the jump will be far more noticeable than someone who’s been enjoying Red Dead Redemption 2 or Gears 5 on a 4K display; it should really feel like a new generation. And that’s before we get to all of the traced rays and other lovely gubbins.  

Anyway, when it’s this time of year, I tend to do a semi-comical ���E3 predictions” list, followed by a “Stuff I liked at E3” list. Obviously E3 isn’t really happening, but these other online game reveals are, and given my aforementioned excitement over Series X – and Microsoft’s upcoming and much-anticipated reveal of first-party titles – I thought I’d divert my thoughts to what I want to see on the new console. However, unlike the traditional E3 predictions of yore, I’m going to look at what I’d like from the console rather than what games I’d like to see. Partly that’s because these announcement videos are getting spread so far and wide that it’s hard to keep track of what’s been revealed or when we’re likely to see something; partly it’s because we already know quite a few Xbox games that are coming out; and partly because the list would just degenerate into older franchises I want to see come back round again. Plus, with Crackdown 3 having already happened, a new Fable more-or-less an open secret, and a new Perfect Dark being very heavily rumoured, my go-to “wants” are getting thin on the ground. Perhaps Tim Schafer can bring his old LucasArts classics to the Xbox next year…? Whatever, this time around, I’m looking at that big black box and thinking about what features and design elements I’d like to see. What could be improved from how the Xbox One works? How would I like Microsoft to leverage their assets – from the faster SSD to the power of Project xCloud? Basically, what do I want Xbox Series X to be like, outside from glittering reflections on Master Chief’s shiny armour?

Streamlined, faster dashboard: now they’ve already said that the Xbox Series X dash will be effectively identical to the Xbox One dash, which is a trifle disappointing, but I hope that doesn’t mean that both systems can’t get an improved dashboard before Christmas. At the moment things are a bit fiddly, and I’d like to use the improved SSD to mean seamless transitions from page to page. Make it super-easy to get to your game library. Allow more customisation of the landing page. How about allowing us to resize icons, like on Windows 10? Don’t have quite so many obscure categories clogging up the front page. Use the shoulder buttons to hop between sections. Make it more about the games I can play rather than connectivity, shopping, or chatting. Stuff like that.

Integrated streaming: with Project xCloud on the (official) horizon, hopefully we can integrate that service into how the Xbox works. How’s about letting us stream demos straight from the store? Or stream games while they install/download? Or the option to stream any game we own rather than play it from the console? Or cast games from console to phone, or tablet, or PC, so we can enjoy the benefits of Series X hardware in the palm of our hands?

Discless play: teased then withdrawn from the Xbox One launch as it require the internet to check, I hope this can make a belated return. I like physical media, but I also like not having to get off the couch to change discs. I’d be very willing to accept an always-on connection as the price for playing a game without the disc in. If they could find some way to implement this and keep everyone happy, I’d be delighted.

Improved Guide menu: the best thing about the Xbox 360 interface was the Guide menu, which – certainly by the end of the generation – basically offered you full console functionality from one simple pause-button menu. The One Guide has been refined but could go further. Offer instant access to all our games, and all the system settings. Let us seamlessly jump from one thing to another and back again. Let us view all our captures quickly and easily. And let us go through game-by-game and see all our achievements, cycling through their related imagery. Basically, make it more like the 360, please.

Standardised settings: another amazing thing the 360 did that was totally walked back for the One is the idea of having a standardised range of settings that were applied across your entire profile. So if you want to invert your Y-axis, you tick one box, then all games are inverted. This was fantastic, and Microsoft were daft for undoing it. Make it good again! You have the power!

Refined subscription services: I think Game Pass is the future of Xbox, and I think xCloud is the future of Game Pass. This seems fairly obvious to me. I don’t know how much money Microsoft makes from Game Pass, but the way they’re leveraging their entire gaming strategy around it suggests that it’s a much stronger money-spinner for them than the traditional console market. I just hope that eventually the myriad Xbox subscriptions can be refined. Perhaps “Gold” as we understand it could be retired, replaced with a simple three-tier monthly sub, similar to Netflix; Game Pass Bronze (limited multiplayer, limited ability to download games from the library); Silver (Gold and Game Pass as we understand it, plus limited streaming), and Gold (all the games plus full streaming of everything)? This would, hopefully, mean we could get some of the benefits at a reduced cost (say, a fiver a month), and the “free” games in Game Pass would offset the loss of Games With Gold, perhaps.

Switch app: simply put, this would be cool: the ability to stream Xbox games on a Switch. Nothing more to it than that, really; the Switch form factor and controls would lend themselves to the Xbox experience effortlessly, and it’d mean I could continue my Halo campaign whilst my wife hogs the Xbox with Stardew Valley again.

Tangible differences between generations: on the one hand, I really applaud Microsoft’s blended approach to console generations. Smart Delivery, Backwards Compatibility, and Play Anywhere combine to form a very consumer-friendly approach; if you a buy a game now, you’re more-or-less guaranteed the best possible version come the Series X launch in November (or whenever). The downside to this, however, is a slight nagging feeling that we’re not going to see the best that the console can do; it’s fair enough that the Xbox One and Series X versions of Halo Infinite are, to all intents and purposes, on the same disc, and your progress and achievements carry over; but does this not mean that, aside from improvements in graphics and loading times, the Series X version is functionally identical? Is it just like upgrading a graphics card? Ratchet and Clank boasted some nifty dimension-hopping technology that presumably is a core part of the gameplay and looked like something that maybe wasn’t possible this gen; will Xbox owners miss out on features like that? If Series X could, say, give us a new Fable that presented as one continuous open world with no “hubs” or separated areas or loading, with some kind of magical traversal that allowed us to rocket across the landscape on a broomstick or whatever, would that not be handicapped by having to carry save game data over from the inevitable Xbox One version? Basically, I’m fascinated by how it’s going to work, but I hope we’re not going to end up slightly short-changed from a featureset point of view.

New hardware: not just the Series X itself, obviously; and not even the strongly-rumoured “Series S” either. I mean other bits and bobs. As they’ve already shown us the controller, I can’t realistically wish for one that had a microphone in it, but a tiny mic attachment maybe? Alongside the obvious headset. I wanna talk to the machine, basically; it was the one genuine benefit of Kinect. Also: a new, improved, media remote. A wireless mouse and keyboard, or some kind of lap-based hybrid. A new camera, not as invasive or scary as Kinect, just so we can use the Xbox to Skype people. And y’know what? VR support. Doesn’t have to be unique, bespoke headsets; just let us use PC ones, and let developers support VR in Xbox games. I don’t have the money or space to upgrade my laptop to be VR-ready, but if I had a PlayStation you can be damn sure I’d have PSVR. Half-Life: Alyx might be a pipe dream, but can I play Star Wars Squadrons at least?

