#may add elevations for this level after I figure out what the hell I did wrong with the core chamber

[shadesofmauve]

Alliance Normandy SR-2 redesign: Deck 5

We've finally arrived at the bottom: deck 5, home of the hangar, the Kodiak shuttles, and now, Marine Land!

There are some oddities with this deck, because I was guessing at how fast the hull tapers towards the bottom at the back (I'm working off references that show front and rear elevations, but that only shows you the broadest points). I messed up something with my core chamber measurements and had to make the entire rear end (heh) slightly bigger here before posting, but the deck design errs on the side of narrower.

Hangar

When I wrote A Star To Steer Her By I ignored the silly shipbuilding because I was focused on a relationship (and because it wasn't supposed to be a door-stopper novel. Oops), but as I went on things like "this hangar should be regularly exposed to vacuum, how can you leave gym equipment in here" bothered me more and more. By the time of Sunset and Evening Star I couldn't let that state of affairs stand. So: this hangar is regularly exposed to vacuum. No fancy force fields that keep in the air but let out shuttles. You don't leave anything in here that isn't protected from vacuum and strapped down.

The hangar is the limiting factor in the size of the entire ship; it has to fit between the central elevator and the hangar door, and it must fit two Kodiaks. To reach this size I had to make the Kodiaks boxier; my drawings are taller for their length than the game models. They still seat twelve, and there's room for one to do a 180 on it's axis while the other is in its cradle. The hangar floor slopes down slightly towards the door in the middle, and the Kodiaks are 'shelved' to the sides.

Cortez runs the flight deck from the exact same place he is in game, but now he has bulkheads and windows between himself and the cold death of space. Airlocks on either side give access to the flight deck. There are also giant doors straight into the deck 4 cargo bays, but those won't open unless the hangar is pressurized.

Marine Land

Jack's Sulking Pit is now a gym, with weights, treadmill, stationary bike, heavy bags, and mats for sparing (and occasionally making pillow forts for evacuee toddlers). Mats are usually stored stowed against the wall, and other equipment can be moved as needed.

To port are the marine berths. The usual compliment of marines is a dozen, including their unit leader, but there are twelve bunks as well as the officer's tiny cabin (because there's no point wasting the space, and you never know). Other than their semi-privacy, the marine racks are no different from the enlisted racks on the two decks above.*

*"Except for the smell." — the rest of the crew, probably.

Berthing the marines on deck 5 is all about quick access to their arms, armor, and transport. Directly across from the marine berths is the entrance to the locker room and armory. After armoring up they grab their weapons and can get to the shuttle through an airlock entrance in the armory. On the way back, they reverse the process; stow weapons, strip off armor — often dropping damaged plating into the recycler chute as they go by — strip down, and shower.

The Alliance military is gender neutral, and nowhere is this as obvious as the marine lockers. The marine unit regularly strips down in front of each other; it's just part of getting ready for work. You can't be body-shy and be an Alliance Marine.

(I like to think the separate bathrooms on the crew deck were the Illusive Man's weird traditionalist decision. Sometimes the gendered-bathroom thing starts to grate on Bo Huan, the third-watch pilot, so they come down to deck five to use the locker room showers, leading Joker to quip "Ah, the third gender: marine!")

More engineering, and the answers to a few questions

Ladders from deck 4 lead down to another engineering area on the hangar level. It's not connected to the main areas of the deck by conventional corridors, but it is accessible through the warren of service passages that run throughout the ship. More of those access-ways lead aft of the eezo core chamber to the fusion plant (not shown). Because the core chamber narrows faster than the ship, it's easier to get around it here than it is on the engineering deck, where the core chamber is at it's widest but the hull has started to narrow. These access tunnels are rarely comfortable to get through, though they often open out into areas that are easier to work in, or into surprising pockets of unused space. They may require crawling or climbing, or clambering over obstacles.

All the maintenance accesses are kept pressurized and aired up, but the habitable area shown on these posts is wrapped in an inner hull, and the doors for maintenance access are all pressure doors: if a hit damages the tunnel you use to access the ship's innards, it won't kill all the crew in the room next to it.**

**It will obliterate the illicit still and the not-actually-a-secret-make-out-nest, as well as anyone stupid enough to be distilling and***/or fucking in those locations, which is why we don't lollygag between the hulls in combat, private!

***AND?****

****Some people are remarkably talented.

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

[the-bau-quinjet]

Memories, Pt. III

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks, torture

Word Count: 1968

a/n: Part 3!! Honestly, I feel like this series could've been a one shot, but I wasn't feeling inspired to write the whole thing at once and I knew I would finish it if I posted part of it because I would stress about people wanting the next part 🙃

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

3 Years Ago

Bucky could only be described as a ball of nerves when you walked into the room. It felt like his brain shut off.

He had spent the last thirty minutes practicing what he was going to say to you when you arrived for your weekly movie night. Basically, it boiled down to six simple words: I'm falling in love with you.

Despite Steve, and a slightly out of character Sam, ensuring him that you felt the same, he was still skeptical. Why would you choose him when you could get any guy, or girl for that matter?

As he nervously stared at you, he could see your lips moving, but no sound could be registered above his own internal panic.

He didn't fully comprehend you had even said anything until he registered the panic on your face. Suddenly, his own thoughts disappeared.

"Oh no. No, no, no. I'm so sorry. You obviously don't feel the same. I'm just gonna go! I'll, uh, I'll see you later." You tried running out of the room, but Bucky was too quick.

"Huh? I don't feel what?" He was completely stunned that he had gotten so worked up in his own nerves that he missed what you said. He was supposed to be trained in observing people. He should be able to multitask, especially when one task is completely within his own mind.

"Bucky, really it's okay. I'll be fine. We'll be fine! I just, I need a minute... or a few to-"

"Y/N, doll, I'm so sorry." He sputtered as tears pooled in your eyes. What the hell did he miss? "I didn't hear a word you said."

"You... what? Why not?" The tears continued to pool as you did your best to hold them back for when you were alone in your room.

Bucky took a deep breath before he began talking faster than you'd ever heard him speak before.

"I'm falling in love with you." You honestly stopped breathing for a minute. "I was trying to think of how to tell you. That's why I didn't hear you. Steve convinced me that I should tell you. Sam a little bit too honestly. They kept saying it wasn't healthy to keep it all bottled up. And, I mean, I just-"

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his eagerly. The kiss was all teeth and tongue, soft smiles growing into wholeheartedly happy grins.

"You're an idiot." You chuckled, pressing your forehead to his. "That's what I said when you so graciously ignored me."

"I- You what?" Bucky's jaw dropped.

"I'm falling in love with you too."

-

Present

Waking up in Bucky's arms felt right. There was no other way to put it. His presence had a soothing effect unparalleled by anything you had ever felt before.

His face was relaxed, a slight smile pulling on his lips. You brushed his hair out of his face, slowly rubbing your thumb along his cheek and down his jaw.

A familiar ball of guilt grew in your stomach as you cuddled closer to his body. It may have only been two days since you woke up, but this group of heroes quickly found a place in your heart, almost like they'd been there all along. Lying to them about your past was gnawing on your heart, slowly breaking down your resolve.

You carefully removed yourself from his embrace, softly closing the door to your bedroom as you left. You knew he would want to talk about last night, and you just weren't ready for that. Not yet.

You wandered the halls until, three dead ends later, you eventually made it to the kitchen. Much to your relief, the common area was empty. You had just enough time to calm your internal panic about what food you could eat when Natasha walked in.

"I'm about to make a smoothie, want one?" She offered, much to your delight.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you." The level of sincerity of your words caught her mildly off guard, not that you or anyone would have been able to tell.

"So, how are you feeling?" She questioned lightly, hiding her skepticism at your odd behavior. Call her a pessimist, but 3 months with Hydra and you're relatively fine? It doesn't quite add up.

"Oh, um, okay I guess. I feel like my brain is all jumbled." You settled for half truths again, knowing she would easily spot a total lie.

"Right, well that's to be expected after a few months with Hydra. You said they kept you in that room the whole time?" She kept her tone light, trying to empathize with everything you went through.

"Um, yeah... I-" You grabbed your head as memories flashed through your mind. You were in a room, it looked like a lab but it was dark and grimy. People surrounded you, but you couldn't understand what they were saying.

They poked and prodded at you, forcing you to lay down as they strapped you into a metal chair.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" She rushed to you, smoothie forgotten in the blender as you screamed, remembering the pain you felt in that chair. You didn't even realize you were muttering under your breath.

Her voice drew you back to the present. You abruptly stood up, backing into a corner as you glanced around the room.

Slowly, the past two days came back to you. Flashes of memories, old and new mixed together in your head, all out of order.

You were in the Avengers compound.

Your were buried in rubble, people screaming and crying surrounded you.

They thought you were one of them.

You were being arrested, locked in the room where Bucky found you.

They didn't know the truth.

"Y/N?" Nat questioned again, slowly moving toward you.

"I'm fine. I, uh, I'm okay." You took deep breaths, slowly calming all your nerves.

"What happened?" She pulled you out of the corner, leading you back to the island for your smoothie.

"I, um, I was back there." You stuttered, trying to make sense of the image. "But, it was different. A different room." You were too shaken to think about what could happen from sharing this new development.

"A different room? What did it look like?" Nat was eager to hear more. If you didn't remember everything from your three months there, maybe they did something to you, and that's why you've been acting weird.

"It looked, it looked like a basement. It was dark and grimy." You left out the part about the lab equipment. "I, um, I think I'm gonna go on a walk. Just to clear my head a little bit."

You left before she could respond, smoothie untouched on the counter.

-

When you returned from the walk, you could hear Nat talking to Steve and Wanda in the kitchen.

"I'm telling you, they must have done something to her. She's not acting right." Nat was firm, steadfast in her belief that Hydra wouldn't have kept you there without trying something.

You're heart rate spiked at her words, nervousness overcoming your body. They were going to figure it out.

"Nat, she just came back from three months of torture. Of course she's gonna act a bit different. She needs time to adjust back to her regular life." Wanda replied, figuring Nat was just a little too paranoid.

"You didn't see her in the kitchen! Wan, she freaked out. She looked terrified. She was muttering something about experiments. What if they messed with her head?" Nat rebuked, still trying to convince them.

"I mean, I guess it's possible?" Steve stated, clearly unconvinced but open to the idea. "She hasn't been acting that off though, not when you take into account what Wanda said."

"Steve, she hasn't told Bucky she loves him. That would've been the first thing out of her mouth if she was herself." Nat settled him with a glare, knowing her point was made.

You panicked. If they figured out you weren't who they thought you were, what would they do to you? Before you registered your own movements, you were running.

You made a break for the elevator, twisting and turning through the halls in what you hoped was the right direction.

Just as you turned the last corner, you ran right into something- no someone.

"Where's the fi-" Tony started to joke, but after taking in your expression stopped mid-sentence. "Whoa, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" You replied far too quickly, trying to squeeze past him.

"Y/N, wait." He grabbed your arm, preventing you from getting away. "Talk to me, kid. What's going on up there?" He gestured to your head.

"Really, it's nothing." You wiped a tear from your face, knowing it wasn't helping your case. "I have to go."

"Nope. I'm not gonna let you bottle this all up. You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong. Come on." He pulled you into the elevator, leading you to the lab.

Once he had you sat on the window seat in the back, he asked again. "Tell me what's got you this upset. You know we're all here for you, right?"

You couldn't take it anymore. They were all being so nice, and you were lying right to their faces.

"I'm not who you think I am." You barely whispered the words, overcome with a mixture of guilt and self pity. "I don't belong here." You refused to make eye contact until Tony lifted your head to meet his eye.

"Y/N, you probably belong here more than anyone else, except maybe Steve, but he doesn't count." He tried to lighten the mood, earning an attempt at a small smile from you.

"I really don't. I'm not a hero. I'm a murderer." You cried as you finally admitted the truth. The relief you felt was instantly weighed down by fear at what would happen next.

"What are you talking about?" Tony was clearly confused by your admission. "Y/N, your not a murderer."

"I'm not an Avenger." You moved your hands to cover your face, knowing you weren't strong enough to admit this to his face. "I wasn't in that room for three months, it was three years!" You missed the way his brow furrowed deeper in confusion as you continued to rant. "i don't know why you all think I'm some hero. Nobody was supposed to rescue me. I was in prison. I'm a killer."

You took a shaky breath, as you kept going. "I was in that room because I made a bomb that killed 38 people. I- It was accident, I swear! I didn't mean to hurt anyone... I- I think?" You started questioning yourself as memories flickered through your head.

"It's all fuzzy." You desperately shook your head, trying to make everything clear.

"It wasn't supposed to blow up! It was supposed to absorb energy and convert it into power, but it didn't work." You were nearly sobbing, picturing the people you injured and killed. "It exploded and people died! It was all my fault."

Your breathing quickened again, anxiety at admitting what you had done mixed with the guilt of lying to the only people who have ever shown you kindness causing the panic to set in again.

"Hey, hey! Look at me. You're okay. We're gonna fix this. You're not a killer, Y/N." Tony held your face in his hands, speaking firmly but not without compassion.

"Yes, I am!" You shouted at him, causing him to stumble backwards. "I don't know why you all think I'm someone I'm not, but it's true. I don't-" Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to get the words out.

You managed a mumbled, "I don't belong here." Before you passed out.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

Memories tagist:

@otherglowcloud @dontxfearxthereaper

[fandomrewrites]

Season 3a; Episode 11: Alpha Pact

Hello all! After this one there is only one more chapter of season 3a! If you guys are liking the story and want to be added to the taglist let me know! As always constructive criticism is welcomed. And please make sure to answer my pinned post if you like the 100!

Season 3a; Episode 11: Alpha Pact

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend

Warnings: panic attack, swearing

Word Count: 4,112

Season 3a masterlist

Hearing someone running down the stairs, I turned to see Stiles. "Where's Scott? Where's my mom?"

Stiles sighs, "Jennifer took your mom. And Scott..." He trails off.

"Stiles, what happened?"

"He went with Deucalion." My mouth falls open in shock, unsure of how to process this new information. Rather than thinking about it right now I decided to turn back around to try and get Derek to wake up.

After a few more agonizingly long minutes Derek slowly blinks his eyes open. Spotting me and Stiles above him, he pushes himself into a sitting position and asks, "Where is she?"

"Jennifer? Gone." Stiles answers.

"With my mom." I quietly add, still trying to process the fact that my only two family members are with psychopaths.

"She took her?" Derek questions.

Stiles nods, "Yeah. And if that wasn't enough of a kick to the balls, Scott also left with Deucalion. So get up. The police are coming and we need to get you the hell out of here."

Stiles and I both help Derek off of the elevator floor, "What about Cora?" The Alpha asks, concerned for his sister.

"She made it out with Peter and Isaac." I answer as we make our way to the exit.

"You should go with him, (Y/N/N)." Stiles speaks up.

I quickly shake my head, "No, I'm staying with you." Stiles sighs but nods.

Before Derek gets the chance to leave, I pull him into a quick hug. "Be careful. And please keep us updated."

Derek awkwardly pats my back, "Uh, yeah. You too."

Stiles raises his eyebrow in question once Derek is gone, "What? I'm his favorite. I can get away with doing things like that." I shrug in response.

Stiles shakes his head, though a small smile forms on his lips. "Let's go wait for the cops." He says, leading me over to the waiting room chairs.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Stiles and I sat side-by-side holding tightly to each other's hand. We needed some sort of comfort since both of our parents were taken by Jennifer and Scott decided to be friendly with the demon wolf. 

We looked up at the sound of the hospital doors opening. My mouth fell open as I saw an FBI agent making his way towards us, "Do you think he saw me? Can I make a run for it?" I quietly ask Stiles.

"I'm pretty sure he saw you." He gave my hand a squeeze. "I'll be right here for you the whole time."

Once the Agent approaches I quickly look down at mine and Stiles entwined hands, refusing to make eye contact. I start focusing on my breathing, counting inside my head but also focusing on the words exchanged between the two guys near me.

"A Stilinski at the center of all this mess. What a shocker." My jaw clenches at his words and I can feel Stiles becoming more annoyed by the second. "Though I do wish you weren't here, (Y/N)."

Neither Stiles nor I answer. "Do you think you can give me some answers without the usual level of sarcasm?"

"If you can ask them without the usual level of stupid." Stiles replies, glaring at the man.

I start to play with Stiles fingers as I hear the Agent speak once more, "Where's your dad and why has nobody been able to contact him?"

"I don't know. Haven't seen him in hours." Stiles answers.

"Is he drinking again?"

"What do you mean again? He never had to stop." Stiles spits out.

"That was you." I mumbled under my breath, but both men heard me.

The agent sighs but chooses to ignore my words, "But he did have to slow down. Is he drinking like he used to?"

"How about next time I see him I give him a field sobriety test? We'll do the alphabet starting with F and ending with U." Stiles angrily says, making me smile lightly.

"How about you just tell me what the hell happened here?" The agent asks, trying a different approach.

"We don't know. We were stuck in the elevator the whole time." Stiles answers, sticking to the lie we came up with earlier.

"You're not the one who put the name on the doors, are you?"

For the first time in the conversation I look up, exchanging a look with Stiles. "What name?" We ask together.

"Argent. Do you know who that is?" Stiles and I both nod in response, not feeling the need to answer considering the agent probably already knows who they are too.

"Well you can leave Stiles, I would like to talk with my daughter."