Don’t bankrupt me: yeah, this. I’m cautiously optimistic that Microsoft will at least attempt to make this manageable; the recent rumour that it’d sell for $399 was much appreciated even if I think it’s supremely unlikely, especially if Lockheart/Series S is a thing. With Sony giving out noises that the PS5 will be a “good value” proposition rather than cheap, I think MS will strongly attempt to undercut them, but also not feel the need to go stupidly low. So please, Microsoft: $450, top end. Please don’t give us a $499 box. I’m already gonna be forking out for a new TV so I’d appreciate if I could keep the whole cost. For what it’s worth, I think the prices of all the new consoles will be: PS5 $499; XSX $449; PS5 DE $399; XSS $299. There you go: I managed to slip in an E3 prediction right at the very end. Prove me wrong, guys!

Phew, that was another epic one. But it was fun. I guess it’s weird to try to talk about the feel of a console without having used it. There are things I’d like improving with the look and feel of Xbox, but it’s hard to quantify it; stuff that’s clunky on a daily basis. And I’m probably an edge case anyway: someone with a huge interest in games and gaming, but who’s not very interested in multiplayer, and who – because of time and money but mostly time – rarely plays new releases, and takes ages to complete a game. But anyway. I’m dead excited about the Xbox Series X, and I can’t wait to hear more.

[starfaring-princelotor]

Fourth Sight

Summary: Sincline returns to your reality, but something is...wrong.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

Warnings: Blood, starvation, vague mention of suicide.

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four

“Day one in the Rift. The Paladins of Voltron have left me to rot in the quintessence field. Sincline’s internal engine has overheated from their final blow. And yet, somehow I still live. No matter, I must get out of here. I know not how much time has passed or how long I have been unconscious, but Sincline is unresponsive to any of my commands.”

Lotor stabilized his breathing, knowing that oxygen would be a valuable resource which he could not squander right now. His suit could only last for so long and if he wasn’t able to get Sincline back up and running, then he would suffocate to death. Time was limited. His body ached something fierce, yet he couldn’t quite be sure if it was because of the fight or due to being in the Rift for...minutes? Hours? Days?

He slipped on his helmet then leaned back into the seat. He can do this. He has to.

“Day five in the Rift. The structural integrity of Sincline has held, which is a good thing. The main generator seems to have taken minimal damage from the blast. On the downside, it is still unresponsive. I can only assume that most, if not all, of the internal wires have burnt out.”

The Emperor was floating in the never ending whiteness, hands prying open the back panel of the immobilized mech with familiarity. Just as he thought. His deft fingers held the frayed wires in front of his face, eyes scrutinizing it to see if there was any chance of salvaging them. No such luck. He wasn’t able to start up Sincline without the right amount of quintessence.

Wait. That was it. Quintessence.

“I have a plan. The Rift is full of quintessence. If I can find a way to transfer it to the core power, then maybe…”

“Come on...Sincline, come on!” Lotor gritted his teeth together, trying his damn best to get any sort of reaction out of the machine.

Yet, no matter what he did, whether changing the mechanics of the interior engine or rewiring only the necessities, nothing worked. Lotor doesn’t understand. He and Allura made the robot from the same comet as Voltron. It should have been equipped with an automatic energy regenerating sequence in case of emergencies. He slammed his fist against the window in frustration, only to regret it instantly.

He shouldn't be using his energy like this.

“Day 12. Sincline is unable to absorb the quintessence in the field. The mechanism is...it is broken. I just need a small spark, just a little bit to get it working again. From there, it should charge on its own. Oxygen levels are decreasing. I am on the last of the nutrient supplies. If I get out of here, remind me to thank the doctor for having the foresight to pack food.”

If? No, when. When he gets out of here. He IS going to get out of here or he’ll die trying.

Hunger pains were the worst. He hated them, out of everything he had to do to survive, feeling your own stomach eat itself was a horrendous experience. Lotor has been through it before, but even then, he could eat dirt and survive with the consequential sickness that follows. Yet, there was nothing here. He did not have the ability to eat metal. His rations have run out. All he had left was half a bottle of water.

“Day...23. I am unsure if it is the quintessence or if I am losing my mind. I saw something out there. The Rift creatures have sensed me. I can only hope my sword is enough to defend myself.”

But he doubts it. Lotor curled over his stomach, gripping it as it rumbled in starvation. Again, he squeezes the handle. Sincline still did not respond.

He wasn’t desperate. Yet.

Not even with the gaping wound throbbing at his side. It gushed blood from the vicious bite that lovely Rift creature bestowed upon him, but the upside? Raw quintessence was healing it very slowly. It did nothing to rejuvenate his energy, though. Lotor was breathing heavily from the fight, limbs shaking from overexertion and...from fear.

That creature was tenacious in a way only savage animals crave when hungry. Not for blood, rather for their next meal ticket, and if Lotor wasn’t careful, he would find himself being eaten alive soon. He was weak, prime for picking if he couldn't figure out how to get Sincline back online. His suit no longer had any oxygen left to support him. He was stuck inside this mech. He would die in this mech.

The bracelet around his wrist radiated a faint red glow, the indicator telling him what he already knew. Lotor felt sick staying in the Rift for so long. No food, no air, and soon, no way of escape from those ravenous Rift creatures who would devour him piece by piece. He was lucky the last one was small, a scavenger no doubt, but how long until bigger ones find him?

Lotor bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes. He couldn’t die, not yet. Not like this. He worked too hard, came too far, for it all to end in naught. The Alteans, the Galra, every planet that suffered under Zarkon, they’re relying on him, on his return to restore balance to the universe. To return it to a time of peace, to soothe the scars left behind by his father’s tyrannical rule.

He faced that bastard, fought against all odds, survived this long to right the wrongs. His goals were so close, so damn close, yet like everything else in his life, they slipped right through his fingers and stabbed him in the back. Lotor had to keep going. He had to try something, anything, that would return him to the wounded universe he was born in.

A thousand scenarios were already flitting through his mind of all the work he left unfinished. The old Empire he never wanted, now fractured, free to conquer and kill without control. The Alteans he carefully preserved, soon to be completely eradicated now that they were exposed to an unsafe war zone. Everyone was going to suffer because of one little mistake. Because he trusted the wrong people. Lotor trusted Voltron when he shouldn’t have even bothered to accept their help in the first place.

Things were going to be worse now than ever before. And all of this? Fell on his shoulders.

His voice was rough, strained, exhausted beyond belief. “Day 48 in the Rift. No food. No water. What little oxygen Sincline has will only last me one or two more days.”

Lotor gritted his teeth in mounting frustration, his chest aching with sickening trepidation of what the future will hold, whether he was there or not.

“I don’t want to die.”

“Day...50.”

Lotor was tired. Restless. The cockpit of Sincline felt stifling and cramped. He had a pounding headache from lack of water. Lack of...everything, in fact. Sleep would not claim him whenever he closed his eyes. He was too weak to do more than sit up from his seat. And, dare he say, he even thought about eating his own clothes if it meant he would have something in his stomach.

No energy to move, but just enough for him to think about everything that led up to this moment. It was a dangerous path to start and even more dangerous to go down, yet he couldn’t stop himself. His mind would tumble down that pit, he knows this. Yet, after 10,000 years of suffering, of growth, of rebuilding himself over and over again, he knew that he was his own miserable company. Lotor had no one but himself.

It was better that way.

No mother. No father. No Ven’tar. No friends. All of them, gone by his doing. He hated thinking like this, dwelling on the past and what he could’ve done different. It led him to sympathize with himself. You tried your best, Lotor. But did he really try? You did everything you could, Lotor. But did he really do everything? You were a great leader, Lotor.

But...was he really?

His Empire ostracized him, shunned him for being part Altean. And those Alteans he saved? Could they really trust him for being part Galra? Or rather, for being Zarkon’s disgraceful spit of a son? Lotor tried so damn hard to prove to himself that he wasn’t like his evil father. He didn’t murder or kill without remorse. Yet, it didn't matter what he thought of himself.

There will always be people who can’t separate his bloodline and his race. There will always be people who will judge his actions based on his father’s bloody history. He couldn’t escape it. He could endure the abuse, he always has, but fuck, at what cost? How much longer until his will finally gives out?

Those he trusted left him behind. Maybe Allura was right. And maybe, this was a fitting death for him in the end.

“Was there really any hope for me?”

The Rift creatures completely swarmed Sincline, liquid sharp teeth gnawing and biting at the glass separating him from certain death. Lotor gulped and gripped the handles tighter, his knuckles straining against his gloves as he could feel the quintessence begin to overexert his body. The clock was ticking. Eyes were darting around for a way out of his inevitable doom, but he was trapped inside this machine with no where else to go.

“Come out! Come out!”

Lotor was losing his damn mind. Another shrieking growl from the creatures had him shaking his head in hopes to snap out of it. Did they just...talk? Or was he hearing things? One of the creatures raised an amorphous limb and slammed it on the hull, denting it and his chances of survival.

“You smell so good! Let us eat!”

His heart was pounding too fast in his chest, he thinks he might have cardiac arrest before the beasts broke through. The star crack in the shield began leaking in the monster’s formless body, squirming and wriggling closer to reach him. Lotor knew this was it. Now or never. He had to take that chance, regardless if it worked. He may not be able to escape his fate, but his final act of desperation was his only shot left.

“My creator…”

That voice...sounded different. Not like the Rift creatures. Lotor closed his eyes and concentrated on his flickering quintessence. The hunger pains were long gone. The wound at his side? Nothing but a faint scar remained. And his thoughts of anger, of betrayal? They were...soothed. His rage, quelled. His sadness, non-existent. He should've wondered where all his feelings went, why he was actually losing all sensation in his body.

“Sleep, now.”

Lotor helped make this mech. He knows the lions are sentient to an extent. If he can just get Sincline booted with a jolt of his quintessence, then maybe, just maybe, it can escape the Rift. With him alive or not. He can’t let the Rift creatures use Sincline, either for sustenance or for...a weapon. He can't let that happen. Sincline was built to help the universe, not destroy it. Never to destroy it.

Perhaps that was why Voltron defeated him. Sincline wasn’t a superweapon. That was never his goal for this machine.

“I will keep you safe, my creator.”

Lotor’s body chilled. Hi soul pulled from his mortal vessel. Sharp claws dug into his flesh with a sickening squelch, but he felt no pain, for his consciousness was already gone from this reality. And, when the quintessence was gone, the creatures realized their meal was stolen right out of their very hungry mouths.

“Day 51. Emperor Lotor is now under my protection.”

Sincline’s eyes began radiating with life, its sight glowing a threatening hue of purple in the infinite white of the Rift.

“Sir, are you sure it’s wise to leave an inter-dimensional communication stone in this reality?”

The Black Paladin averted his attention from the main screen, looking off to the side as Acxa’s face came into view. The lions were in the quintessence field and, as expected, the locator Kylan created with the blood sample you stored was working perfectly. However, now that she brought it up, he felt that explaining himself would build some confidence with his teammates.

“Yes. The technology here is not as advanced as ours. That may be because the planets have not yet unionized together under one banner,” he paused briefly, “It is...a shame. But we are helping them and, in turn, I have no doubt we will have stronger allies on our side after we find the Emperor. What Kylan showed me about the war here tells me that the Galra Empire needs their leader back first and foremost.”

“Yeah, uh, you aren’t just saying that because of the doctor, are you?” Ezor piped in with a teasing lilt in her voice, “This IS a different reality. We could be helping the wrong people here.”

Their leader smiled at the playful prodding, the ring on his finger suddenly filling his mind with trickles of joyful thoughts.

“Never was a fighter, that one,” he mused with a chuckle, “It is not a coincidence that we met again.”

Zethrid scoffed, “What? So, you think it’s fate that we just happened to pop out at the exact right spot with the exact right people to take us in?”

“Not fate. Perhaps just blind, dumb luck.”

Then, all at once, his Paladins muttered a single word.

“Soulmates.”

“A little unorthodox, but the existence of other realities has still not been fully researched yet,” he shrugged, accepting that the evidence before them was circumstantial at best, “We would have never known it was possible if it were not for Sven.”