"I stopped being your daughter the day you left me and Scott. If Stiles is leaving I am too. And you can't make me stay." I glare at the man. I look back to Stiles and tug on his hand, "Come on."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Stiles and I quickly make our way to the Argent's to let them know that their name was left on the elevator doors at the hospital. "The word is Guardian, Allison. More than anyone, you know that's a role I haven't exactly lived up to lately." Mr. Argent says to his daughter.

We move down the hall, walking into Mr. Argent's office. "But she took Mrs. McCall and Stiles' father. That's not a coincidence." Allison argues.

"I'd also consider the fact someone put your name in large block letters on the elevator doors. That kind of felt like a pretty big warning to me." Stiles adds.

"I think it might have been Morrell. I think she knows a lot more than she lets on. She might even be trying to help us."

"Well she needs to get on that a lot faster since the lunar eclipse is less than two freaking nights away."

Stiles fell into a chair as I chewed on my bottom lip. "Stiles, don't give up hope." Mr. Argent says, looking at the teenager.

"They could already be dead."

"I don't think so. There's something about Jennifer's tactics. It's like she's still positioning. Still moving pieces into place."

"And you're one of them." Allison says.

"Okay." Mr. Argent sighs, "Then let's not wait around to see her next move."

He lays out a map then continues speaking, "Everything she's done has been on a Telluric Current. So Melissa and the Sheriff have to be somewhere on one of the Currents, right?"

"That would make sense." I answer. Though Mr. Argent is looking at Stiles.

"Stiles, if we're going to find them, we need your help."

"You seriously want to go after her? Have you even seen what she's been able to do? She tossed Scott across the room like it was nothing." I place a comforting hand on Stiles shoulder as he speaks, understanding his concern and frustration.

"What if she just takes you like the others? I mean, no offense, but what's the difference between you and them?" Stiles continues.

"I'm carrying a .45." Mr. Argent places the gun on top of the map. "Maybe she can heal from a shot to the leg and a few slashes to the face. But, personally, I'd like to see how she holds up with half her skull blown off. We've got one priority right now. Find your mom," He says looking at me.

He then turns to Stiles, "And your dad. We've got a map and every clue we need to figure this out. The only thing we don't have is time. Which is why I need all three of you."

"We can do this. We have to." I say, giving Stiles’ shoulder a squeeze. 

Stiles nods in response, "Where do we start?" We all gather around the map as Mr. Argent pulls out a black light.

"The place where the sacrifices have been committed have usually been different from where the bodies have been found. I think the placement has to do with the strength of the Current. So there's the School, the Animal Clinic, the Bank."

"What about the motel?" Stiles asks.

"I don't think she'd take them that far."

"This still looks like too much ground to cover. We could spend weeks looking at all the possibilities." Allison says.

"She must have some sort of pattern that she follows." I add in.

"She wouldn't use the same place twice, would she?" Stiles questions.

"Only if she didn't succeed the first time." Mr. Argent says. He moves his finger to point at the bank.

"Scott's boss?" Allison asks her father.

"Deaton. It was her only failure. That could mean something."

"So we should go check it out, right?"

"Definitely."

"But that's just one place so far. We need more help." Stiles says.

"What about Lydia?"

"Lydia? What can she do?" Mr. Argent asks.

"She's found a few of the bodies without meaning to. It has to be related to the supernatural but we're not sure what she is yet." I answer. I then turn to look at Allison, "We can try to see if she knows anything but she still doesn't know how to control it. And if they are still alive she may not even be able to help."

Allison and her father nod. They then turn to start collecting weapons so that they can go to the bank and try to find my mom and the Sheriff. Stiles and I look on in awe as we see the two Argent's pull out weapon after weapon. "I thought you guys were retired?" Stiles asks.

"Retired, yes." Mr. Argent says, "Defenseless, no. Now make sure your phone's on. If you hear from Scott, let us know immediately."

"I'm thinking that's going to be kind of unlikely." At Stiles' words, he, Allison and I share a look.

"The three of you, try to remember he's just doing what he thinks is right. I've seen that seventeen year old boy come through more often than most men I've known. Don't give up yet."

"I'll never give up on my brother." I say, a look of determination on my face. Stiles gives a nod as we turn our attention to Allison.

She isn't paying attention to us but rather looking towards the door. We follow her gaze to see Isaac, "How did you get in here?" Mr. Argent asks.

"Through her window." Isaac replies, glancing at Allison. "Sorry. I just. I want to help. I can't shoot a gun or use a crossbow. But I'm starting to get pretty good with these." He opens his hand to reveal his claws.

"We'll take it." Mr. Argent says.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Stiles and I are now sitting in Lydia's room, telling her about what occured at the hospital. "I don't believe it. Scott can't really be with them. He can't be." She says, shaking her head.

"You didn't see the look on his face. It was the same one I saw on my mother when the doctors told her there was nothing they could do. It was just total hopelessness." Stiles replies.

"I still think he'll come through. It's Scott we're talking about. He'll never do anything to harm someone." I say.

"What do I do?" Lydia asks, "I mean I get that I'm like some kind of human Geiger counter for death. But I don't know how to turn it on and off yet. All I know is she tried to kill me because of..." She trails off.

"Because of what? Lydia?" I ask, lightly grabbing my best friend's hand.

"She called me a Banshee. (Y/N/N), you were on the right track. I'm a Banshee. She was surprised by it. What if that's not why she tried to kill me?"

"Then why did she?" Stiles questions.

"That's what we need to find out."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Stiles, Lydia, and I walk through the school hallways. Lydia keeps glancing at her phone, "Aiden's not texting me back."

The sound of my phone beeping stops her from saying anything else, "What? Oh God, what is it now?" She asks me as I look at the text.

"It's Isaac. Jennifer took Allison's father. That means she has all three of them now." I reply. I stare down at my phone and quickly reply only to shove it in my pocket a second later.

Lydia's voice breaks me out of my thoughts, "Stiles? Are you okay?"

I quickly turn to face him, seeing that his breathing is becoming irregular. "No." He mutters out.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"He's having a panic attack." I answer, already knowing the symptoms.

I gently take him by his arm as I bring him into the locker room. "Just think about something else. Anything else." Lydia says as she follows us into the room.

"Like?" Stiles asks.

I lower him to a sitting position as Lydia continues, "Happy things. Good things. Friends, family- I mean- not family."

"I love you Lyds, but please shut the fuck up." I say as gently as possible.

"I can't- I can't." Stiles says, breath becoming more rapid. His hands are placed firmly on his knees. Without much thought I gently grab his face, forcing him to look at me.

"Stiles. Look at me. Focus on my voice. Match my breathing." He gasps for breath, still not being able to stop the panic attack. Finally, I close the distance between our faces and kiss him.

After a brief moment, he gently begins to kiss back. Our lips slowly part, Stiles' body relaxes as he opens his eyes to look at me. "How did you do that?" He quietly asks.

"Holding your breath helps you regain control of your breathing. When I kissed you, you held your breath."

"I did?"

"You did."

"How did you know that holding your breath helps?"

"I started having panic attacks after my dad left. Plus I used the same trick on Isaac not too long ago." I shrug.

"Thanks, that was really smart."

"It was nothing." I shrug once more.

Lydia speaks up, "Well if I was really smart I'd tell you to sign up for a few sessions with the Guidance Counselor. Both of you."

"Morrell." Stiles says.

"She knows more than you'd expect."

 I scoff, "Yeah, you can say that again." Stiles and I share a knowing look. I help him stand back up so that we can go talk with Morrell.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Once we made it to Morrell's office we saw a girl waiting, "You here for Ms. Morrell?" Stiles asks.

"No, I thought this was gym class." I would have laughed at her sarcastic reply if we weren't in such a rush to find the woman in question.

"Sweetheart, we're not in the mood for funny. Do you know where she is?" Lydia questions.

"If I did I wouldn't have been waiting here for twenty minutes. So how about you three back out the door and wait your turn."

"We're not here for a session."

"Well I am. And I've got some serious issues to work on."

"You're Danielle. You're Heather's best friend." Stiles says, realizing who the girl is.

"I was Heather's best friend. We've been working on that issue three times a week."

"Hold on. Did you say Morrell's twenty minutes late?" Lydia asks, bringing the attention back to her.

Danielle nods, "And I don't know why either. She's always on time."

Lydia turns her attention to Stiles and I, "I was seeing her at the beginning of the semester. She was never late. Not even a minute."

"Three guesses on where she is." I say looking at Stiles.

"I want to know what she knows." Stiles replies. He starts rifling through papers on her desk then moves to the filing cabinet when he doesn't find anything. I turn to help as the other two look on in shock.

"What are you two doing?" Danielle asks.

"Trying to find her."

"Those files are private."

"She's kinda right." Lydia pipes in.

"Here's yours." Stiles says, pulling out Lydia's file.

"Let me see that." Lydia grabs the file from Stiles hand. She opens it, looking inside. The rest of us looked over her shoulder to see.

"Wait. That's your drawing."

"Yeah, I know. It's a tree."

"You're good." Danielle says, impressed.

Lydia brightly smiles, "Thank you."

"That's the same one." Stiles says.

I gently pull the drawing out of the file to get a better look as Lydia asks him, "The same as what?"

"The same one I've seen you drawing in class."

"It's a tree. I like drawing trees."

"No, he means it's the same one. Like the exact same." I reply, finally tearing my eyes away from the drawing.

"Let me see your bag." Stiles says. He opens her bag to pull out her notebook. When he opens it we see the same drawing found on page after page. The only difference is the size of each drawing.

"Okay, you can have my session. You've got bigger issues." Danielle replies, she stands up and walks out of the room, though the rest of us don't pay much attention.

"What is this?" Lydia asks, clearly frightened.

Stiles and I are both quiet as we study the drawings, "Wait. What if it's not supposed to be looked at this way?" I speak up. I take one of the drawings and turn it upside down.

"I know where they are." Stiles says.

"The root cellar." I add, voiced laced with disbelief.

After putting Lydia's file back where we found it we rushed out of Morrell's office. "It's the Nemeton. That's where she's keeping them. It has to be."

"(Y/N), Stilinski!" A voice calls from down the hall.

"I'm not dealing with this right now." I say as soon as my eyes meet my fathers.

"I will, don't worry." Stiles reassures.

"We'll go to Derek's. Him and Peter will know where it is." Stiles nods at my words. I grab Lydia's hand as I tug her away.

"Was that your dad?" Lydia asks.

"Yes, I don't want to interact with him anymore than I need to."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 I reach to open the loft door without knocking but stop when it slides open to reveal Peter. "You." Lydia says in shock.

"Me." Peter replies.

Lydia's anger rises, "You."

Peter winces at her tone, "Me." He says once more, almost sounding apologetic. "Derek. We have visitors."

Peter steps back to let us in. We walk past him to see Derek beside Cora. "How is she?" I ask, laying a gentle hand on the Alpha's shoulder.

"Not getting any better." He replies. He then turns around to properly face Lydia and I. "What do you girls need?"

We quickly explain the situation to both Peter and Derek and wait for them to reply. Though when they answer, it isn't what we wanted to hear. "You don't know where it is?" Lydia asks, confused.

"We did. After a few memorable experiences, though..." He shares a look with Derek. "Talia- Derek's mother and my older sister- decided she didn't want us ever going back. She knew how dangerous it was. So she took the memory of its location from us."

"So how do we find out where it is?" I ask, my frustration rising.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 After leaving Derek's loft we met up with Stiles, Isaac, and Allison at the Animal Clinic. All of us, plus the vet, stood around an exam table, "It has to be on a Telluric Current. Maybe even at the axis of two. Or where all intersect. I know it's where Derek took Paige to die." Stiles speaks, glancing at me as he says the last part.

"My dad and Gerard were there once. But Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was. And my dad obviously isn't going to be able to tell us now." Allison says.

"Mine either."

"She took everyone who would remember." Lydia pipes in.

"Then how do we find this place?" Isaac questions.

"That's the same question I asked Peter and Derek. They didn't have an answer." I reply.

We turn to Deaton, "Doc?" Stiles asks.

Deaton sighs, "There might be a way. But it's dangerous. And most importantly, for it to work... We're going to need Scott."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Stiles, Deaton, and I stood in front of Stiles jeep. The headlights of the car lighting up the darkness around us. Scott steps out from the shadows, slowly making his way over to us. "How did you find out?" Scott asks.

"Lydia. You?" Stiles answers.

"Morrell. But none of the Alphas know where it is either."

"If this works, are you going to tell them?"

"I can't stop Jennifer without them."

"How about we concentrate on finding your parents first?" Deaton pipes in.

Scott nods, "What's the plan?"

"Essentially, you, Allison and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents."

"So we die for them?"

"But he can bring us back." Stiles says. He then turns to Deaton, "You can definitely bring us back, right?"

"Hopefully, yes."

"Hopefully?" I ask, bringing the attention to me.

"You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?" Deaton then turns to Scott, "If it goes right, the three of you will only be dead for a few seconds. But there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous thing in more ways than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton. A place that hasn't had power for a long time. When it did, Beacon Hills was quite different. This kind of power is like a magnet."

"A magnet for the supernatural?" I ask.

Deaton nods so Stiles speaks, "Doesn't sound any worse than what we've already seen."

"You'd be surprised what you have yet to see." Deaton ominously says.

"Is that it?" Scott asks, hoping that that's all there is to worry about.

"No. It'll also have an affect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it every day for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of darkness over your heart. And permanent. Like a scar."

"Like a tattoo." Scott whispers.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Reconvening at the Animal Clinic, Scott, Stiles and Allison step towards the tubs filled with ice. "All right. What did you bring?" Deaton asks the three teenagers.

Stiles holds up his dad's badge, "Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand. I hammered it out a bit. Still doesn't look great."

"It doesn't have to look good if it has meaning." Deaton's eyes then move to Allison.

She holds up a silver bullet, "Is that an actual silver bullet?" Isaac asks, looking at it cautiously.

"My dad made it. It's sort of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a Hunter, you forge your own silver bullet as a testament to the code." Allison replies.

"Scott?" Deaton asks, looking at my twin.

He holds up mom's watch, "My dad gave this to my mom when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked."

Stiles looks it over, "It says water-resistant. Not waterproof."

"I don't think she's going to mind if it saves her life."

"Okay, the three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you down until you're essentially... well, dead. But it's not just someone to hold you under. It's someone who can pull you back. Someone with a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether."

Lydia immediately starts moving towards Allison while I move towards Scott. "(Y/N), you go with Stiles."

"Scott's my twin though. I'm pretty sure we have the biggest emotional connection." I say, giving the vet a questioning look.

"You'll be able to bring Stiles back and Isaac will be able to bring Scott."

I look in between Scott and Stiles, unsure what to do. Scott gives me an encouraging nod, "It's okay."

We all take our places and the trio steps into the tubs. They shiver as they sit down and Stiles turns towards Scott, "By the way, if I don't come back and you do, you should probably know something. Your dad's in town."

Scott quickly glances at me seeing an unreadable expression on my face. I give him a brief nod then he turns back around to focus on the task at hand. In an instant Isaac, Lydia, and I all push our respective people under the water, waiting until they lay still.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:  @crazy-fan-101 @rogershoe @judayyyw

[krreader]

becoming human | chapter three.

pairing: cops!bts x android!reader (as in, ot7 x reader, but may change) fandom: bts warnings: detroit:become human!au ; mentions of murder ; blood ; language genre: crime ; angst ; crack ; (possibly smut) word count: 1.8k+ previous: 1 ; 2

summary: the crime rate of seoul has been rising rapidly these past weeks and nobody could deny that there was more to it than gangs or the likes. something was brewing that not even the famous bangtan boys could solve, a unit specifically formed for hunting down criminals that most couldn’t. so when even they couldn’t find out what was going on, the department decided to add a new member to the team that would hopefully be able to solve the mysteries behind those crimes. what bangtan hadn’t expected however, was that their new member would not be human, but one of the androids sent by CyberLife.

a/n: hope you like this new chapter friends ♥

Namjoon was the first to push past the police officers and reporters that were at the crime scene, the rest of his squad right behind him.

Some looked angry, others shocked and then yet again others scared.

They barely got any details when the call came in, just that Jin was involved in a lethal crime with an android.

Who the victim was, though, they did not know, hence, the anxiety that clouded them as they walked into the elevator and waited for it to take them to the top floor that Jin grew up on.

“I told him to get rid of that thing the moment androids started acting crazy,” Yoongi hissed, “Why couldn't he just listen?!”

“Guys, let's not jump to conclusions yet. Hyung is resourceful, he can take care of himself and his family,” Namjoon said, but even he was afraid of what he might find once those doors slid open.

The corpse of their oldest member? His mother?

They didn't have to wonder any longer, because the moment the elevator doors opened, they all let out a relieved breath when Jin stood there, his mother right next to him, answering the questions that the police officer needed to have  answered.

“Hyung!” Taehyung dashed forward and immediately hugged Jin, then his mother, “Oh thank goodness, you're both safe!”

“We were so worried!” Jimin let out a breath and hugged his mother just like Taehyung had.

“We're.. okay,” Jin nodded, wrapping one arm around his mother who didn't quite look like it, but that was probably just the shock.

“What the hell happened?” Hoseok asked with furrowed eyebrows, “They didn't give us any details when they called.”

Jin let out a sigh, then asked the police officer to take his mother down to the car and drive her over to his brother that he had already called beforehand. It'd be best if she stayed with him for a while, now that his father was out of town. He didn't want her to be alone right now.