An ominous silence fell upon the group, all of them thinking about the human who joined the Guns of Gamora. Who was, unfortunately, captured by Hira and her forces. His location remained unknown and no one knew what happened to Slav. They could only assume the Empress has them under her control now.

“Paladins, let us find this Emperor and bring him back,” Lotor ordered with brave confidence suited for the Black Paladin, “Time is of the essence here, but stay on your toes. The Rift creatures are relentless. If you spot one, do not engage alone. We are not in friendly territory.”

And that was one of their major concerns. While yes, they were searching for Sincline, he was wary of the mech’s self-sustaining capabilities. Moreso, the consciousness of the robot. It was not new information that the lions are sentient. Even he could correlate that Sincline would be just as alive as Voltron.

But now the question remained: would Sincline attack Voltron on sight?

It was the sound of chittering, followed by a meow, that alerted the group of the small, black dot in the distance.

“Good job, Kova,” Lotor tapped a few more keys on the screen, the locator pointing northeast from their current position, “Narti, everyone, proceed with caution.”

The closer the group drifted, the tighter they flew in formation, just in case Voltron was needed. It was a spectacle to behold. Another mech made from the same comet as the robotic lions they were piloting now. Another mech that can pierce the Rift between time and space itself. And its eyes were glowing purple.

“Sir...I have a bad feeling about this,” Zethrid warned, nearly growling by instinct.

“Stand down for now. He is aware of our presence,” Lotor commanded, “Ezor, send him a transmission that we are here to help. If he makes the first move, do not fight him. We do not know what he is capable of.”

Acxa’s thumb was on the trigger, ready to react at the first order to fire. Yet, it didn't come. She heard Lotor hum in thought as seconds ticked by, but nothing was happening. The Black Paladin had thousand of scenarios flashing through his mind. Maybe the Emperor was dead? Or was Sincline watching their every move? Perhaps the quintessence has filled his body? No, if that were the case, then the Rift creatures would have torn the ship apart to shreds by now.

Then...then the Emperor’s quintessence was no longer in his body. That leaves only two options: he is dead or Sincline has captured his soul.

Loud warning signals began flashing across each of the Paladin’s screen, setting all of them on high alert. Even Kova’s hackles were raised, teeth bared as he hissed at the unknown foes in the distance. A dark, inky hoard of Rift creatures were dashing straight at them, sensing their quintessence from miles away. Immediately, Lotor knew they could not handle them all, not even if they formed Voltron.

“Orders, sir!” Zethrid repeated, now understanding that the plans have changed with the new enemies on the horizon.

“It’d be a good idea to run, don’t ya think?” Ezor offered her opinion, “Preferably before they reach us.”

“Zethrid, Ezor, grab Sincline. Acxa and Narti, with me. If those creatures get close, we must protect the Emperor,” Lotor maneuvered his lion ahead of Sincline as Red and Green flanked the rear, “We are getting out of here now!”

Both the Blue and the Yellow lion each latched themselves under Sincline’s arms, making sure to keep their jets ready if the mech decided to attack. No such thing happened, thankfully, and the group quickly followed Lotor as he guided them down the path. The gate was too far and they could not risk a chance of having the Rift creatures find out about it. Or worse, potentially breaking through and swarming the unprepared reality.

The Black Paladin focused his energy through his body, mixing it with the lion’s, then took a deep breath. She responded to his call. She always did. His hands glowed that ethereal Altean magic, transferring his power to her vessel. She opened her mouth and fired a bright violet beam straight ahead, the force creating a swirling wormhole right before the Paladin’s very eyes.

“Ezor and Zethrid, when you go through, head for the gate. We will be close behind you.”

Deft fingers knocked the door lightly, catching the attention of you and the bedridden patient. The medical wing on Kylan’s ship was still useful for helping those relocated from the second colony and, inwardly, you were glad he decided to keep a close eye on them. Except now, without those pods, manual practices must take place. You were a doctor, so of course you kept to your role.

You flicked your finger across the holographic screen projecting from the device on your wrist, occasionally nodding while skimming over the report. “Your quintessence levels have significantly gone down back to normal. Good, very good. Still, I’d like you to get a few more days of rest while your body stabilizes,” you explained while the screen minimized out of sight for now.

“Thank you, doctor.” She was an old patient, very sensitive to quintessence and, therefore, the treatment as well, “Would you kindly tell Lotor I give my thanks, too?”

Your eyes hardened for a few seconds before you gave a firm nod. Everyone from the colonies knew about Lotor’s disappearance, but this patient? She had a failing memory. It felt...wrong to tell her the bad news over and over again, especially if she were to forget it within the next day. That was the quintessence to blame, sadly. Regardless, her health was the first priority here.

This is what you learned about the colony, what Kylan explained was happening there. These generations of Alteans have evolved to the point where their bodies produce too much quintessence. Just as there were those who stayed underground for so long that their skin could not be exposed to the sun without the light burning them. 

Evolution did its job on their species.

But this wasn't just any quintessence. This was pure quintessence, the deadliest form of them all. Letting it fester within their bodies would kill them. You read the reports. You know all the research that Lotor and his crew discovered. And, strangely enough, the process to remove quintessence was quite similar to a procedure you remember from Earth.

Lotor wasn’t draining Alteans. He was using dialysis to keep them alive. Their body was just no longer able to naturally process the slow-build up of quintessence over time. There were still many questions left unanswered, though. Why did Alteans evolve out this ability? What is the purpose of their bodies harnessing so much quintessence in the first place? And, more importantly, did this issue solely reside in their species and only their species?

You had no time to figure it out. Not when the fractured Empire was at your heels.

“I will let him know. Now, excuse me,” you gave the old lady’s hand a gentle squeeze before heading out the door, right where Kylan was waiting.

Clearly, he was out of breath from rushing. That told you he had something of utmost importance to share with you. It didn’t take a single word from him for you to hear the message loud and clear. You read it on his face. The way hope filled his eyes, the small smile, his relaxed albeit disheveled posture. The nod of confirmation when your own questioning gaze widened in disbelief.

“They’ve returned with Sincline.”

You did not even respond back as the two of you quickly jogged to the ship’s hangar. They succeeded. Against all odds, the Paladins actually succeeded. When the doors slide open, there, lying flat on the steel floor, was Sincline in all its glory. Surrounding the mech were the lions and their respective Paladins. You halted besides the group, filled with both stunned silence and doubtful hope.

Yes, that was the mech.

But why wasn't the Emperor coming out of…

“Doctor. Kylan.” The Black Paladin called for your attention, taking it away from the threatening glowing eyes of Sincline, “There has been...a complication.”

“Tell me.”

“Sincline is operational. However,” Lotor folded his arms across his chest and sighed heavily, “It is hostile.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Hostile? What do you mean hostile?”

“What he means is,” Ezor rubbed her neck a bit nervously, “Sincline has chosen to close itself off. No one can get him out of there. The robot is refusing to open.”

“It is a safety precaution. I have seen this before,” Lotor explained as clearly as he could. “The same way only the lions get to choose their Paladins. Sincline chooses who will be worthy to pilot it.”

Now, it made sense. Sincline was denying entry to anyone who got close to it. No one here was worthy in its eyes. Not you, not Kylan, and not even this alternate reality version of Lotor. You needed to know whether the Emperor was alive or not. For the Empire, yes, but with that sickening clench gripping your chest, you needed to know...for yourself, too.

“Emperor Lotor...he is trapped in there,” the Black Paladin bowed his head to the floor, “I can not force Sincline to accept me. I am not its pilot. There is nothing else I can do to help.”

“Sincline is sentient,” you pointed out, “If that’s so...it is watching us. It can hear us.”

Kylan jutted his chin up a bit at your claim, “Yes. If Sincline was made from the same material as Voltron, then it is entirely possible to communicate with it.”

“Isn’t it obvious what needs to be done?”

Now, all pairs of eyes looked at you in question, waiting for your answer. You did this before and it worked. It was time to test that theory again, especially for Emperor Lotor’s sake. For the Empire’s sake. For the universe’s sake. The lions were living beings. There was no reason to believe Sincline would be any different.

“We have to convince it.” Unconsciously, your hand came up to rub at your shoulder, phantom pains reminding you of that fateful day you were shot, “We have to convince Sincline that we are here to help Lotor.”

“Even if Sincline allows it, we do not know what sort of risks lie with this new type of mech,” Kylan countered while holding his chin in thought, “It could be a trap. Animals have been known to lead prey, even those with the most innocent intentions, to their doom.”

“But what if it was someone Lotor recognizes? You worked alongside with him while building the colonies. He trusts you. He knows you. Perhaps the familiarity will lead Sincline to trust you, too.”

Silence. The group all turned to gaze up at the still mech, feeling its eyes warily watch them. Judge them. Listen to them. Sincline was thinking, planning. Learning. It could peer into each and every one of those mortal’s souls. Their past, their present, and even their future. Two of them were truly Lotor’s allies, but only one of them was vastly more important than the other.

“If what you say is true, and we go through with this, you realize what must be done, doctor,” Kylan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I can not take that risk considering my responsibility with the colony, with Lotor’s work.”

It was like Kylan said long ago. He would help you find the Emperor, but his aid ended when the potential danger outweighed the cost of him staying alive.

“...I know,” came your answer, unwavering in the face of uncertain grounds, “I will do it, Kylan.”

You trusted Lotor. He had to be in there. You would go into the mind of Sincline, where no soul has ever delved into before, where the unknown most certainly tipped between life and death, where your Emperor laid waiting. Just like Lotor, you had to plan this carefully. Cautiously. For even you knew that it only took one mistake to ruin everything you worked so hard to achieve.

Up to this point, you had nothing to lose. If you died, then your problems would be done and over with. Now, though. Now, you survived this long. You were this close to saving Lotor. Just one more step, you told yourself. The work of a doctor is never done. There will always be lives to rescue, so why was this any different? Why was his any different?

Because you believed in him. You saw first hand what he is capable of. His story is not over. He was the key to saving the universe. Not Voltron. Not through brute force, but the raw determination to build a better future, regardless of what happened in the past. Lotor’s will to bring peace to the galaxy was real.

And you knew as any other did that, although hope is a strong motivator, it takes action to truly accomplish impossible goals.

You knew what had to be done and you would do it for the future the both of you believed in. 

[troutpopulation]

It Becomes A Chain (Sigma x reader) pt.2

A/N: pardon the terrible Dutch I used 100% Google translate for that. Also yay! Siebren is actually in the story now!

Present day

  "Alright! So, do we have any requests? Roses, bonsai, squash, anything you see." Your students were deep in thought, until one of them raised her hand.

"Yes, Darcy, go for it." The girl put her hand down.

"Can we do sunflowers today?" She asked. You nodded, smiled, and opened the drawer from the plastic shelf that sat on your countertop. It was labeled with a small card of a sunflower and the name printed in swooping ink. You plucked from it a single seed and pressed it between your palms. It took barely a moment but you felt a sprout. A small plant grew from your hands, rapidly unfurling into a full grown flower in your grasp. You gave it an approving smile before you plucked it from your hands and dropped it into the vase. The students watched with smiles. No matter how many times people saw you do this, it was always something to marvel at, like a magic trick. An incredibly practical magic trick that had its uses in feeding yourself, others, selling flowers, and in this case, drawing a still-life of a sunflower.

"Alright, we're going to draw for mm... Lets go for thirty minutes before we move on to water color." Despite all the jobs your powers have gotten you, you never abandoned teaching art workshops in your home. In fact, you found this was the perfect way to integrate them both. Shortly after your first encounter with your newfound abilities, you were rushed to the hospital by your neighbors. You were sent from facility to facility until someone who could actually help you manage your fate did so. Over the span of several months you learned control and tested the limits of your power. You could grow anything from trees to moss and soon decided that this was in fact a blessing rather than a curse. You began getting accustomed to replicating plants, and it quickly became a normal part of your daily life. Although, to this day you still had no idea how they came to be. Everybody including you and every scientists you'd consulted with were in the dark about the strange projectile that had exploded near your greenhouse. The question was a constant tug in the back of your mind.

You complimented your students' work as you opened your tablet and got to emails from commissioners and scientists alike. By now, the novelty of attention had worn off and you were quicker to say "no thank you" to researchers looking to build partnerships with you to utilize your powers. You had a few art commissions you bookmarked to get to later, and plenty of agricultural companies who wanted to negotiate prices for your services. One however, caught your attention. A laboratory studying outer space in The Hague wanted to pay for your flight and visit. They were interested in your status in the scientific community as a "self sustaining organism".

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. What a pretentious way to say 'hey, we know you can feed yourself and they want to know how to get astronauts to do that'. But then again, you could use a vacation. (Of course you knew this was professional but... Come on. They weren't going to keep you in the lab all day, right? You'd have the chance to go out and enjoy some light tourism. Plus it's a free flight and lodging.)