He didn't want her to go through the details of what had happened once again and any other questions the police officers might have, he could answer on his own.

“I knew something was off the moment I came in, but I definitely didn't think things would escalate like that.”

Jin's head turned, his members all doing the same, finding a dead android on the floor.

“He wanted to kill my mother, but when I entered the apartment, his attention shifted. Probably because he knew that it wasn't her who tried to get rid of him, but me,” Jin looked at Yoongi, “I heard what you said. I wanted him to be gone for the sake of my mother, just in case something bad would happen, but.. I should have done it sooner.”

“So he wasn't just stabbing anyone who did him wrong but he.. rationally thought about it?” Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows.

“He was.. emotional. He was angry and sad, because he felt like I had betrayed him. Then he wanted to tackle me down, but I still had my gun on me and I just shot. As many times as I had to for him to fall down and not move anymore.”

“You did the right thing,” Hoseok put his hand on Jin's shoulder, “Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't.”

“There's.. one more thing,” Jin now looked at their leader, “RA9.”

That got all of their attention.

“Did he mention it?”

“He said that at least RA9 cares about them and that their time of being slaves to us human beings is finally over. Which makes me think.. this isn't just random cases of androids becoming deviants anymore. This is androids fighting their programming. And this RA9 that they all talk about.. it seems to be their god or their leader. Something or someone that makes them.. wake up.”

An android rebellion? The thought alone made all of Bangtan instantly shut up.

They had hoped these were just a few random cases, maybe some guy sitting in his basement messing around with the programming of androids in hopes of gaining something from it.

But if this truly was the android's fighting their programming, then everyone was at risk with how many androids nowadays existed.

“Did anyone bring that stupid machine?” Namjoon said angrily.

“You mean (Y/N)?” Jimin asked in confusion, not understanding why Namjoon hated you so much, “She's in the car downstairs. I told her to wait, just like you asked, boss.”

“Somebody get her up here. I want her to look at the scene. Also, hyung,” Namjoon turned to Jin, “Do you still have the security cameras installed?”

“I do, but he tampered with them, I already checked.”

“Let that tin woman check again.”

“Seriously, hyung,” Hoseok sighed and shook his head.

Jeongguk ended up being the one to go back down and get you, surprised that you were still sitting there in that same position that you were in when they had left, only that your eyes were now closed.

“Uh.. are you.. sleeping?”

“Something like that,” you smiled and turned your head to look at the youngest member, “How is Officer Seokjin?”

“Good. Alive, just like his mother. The.. deviant was the one that died,” Jeongguk waited for you to get out of the car, then briefed you on your way up, “The boss wants you to look around, see if there is anything else that you can see that would help us figuring this entire RA9 thing out. There must be a way for us to stop this.”

Once the elevator doors closed, you said, “Finding the source of RA9 is a good idea. However, I do not think that it would help us stop this plague.”

Plague. Jeongguk always flinched when you talked about your people like that.

“Then what do you think we should do?”

“I have a few ideas on that matter. I should discuss all of them with your boss. He wants me to come directly to him when I have ideas on how to solve all of this.”

If only he were a little nicer to you if he thought you were so valuable.

Because the moment he saw you, he instantly turned around with an angry huff.

“Officer Seokjin,” you bowed with a smile, “I am glad to see you survived.”

“Uh.. thanks.. I think.”

“May I look around freely? Or are there any areas that are out of bounds for me?”

“Suit yourself. He messed with the cameras, so I doubt you'll find anything on the security footage, but..-”

“Repairing process at 89%.”

All of them looked at you with wide eyes, Taehyung's grin spreading, “Woha.. she's so cool.”

He only stopped when Yoongi nudged his side.

Instead of only playing the footage in your head, you decided to stream it on the TV, for all of them to see.

Jin's mother was making dinner, the android was cleaning the apartment. It all seemed fine, up until he came across a tablet.

“Can you zoom in on that?”

You did so in an instant, revealing an email that Jin had sent to CyberLife. 

About returning the android.

“Note the LED on his head,” you zoomed in once again, “A blue LED signifies a stable and well position. It’s what most androids were programmed to have at all times. Yellow is an increased activity or strain that can sometimes happen when an android is confused or tasked with difficult things that he has to solve quickly.”

“But his LED is red,” Jin narrowed his eyes at the screen.

“Red is something that only occurs when an android is not functioning correctly. It shows imbalance and a level of distress. CyberLife has various reports of LED's turning red during the building of the first androids. Those with red LED's were faulty. But red LED's always had something to do with the builders having done a mistake. In this case, it seems as if something else causes the androids to have this kind of distress.”

“She's right. Just think about it,” Jimin spoke first, “All androids that became deviants that we encountered were put under heavy emotional stress. Hyung's android, that knew it would be shipped away, probably destroyed. The android of that woman that got cheated on, something that would hurt all of us if it ever happened to a human being. That android that bashed his owner's head in after the android was abused over and over again.”

“So you're saying they suddenly.. feel things?”

“Hyung, think about it. What do we do when our emotions are too overwhelming? We panic. We scream. We lose ourselves. We don't function properly anymore.”

“But androids are not designed for this..-”

“I know you all think they're just stupid machines,” Jimin then turned to look at you, “But even machines stop working properly anymore if we do something to them that we shouldn't do.”

“Park Jimin is correct, unfortunately,” you chimed in, “Think about a normal computer. You play games on it, games that require a graphic card that is much better than the one you own. You try to play it on the best possible graphic settings, but your computer will give up eventually, because it is not designed for a game such as the one you want to play.”

“Only that instead of giving up and shutting down, these androids fight their programming,” Hoseok ended the conclusion, “Should that even be possible?”

“No,” you shook your head, “The one that designed these androids should have made sure it would never happen. But maybe he didn't know just how advanced his androids would really become. Maybe he just didn't predict an outcome like this.”

“But why now? Androids have been on the market for years and these deviants only started surfacing within the last couple of months. What suddenly changed?” Jin asked.

“RA9,” Jeongguk said, “This is like every other rebellion, guys. It just needs one person to spark it. One person that finally realized the world was unfair and decided to fight it. One person for others to follow in his footsteps.”

“I can't believe this,” Namjoon shook his head, “If this.. theory is true, then every single person that is close to an android is at risk. Every child, mother and grandmother is at risk when being outside and close to an android that is deciding that the world is unfair and that humans are a threat to them.”

“We need to find RA9. We find it, we destroy it and this nightmare is finally over,” Yoongi nodded..

..like that was easy.

[neighborhoodmoonchild]

Sweet Serendipity (Jimin x Faerie!Reader)

Genre: Supernatural Au, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Explicit language, brief mention of assault (very brief), POV switching

Word Count: 6K

“I swear to God,” Jimin mumbles to himself, grabbing the giant textbook Namjoon had left when he spent the night and smacks it repeatedly against the wall, “if they don’t shut up, I’m going to kill someone.” 

This wasn’t the first time he had thrown empty threats into the air when his neighbors got too rowdy. In fact, this was a normal occurrence for him. 

Neighbors start being assholes, Jimin finds anything he can to beat the shit out of his walls with in hopes they’ll get the message, surprise-surprise, they don’t, and the cycle starts all over again. 

Oh, how he wished he hadn’t signed a long-ass lease so he could just move away and forget those idiots ever existed, but fate had other plans for him, plans that included him being miserable for the next year with no way out of it. 

Huffing back to the couch, the incessant noise plaguing his every sense, Jimin pulls out his phone and brings up a text conversation. 

Me

      -Kook, you busy? Assholes next door are at it again, could really use a break.

He sends the text and tucks his phone back into his pocket, opting to plug his headphones in and turn the volume on his laptop up so loud, either he won’t be able to hear them over the movie, or he’ll blow his eardrums. At this point, it’s a win-win. 

A few hours pass, his movie long forgotten, and Jimin may or may not be trying to smother himself with a pillow as he lays sprawled across his bed. He checks his phone for the 10th time in the last hour, and decides Jungkook is definitely not getting back to him, and he’ll have to suffer alone. 

As if it’s not bad enough he has to deal with mind-numbing noise all day every day, but add on his best friend never. fucking. answering him? What did he ever do to deserve this? And what if it was an emergency, and Jungkook was the only thing between life and death for Jimin? Well, he hopes it never comes down to that, because he honestly has little-to-no faith left in the kid.

Day slowly fades to night and Jimin thinks he’s actually, truly going insane. He wants more than anything to find the courage to march next door, slam the door open, and tell them to shut the fuck up.

He would not find it today, though, and goes through his normal night routine before putting his headphones on as he crawls into bed. Soft melodies drown out the noise as he slowly succumbs to his exhaustion. 

Maybe tomorrow would be a new day.

—

Jimin was still waiting for that ‘new day’ a week later. The past few days had been so bad he’d decided to hang out with Namjoon in his dorm, which he never did. Another thing on his list of hates: Joon’s dorm. It was loud, but not as loud as his apartment complex, so he was thankful for that. The worst part about it was Joon’s annoying roommate. 

He’d tried to get a single, but was put in a double last minute, no chance to pick a roommate. So, he was stuck with some annoying ass guy who left his shit all over the room and constantly had people coming in and out. 

Namjoon usually escaped to Jimin’s place when he couldn’t take it anymore, but at this point, it was a double ended blade. 

So, they would suffer together in the lesser of the two evils. 

“I wish we could just get a place together. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with all these idiots.” Jimin ends his rant with a loud huff, even though he knew there was no use. Rent anywhere close to campus was way too expensive for both of their budgets, and then there was the whole lease thing still looming over Jimin’s head like a freaking noose. 

Namjoon gives his friend a small sympathetic smile before turning back to his textbook. 

Midterms were coming fast and he wanted to be 100% prepped and ready. He wouldn’t tell Jimin that he really needed to study and that they could hang another time. Just by looking at him, Joon could tell he was at his wits end. 

“Why don’t you go down to the manager and complain again?” Namjoon knows he’s just grasping straws here, but he had to try something. 

He didn’t like seeing Jimin slinking around all sad and wallowing. He missed the upbeat, bright spark that made his friend the spitfire he truly is. That complex was trying to snuff him out, but Namjoon wouldn’t have it.

“I’ve filed multiple complaints and they don’t do shit.” Jimin crosses his arms, growing more infuriated at the situation by the second.

“Maybe this time will be different?” Jimin just rolls his eyes and grabs his stuff.

“If you wanted me to leave, you could’ve just said so.” He doesn’t wait for Namjoon to react, slamming the door behind him and heading home. Ha, ‘home.’ 

That place would never be a home to Jimin.

Despite his reluctance at putting any more faith in the poor management of his complex, he figures it can’t hurt to stop in and let them know the noise hasn’t stopped. 

“We are aware. We are looking into it.” 

That was it, that was always it. He couldn’t even bother being angry, it just wasn’t worth it anymore. Instead of taking the elevator, he opts for the stairs to give himself time to mentally prepare. 

By the time he gets to his floor, he’s a little out of breath, but in the distance he can hear the noise already wafting through the halls. It sucks every remaining drop of energy from his body, and he all but drags himself to his door, cringing at how loud the noise is when right next to it. 

After locking the door and abandoning his stuff on the floor he throws himself onto his bed, covers his head with a pillow and falls asleep.

His dreams are filled with glorious images of moving out, living in a peaceful place, and never having to see or hear his neighbors ever again. 

—

Jimin decides the next few weeks are a good time to pull a Jungkook and ghost everyone. 

He doesn’t answer Namjoon when he texts and asks him if he’s alright.

He doesn’t answer Hoseok’s calls about dance class.

He doesn’t even answer the door when Jungkook finally does show up. 

“Come on Chim, I just want to make sure you’re still alive.” Kook raps on the door a few more times, pressing his ear to the wood when he hears footsteps. 

“Like you care, I could’ve been dead for days and you wouldn’t have noticed.” Jimin doesn’t open the door, instead yells through the wall while he makes himself a cup of coffee. 

 Staying in bed every day was actually making him more tired than being up, which he didn’t think was possible.

Kook just laughs, twisting the locked handle a few times, “Chim, I’m sorry, just let me innnnnnn.” He drags it out in hopes Jimin will get annoyed and open the door. 

It doesn’t happen though, Jimin just goes back to his bed, cuddling up in the blankets before yelling back, “Nope, go find someone else to bother.” 

At least now Jungkook could let the others know Jimin is indeed still alive, just throwing himself a pity party. Jimin can be dramatic sometimes, so it’s not really a surprise when he pulls out the theatrics. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to your misery.” Kook is disappointed his friend doesn’t want his help right now, but he knows that sometimes Jimin just needs to be alone for a while to get over things.

After Jungkook leaves, Jimin decides he can at least text everyone that he is in fact alive so they won’t show up at his door again. Once it’s sent, he unpauses the movie he was watching and continues his wallow fest. 

It’s the next day when he notices that there hasn’t been a noise, not even a peep from his neighbors. 

He’s getting dressed after a long shower, heading into the kitchen to grab some breakfast before he forces himself to go see the boys, when he realizes, ‘I haven’t heard anything from next door this whole week.’

It’s enough to sufficiently freak him out and question his sanity. They have been loud as hell since Jimin moved in, no quiet since then, so what the hell was going on?

Deciding to skip breakfast, he grabs his keys and jacket, heading out the door when he takes a quick glance at the next door over. It looked exactly the same, the only change being a cute little doormat at the door. 

While it was a little odd, considering he’s pretty sure there are a bunch of guys living next door, and that doormat screams ‘girl,’ it’s not enough to make him think anything drastic has happened. 

‘Maybe one of them got a girlfriend,’ he thinks to himself, even though he’s not sure how that could be possible with how awful they are. 

Jimin doesn’t want to waste any more time thinking about his neighbors, heading to the elevator and out to meet the guys to hang for the day.

“Ah, the Great Park Jimin, he lives!” Jin yells, causing Yoongi and Namjoon to shake their heads in embarrassment as the other three whoop and holler like it was Jimin’s homecoming. 

Needless to say, it was nice to be around his favorite people after walling himself away for over a week. 

He needed to let himself let loose and have some fun or he was sure he was going to actually lose it. 

They ended up spending the whole day just walking around, doing a little shopping, and enjoying each others company. The boys are a family, so they couldn’t go very long without getting together. 

They all part ways a block away from Jimin’s building, Jungkook heading with Jimin after promising to spend the night if Jimin helps him beat a new level in one of his favorite video games. 

The walk back is full of laughs and the two of them play fighting each other, until they see one of Jimin’s neighbors in a moving truck parked outside the building. Jimin nudges Jungkook, pointing at the truck and Kook just watches on, confused.

Another one of his neighbors exits the building with a box, hefting it into the back of the truck and promptly hops in the passenger side, the truck taking off.

“Did I just see that right?” Jimin asks out loud, to no one particular, maybe Kook or maybe the universe. They climb the steps and enter the lobby, Jimin quickly heading over to the front desk to ask about the situation.

“Yeah, they’ve been in the process of leaving for a few weeks now, finally got the rest of their stuff out today.”

“That’s amazing-“ Jimin didn’t mean to sound as excited as he was at the neighbors leaving, but he couldn’t help himself.

“There’s already a new tenant, she moved her stuff in fast.”

Jimin’s ears started to turn red at the tips; he’d never lived next door to a girl before. 

“A girl?” Jungkook butts into the conversation all too excitedly, causing the woman at the desk to roll her eyes.

“She’s kind of weird though,” the woman mutters to herself, loud enough for the boys to hear her.

Jimin doesn’t care if she’s weird, at least his awful neighbors were finally gone and he’d have some peace and quiet. Jungkook doesn’t care if she’s weird, because it’s a girl; his best friend lives next to a girl.

Jimin has to hold Kook by his collar, almost like he was on a leash, just to reign him in and stop him from running up to your door.

Jimin unlocks his own door, shoving Jungkook inside before pausing in the doorway to glance over to the door next to him. 

A girl, huh?

That night, Jungkook gets bored after wasting an hour trying to hear anything from your side of the wall and settles on getting his game on. Jimin makes them some popcorn for the long quest ahead, but finds himself drawn out onto the terrace before he sits down to join Kook. 

As he slides open the door, he looks over to your terrace to see a flash of hair as your door promptly shuts, curtains drawing to hide you from the world.

Jimin just stares at your door, watching the curtain sway back and forth, hoping that maybe you’d come back out and he’d get to see you. 

After a few minutes, Jungkook is yelling at him to get his butt inside and help him beat some boss, and Jimin can’t help but let his curiosity grow as he wonders what the girl next door is like. 

—

Jimin is the first to wake up the next morning, promptly shoving Jungkook away from, even though he’s pretty sure he told him to sleep on the couch. Rubbing his eyes, he makes his way out to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of juice when he notices the corner of a paper sticking out from under his door. 

The closer he gets, he smells the scent of freshly baked goods floating from the hallway. As he opens the door, he looks down to see a little basket with a pink napkin over the top.

Jimin’s never gotten anything at his door before, so he’s rightfully confused, looking up and down the hallway for a sign of who might’ve left this for him.

Kneeling down to look in the basket, he moves the napkin to find a few little sweet buns, each with their own little decoration.

They’re cute and they smell absolutely delicious, but he’s paranoid that he doesn’t know who left them. It’s when he picks the basket up he notices the paper sat underneath it. 

It’s a small note, ‘From your new neighbor.’ You even signed it with a little heart, but no name.