You decided to respond, going through all the usual formalities stating in the most corporate way possible that you were willing an excited to work with them in The Hague. You closed your laptop, twirling your pencil before tapping it to the paper. You felt like you owed science something, but science also owed something to you. You participated in countless research efforts, but not once could anyone replicate what happened to you. They couldn't even pinpoint how exactly it happened. You were beginning to believe that your willingness to contribute wasn't all because you cared about the advancements of science, but out of the sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, while they're doing blood samples and having you grow things for them, they'll be able to find out what it was that did this to you.

You made a face. It's not like you're asking to reverse it! You loved your powers. You spent far less on groceries, you felt great being able to feed people and plant trees. Life was great! You had no complaints! It's just... You really wanted to know. How did this happen? Why you?

You open the email back up and quickly send a follow up.

You ask if they can, at all, try to find out the origins of your mutation.

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

  Siebren sipped his coffee, narrowing his grey eyes. What had he written there? Whatever it was, it was scrawled so quickly and carelessly in the heat of a breakthrough that it was almost completely illegible.

He squinted hard, but the word became no clearer. He was jolted from his thoughts as a brisk knock sounded on the white door of his workspace.

"Ja?" He called, turning towards the entrance.

Yes?

"Jouwe koffie, professor." An intern shuffled inside, bringing him the extra caffeine he'd requested.

Your coffee, professor.

He thanked them and asked them for the latest happenings. He was partial to gossip, for otherwise, he'd probably be completely oblivious to anything going on. He stayed almost exclusively in his lab and couldn't resist rambling on any time somebody came in the ask him a question. A quiet moment like this was rare, and an excellent opportunity to catch up with his surroundings.

"We hebben een gast. Zijn naam is (y/n) (l/n), en hij komt uit Amerika." The intern, knowing this, was happy to comply. They informed him of their guest, and Siebren nodded along, sipping his drink.

We have a guest. His name is (y/n) (l/n) and he's from America.

"Iz dat zo? Om welke reden is hij hier?" Interested, the scientist raised an eyebrow.  The intern looked excited. They grinned, looking around, and leaned in to stage whisper.

Is that so? For what reason is he here?

"Dit klinkt vergezocht, maar ik hoor dat hij op commando en snel planten uit zijn lichaam kan laten groeien.." This bit made the astrophysicist choke a bit on his drink. He gave the intern a puzzled look.

This sounds far-fetched, but I hear he can grow plants from his body at will, and very quickly too.

His look of disbelief melted as he rationalized it in his brain. That sounded a little more than far fetched, it sounded like a flat out joke, but who was he to say anything? Here he was trying to harness the power of a black hole. In this facility, anything was possible. He still took it with a grain of salt, though. Perhaps this was a rumor. This place was prestigious and of good renown, but not immune to tall tales and stories being passed around. No place ever really was. He thanked the intern for the coffee and the update and they were quickly on their way to deliver a paper to another professor's office, leaving Siebren alone with his thoughts and research.

If that was a rumor, that was a very creative one. If not... well, then it'd be definitely something worth seeing.

He chuckled to himself. Oh, who was he kidding? That was silly.

He stared harder at his scrawled notes. Suddenly it hit him.

Ah, it had been a variable he's written. Sigma. He somehow got his wires crossed and wrote out its name rather than the symbol itself.

  ----------------------------

     You had touched down at the airport and went straight to work. You did the usual, live demonstrations, samples of every kind, etc. But between all the activity and the jet lag, you were exhausted. Too much to to do much more than admire the view from the hotel room. It was beautiful, and there were people walking about on the sidewalk below. You felt tempted by the cool breeze that rushed in from your open window.

Alright, just one walk and you'll head to bed.

  Elsewhere, Dr. Siebren de Kuiper had embarked on a similar path: a walk from the lab to his car parked all the way down the block.

Today had been long. It turns out that the rumors about the foreign man with the powers of botanical replication were true, and he had spent most of the day indisposed in the labs. Siebren strolled out and took a deep breath of the nighttime air. The sunset must have been lovely, if the dim wisps of fading sunlight behind buildings were anything to go off of. He kind of wished he'd hurried out of his office, as then he might have been able to watch it. That was one of the reasons he preferred to park so far away. The walks along the boulevard in the evening were exquisite.

On the downside, though, he had important papers with him to stuff into the back of his car and forget about, and the wind apparently decided it felt like picking up tonight. After it died down, he loosened his vice grip on his files, only for a sneaky breeze to take him by surprise and blow half the stack out of his grasp.

Siebren gasped and darted after them, pouncing on them and plucking them up from the pavement, muttering to himself. He turned to grab another before his hand touched not a paper, but another person.

He recoiled with a startled "oh" and his widened gray eyes attempted to make out the person in front of him.

"Ah, sorry," You handed his papers back to him. "You dropped these."

"Right, yes, thank y-" His smiled dropped as he spotted over your shoulder the last o his files. He tensed to make his way towards it, but the wind picked up before he could, and it whirled into the air, directly towards a channel of water that cut through the city.

Time seemed to go in slow motion as he stared horrified at his work about to be swallowed by the water.

He raised his arm, whispering a hapless "no" as it descended towards the rippling surface.

You lifted your hand, and in a second the paper was fluttering stagnant in the air.

Siebren couldn't register what just happened. There was a long, smooth stem protruding all the way from your palm, impaling his paper and keeping it in place. Slowly, the vine retracted into your skin, away from the water. When it got only a few feet long, you snapped it from your hand, turning it over to free the paper. You paused as you looked at it.

"Oh my God," You sputtered. "I'm so, so sorry I just- there's a hole in it now and I- I'm so sorry Oh God I really hope that wasn't important I'm so sorry."

"How did you do that?"

"I'm really really sorry, uh, I'm new here."

"How did you do that?"

"Ok not that we usually break people's stuff in America but- I- whatever, anyways I'm sorry."

You and Siebren stared at one another for many moments.

"Uh..." You panicked, holding out a hand to him. He tensed up, not quite recoiling but he did seem wary of the gesture after seeing how you'd just skewered his research paper. "Hi. I'm (y/n). I make plants."

Siebren could barely believe his luck.