Jimin looks from the note to your door, no sign of life from behind it and decides it would be rude to leave them out in the hall. 

He sets the basket down on the counter, fishing around one of the kitchen drawers until he finds a pen and a pad of sticky notes.

‘Thank you for the treats. -Jimin’ It was short and simple, just to let you know he appreciated it. Returning to the hall, he sticks the note to your door, letting his fingers linger on the wood before he turns back to his own place.

Jungkook could apparently smell them from Jimin’s room, walking out wide-eyed as he surveyed the basket.

“You have a secret admirer or something I don’t know about Chim?” Jimin can feel his cheeks heat up the slightest at Kook’s comment, but brushes it off.

“Just a gift from the new neighbor.” As soon as he hears ‘neighbor’, Jungkook starts making faces at Jimin, teasing him that they’d meet and fall in love and all that romantic mushy crap.

Jimin just promptly shoves one of the buns in Kooks face, to which he happily takes in his mouth. 

The best way to get Jungkook to shut up? Give him food.

A few hours go by and Jungkook decides he’s gonna head home, so Jimin walks him out, mostly to be a good friend, but also to check your door and see if you had gotten his note. 

When he comes back up from the lobby, the note is gone and a new one lies on his door.

‘You’re welcome, I hope you liked them,’ scrawled neatly across the pink stationary, a little bee and heart in the corner. It was so cute, everything regarding you so far was cute. Your door mat, your baked goods, your handwriting, Jimin could only wonder how cute you were. 

He again grabs his paper and writes another note, sticking it to your door in the same place. 

As he touches the paper to the door, he hears shuffling in your apartment. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to stick his ear up to the door to listen for you. Instead he waits to make sure you won’t come out while he’s standing there like a weirdo, and then turns back to his apartment, escaping inside. 

Jimin hears your door open and close, a part of him kicking himself for not staying to see you in person. He just had a feeling, though, that you’d meet face to face when the moment was right, and this wasn’t it. So, he’d push away the nagging thoughts and opt for some quiet time in front of the TV for a while instead. 

The hope that he’d get to see your face someday soon was enough to keep him awake almost all night. 

—

‘Why were you screaming at your TV?’ Was all the note said, besides a little laughing emoji in the bottom corner. Jimin just chuckles a bit to himself before grabbing another note from his door to write you a new one.

‘Because, the characters in my show are the worst!’ Up it goes in the same place, just like the many that came before.

It’d been a few weeks since the note passing had started, and you and Jimin were closer than every, well, in theory. 

It started with little gifts you’d leave in front of each others doors, along with little notes. Then it was a note every day, sometimes even multiple a day. The more notes shared between the two of you, the bolder you were getting. 

You’d play your music a little louder after Jimin praised your taste, watch the same movie at the same time so it was like you were watching it with him. Sometimes he’d even whisper goodnight to you through the wall, which you always replied back to.

The giddiness in his heart had grown tenfold, and the anticipation of seeing you in person was growing. 

He’d left a note for you a week and a half ago asking when he could see you, actually see you, to which you only replied, ‘soon.’ 

Hoseok called early this morning to ask Jimin if he could come in and help with classes all day, to which Jimin was happy to do. He was happier to do a lot of things, now that his living situation had done a complete 180. The boys all noticed the extra pep in his step once you two had started leaving notes for each other, and while Namjoon was wary that it could all be too good to be true, the rest were just glad he wasn’t a mope anymore. 

The day was exhausting considering Jimin hadn’t formally been back to the studio for a week or two, but it felt good to move and stretch his muscles again. He was remembering how fun life can be when he’s not miserable all the time. 

Hanging with Hoseok while teaching some youth dancers a new routine was exactly what Jimin needed right now, just mindless fun and some time to be a leader. He liked having the young dancers look up to him and enjoy learning with him.

When the day finally came to a close, Hoseok offers to get Jimin a ride, but Jimin decides he rather likes the cool air on his sweaty skin and tells him he’ll just walk home. The studio isn’t too far from his place and he likes to watch the cars pass by illuminated by the streetlights.

Jimin gets lost in his thoughts; about class, about the next scheduled outing with the boys, even about you. 

He doesn’t even realize it, but he’s smiling to himself just thinking about what note you could possibly have left him tonight. Maybe tonight would be the night he’d get to meet you properly. 

All of his thoughts, though, get set aside when he sees a girl, roughly his age, being harassed by some sleazy guy outside of his building. 

—

You hadn’t planned on going out this evening, figuring there was enough to do inside to keep you occupied. It was when you realized you were out of sugar for the cookies you wanted to bake for Jimin that you decided it couldn’t hurt to take a quick trip to the supermarket down the street. 

You pull on your sweatshirt, hiking the hood up over your head, grabbing your bag and keys, and head out. You take a quick peek at your door to see the note Jimin left behind. 

You smile as you read it, stuffing it in your pocket and heading out. 

The walk to the market and buying the sugar was easy. It was still kind of light out when you left, and nobody had approached you while you scoured the market for the sugar. 

It was the walk home that ruined everything. 

Sometimes you cursed yourself for how you always seemed to draw in the worst people. While you also could attract the nicest of people, it seemed that the bad ones were easier and in abundance. 

On your way back, bag of sugar in one hand, your keys in the other, you could feel the sensation of someone watching you. You didn’t want to seem paranoid, so you just picked up pace and kept your eyes locked ahead. 

It was when you could finally see the steps of the building in your vision that you felt a hand wrap around your forearm, yanking you backwards.

Stupidly enough, you couldn’t force yourself to scream, you just yelped at the searing force the figure used and tried to rip yourself from him.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out so late by yourself.” You didn’t want to look at the man, his voice sending chills down your spine and the air thickening so much around you, you felt like you were suffocating. 

For some reason, people lost their sense of boundaries when around you, which you didn’t understand at all. It’s like people felt like they owned you almost, like the air you put off gave them the right to act like you owed them something. 

Your mother always credited it to your blind generosity and kindness, but sometimes things just went too far. 

“Leave me alone, please.” Your voice was soft and tight, holding back your tears as best you could. You didn’t want to seem like you were utterly defenseless. 

As your grip on your keys tightened, enough to, with the right movement, hit the guy to get away, a voice cuts through the air.

“Hey, she said leave her alone.” Your head shoots to the side, a boy with brown hair and a black sweatshirt coming into your vision. His features were soft and delicate, but the look on his face showed stone-cold seriousness. 

He slowly approached, looking at how the man’s hand was coiled tightly around your arm. Lifting one hand up in defense, he looks from you to the man, “Look, just let go and get out of here, there’s a security guard right in the building, so just let it go man.” 

The sleaze looks from the boy, to you, to the building. It’s then that he sees the security cameras trained on him that he promptly lets go of you, shoving you to the ground and taking off. 

  The boy rushes over to you, calmly as not to startle you more than you already were and grabs your hands, helping you to your feet. 

You look down at the busted bag of sugar on the sidewalk and sigh, letting a few tears slip out on accident. 

You were frustrated to say the least, why could people be so awful?

The boy picks up the bag, trying not to spill too much more out of it and turns to you.

“Are you okay?” He watches a single tear slip down your cheek and his heart clenches in his chest. How dare some asshole hurt someone, especially an innocent girl like you. 

You shake yourself to bring yourself back to reality and attempt a pathetic smile, “I’m fine. Thank you for that. You didn’t have to.” You go to take the bag from his hands but he pulls it closer to him.

“Yes I did, no one deserves to be attacked like that.” 

He looks in your eyes for a moment, assuring you that he wouldn’t have acted any other way than helping you. It was what any good person would do; what any decent person would do. 

“Well, thank you, again. I can take that,” you say, pointing to the bag settled in his arms. 

He shakes it a bit, forgetting the split and sending more sugar to the concrete. You can’t help but let out a little giggle at how his face drops when he realizes what he’d done. 

“I can carry it for you, then you won’t have to walk alone.” He smiles, bright and it’s contagious, spreading a smile to your lips. 

You shift your body and point to the building ahead, “That’s okay, I live right here anyways.”

His eyes beam wide, “Wait, you live here?” He asks excitedly.

“Yeah, why?”

“So do I!” He exclaims, following you as you ascend the steps into the lobby. He follows you to the elevator, stepping in behind you. He goes to push the button to his floor after you push yours, but he realizes you just pushed the same button.

“You live on the fourth floor too?” You turn to look at him, shock present on both of your faces. 

You’re wondering who this mystery guy might be, both nervous and excited about all these crazy coincidences. It’s when he follows you to your door, which resides right next to his, that you both stare at each other, it finally hitting you.

“Jimin?” You ask, and he nods. You can’t help the butterflies erupting in your stomach, finally face to face with the boy next door.

Jimin was about to pass out, his inner self jumping up and down, screaming, everything to celebrate finally meeting his neighbor, but on the outside, he tries to play it cool.

“You never actually told me your name,” he says, looking at you expectantly. 

Slowly bringing your hand out to him, you hold it out, “Y/N.” 

He grasps your hand in a light shake, fingers lingering a bit longer than they should have.

He clears his throat, lifting the bag to point to your door, “Maybe we should take this inside?” 

You turn and unlock your door, mentally preparing yourself for the fact that you were letting someone into your home for the first time. How crazy that the first person you’d invite inside would be the mystery neighbor you were dying to meet?

Jimin sets the sad sack of sugar on your counter, cringing when it spills out onto the surface, but you just shake your head and tell him it’s fine. 

“So, you're the girl who saved me from the awful people that used to live here?”

He’s standing awkwardly by the door, unsure if it’s alright to come in and make himself at home or not. You’re not sure how to interact with strangers in your home, but Jimin at least wasn’t a total stranger. 

“Guilty as charged, I guess.” He smiles when you let another giggle escape.

“Do you want to,” you gesture to the tea kettle on the stove, “stay for tea?” 

  Jimin spots the time on your oven and realizes how late it is. He promised Namjoon he’d meet him at the library early tomorrow morning, and he also just now realizes how gross and sweaty he is from class. 

“It’s actually pretty late, I should probably head to bed.” He hates himself, more than he ever has at any other moment in his life.

He’d finally come face to face with the girl whose been occupying his every thought, and he’s turning down time to spend with her?

When he looks at your face, you’re not upset with him like he expects you to be.

“Another time then, it’s not like it’s a far walk from your place to mine.” Another giggle that sends shivers up and down his spine, red tinging the tips of his ears.

“Right, absolutely.” You smile at each other, not sure where to go from there. Jimin turns around, grabbing the edge of your door, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Your cheeks flush pink, warmed by the amount of concern lacing every word.

“Yes, Jimin, I’m fine, thanks to you.” He can feel his entire face heat up and he wants to turn away so you won’t see.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he says quickly, walking forward, pulling the door with him.

“Goodnight Jimin.” And then the door shuts.

You hear him open and close his door, huff loudly into most likely a pillow and you presume he must have went to take a shower. 

The walls weren’t the thickest in this complex, so it didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Lifting the bag off the counter, you set it in the sink to take care of tomorrow. 

You can just make Jimin cookies and take them to him tomorrow as well. 

—

The more time you spent actually hanging around Jimin, the more you found yourself opening up. You’d always been quite introverted, hiding yourself away in your home.

Jimin made opening up fun. You would go over to his place, watch him play video games or make him dinner after you’d found out he basically lived off of take-out. 

He’d come over to your place and insist on watching you bake, even helping out when you told him you’d teach him how to make those sweet buns you'd left for him the first day.

Notes were replaced with actual words, whether that be you or him barging into each other’s places to rant about something stupid on TV or yelling playfully at each other through the walls. 

It was like having a roommate you didn’t really share the living space with. 

You’d both grown so comfortable with each other over time, it was like you’d been best friends for years. 

You’d show up in your pajamas to watch movies and sometimes he’d barge in to your place dripping wet wrapped only in a towel to steal your shampoo because his had ‘run out.’ In actuality, he just liked the smell of yours better. 

He introduced you to his friend group rather quickly, and you’d found yourself sucked in immediately. 

Taehyung would chase Jungkook around Jimin’s place to avenge the food he’d steal from your plate, while Namjoon would come up with clever ways you could get rid of both of them without anyone knowing. 

You’d even let Yoongi sleep on your couch a few times after he’d fall asleep during a movie you’d all be watching. 

They were like family to you in an instant and you felt so at home with them, more than you’d ever had with anyone in your life before. 

Jimin loved having you as his best friend and he loved that you’d become his friends’ friend as well. 

The only issue came up when Jimin realized he had non-platonic feelings for you. Of course he had a crush on you when you first met, but as you grew closer, you’d become such good friends that the crush sort of fizzled out. Suddenly, watching you show Jungkook how to ice a cookie, he realized he didn’t like you just as a friend. He liked you. 

Every time he’d try to flirt with you or subtly drop hints of his affection for you, you’d never picked up on it. He was friend zoned again and again and again.

Jimin was too worried about ruining your friendship, so he decided he’d just keep it to himself and move on. You were too important to him to jeopardize what you already had. 

—

Fast forward a few months and bring in Jiwoo, Namjoon’s friend from school, and Jimin thinks he’s finally over his hopeless crush on you. 

Jimin started making plans with Jiwoo, spending more time with just her and leaving you behind. 

You were happy he found someone, especially someone as sweet as Jiwoo. She was everything he needed, she’d be good for him, so you weren’t going to get in the way. 

While you grew lonely the less and less you saw Jimin, you couldn’t blame him for enjoying himself. He deserved to love and be loved.

Luckily, the boys knew that there was something more between you and Jimin, you both were just ‘too dumb,’ in Yoongi’s opinion, to see it.

While Jimin was off with Jiwoo pretending he was over you, the boys decided it was their duty to watch over you and keep you occupied. 

They could tell you were hurting more than you were letting on, especially when Jin stopped in to ask you if you wanted to go get coffee and found you on the couch crying over a romantic movie. 

Of course, not knowing what to do, he told the rest of the guys and ‘Plan: Get the Dummies Together’ (named through the joint effort of Jungkook and Taehyung’s last brain cells) commenced. 

Namjoon didn’t want to interfere at first, but when he saw how sad you looked as you watched Jimin take Jiwoo over to his place, he knew something had to be done, and the other boys couldn’t be trusted to do it right.

According to the plan, Namjoon and Hoseok would occupy Jimin to get him away from Jiwoo as much as possible. During this time, they’d talk mostly about you. 

The rest of the boys were tasked with keeping you happy. Cooking, walks, shopping, it didn’t matter as long as you were smiling and not crying. 

After a few days of initiating the plan, Jimin pulled Namjoon aside to ask him what was going on. They weren’t the best at being subtle, so it didn’t take long for him to catch on.

“You know you’re a literal idiot, right?” Namjoon sighs, Hobi nodding.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin didn’t think his best friends would attack him so openly like this, but he’s more concerned what brought it on than their attitude. 

“Y/N.” Hobi says, the both of them just looking at him like he’d kicked a puppy or something.

There’s a tinge of guilt swirling around in the pit of his stomach, but he forces himself to ignore it, “What about her?”

  “Do I have to spell it out for you? You L-O-V-E her and she L-O-V-E-S you dipshit.”

That takes Jimin by complete surprise. He thought he had been careful about hiding his feelings for you, even developing feelings for someone else to keep them at bay. 

Was there any chance you had felt the same way?

“No I don’t, and no she doesn’t. I’m with Jiwoo.” 

“Exactly. You’re with Jiwoo, but you don’t love her. You love Y/N.” Namjoon is getting more impatient with Jimin the longer he dodges it.

“Of course I don’t,” is all Jimin can get out, too caught up in everything happening at once. Did he really love you? Were his feelings for Jiwoo not real? Did you love him back? Why hadn’t you said or done anything to clue him in on how you felt? He thought he’d been kind of obvious before.

“Then say it, say ‘I love Jiwoo, I don’t love Y/N.’” Joon knows exactly how this will play out, but Jimin needs to hear it from himself. 

“Fine,” Jimin huffs, “I love Y/N, I don’t love Jiwoo-“ he wants to cover his mouth, but Hobi is already jumping around yelling ‘We knew it!,’ and Joon’s just smirking matter-of-factly. 

“And that is why you are an idiot.” Jimin knows what he has to do now, the realization that his heart belongs to someone else weighing heavily. 

Even the spark of hope that you might love him back can’t shield him from the hurt he’s about to cause. 

—

There were a lot of tears, but Jiwoo only said she had a feeling this was going to happen. Apparently Jimin was really bad at hiding his feelings for you, so it was only a matter of time before things had to come to an end. 

In the end, Jiwoo even wished him luck, knowing how much you both meant to each other. She couldn’t be too mad at true love after all.

Jimin was a freaking wreck on the other hand. He wasn’t good at breaking people’s hearts, and it took a toll on him.

He no longer had a girlfriend to make him happy and he didn’t know where you and him stood. 

Since the break-up, he’d noticed how much time you were spending with Jungkook and the others. He didn’t like feeling jealous of his friends, but he couldn’t help it. 

He was too much of a coward to confront you and tell you how he feels, though.

After letting himself be miserable over the break-up for a few days, he comes up with the best way he knows how to talk to you.

Grabbing the pad of paper, abandoned months ago, he writes up a quick note to leave on your door. He walks out, and just as he is about to put the paper up, your door swings open.

Your alone for the first time in a while, the boys coming up with excuses to let you and Jimin have your own time. 

You had planned on going on a walk to get some fresh air when you come face to face with Jimin at your door. 

He looks like a mess, hair disheveled, face stained with tears, and in the same crinkled sweats he’d lived in all week. 

You couldn’t help the pang of sadness twist through your heart. He looked broken. 

“Hey,” was all you manage to get out, in fear you’d crack and make a fool out of yourself. 

“Hey.” Jimin’s voice is rough and dry after crying for so long. He hated how pathetic he looked and sounded in front of you. 

How could you possibly love someone like him?

“Are you okay? Where’s Jiwoo?” You hated yourself for the nasty taste you got in your mouth from saying her name, it wasn’t her fault you waited too long.

“We actually broke up.” He doesn’t cry this time, he just searches your face for a reaction.

While you are sad your friend is hurting, you can’t help the hope blossoming in your chest.

“I’m sorry, you want to talk?” He just nods and rushes forward into your arms. You both missed the feeling of holding each other close, snuggling into one another and letting yourselves be vulnerable. 

You let out a relieved gasp when he clutches tight to you, as if he was afraid you’d dissipate into the air. 

“I should’ve just told you,” he whispers into your shoulder. 

“Tell me what?” You pull your face back from his chest to look at him confused. He just lifts his hand, still clutching the note tightly, and shows it to you.

‘I love you.’

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

Yes, I know it’s up later than the others, me being late to upload is just going to be a theme for the rest of the week. Anyways, cue the softest, cutest Jimin fanfic have ever written. Not to sound like a broken record, but, I really freaking love this one. Hope all you Chim gals eat your heart out, I hope I did your boy justice. 2 more to go. Stay Spooky!💜

       -Moonie🌙

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part I

They did Ahkmenrah so dirty in the NATM movies, so I’m indulging. I’m not sure if this piece is going to work as a female reader-insert, but I am going to try that first. If you think it would be better with an OFC, let me know.

  Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

   Warnings: None for now, but you can bet there will be smut; also, Ahk is a solid 20 years of age to be certain to avoid any squick factor. Also, if you’d like to be tagged, let me know : )

Part I

On the night you first officially met, you weren’t sure whether it was his beauty or his sadness that overwhelmed you. Ahkmenrah was sitting in his exhibit alone, gazing at the hieroglyphs that adorned the walls. His mouth was set in a serious line, which only served to accentuate his sharp jawline. His eyes, a polychromatic swirl of blue and green, were trained on the stories, his stories. The air was filled with such a level of concentration that it felt wrong to disturb this once-king.

   Larry whispered, “About a year ago, we figured out that he wasn’t an evil, cursed thing. It is his tablet, after all, that brings everything to life.”

   “He’s not wax or stone, though, so, he reanimates?” you ask hesitantly, even though you already know the answer. It’s just that you can hardly believe in its morbidity—cheating death always has a price.

   “Every night.”

   Your mind whirled. Every night, this former king came to life, and every morning, he returned to the nothingness of death. A price—there’s always a price.

   “Does he remember things, like the new things that happen at night? Or is he stuck living only with the memories of his past?”

   Larry chuckled, “Do you want to ask him all these things yourself?”

You nod your head. Of all the exhibits Larry had introduced you to over the last month, he saved Ahkmenrah for last because he knew that the ancient pharaoh was the reason you became an anthropologist. Not, Ahkmenrah in particular, but the culture of ancient Egypt. Your grandmother used to tell you stories about the pyramids and first introduced you to the riches of this ancient, civilized land. Their mythology fascinated you, from childhood until now, and it was the very last step of your doctoral pursuit. Your dissertation was about the parallels between the monotheistic cult of Akhenaten and the foundational principles of early Christianity. Although Ahkmenrah was a pharaoh of the Middle Kingdom, you were certain that the path for monotheism had been laid as the pharaohs navigated the world, acquiring more wealth and power. Science advanced. The miracles of the gods were explained. And one god, across cultures, emerged.

   And then you got stuck. You needed a lead and Rebecca, Larry’s girlfriend and your aunt, cajoled Larry into helping. She knew you would make any sacrifice to prove your research and keeping the secret of the museum seemed like a small price to you. So, Larry tested your character by introducing you to a new exhibit each night, carefully measuring your reaction, and then making sure nothing wound up in the tabloids the following day.

   While it was shocking, you had already spent so much time living within the past, it almost felt like coming home. The knowledge each reanimation possessed gave you hope that Ahkmenrah could provide you with the information that would cement your doctoral candidacy.

   Larry gently took your elbow and pushed you forward. Your slight stumble echoed into Ahkmenrah’s chamber, and he slowly turned toward the noise, his statues shifting, awaiting the young king’s word.

   “Son of Ra,” you spoke as you lowered your head in a bow until you closed the distance between the two of you, then you dropped to your knees, extended your arms in a full bow, and touched your lips to the stone floor at his feet.

   You didn’t move, even as you heard Larry chuckle from behind you.

   “Larry, guardian of Brooklyn, leave us,” Ahkmenrah spoke in a commanding tone that immediately silenced Larry and you listened as his footsteps shuffled quickly away.

   “Rise.”

   You rescinded your arms but rose only into a kneel, keeping your head bowed.

   Ahkmenrah sighed, an utterly sad, small noise of nostalgia.

   “You are familiar with the customs of my people, and you greatly honor me; however, you and I both know there is no longer a need for such a display of reverence. My time has long, long passed.”

   The despondency in his words called to you. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, his large eyes trained on your face, searching it as you looked at one another.

   Ahkmenrah offered you his hand, and you hesitated in a comical moment of twitching forward to accept it, but holding back, the customs of the ancients reverberating through your mind.

   Ahkmenrah chuckled, and you huffed out a laugh, too. Your 21st century self won out, and also your insatiable curiosity to know if he felt more like skin or a tanned hide--you know, how a several thousand years old mummified corpse might feel.

   As your hands connected, you immediately knew it was not the latter; his hand was smooth and warm, your fingers glided across his palm to grasp his wrist as he grasped yours and pulled you up from your position on the floor. Neither of you let go immediately, until a slight blush colored both of your cheeks. You dropped his hand and apologized, but he cut you off.

   “I’ve had so few visitors,” Ahkmenrah began. “It’s just nice to remember what a person’s touch is like. I apologize for . . . I believe the correct term might be . . . lingering?”

   You smiled at his furrowed brow and at his struggle to articulate himself. English, after all, wasn’t exactly his first language.

   “You speak beautifully, your majesty.”

   “Thank you; I was on display at Cambridge for a number of years, but please, call me Ahkmenrah,” he stated, tilting his head just slightly as it occurred to him he didn’t know your name. “And what shall I call you?”

   “Y/N.”

   He smiled and said, “A lovely name.”

   You took a deep breath, gradually becoming more relaxed in his presence. Nothing prepared you for your meeting with this young man, well, sort of young man. As Larry tested you by moving through exhibit after exhibit, you thought you would be able to handle the one thing you were really here for. Most of the exhibits, while they did add a depth of feeling, were like talking to living, very interactive history books.

   Except now, face to face, this creature in front of you was clearly no text book. He radiated warmth and power; his eyes were so alive it made you feel like you were the one who was a reanimated corpse. Never had you seen such depth in a person’s gaze; it was unnerving, but also it was like a key, turning a lock to something deep inside of you that you didn’t know existed.

   It also didn’t hurt that he was beautiful. Because of his age at his death, he still possessed a softness around his features that made you want to define him as cute, but his presence elevated him to handsome. A flicker of jealousy coursed through you at the thought of him choosing a queen from a line of many, many suitors. And then there would be the matter of his secondary queens, and you were sure he would have no shortage of choices there, either.  

   You shook your head, wondering why in the fuck your mind chose to venture down that path. You shouldn’t be thinking about this barely-adult king and his sex life; it’s not like you were going to go that far in your research . . . he may not even have functioning parts, hell, he may not even have any of his organs—

   “I believe the expression is, ‘Penny for your thoughts?’” Ahkmenrah asks, startling a blush out of you.

   You choke out an awkward laugh, run your hands through your hair and take a deep breath.

   “This is just so surreal. I’m not sure how much you know about me or my work, but I guess I should just start at the beginning. I guess the easiest way to explain would be to use a reference. So, there’s a fun little game that people sometimes play and during it, you divulge who you would invite to a dinner party if you could have your choice of any person, living or dead.”

   Ahkmenrah watched you intently, listening.

   “While Akhenaten was always first on my list—18th dynasty, awhile after you, I always wanted to meet a ruler from the Middle Kingdom, one of the most glorious periods of rule in Egypt. And, well, here you are. It’s like, almost better than Cleopatra.”

   Ahkmenrah chuckled, “I can assure you that the tales of my country will be far better than what her’s would be. From what I’ve heard, she brought much scandal because of her dalliances with foreigners,” he said, his face conveying his clear disapproval.  

   “She brought the end of your Egypt.”

   “Yes. It’s, what was the word you used? Surreal! It’s quite surreal to know the fate of one’s kingdom. I often think about what I might’ve done differently had I known what I know now.”

   “They do say hindsight is 20/20.”

   “As in, the past always looks clearer from the present?” Ahkmenrah questioned.

   “Exactly.”

   You had hoped he would be smart, and in your small exchange, it became clear that he was. While his intelligence excited you, it was the genuineness of his smile that took your breath away. For a moment, you were reminded of Nick Carraway’s description of Jay Gatsby’s smile. And just like Nick, you were immediately drawn into it, drowning with a need to just know the bearer of that warmth with a greater intimacy.

   “You’re doing it again,” Ahkmenrah said through his smile, startling you out of your thoughts.

   You shook your head, embarrassed yet again.

   “I was thinking about something I read in a book once.”

   Ahkmenrah spoke with excitement, “Larry told me you preferred books to people because you didn’t have many friends in your youth. I’d like to show you something.”

   “I’d like to show Larry something right about now,” you mumbled as you followed the swishing of Ahkmenrah’s golden cape. He disappeared into a smaller nook between the walls of his exhibit and returned with a stack of ancient paper.

   “The tablet seems to also restore anything that is organic,” Ahkmenrah explained, showing you the pieces of papyrus that were covered in hieroglyphs. “This is the history of my family as told through our own voices . . . I think you would call it a diary?”

   You must have looked like an idiot, your mouth agape, your eyes darting between the paper in Ahkmenrah’s hands and his dancing eyes.    

   You started to speak, stopped, stuttered, and started again.

   “This is a first-hand account of the life of ancient Egyptian royals?”

   “Well, not exactly. My father was very thorough in his tracking of the members of our lineage and decided to include everyone’s stories—cousins of cousins, people who worked the fields or the rivers. I believe you will find there is much to learn from these pages.”

   Your voice cracked a little as you thanked Ahkmenrah for this honor, but before he held the pages out to you his face turned serious.

   “I’m sorry, Y/N, but you will only be able to read them while at the museum. Once dawn comes, they turn to dust, and if too much is scattered, I fear they will no longer reform.”

   “Of course! I’ll only read them right here.”

   “So, this means that you will be returning?”

   “Yes! My god, Ahkmenrah. You have no idea what this means to me.”

   Ahkmenrah smiled, the sadness leaving his eyes entirely for the first time that evening as he watched you carefully examine the pages of his ancient life.

[akaspiderman]

stupid ideas

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger! female reader

word count: 2k

warnings: jumping off heights, reader injuries, angst(?) // tell me if there’s more

plot: (y/n) never thinks things through, but one day does something so unbelievable, Bucky has to deal with the effects.

A/N: criticism on how to improve it would be appreciated bc idk how to wrap things up :)) really loved that i pulled a 360 from the last one i wrote

Hurt, that’s all he knew. He destroyed everything and in return it left him as a shell of a man. Everyday, he feels haunted from the memories that followed him. He couldn’t escape them, they echoed through his head and they wouldn’t leave. He was struggling, he did get better, but it was slow and painful. And then, she was there.

They’ve been living in the same building now for months, but he never paid much attention to her. (y/n) was intrigued with him, but he never seemed in the mood to talk to her, so she always lets it go. It changed during a mission, when she was reckless and stupid in Tony’s words. (y/n) did it, though. This was just one of her many, awful ideas. She was after some agent when she slams the brakes on the car that she was driving. The reason? It was just so she wouldn’t hit a family of ducks crossing the road. It was so idiotic, they were in a chase and the car behind hers crashed into the back. But she just shrugs it off, saying she didn’t want to be responsible for innocent bystanders death. Bucky was in the car with her riding shotgun, and hell, he was mad. She let the car ahead of them get ahead, and now the back of the car was broken. She ruined the mission for ducks. He scolded her and she just laughed, and went around the ducks, acting like it was just a minor inconvenience that the back of the car has a gaping hole.

After his anger about that situation disinagratesd, he became intrigued. Why would someone do such a thing? Why would anyone endanger a mission for ducks? He was full aware that she does impulsive actions during missions. The rest of the avengers share stories about the mindless actions she does. He never thought much about, he never experienced them himself, until the duck fiasco. For months , she captivates his attention. He couldn’t quite figure her out, why she throws herself in danger so easily. He studies her and becomes closer to her, talking to her beyond missions and small talk, trying to figure her out. At first, it was just a side idea, trying to know what makes her do impulsive things. But throughout his ‘research’, he couldn’t help but notice how light her laugh was and how graceful she was. He was falling for her, oh so slowly. So slowly, he didn’t even realize it until he felt empty when she went to a mission for a week. He misses all her quirks and the constant laughter from her. He misses how gentle she was with him. He misses how she saw beyond his past and lives in the moment with him. When he gains the confidence to ask her out, after Steve telling him to just do it. He was terrified of what she would say, but she smiled and said yes.

Then the rest was history, they’ve been head over heels in love with each other. They spent all their time together when they could, outside their busy schedules. They go to cafes and strolled through parks. (y/n) forces him to watch movies he missed out on and he teaches her things about the past. She sticks through his hard patches and he was there to protect her from herself. They worked well, everyone could see it. It was like they found a missing piece to one eachother, though it sounds cheesy. Tony thought it was repulsive how they could be so affectionate and loving all the time. But they prospered and it was beautiful, to see how they just fit.

Then she does the most dangerous and dumbest stunt she’s ever executed. The fact that she had the audacity to do it enraged him a bit, how could she blind and not see the lasting impact.

“Right, I see him,” (y/n) announces. She was on a mission, her, Steve, and Natasha, and of course, the subject decides to run to the top of the building.

“Don’t let him escape, I’m coming,” Natasha says.

“I was gonna let him walk away,” (y/n) jokes, as she runs up the stairs, panting for air. Cardio was never her strong suit.

“We can’t kill him, we have to use him for a source,” Steve adds, he was currently trying to find a way to the top, as he faced complications.

“Yup, got it. Roger that,” (y/n) laughs at her own pun.

“God, how can you be so upbeat all the time. That pun is abused too much, thats like the twentieth time you used it today,” Natasha grumbles.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, though no one can see it. She shoots her gun because she finally reaches an opening where she can see the criminal, trying to injure him and slow him down. Of course, she misses, it was just super convenient for him to knock down a shelf in front of her. She sighs, before rushing back up the stairs and through the roof.

As she emerges through the door, it’s only her and the HYDRA agent. Natasha and Steve were trying to rush back up, but they had some difficulties with other agents before they blew themselves up. He stands up top, cocking his head staring at her. Trying to tempt her to shoot, like he’ll do something.

“Okay, got him. Do I engage? He’s near the ledge,” (y/n) asks, no one has reached the top yet, except for her.

“Don’t shoot him, he may fall of the building,” Steve replies, “I’m almost there.”

The agent has a smirk on his face, trying to lure her in. (y/n) starts walking towards him at an agonizing slow pace and he stands there, perfectly still. He then begins to edge his way towards the end of the building, still locking eyes with (y/n). He walks closer and closer, trying to see what she’ll do. It takes her about ten seconds for her to process that he was going to jump off. This was not the ideal situation at all, if life went the way she wanted it to go, they would’ve got him ten minutes ago and she wouldn’t be out of breath from running. She dosen’t know how to react, he was edging closer. (y/n) feels the panic run through her body, she could not let him go over. If she shoots, the impact will clearly knock him off the edge but if she dosen’t do anything he’ll fall. She would be damned if she was the one responsible for losing their only lead. So she concludes the only solution is to sprint towards him, and lunge at him, trying to grab him. If she can pull him off the edge, it’ll solve all her problems. To her shock, he moves just as she lunges. She was already running towards him, feet off the ground. It was too late to stop the momentum. Her scream was echoing through the air as she fell.

Bucky heard the news while he was watching some reality show at the base. He did this to calm his anxiousness about (y/n), but she always arrives alright. No major injuries that she couldn’t bounce back from. The mission was taking longer then everyone thought. At least an update at this point was expected. Bucky didn’t think much about it, he trusted that they would be safe. It was a strong trio, they should be fine. So Bucky continues to aimlessly watch the television, not giving much though to it when Tony walks in the room. His face was full of distress, his hands fumbling with his jacket before they ran through his hair.

“Bucky, we have to go,” Tony announces, his voice shaky. Bucky does what he’s told, but he’s getting this awful vibe from the situation. Cool and collective Tony was lost. He didn’t want to question it, it was like he would jinx it if he asked what was happening.

In the elevator, Tony pushes the infirmary level, further confirming Bucky’s idea that something went wrong. Bucky feels his chest tighten, “Who got injured?”

Tony bites his lip, and takes a deep breath, “It’s bad, real bad.”