[yenenda]

Yenenda’s (mostly) complete guide & tips for attempting the Fifth Pantheon

SPOILER WARNINGS FOR HOLLOW KNIGHT & THE GODMASTER DLC

This also includes in-depth advice for all of the godhome specific bosses, including the final bosses of every pantheon, and all of the boss variants in the Fifth Pantheon/Pantheon of Hallownest.

(Disclaimer: This definitely isn’t the only way of beating the Fifth Pantheon, maybe not even the best way, especially since everyone plays differently. But, these are the tips & strategy I’ve learned over the 10+ times I’ve beaten the fifth pantheon.)

Also, this is absolutely massive. I tried to section it into readable segments, but it still ended up huge. You have been warned.

Now that the introduction is out of the way, let’s begin.

First off, there is one unfortunate truth. To beat the Fifth Pantheon, practice is essential.

There’s no magical strategy I can give you that will let you win without it. But, it’s easy to get overwhelmed when it comes to things like the literal marathon that is the Fifth Pantheon, and there are definitely tips and strategies I’ve found that can help, and even to help with the practicing.

General advice:

1. Try not to do the Fifth Pantheon more than once in a row.

It is very easy to burn out when trying this, because it is intense, and a time commitment of about an hour, if you manage to get to the end. Plus, it is very easy to get frustrated and stressed, and...

a) this is a game, and meant to be fun, and if you’re stressed and miserable then you won’t enjoy it, and

b) a lot of Hollow Knight is a mental game. If you go in frustrated and upset, you will have a much harder time of it.

2. Charms & upgrades.

You definitely want to have full upgrades when going into this. It will make your life a lot easier to have full health and soul meter upgrades, and DEFINITELY important to have a fully upgraded nail. You want damage output!

As for charms, to some extent, it depends on your play style. However, personally, the charms I found most useful were:

Fragile/unbreaking strength, fragile/unbreaking heart, quick slash, and mark of pride OR shaman stone.

(Note: fragile charms will not break in the pantheons, so it does not matter if they have been upgraded or not! Very helpful.)

-Strength was and is the most essential charm to me, hands down. You do 50% more damage with every attack, and that’s just generally helpful for everything, and makes bosses go down quicker. No downsides.

-Heart gives you more health, which just generally increases your survivability. It’s not essential, of course, but especially when practicing it increases how long you live.

-Quick slash, like strength, is essential to me. You attack significantly faster, which, while not helpful on every boss, helps you do much more damage on most.

-Mark of pride extends your reach by quite a bit, which is very helpful for reach, and to keep out of the way of damage. This is my preferred charm.

HOWEVER, if you favor spells in your playstyle, then you may want to go with shaman stone instead, which increases the damage of your spells. Also useful.

3. Hall of Gods.

You are going to want to practice here. You want to be good enough to be able to beat all of the bosses, while ending the fight with around full health. Generally, there’s enough time to heal around three masks at the end of the fight, and sometimes more.

If you want to be really prepared, I recommend being sure you can beat all the bosses on ascended difficulty.

4. The lifeblood room.

If you beat the other four pantheons with the bindings, you get extra lifeblood hearts (3, 4, or 5) every time you get to a rest room. This can be exceedingly helpful, and if you manage to keep any until the next rest room, they even stack! Good against later, more difficult bosses.

Whether or not you bother with this is up to you, but it is good practice against some of the bosses, and the bindings can be done one at a time. I, personally, recommend it.

With all that out of the way, I move on to the main part of this guide:

THE BOSSES.

IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE SPOILED ON THE BOSSES IN THE FIFTH PANTHEON, STOP HERE!!!

I will list every boss, but I’m not going to go into detail on every single one. A lot are fairly straightforward, after all. HOWEVER, keep in mind that, in the Pantheon of Hallownest, a lot of the bosses have been upgraded to be more difficult, usually with the arena changing in some way to limit movement or be more hazardous. They will always take the form that the ascended difficulty in the Hall of Gods takes, though without the extra damage.

NOTE: Feel free to message me if you want more in-depth advice on any specific boss(es), I will be happy to break it down for you!

I will put an asterisk (*) next to bosses that are Godhome or Pantheon of Hallownest specific, if you want to skip to those places.

Onto the bosses.

1. 2 Vengefly Kings. Harder than one, and it takes surprisingly long for the first boss. If the little flies overwhelm you, use the downward spell to clear them out.

2. Gruz Mother. Some of the floor has been replaced with spikes. Be careful.

3. False Knight.

4. Massive Moss Charger. This one is the easiest boss in my opinion. When it charges, with quick slash you can literally just stand in front of it and hit it, and the knockback will keep it from hurting you.

5. First Hornet fight.

6. Gorb. Try not to fall.

7. Dung Defender. If you need to heal during this fight, hide in the corner of the room, right up against the wall. It is rare you will get hit here, though still possible, so be careful.

8. Soul Warrior. This guy also spawns the orange ghosts, this time around, so try not to get overwhelmed. The only real time to heal during this fight is at the end, so be careful.

9. Brooding Mawlek. RIP Tiso. There’s no platform in the middle this time, so be careful not to get pinned against the wall.

*10. Oro and Mato. Since there is a hot spring directly after this fight, do not worry about keeping your health near full, just focus on not dying. Try to attack Oro (who shows up first, alone, for the first stage. He does the attack across the whole map) even on the second stage, because he has less health in the second stage, and is easier to take down first.

Hot spring rest spot.

11. Xero.

12. Crystal Guardian.

13. Soul Master.

14. Oblobbles. Try to do damage to each of the oblobbles equally, because once one goes down, the fight gets harder. But, they keep damage from the first stage, so it’s better to make sure they are both damaged equally before one is killed.

*15. Sisters of Battle. The Mantis Lords, but all three attack you instead of just two in the second stage. Make sure you are fully healed before that second stage. Stay on your toes, because they are fast and ruthless, but fortunately there is a hot spring after this, so no need to worry about keeping your health completely full.

Hot spring rest spot.

16. Marmu. This fight is a pain. Just try to defeat Marmu quickly, and not take too much damage.

17. Flukemarm.

18. Broken Vessel.

19. Galien.

*20. Paintmaster Sheo. His attacks are telegraphed by the color of the paint, and there’s time to heal every time he is knocked down, so it should not be too hard of a fight with a little practice. Blue attacks are the most difficult for me to dodge, personally, because there’s very little time to react, but even then can be dodged.

Hot spring rest spot.