The elevator dings and the two walk out, Tony keeps running his hands through his hair as he leads them to the back hall. The hall where doctors and nurses were swarming with, where the avengers stand, all with the same anxious look. Bucky looks around, trying to see the missing one, but to his dismay he couldn’t locate (y/n). (y/n).

Bucky pushes through the crowd, and goes into the room where people run in and out from. Doctors grab at him, warning that it’s restricted. Bucky easily shakes them off, he just wanted to see if what he thought was true, and he hopes to god it’s not. Then he sees her. (y/n) was unconscious, and god she looked horrible. Dried blood coated her, her limbs dislocated in areas, scratches and scars covering her, IV’s and wraps were along her body. She looked like she was dying. It was his worst nightmare. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs have collapsed and he was moving fast to her side. Grabbing her hand, he glances up to see her heart still beating, but she looked the opposite. The tears came quick, because this was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to arrive okay and they were going to go to that one art museum she’s been raging about the next day. His heart physically aches, it hurts. It was like he was the one who got injured, like he was the one lying in that bed. He was a wreck.

Footsteps approach and a hand lays on Bucky’s shoulder, Steve’s voice whispers, “I should have been there.”

Bucky jerks, letting Steve’s hand fall. He knew his anger was not in the right place. It wasn’t Steve’s fault, but he sure could’ve done a better job. After all, she had a reputation of doing these ridiculous stunts. Bucky looks up at Steve, his hand lightly on (y/n)’s, “What did she do?”

“She fell of a building, she was trying to prevent the agent from falling off, and he dodged her.”

Bucky sucks in his breath, this was the classic, stupid (y/n) move, he almost wants to laugh. This was such a her thing to do. She had a bad habit of not thinking ideas through, he learned that. From slamming onto brakes to save ducks to when she bakes cupcakes and grabs the tin straight from the oven without mitts. It never occurred to her that maybe the agent was trying to do something, to do a good classic dodge move? It was a flaw of hers, but he loved it, it was a part of her. He loves her.

His guard falls down quickly, his subtle tears turned into sobs. He didn’t care who saw, if his big, bad, mysterious reputation got ruined. She was hurting, and it hurt him. She managed to make him smile and laugh, like they were normal. Now she was here, all broken bones and blood. She can’t be there to comfort him, she can’t be there to tell him that everything will be alright. She looked lifeless despite the beating from the monitor. It told him everything, that she had one foot in the grave, she was going to be knocked out for days. God, she could be unconscious for weeks. That was terrifying. No one to hold, no one to lighten his mood. He can’t help her either, he can’t take away her pain. His heart is breaking, his world was falling apart. He should’ve been there, taken the mission instead. But he didn’t. Now the love of his life, was suffering, and how long would it last? No one knew, but he would hurt as long as she would.

[changingchances]

Crossing Senses Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor Part Seven

A/N: 2806 words. HELLLLLOOOOO LOVELIES! I’m sorry it’s taken a hot minute for me to post! Now that classes have started, I have a lot less time to write in between studying. I have around 18 credit hours this semester, so I apologize if updates are scarce or a little scattered right now. Thank you so much for your support and your feedback! Please feel free to message me with any questions, suggestions, comments, etc! I hope you enjoy this next bit! Much love! 

P.S. If I missed anyone in the taglist, please let me know and I’ll add you to the next post!!

Warnings: Swearing

Roe is greeted with a headache that she can feel in her teeth before she even opens her eyes. She’s nauseous. Her throat hurts. She can feel her heartbeat in her face. To try and relieve whatever discomfort she can, she rolls over in bed and lays face down into her pillow, breathing deeply. Her eyes pop open, though, when she realizes that her pillow doesn’t smell like her laundry detergent. Sitting up on her elbows, she looks around in a daze, trying to ignore the pounding in her head when her eyes move too quickly.

This is not her room. The walls are white rather than the strange off cream paint in her apartment. There is a television on the wall across from the bed as opposed to her rickety desk and old bookshelf. The bed is far larger than her own, with white sheets and blankets instead of grey. She turns over onto her back and sits up straight, one of her hands moving to press against the side of her head. It takes a long moment to figure out where the hell she is, but once it comes to her, everything else about last night comes crashing down as well.

Roe’s soulmate was at the party, so she got drunk. Matt was at the party, and he got into a fight with Brian. Roe had a panic attack- the worst one she’s had in years. Roger was taking her upstairs to a room, so she could calm down, be alone, but… she saw colors dance across his face. She’s painted those colors before. She knows them far too well after all of these months of listening to the same song again and again. Even if Roe were the type of person to believe in coincidences, this would be too much of one. She has no doubt in her mind that she is Roger’s soulmate. Her heart plummets and lands in the soles of her feet.

Roe rests her face in her hands, knees to her chest. She isn’t sure why this doesn’t feel like good news. She should be elated, right? But Roger Taylor has a reputation. He is known for taking what he wants from the women who throw themselves at him, and then moving right along to the next most interesting thing to cross his path. He’s a cocky musician basking in the beginnings of fame. He has tendencies to drink, to get incredibly angry, to start fights at gigs. Roe’s not certain what she had been expecting in a soulmate, but those characteristics hadn’t made the list. And she’s willing to bet that she isn’t what Roger was hoping to find at the beginnings of forever, either.

But he wants so badly to find her. It troubles him a great deal that he has no clue about her. He isn’t avoiding the rest of his life like Roe is, he is actively searching for her. And here she is, harboring what may be one of the most important discoveries to him as though it were a tragic diagnosis.

God, I have to tell him, don’t I? Roe blows out a heavy sigh and lifts her head. The poor guy deserves to know the truth, if she didn’t make it obvious already in the elevator last night. She hopes she maintained some level of composure. She can’t imagine anybody would want to realize who their soulmate is through the likes of her reaction. She runs a hand over her eyes, deciding that she desperately needs a shower before she can function in any capacity. She needs to think. Showers are good for thinking.

Once out of bed, she pads over to the huge bathroom. She doesn’t even want to think about how much this place must have cost Freddie. It’s when she catches her reflection in the mirror that she realizes she isn’t in the dress she had on last night. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind before now. She’s wearing nothing but her underwear and a white button-down shirt, just long enough to reach the top of her thighs. She draws in a shaky breath. It has to be Roger’s shirt. She doesn’t remember getting undressed last night- she went straight to the bed once Roger unlocked to room and must have passed out in moments.

She stares at her reflection, stares so hard she imagines the glass may crack beneath the weight of her gaze. Roe has never considered herself to be beautiful. She’s rather pretty, not plain, but not traditionally attractive. She doesn’t have long locks of silky hair. She’d chopped her curls off, nearly shaved her head, when she was fifteen to piss off some wanker she was dating at the time. She feels short hair is simply easier to manage and suits her far more than the tangled mess that were once her long ringlets. She isn’t blonde, nor a fiery redhead. Her hair is simply brown, so dark it almost looks black. Her ears, not covered by any curls, stick out in a rather average way, minus her variety of piercings. Her grandmother nearly had an aneurism at the sight of the hoops and studs several years back- told her that pretty young ladies shouldn’t have chunks of metal sticking out of their skin. Roe rolls her eyes at the memory.

She continues to study herself, unconsciously comparing her appearance to that of the variety of young women she’s seen Roger with in the past month alone. Roe’s face is narrow, jaw a little square, cheekbones a little higher than average. Her eyes aren’t particularly slanted, nor particularly wide, merely almond shaped and framed by bushes of God-given lashes and naturally thick, messy brows. Her irises look brown. Everyone tells her they are a nice shade of brown. But Freddie, who’s known her for over a decade, and Brian, who’s been close enough to her face in the past month, have pointed out the green and amber flecks scattered within the wooded hues, commented on how they are in fact hazel rather than brown, told her they are beautiful. She can’t help but wonder if Roger would notice the forest greens and touches of sunlight in her eyes. She wonders if he’d think they’re beautiful, too.

Roe sighs, long and heavy, before scanning down her body. She is on the thin side, but with no assets of the small-waisted, supermodel quality women on billboards, on commercials, on Roger Taylor’s arm. She used to hate not having large breasts, not possessing hips “fit for child-bearing”, as her aunt once put it. She’s gotten better, though, at really loving her body for what it is. She is flat-chested, small-boned, not particularly curvy, not tall in any sense of the word. But she’s got the look of a dancer, long lines and defined muscles. Her head is always held high, her feet a little turned out at all times, shoulders back and down, ribcage closed and posture taut. Roe is certainly not unattractive, but she does not fit the standards of Roger’s most preferred type. She chews her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth.

You’re thinking too hard, Roe. She turns away from the mirror and glances down at the white button-down shirt she’s wearing.

She really tries not to dwell to long on the fact that Roger must have gotten her out of the dress and into the shirt while she was asleep. She imagines his intentions were nothing but good, but all things considered, she doesn’t know whether she’s grateful or uncomfortable. The thought of him seeing her naked makes her throat tighten, and she sheds the clothing, gets into the shower, and cranks on the water before she can think too hard about it. But she does think about it. She thinks about how she hated the man until his apology last night. She thinks about how she probably wouldn’t have given a shit had he seen her undressed before she her revelation.

She thinks about how everyone talks about feeling elated, relieved, so very in love when they find their soulmates, and here she is, standing at the edge of another panic attack.

Deep breaths. Roe reminds herself, ducking her head under the scalding hot water and reaching for the shampoo. As she washes her hair, she tries to take inventory of her thoughts to ground herself, an attempt to make sense of the array of emptions she’s bombarded with. She feels some sense of dread. In all honesty, that isn’t unusual. Anytime the topic of her soulmate has come up for the past couple of years, she feels overwhelmed, tries to avoid the conversation at all costs. So, it’s possible, and very likely, that she is nervous about Roger being her soulmate, but not merely because her soulmate is Roger. Soulmate scenarios scare the hell out of her on their own.

Now, about his shirt. She recognizes that it was a kind thing to do. She recognizes that he did not do anything inappropriate or malicious to her. She understands that she typically has no problem getting naked in front of any men. So, what about this is so bothersome?

Roe pauses in rinsing her hair to glance down at her body. While she’s in fantastic shape, she recognizes that her body is not the type of fit most men fantasize about (because who’s is?), but that hasn’t deterred her for several years. She figures that if a man doesn’t like her body, it’s his problem and not hers, as she is incredibly healthy and feels she looks pretty damn good. But the idea of Roger, her soulmate, seeing her undressed, possibly comparing her body to the bodies of countless other women…. Maybe she doesn’t feel good enough. Roger has been with so many beautiful women. This insecurity where the drummer is concerned likely stems from the fact that she fears rejection from her soulmate above most things.

“Great,” Roe mutters to herself, scrubbing at her sudsy hair. “I’ve become the stereotypical psychoanalysis.”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Roe? Is that you in there?” Roger Taylor’s voice is muffled from outside of the bathroom. Roe’s fingers freeze in her hair. Her stomach drops, the reality of her situation hitting her once again. She clears her throat and forces herself to reach for the soap.

“Yeah, who else?” She calls, praying that the quip sounds realistic. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

There is no answer. She stands there for a few more moments, huddled under the hot water. She’s not sure what comes after this, once she steps out of the shower and rejoins the world outside of her head. Is she going to have to face Roger right now? Or will she have to wait until she goes downstairs? Until the next band rehearsal? Until the next gig? Roe can’t decide which would be worse- coming clean now or harboring her epiphany indefinitely. Surely, it would be better in the long run to just get it out in the open, get it over with, to have an answer now. A jolt pulses in her stomach, uncomfortable and anxious in its presence. What the fuck would she even say to him? Hey, man, it’s me, Roe, your soulmate, Miss Forever. Should she make some grand gesture? Roe shudders at the thought, her face heating up with humiliation at just the idea of it. No, she needs to do this privately, and if Roger is here now, then this is the most appropriate moment. And God knows when a moment like this may make itself available again.

She doesn’t move from beneath the water.

Just get it over with. That nearly electric feeling in her gut hits again. She takes a deep, deep breath and wills her hand to shut off the water. Stepping out of the shower, she grabs a hotel towel and dries off slowly, buying time, putting off the inevitable. Another deep breath. She opens the door, quietly calling the drummer’s name. When she goes to step out of the bathroom, she comes face to face with a yawning woman. Roe pauses, expression carefully blank.

“Excuse me,” the woman smiles and squeezes past into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Roe stands for a short moment, face expressionless, but mind racing. Her headache had eased some in the shower, but her temples are pounding again. it feels like someone’s stuck an ice pick behind each eye. And then she’s moving to the bed, searching for her dress, for anything to put on so she can get the hell out of this room. But the dress is nowhere to be seen. Her shoes are nowhere to be seen. At this point, Roe is more than half tempted to simply march out wrapped in nothing but her towel.

“Looking for these?” Roe turns so quickly at Brian’s voice that she swears she gives herself whiplash. He’s stood in the doorway, still in the clothes he wore last night, though this shirt is mostly unbuttoned. When her eyes meet his, her stomach drops for the millionth time this morning. His nose has blood crusted beneath it. Both his under eyes are swollen and purpling. His lip is split, and there are bruises smattering the skin exposed by his undone shirt. Roe approaches him, one hand clutching at her towel, the other immediately reaching for his face. When she’s directly in front of him, she hesitates, her hand hovering at his cheek, but he leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. They stand that way, silent, and then Roe is choking on the tightness in her throat, trying to blink away the burning in her eyes. When she takes a breath, it’s a little too sharp to go unnoticed, and Brian opens his eyes, brows furrowing in concern.

“Roe, it’s alright, love.” He reassures, covering her hand, still resting on his cheek, with his own. Roe shakes her head though, lips pursing as the tears well up. Brian, who’s been holding a bag in his other hand, drops it to the floor and wraps her up in his arms, burying his face in her neck and practically lifting her off of the ground in the embrace. Roe can’t keep the tears from falling, but she doesn’t let them overwhelm her. Brian’s already witnessed the beginnings of a break down. The only thing a full out sob session will do is worsen her headache.

But, hell, she feels like her thoughts are tidal waves crashing against the walls of her mind. She’d seen Matt for the first time in over a year, and the guy fought with Brian, who she’s been sleeping with casually for over a month. She had that damned panic attack in front of the whole band. She met her fucking soulmate, but he doesn’t know that he’s her soulmate, and she woke up this morning in his shirt even though he obviously slept with the long-legged beauty that Roe met outside of the bathroom, a woman he likely picked up after dropping Roe, his soulmate, off in the hotel room. Is she missing anything?

Roe abruptly pulls away from Brian, her hand moving to pinch the bridge of her nose. She can hide the tears pretty well, but they’ve been replaced with a swell of ire, sheer resentment for the whole situation she’s found herself in, and she doesn’t do as well at concealing it.

“Roe, it’s really alright-“

“No, Brian, it isn’t.” She exhales, still facing away from him. Her voice shakes the smallest amount, only serving to feed her irritation even further. “This whole thing is so fucked up,” she murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The smallness of his voice, typically so eloquent and certain, causes Roe to turn her head, glancing back at him. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She wants to get the hell out of this hotel and as far away from Roger Taylor as humanly possible. But the look on Brian’s face keeps her from saying anything along those lines.

She sighs again. “No, not really,” there’s a pause where neither of them say anything. Taking in a deep breath, Roe continues. “It would probably do me some good, though.”

Brian smiles a little at that, small and concerned. He nods and picks up the bag he’d left on the floor, holding it out towards here.

“These are your clothes from last night. I imagine you’d rather have these than be stuck in that towel all day,” He smirks a little. “Though, I can’t say I’d mind you choosing neither of them.”

Roe snorts, rolls her eyes as the takes the bag from him.

“I think I’ll stick with the clothes.”

Taglist

@voidfanfiction

@raveng1rl

@itsgrassy

@d-r-e-a-m-catchme

@legendsaresooftenwarnings

@armadaextra

@radioblahblahh

[metalgearkong]

Devil May Cry 5 (PS4/Xbox One/PC) - Review

4/27/19

Developed by Capcom, released March 8th, 2019

Devil May Cry is the series that ushered in the hack ‘n slash genre to the 6th generation of consoles (PS2/Xbox/Gamecube), effectively bringing the format to 3D with flying colors. Many other series have tried to emulate the success and style of DMC, but hardly ever matched its character and style. Even my friends and I referred to the original God of War as a “DMC clone,” despite it being the best series to mimic the DMC formula. Devil Macy Cry 5 is the incredibly long awaited sequel to Devil May Cry 4, which released a whopping 11 years ago. Luckily, it was worth the wait, and DMC5 isn’t a disappointment like so many other long awaited titles to release recently. 

In the city of Red Grave, devil hunter Nero (Johnny Yong Bosch) has started his off-shoot of the Devil May Cry business, in the form of a workshop on wheels driven by Nico, a brand new character to the series played by Faye Kingslee. Nero has his devil arm ripped from his body and the Yamato sword stolen by a mysterious figure. A demon king named “Urizen” is drawing power from the “Qilphoth,” a demonic tree growing and destroying the city, feeding off human blood for power. Nero and Dante (Reuben Langdon) have Urizen in their sights, but after a battle, Dante saves Nero’s life, and is temporarily defeated by the demon king. A month later, Dante reawakens, and is out to try again. It’s the fomulaic DMC plot: a new demon king or leader has found yet another new and unheard of way to open the demon realm to the human world, hell bent on power and destruction.