21. Hive Knight.

22. Elder Hu.

23. The Collector. I have lost more runs to this guy then I care to admit. His normal allies are replaced with harder versions. Yes, that means he summons PRIMAL ASPIDS. If you don’t have both the fully upgraded nail AND the strength charm, they take more than one hit to kill, so those are essential. If you have both, it’s not too hard, because you can kill the little allies in one hit, before they do any attacks.

24. God Tamer. Don’t bother with the Tamer herself, only focus on the beast, because once it dies, she’s defeated. The easiest way to kill it is to just pogo jump on its head, while avoiding the Tamer’s jumps. Also, be careful healing after the beast is defeated, because sometimes the Tamer jumps on you one last time before collapsing.

25. Troupe Master Grimm. Don’t attack him while he’s bowing, because it actually takes longer in the long run. If you do, he does an extra balloon phase, in which you can’t attack him.

Hot spring rest spot.

26. Watcher Knights. Try to focus on one at a time. You can usually sneak a heal or two in when there’s only one currently alive.

27. Uumuu. If you didn’t miss Quirrel before, you’re definitely going to miss him now. You’ll have to attack the exploding Oomas (big jellyfish) into it in order to break the protective outer casing. Just be very careful not to let them explode on you, so only attack them when they are basically on top of Uumuu.

*28. Winged Nosk. Actually easier than normal Nosk, at least for me. Just pogo attack downwards when they fly across, and try to avoid the orange infection they spew. The only real time to heal is when they are up on the ceiling, after dodging the infection they drop.

*29. Nailsage Sly. AKA one of the only times I ever use nail arts. His main two attacks come in beats of three, and after the third strike, there is a very limited window in which you can attack him once, so do so with a charged nail attack. When he builds up to his spinning attack, go jump on the wall until he’s done, don’t try to attack him. On his second stage, just dash away, and then dash back with a charged slash. Sly’s entire fight is about timing, and once you get the timing, he becomes a lot easier. ALSO, THERE IS NOT A HOT SPRING DIRECTLY AFTER THIS. It goes directly to the next Hornet fight, so be careful and try not to lose to much health.

30. Second Hornet Fight. If you lost a lot of health in the previous fight, try to heal during the time she’s stunned. Be careful of the spike traps she starts to lay halfway through, try to clear them out if you can, or they can get overwhelming.

Hot spring rest spot. (Finally)

31. Enraged Guardian.

32. Lost Kin. The ghosts it summons can get overwhelming easily, so try to clear them out as quickly as you can.

33. No Eyes. The arena is significantly spikier now, so don’t try and chase No Eyes across the arena, since they teleport away anyway. Avoid the ghosts, take your time, and try not to hit the spikes or fall off the platforms.

34. Traitor Lord. Prioritize not getting hit by his lunge attacks, since they do two damage.

35. White Defender. Again, if you need to heal, the left and right corners are the safest, though the White Defender is a lot more dangerous. Since there is a rest spot directly after, though, do not worry about keeping your health completely full.

Hot spring rest spot. The following section of the Fifth Pantheon, especially from Markoth to Nightmare King Grimm, is extremely difficult. All of the bosses are hard, from this point on, with limited healing points.

36. Soul Tyrant.

37. Markoth. An already difficult fight made even more difficult by taking away the ground. Do not try to rush this fight. Take your time, try to minimize getting hit, and hit him when you have a clear shot. If he does the spinning shield attack on a far side of the arena, you can retreat to the furthest point away from him to heal a bit, but be careful if he is near the middle, as his shield goes quite far.

38. Grey Prince Zote. You can actually make the Fifth Pantheon easier on yourself, because if Zote is left to die, or, I believe, not defeated in the Colosseum, this fight is skipped.

39. Failed Champion. IMPORTANT. COUNT THE NUMBER OF TIMES HE HAS BEEN STAGGERED. On the third time, he will stay down. Before you kill him, if you get right up close to him, you can dream nail him. In this way, you can actually heal completely before the next fight, which is critical, because the next fight is...

40. Nightmare King Grimm. Try not to die. He gets easier when you learn his patterns, but even so you have to have quick reflexes. Fortunately, there is a rest spot after him.

Hot spring rest spot.

*41. Pure Vessel. Personally, my favorite fight in the game. My biggest suggestion is honestly just practice and practiceX10000. Once you have the muscle memory to avoid their attacks, the fight becomes much easier. I have practiced to the point where I managed to beat them while completely drunk off my ass once.

Surprisingly, to avoid most of their attacks, you have to go towards them. Pogo attacking over them is the most effective way to avoid both their lunge and their triple slash. To get to the Fifth Pantheon, you already have to defeat them once, so I won’t go into too much detail, unless someone wants me to.

42. Absolute Radiance. And then... there’s this asshole. Like her counterpart from the original game, only kicked up to eleven.

The hardest fight in the game, by far. She’s definitely the one I’ve died to the most. But, again, with practice, she’s defeatable, if still difficult. Even after beating the Pantheon 10 times, and defeating her on radiant difficulty, she still kills me sometimes. Expect to die several times. It’s frustrating, I know, especially since it takes around an hour to get to that point, but each time you attempt the Pantheon you gain valuable practice.

Fortunately, you gain all your health back before this fight, at least.

In her first stage, the Radiance has similar attacks to the original Radiance, only she attacks more, faster, and is absolutely unforgiving. Her attacks deal two damage, just like the original, but she can kill you incredibly quickly.

Once she falls over, and the black tendrils grab her, you can heal up to six health. Then, a similar stage plays out, except on platforms this time.

Then, like the original fight, there is a climb, while she shoots lasers at you.

Unlike the normal Radiance, though, this is not the final stage. There is one last stage, where there are two platforms, and the only attack is the orbs. This stage, while difficult, is not very long. Focus on avoiding the orbs, and double jump over them. If they go off the top of the screen, they disappear.

If you defeat her, you are awarded one of the two the new endings, a cutscene, and an achievement. Plus, the satisfaction of completing this very difficult challenge.

And that is the Pantheon of Hallownest. I hope this guide helps someone with the quest to beat this Pantheon.

If you have any further questions, concerns, want any more advice from me or more tips on the bosses, etc, feel free to ask. Or, if anyone wants me to do a guide on how to defeat all the bosses on Radiant difficulty in the Hall of Gods. I’d add more here, but I’ve already written like 2500 words, so. I’ll be done for now.

GOOD LUCK!!