DMC5 uses the same engine as Resident Evil 7, and it shows. The graphical detail, lighting, animation, texture, and everything visual looks amazing. The game also runs at a smooth 60fps, rarely failing except under the most flashy and high processing moments of combat. I am so happy Nero and Dante’s fighting style and traits have remained intact. It gives a sense of continuity and consistency to fans of the series who are revisiting these characters. We spend red orbs from defeated enemies on an expansive skill list, slowly unlocking more combos and special moves for each of the three heroes. Now that Nero has a missing arm, Nico has manufactured a variety of new mechanical arms we can buy and equip. Each one of these arms adds something unique to combat, including a shocker, missile, grappler, drill, and so on. Nero is still a blast to play as, and while I miss his original devil arm, I can see why the devs went this direction in order to expand and add even more depth to Nero’s combat. 

Dante is still a total powerhouse. Not only does he have his iconic twin pistols, shotgun, gauntlets, and sword, he is still equipped with 4 separate fighting styles to keep the combat fresh (e.g. Trickster, Royal Guard, Gunslinger, and Swordmaster). It’s almost overwhelming what the combat options are, as you constantly want to switch between fighting styles, as well as mixing up melee and ranged weapons. Even at their base, Dante and Nero could carry an entire game with the moveset at their default. This makes the combat in DMC5 the best I’ve seen for the genre in years. No player will play the same, especially in the case of Dante. Some missions are specific to one character, but others let you chose who you want to play as. Red orbs transfer seamlessly between characters, keeping you from having to acquire the orbs individually.

The third main character, and most unique aspect of DMC5, is “V,” who happens to be voice acted by a good friend of mine, Brian Handford. He brings an entirely new type of combat to the series, in the form of summoning demonic creatures to do most of the fighting for him. The player can move V during combat, but your corresponding melee or ranged attack face buttons now affect the panther and bird respectively. During V’s devil trigger mode, he summons a giant golem to deal extra damage. V is like the spellcaster of the series, and getting used to his fighting style does involve a small learning curve. But once you get good at managing him, the bird, and the panther all at once, it gives us satisfying scenes of controlled chaos. He may not be my favorite of the three protagonists to play as, but I certainly think his fighting style and character was designed very well, and feels innovative for the series.

Like the other games, DMC5 is a strictly linear offline experience, something I’ve always liked more than the massive online competitive and multiplayer games of which the industry is full of. The devs at Capcom have stuck to their guns and I’m ecstatic DMC5 resembles its brethren so closely. The storytelling however, does not innovate or feel like anything special for the series. I would say this is one of the better stories, especially near the end, but I still think they could do better. The world in which these games take place are always isolated to just the experience of the heroes. I have no idea where Red Grave is compared to the other cities or locations in the other games, or have any reference of how prolific the destruction is outside of our perspective from the protagonists. I’d like to see regular people’s take on all these demon gates constantly opening, or simply for the main characters to recognize a bit of the bigger picture. 

DMC5 has the perfect level of difficulty, if you play on Devil Hunter mode (hard mode). The game recommends this mode for veterans of the series, of which I am, and I found it perfectly balanced. I can imagine how much easier it would be on the default difficulty, and seeing players not really taking advantage of the deep combat if enemies are so easy. In other words, play on Devil Hunter mode no matter what! Another problem I have with the game is the yellow orb mechanic. You find yellow orbs in the environments (at least one per mission), and they act like continues for when your die. A yellow orb can be spent, restoring your health & devil trigger gauges fully, picking your right back up, and the enemies get no health back. Personally, I had yellow orbs in the double digits, so when I did struggle with a boss fight, some engagement and tension was lost when I realized I could just keep spending yellow orbs until I defeated the boss, instead of having to play closer attention to their attacks and simply fight better.

DMC5 is one of the stronger games in the series, but it doesn’t beat DMC3 in my opinion, mostly because that game’s story, cinematics, combat, and challenge were so excellent. DMC5 certainly tries to elevate its level of storytelling, but the plot and characters still have a few too many conveniences and oddities (although it does get better near the end). V is a fantastic addition to the game, and his style of combat is one of the most unique I’ve seen in a game of this genre. Dante and Nero are still an absolute blast to play as, and their depth of combat is hard to comprehend, let alone learn fully. DMC5 is basically exactly what I could have hoped for and expected from these devs. This is a great game with excellent enemy design, fantastic combat, great graphics, lots to unlock, and is hugely entertaining. Recommended highly for fans of the series, or fantasy action games with swords, guns, combos, special moves, skill trees, and things of the like. 

8/10

[dcarevu]

DCAU: Beware the Gray Ghost

“When crime haunts the night, a silent crusader carries the torch of justice. Those with evil hearts beware for out of the darkness comes the Gray Ghost!”

Batman meets his influence, while simultaneously, in a way, meeting himself from another universe. How is this possible? Find out next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel! Well, okay, maybe not, you could just scroll down… So was this episode a tired, old has-been or a star worth remembering?

Episode: 18 Robin: No Writer(s): Garin Wolf (Teleplay), Tom Ruegger (Teleplay/Story), Dennis O’Flaherty (Story) Director: Boyd Kirkland Animator: Spectrum Airdate: November 4, 1992 Grade: A

Beware the Gray Ghost is a fantastic episode of Batman the Animated Series with something there to satisfy the older and newer fans, bridging the gap between them. And in fact, historically, it kinda did just that, bringing new respect to a certain actor who guest starred in this one! It is also an episode that I noticed has a very distinct feel to it, turning it into a tribute to not only the old Batman show from the 60’s, but also just old, Twilight Zone-esque noir crime shows in general. The music, the plot, some of the more subtle details, it’s all there. But instead of using these to craft some sort of parody or critique, it all ends up being a very respectful look at days past while undoubtedly still being Batman the Animated Series.

“The Graaaaaayyyyy Ghost!”

Spectrum animation is back with this one (which is odd, because apparently they shut down after bankrupting themselves with Heart of Ice… Anyone know how this all worked?), but in addition to that, my copy of Batman the Animated Series on Blu Ray just arrived! I couldn’t be happier that the first episode we watched on Blu Ray was a Spectrum episode. This created a very noticeable leap in animation quality. I’ll go more into detail at the end of this post also, giving my basic first impressions on how the Blu Ray release stacks up against the DVD one. But yeah, I’ll say it right now, it makes the show go from beautiful to breathtaking. Some of the color-usage in this episode is the best the show had done up to this point, and a variety of styles was used.

We have the scenes which are in exclusively black and white (displayed when we get a look at the original Grey Ghost tv show), we have the sepia-toned bits showing Bruce Wayne’s childhood, we have the bloody reds when explosions and fires happen (fire count!), and then we have the typical dark-deco look of the show. They all flow together seamlessly, and you can’t help but admire how realized this episode must have been before it was finished and then aired on TV. I cannot think of a single way I would improve the look of this one, aside from one or two funky-looking shots of Batman. 

One of the few funky shots of Batman...

...but they’re made up for by how awesome some of the other shots are.

The closest to a perfect episode (animation-wise) you’re gonna get. Period. Char (again, my watching-buddy, and DCAU-virgin) pointed out the animation for when Batman and Grey Ghost are hauling ass away from the exploding remote-controlled cars too. Very dynamic angles were used that only studios like Spectrum and TMS could have pulled off.

If Akom worked on this scene, it would have been such a disaster. Speaking of Akom, now I’m thinking of their version of an explosion/fire vs Spectrum’s. Just for funzies, let us compare shall we?

From The Cat and the Claw (Part 2).

These next few are from Beware the Gray Ghost.

The difference is quite clear. One makes you jump out of your seat in awe. The other makes you jump out of your seat because you’re about to upchuck your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

When I mentioned earlier something about this episode never straying into parody-territory, well, it does not necessarily look back at the genre/Batman show and play it completely seriously either. They walked a thin line between both and decided to put Bruce Wayne into a setting that we can all relate to; sitting in front of the tv, watching your favorite show before bed.

The Gray Ghost in this story isn’t an old, retired superhero, or a superhero turned villain. He’s an actor, and one that played in a somewhat dated, silly “superhero” drama. This immediately adds a sense of seriousness and realness to it while also managing to not let the cornier aspects go. Both worlds exist in this episode. The whacky Gray Ghost show, and the noir, gothic world of Batman the Animated Series. They don’t necessarily have to merge in a typical way and clash tones, because they are able to reference and display the Gray Ghost show as fictional. The way it’s used makes it all relatable, and it gives us a look at what influenced the dark knight, along with a borderline-tragic story about the downsides of fame and being known for one thing and one thing only. Batman may seem super-powered to the many thugs that he battles in the alleyways, but he is a human just like you and I, one that did have a childhood at one point. Even if that childhood was tragically ended with a few bullets. Batman feeling the level of nostalgia that he feels in the episode is so god damn adorable, and it’s another moment, much like The Cat and the Claw, where we see him being Bruce Wayne, not Batman, but also somehow being himself. It's that middle ground between the brooding, shadowy figure and the rich, chillax playboy.

A smile we rarely get to see.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Bruce acknowledges the cheesiness of the explosion causes.

While Batman is enjoying his childhood tv show, at one point almost seeming to forget why he’s watching it in the first place, we see Alfred subtly bringing that memory to life even more. Batman may no longer have a father, but Alfred is the closest thing he could ever hope for. TV superheroes clearly are not Alfred’s thing. He even mentions that fact when he says he prefers his fireplace to a black and white screen. But that’s not the point. The point is that Bruce is being transported back to feeling the warmth and protection of a father figure, while throwing out all of his worries for a bit and feeling a sense of thrill and enjoyment. Alfred seems to understand this. He knows Bruce more than anyone else could. Almost all of the flashbacks we see in this show are sad ones. And that gives the ones like this so much more power.

Alright, now, for those of you who don’t know (like all two of you), this episode has the very special guest star, Adam West. To me, this elevates the episode immensely, and strengthens the central themes and thesis tenfold. We go from a story about an actor being kind of a one-trick pony to the same story being told by someone who lived it. We go from a story where Batman gets to meet his idol to that same story featuring that very idol. And not just an idol to Batman, but an idol to many kids and adults who were around when Batman was still airing. Even those who went back and watched it later! Hell, when I was 5 or 6, I watched the shit out of Batman: The Movie, and I’m only 23. And y’know, we have things like Catman in The Fairly Oddparents, and the Fearless Ferret episode of Kim Possible. I’m not knocking on those, but damn, Adam West had to get tired of Batman goofs at some point. In fact, the team behind Batman the Animated Series was a little bit nervous that he wouldn’t wanna participate. But I’d be willing to bet that this episode made him feel good.

The Gray Ghost kinda reminds me of Arthur from The Tick. Great shot here, by the way.

The Gray Ghost is posed in the same way as Batman in the end credits. Such a cool detail that I actually missed my first time watching.

I love that despite wanting to stay far away from 60’s Batman vibes, the team wasn’t ready to dismiss it as bogus. And I get the sense that maybe Batman’s reverence in this episode is not only representative of all the Batman fans’, but also that of the crew behind Batman the Animated Series. They wanted Adam West to feel welcomed, and like the show wouldn’t exist without him (because it likely wouldn’t). So honestly, hats off to them. To further show a lack of satire, it wouldn’t surprise me if that is why Bruce Timm’s voice and image was used for the main villain.

Bruce Timm’s voice acting wasn’t the best, and I’d be willing to bet that he hated doing it, hahaha. Still a really fun nutjob of a character.

I’ll relate it to the episode of The Nostalgia Critic where he squares up against Mara Wilson. Mara Wilson, in real life, saw a Nostalgia Critic video about one of her films, and was kinda offended by it. But through a series of events, she and Doug Walker (the main creator and actor of NC) ended up cool, and he even put her in one of his videos! To make it even better, he actually had her play the antagonist, or probably more accurately, the protagonist. She basically ended up embarrassing and getting even with the Critic character in the episode. It’s still one of Doug’s favorite episodes to this day, and I have a feeling that he set the plot up like this to show her that he actually respects her quite a bit, and to soften the blow of the shit he’s thrown her way over the years. The team behind Batman the Animated Series may have done a similar thing in making Adam West’s character, along with Kevin’s Batman, defeat Bruce Timm’s character together, and if that’s the case, I love it. Not only does Adam West get the admiration of their version of Batman, but he also gets to help Bruce Timm’s character get his comeuppance. And then, of course, West’s character gets the attention he deserves at the end.

I know this is a video release, but it looks a lot like a thicker Blu Ray case. Kinda like, well, the Blu Ray release of Batman TAS!

Oh wow, never noticed this foreshadowing either. Matt Hagen will be a name that we’ll see pop up in a couple of episodes.

Garin Wolf, Tom Ruegger, and Dennis O’Flaherty obviously treaded carefully, but likely without even thinking about it. Because it is so genuine-seeming and charming. And honestly, thank you, Adam West, for being such a great sport throughout all the time you were alive. I wish there could have been another official DCAU tribute after his death, but this being the one thing we got should be more than great enough for any Batman or comic book fan out there.

This dude was pretty obviously voiced by Alfred’s voice actor. Times when having a voice with so much character takes me out of the show!

A look at some of the Gray Ghost episodes. I’d kill for a Gray Ghost animated series, following what we have shown here.

Wow, that Batmobile is awfully close to the ground.

Just a nice still. Boy does he ever look like a classic pulp costumed crimefighter. They nailed his design. 

A picture of Bruce Timm after he saw the finished product of I’ve Got Batman In My Basement.

Before I go, I’d like to, yes, mention the Blu Ray copy of the show I just received! So far, I’m mixed on it. While the visual and audio quality is mostly superior, there are a few moments of a shot being too bright or whatever. Also, I don’t know, I think that the dirtiness is part of what made the original show look so charming, and it was truly meant to be seen on the technology that was around at the time. Everything is so crisp now, and it just doesn’t look as old as it once did. On the other hand…they got rid of the spot above Batman’s lip during the theme song! Hot damn! That makes it about 10x easier to sleep at night… From what I understand, there are also some new special features and such that I can’t wait to view. All of the old ones are there too, which brings me to the pilot, The Dark Knight’s First Night. I was really, really, really hoping that they would bring in the original sound for it. On the volume 1 DVD, I was always kinda weirded out that it said the original music and sounds were lost. I mean, as far as the music goes…it’s just music from the 1989 Batman film, how hard can that be to get ahold of..? Hell, one of the versions on Youtube has the original music and sounds, so what gives? Could it be a copyright issue or something? I don’t know, but this same problem exists on the Blu Ray release too. Kind of a shame. Oh, but wait, as a plus, this complete series doesn’t just include every episode, but it also comes with Mask of the Phantasm and Subzero! I hate when complete series box sets don’t come with the movies that are just as much part of the series. This is an incredibly consistent problem across basically every tv show ever, and I get why it’s a thing, but it still annoys me. This problem doesn’t exist with Batman the Animated Series any longer. Well. Kinda. Mystery of the Batwoman is strangely…not included? I know that this one was technically released much later, and I also remember it sucking, but it’s still a part of the show! Why not include it? Personally, if I were in charge, I also would have thrown in Batman and Harley Quinn too, but believe me, I wasn’t banking on that one. I can forgive its absence. Overall, though, I’m super happy to own this, and even though I’ve seen all of Batman the Animated Series already, this gives me something new to enjoy with it. Also, even though it’s not a perfect release, I think I still consider it a step up over watching the show on DVD. At least, if we’re talking flat screen TVs (watching the entire show on VHS would be awesome, honestly). I give the Blu Ray release a B. Maybe a low A.

Char’s grade: A Fire count: 9

Next time: Prophecy of Doom Full episode list here!

[mischievousmichael]

Is This So Wrong: Part One

I did change things a little to my liking. I wanted this story to be in my own words and thoughts so I probably won’t add any of the actual quotes or sayings from any of the episodes. I’m going to do my best to make this unique.

Word Count: 1,370

Fandom: American Horror Story

Pairing: Michael x Original Character

Rating: PG-13

Athena currently sat in the comfort of her room that she shared with her best friend Zoe. It wasn’t really anything extravagant. It was simple, white painted walls, her bed covered by a black and white floral comforter matched with black and white pillows. Athena was dressed in a simple white laced dressed topped with a simple black cardigan. Her hair was curled and framed her oval shaped face. The young girl didn’t really do her makeup that much. If she did it was a simple paint of a neutral color of eyeshadow and a coat of mascara and if she was feeling frisky, she’d do a cat eye. Nothing crazy. Sometimes she’ll even had a rose-colored lipstick to add to the gist.

There was a knock on her door before the woman she’s come to known as her second mother stepped inside. “Are you already to go sweetie?” Cordelia asked, as she stayed by the door. Athena nodded, she finished adding a few things to her suitcase before grabbing her phone that sat on her nightstand. “I’m already to go now.” She couldn’t help but pause for a few moments, staring at the picture that sat on her nightstand. It was one of her and her mother. She was about ten years old in the picture. The blue-eyed girl sniffled and tried to wipe away the tears before they fell. Cordelia went over to her, wrapping her up a hug. “I know she’s watching over you dear, every second of this day,” she pulled away from the hug but keeping her hands resting on Athena’s shoulders looking her right in the eyes. “Every time that I look at you, I see your mother. I see a strong and courageous girl. I know you will take the world by storm. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever doubt yourself.”

Athena couldn’t help but let a warm smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Thank you for not giving up on me, I know my own grandmother doesn’t want anything to do with me.” It hurt Cordelia to hear Athena say stuff like that. It may be true to her in her eyes but deep down, Myrtle does care. She’s just a stubborn woman. “She’ll come around Athena, don’t give up on her yet. You know how stubborn she is.” Athena’s blue orbs looked up into Cordelia’s eyes. “What if it’s too late?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, okay? Now grab your suitcase, don’t want to keep those men waiting any longer now do we?” Cordelia joked in hopes to bring out a smile and cheer the young woman up a little bit. The brunette chuckled softly at Miss Cordelia’s words. “Thank you again, you’re the best.”

****** 

After boarding the plane which wasn’t that long of trip, Athena fell asleep. She doesn’t understand why she was so tired, but she decided a little nap wouldn’t hurt. She felt Zoe shake her to get her up. “Hey sleepy head, we’ve just landed.” Athena rubbed her eyes to help wake her up, she unbuckled and stood up from her seat. Following the other three women out of the plane to their special cab they had to pick them up from the airport. They put their stuff in the back of the trunk to the cab and they all piled inside. It was about a thirty-minute drive from where the plane landed to the academy where the warlocks attended. To say Athena was nervous wasn’t even half of it. She doesn’t understand how she’s nervous or why would she be nervous. Maybe it was because she was going to be around other male figures. Something she never really experienced her adolescent life. Athena rested her head against the window, daydreaming watching the blue-sky pass by. She was thankful for Zoe sitting next to her and not her rambunctious grandmother.

Once they’ve arrived, they were greeted by the headmaster of the academy. Ariel was his name. Or so that was what Athena heard. The young woman was tuning everything out. They followed the slightly not so tall gentleman into the academy and was led below it by an elevator. The nerves that Athena felt earlier were no longer there. Ariel led them to a conference room to where they could have this council meeting about some boy and his powers and how he could be the male equivalent to the supreme. Athena scoffed as she listened to these ridiculed men rambling about this. There’s no way a male could even surpass a woman in powers. “There’s no way that a male could ever pass the level of supreme and become-.” “Become the next what?” A deep but smooth voice interrupted the brown-haired girl mid-sentence.

She turned in her chair to see who the voice belongs to. Her eyes landed on long legs, trailing her blue eyes up to a slim but masculine figure before than looked up into his eyes. Athena suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe when she looked into his bright blue eyes. He had the most exquisite features. Sharp cheek bones and a jawline that could cut glass. Beautiful strawberry blonde curls that framed his face perfectly. “Are you going to answer me, love?” The voice of the unknown suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts as she eyed him over. “Um, nothing. Never mind forget what I said,” she responded suddenly feeling dumbfounded when she looked at him. Cordelia glanced over at the girl before turning her attention back to Ariel. “So, is this the young boy you ever so graciously told us about?” Ariel then nodded in response.

Athena never seen something or someone so beautiful and so flawless looking ever in her whole 18 years of existence. Zoe nudged the brunette, jokingly saying, “You’re drooling.” A playful smile was on Zoe’s lips. “Shut up, no I’m not,” Athena responded nudging the other girl back. From the corner of her eye she could see that young boy who has yet to be named, smiling from the corner of the room. She felt a rose-pink blush coat her cheeks in embarrassment. Not only did she embarrass herself in front of the coven and the warlocks, but she also did it in front of the most gorgeous human to walk this planet.

 ******

It was around 9 o’clock at night and the poor girl could not get a wink of sleep. So, she decided to sneak out and do a little tour of this school for herself. Cordelia would have her head if she knew Athena wasn’t in the assigned room with Zoe. Athena’s blue eyes lit up at the sight of the library room. She always had a knack for reading. Her fingers brushed crossed the books. So many choices to choose from. “Find something you like?” That same voice she heard earlier made her jump that she felt like her soul left her body. “Jesus Christ.”

“A-ha, not quite love but thank you for the compliment.”

“You scared the hell out of me, and aren’t you a funny one?” Athena wanted to play it smooth around this boy she still has no idea what his name is. “The name’s Michael, Michael Langdon. May I ask what your name is, love?”

“Oh, um, my name is Athena, Athena Snow. Nice to meet you, mister Langdon. What has you out so late anyways?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Got a knack for reading huh?” Athena nods her head slightly in response. “Ever since I was a little girl. I loved to read, loved to learn about new spells and all.”

The rest of the night, the two of them sat there in the library talking about anything and everything. Learning about each other from their past to their current life. She told him about her mother and how she despises her grandmother. He told her how his birth mom wasn’t the greatest to him and that she tried to murder him, and his father had abandoned him.

Little did Athena know is that the beautiful blue-eyed boy in front of her could soon become her greatest enemy or someone that would make her turn her back on her coven.

[sirens-gemberry]

You’ve Unlocked a Cutscene from “Soren Ren-egade Sharp”!

Continue?

>Yes

No

Warnings are for the following: Blood, Violence, and slight alcoholism! Stay wary, Farmer! 

There's a couple reasons why my sister never let me into the mines. For one thing, it was really fucking cold. Like- holy shit my fingers are numb kinda cold. For another thing, I wasn't very strong. So mining was always a bit of a chore for me, compared to my impeccably strong and equally strong willed sister. 

Yet, when I found out she had gotten sick not too long after my arrival to the Valley, I took it upon myself to venture down for her. She protested briefly, and we argued about it for a good hour or two, before eventually sighing and shaking her head. “... Fine, it might help you get stronger anyway. Just stay within the first 20 floors at most, okay? Don’t forget to be home before midnight, either.” Yasmine had said to me, as her friend- and at the time crush- Harvey was preparing medication in the next room over. He was humming a tune under his breath of a song I couldn’t quite place. I nod, a determined grin on my face and the usual pep in my step as I wished my sister well and turned to head off for the task ahead of me. Yasmine’s quest was simple. Get 24 copper ores and bring them to Demetrius. Now, this particular week we were a bit short on copper, as we had been upgrading our tools for the next season. Normally my more experienced sister took on this task, but with her being basically forced to rest- that left me in charge. Despite as confident as I sounded to her, I was actually a bit nervous. After all, there were more than enough times I had seen my sister covered in bruises and bite-marks. First time I saw this, I joked that she hooked up with some dwarf in the mines, before she briefly socked my shoulder and gave me a bruise to remember. She briefly told me of her expeditions in the mines, and all of them sounded fascinating- if not terrifying. Not to mention unhealthy, as she had far too many stories of these trips for just staying a little over a year.

That was a few hours ago. Right now, I’m currently resting my head against the elevator wall, going down… down… and further down, all the way to level 20. She had floors up to level 65, and I was half tempted to challenge myself further by going down to floor 30… But I figured going 5 floors beyond her maximum requirement was more than enough to make her proud of me. I am stronger than she thought, just watch! I yawn, softly, shaking my head. I should've gotten more sleep last night. I reach into the bag, taking out an energy drink I snatched from my sister’s fridge on the way out before chugging the whole thing down. If it killed what little my immune system could deal with, eh, whatever. The bell dinged just over my head, drawing me from my thoughts as I slipped the now empty can back into my bag before trudging onward into the dark mines. Only a few lights shone overhead, and unfortunately for me, I only had a few torches. ‘If I want to be able to see well, I’ll have to carry what I have.’ I mused to myself ‘Hold the torch up, and keep pressing forward.’ So that's exactly what I did. I hum softly, occasionally setting the torch down beside me to take my pickax out and swing at a copper filled stone rock, grinning when I found a few pure pieces and sticking them into a smaller bag I brought with me for good measure. I hear a gentle squelch behind me, and I frown. ‘Monsters. Why wouldn't there be monsters?...’ I think with a dead panned expression, taking out the rusty sword my sister had given me a few days after I moved here. I figured I would use it more if some vines got in my way, but I sigh and twirl the sword in my hand before whirling around and swinging the damn thing… straight into the gut of a small, green slime. “...Oookay that looks vaguely… unpleasant.” I say to it, gently retracting the sword. I stick out my tongue with a slight groan to see some slime had stuck to it, before yelping and blocking its path when it jumped at me. “Damnit- okay you want death?! Then death comes for you!” I swing it again, harder this time, and it chops clear through the slime, yet it hardly seems phased. I sigh, and shake my head. Stupid liquid-y slime… whatever. I had to get this done, and get out.   It took a few more minutes of me aimlessly flailing about with this rusty ass sword, but the slime finally fell apart into a goofy puddle at my feet. I sigh, shifting my boots until they feel relatively normal on the ground again, and keep walking.

A lot of the trip ended up in similar escapades, mining with a slight struggle to pick up the pickax over my head, and dealing with slimes and occasionally what I referred to as ‘the rock crab’. Sure, they dropped decent loot, but it felt unnecessary. Eh, I just needed to get what I came for and dip. I had to remain focused on the task at hand, or it'd be more than likely I'd never get out of this pit. With that in mind, I kept going. So much so, that I didn’t notice I passed my original goal. Or if I did- I wanted to keep going to challenge myself further. It must have been around level 28 or so, after going through and collecting the last of the ore I needed, that I decided to head further down. Who knows, I might find something pretty for lil’ Abigail. She did mention in passing that she liked amethysts… That was… likely one of my many stupider mistakes. That list may be long, but the point still remains. It was mostly a normal room, wide and full with rocks along its edges. Monsters sat in the middle, as if waiting for my arrival. I sigh, swinging my pick until it was firmly strapped to my back, as I did with most of my tools, before drawing the sword from my side. “Alright y’pricks, I've already dealt with fuck knows how many of you lot, so let's cut to the point.” I growl to myself, eyes leveling with the group before sighing and charging forward with what burst of energy I could muster. Dodging, blocking, and slicing. I've learned better techniques with the hours I’ve been down here at this point, and I've learned to try and keep my ADD to a damned well minimum if I didn't want to get bit. Still, I take considerable damage, especially when a bunch of slime basically glued my one foot to the floor. “Oh for fucks sake-!” I swear, trying to slice away the slime as I get smacked repeatedly by the other enemies around me, and underneath my feet. Once I dislodge myself, I huff, reaching into my pocket. I didn't want to use this since, Yoba knows I have No clue how this works, but it had to be done if I wanted to finish this up rather soon. I take out a small cherry bomb, it was hardly the size of my palm but packed considerable damage. Lighting the fuse, I chucked the bomb into the crowd of monsters, before leaping back a few feet. “Fire in the- fuck you lot!” I yell, right before I cover my ears to avoid dissociating after the explosive goes off, the ground shaking slightly from the effort. I remain there for a few moments to catch my breath, and to let my over-sensitivity slowly ebb back down to functionality. A few pebbles had gotten in my hair from the small tremor the cherry bomb had caused. Once I manage to open my eyes, I see that the crowd of monsters have all but fallen apart. I sigh to myself, more in relief than anything, as I stagger back over to gather what loot can be mustered. I also shook my hair, trying to free the dirt and rocks that had collected, but to no avail. I’d need to shower when I get home.  

However, when I look up, a thin green smoke had begun pouring in. I raise my eyebrows, rubbing my eyes to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, before coughing. Ugh, this certainly didn't seem healthy. I recall thinking about how it was getting harder to see, as it was dark down there as it was without a fog clouding the caves. I wave it off as nothing unusual, shaking my head and grabbing my pickax to look for the exit. It was then I feel something shove hard into my back, knocking me to the floor. “Ow, what the hell?!” I turn to look behind me, only to hear a distinct buzzing as something very large, and very wasp like flies right over my head. I couldn’t quite make out what exactly it was, but that’s the best description for those cream colored pricks. My pulse begins to race. If there was one thing that scared me half to death, it was wasps. Wasps, yellow jackets, the likes. Bastards stung me more times than I can count. Honey bees are little sweethearts, though… I digress. Breaking from my train of thought, I groan and wipe some blood off my face, flinching gently as a small shot of pain echos from my lip. “....I repeat, what the hell….???” I get back to my feet, facing the way the bug had originally came from, only to be shoved again from behind, knocking me back over. I swear to myself, for what must've been the upteenth time that evening, as I finally get a good look around me, holding up my torch just enough to project the light around me. My face drops in abject horror. ‘Holy hell- there must have been dozens of these things, coming from fuck knows where!’ It was after I thought that, that the whole mine descended into absolute chaos. Every time I tried to get back up, I would only get shoved back down, getting more hurt in the process as rocks scratched my cheeks, hands, legs and arms. That's not even to mention that this haze I had that was clouding the air was causing me to constantly cough and wheeze. Damn, it's times like this I hated being an asthmatic. Still, I had to force myself up. I had to just get to the ladder and get down… No, no that'd just get me killed. I had to get out of these mines, quickly. I had to get to the elevator. Covering my eyes, and using my rusty sword to block any oncoming onslaught, before opening my eyes as I charged towards the elevator’s exit. Still, I kept losing balance briefly from all the nudging and pushing; stumbling left and right until I reached and grabbed a firm hold of the edge of the elevator. “Gotcha-!” My victory is short lived, as I yelp when there’s a feeling a sharp pain going through my back. One of those wasp fuckers...they had a vicious bite, leaving me feeling drained between the throbbing pain and the likely wound that had opened as a result. I coerce myself to whip around, slicing the bug creature with what little effort I could manage, before backing up into the elevator and slamming the hilt of the sword into the top floor button. There was a distinct thud of the bugs as they slammed uselessly against the mine’s elevator- though notable dents in the metal doors leave my tension unmoving.

As the doors closed, I took a deep breath- trying to summon any energy to move. Or to, at the very least, calm the hell down. I felt it, very clearly as I slid my sword back into its little compartment in the side of my belt, the pounding of my heart that rang in my ears and left me feeling exhausted from head to toe. U g h. ‘Going beyond 25 was probably a mistake.’ ‘Going into the mines was a definite mistake, too.’ Still, I push myself to my feet once I hear the ding of the elevator, making my way outside. It was raining densely by then, and I had to keep myself from limping too badly. The sun had since mostly set, save for a gentle light that poured in from elsewhere- covered by clouds. The pain in my back was growing, and I had to stifle a whine through a stern bite to my lip. Which, quite frankly, only made me whine more from the cut there from earlier. I just wanted to go home and recuperate, however… There was still something I had to do. I had to make sure one of my friends didn't get too worried about me, after all- that’s the last thing I needed to top off the evening. Once I made it back into town, I sighed and swung my bag over, reaching through until I got some gold; putting it into a small satchel. I groan a bit from the pain still flaring from my back, but I’m honestly too afraid to survey the damage right then & there. Frankly, I probably should have, but the pain was making my head fuzzy, and out of sync with the rest of me. I’ll deal with it at home later, before Harvey notices. If he's even still with Yasmine, that is. At least, that’s the hope for the rest of this evening. With that thought in mind, I sigh, bracing myself for some sort of inevitability as I limp my way into the Stardrop Saloon.

The usual scene greets me when I walk inside. A few waves and a quiet laugh, though it does fall eerily quiet rather quickly once everyone seems to notice the state I’m in. Beaten to shit, and by then dripping from the rain. I wring out my shirt just a slight bit, before meandering over to the bars counter. Gus waves from the counter but immediately hesitates- likely noticing the bruises starting to flower along my face- not to mention the cuts I can feel pulsating along my cheeks and nose. He looks, wanting to ask… But says nothing as I sit briefly on one of the bar stools, setting the satchel onto the counter. “The usual, please Gus.” I mutter quietly, as is the usual routine I've done each week since I've moved here. He nods, looking back to Emily- who knew my order down pat by then. She turns to smile widely at me, before gasping. Damnit. “What happened?!” “Ah, got into a bit of a tousle. Don't worry about it, I’ll be good tomorrow.” I shrug off the concern with a lighthearted laugh, even if the fatigue was showing in my tone. Gus seemed to want to drop it, as if he could see the desperation of not wanting anyone else's concern on the matter in my eyes, but Emily persisted. “Soren, at least let me clean off your cheeks, your bleeding-!” She sighs, taking a spare cloth in her hand and reaching over the counter to dab at my face. My nose reflexively scrunches against my face, but I don't bother moving my head out of the way. “Emily..” I sigh to myself, gently pushing her off me once she's finished with my face. “I'm alright. Don't worry. Plus, I already told you-” I give a jokingly goofy grin, “You can call me Ren.” I reassure her, as she gives me a very concerned look through the tangled mass of electric blue hair. “...Okay… But be careful, okay? I don't need you getting hurt.” She demanded, pointing sternly to me. I defensively raise my hands up jokingly with a laugh, but nod all the same. My thoughts swim briefly between trying not to focus on the pain gently pulsating from my spine, and the dizzying feeling from probably being more exhausted than I gave myself credit for. “I’ll be careful, don't worry.” I say after a few minutes, as she turns away to work on my order. She turns back to me, handing me the glasses as she leans closer, whispering gently in my ear. “...You're gonna scare the crap out of him, you know.” She said, raising an eyebrow her eyes flickering over towards the other side of the bar, “I know you've been trying to at least befriend him but..” My eyes follow briefly, before I give a slight shrug. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “I've got it under control, Em. It's chill.” I smile reassuringly, getting up off my stool with both glasses in hand, before strolling over towards the fireplace and leaning against the brick right next to it. I smirk a bit, noticing that Shane- the same person I've been stubbornly trying to befriend for a few months now- has been spacing out into the mug he was drinking out of. I nudge him gently with one of the mugs I offer to him, and he snaps out of it rather quickly. “Hey, what gi-” He stops in what he says, blinking a bit out of probably buzzed confusion. It takes a moment, before finally taking a look at my state before rolling his eyes, relaxing just a slight bit. “Okay, what the hell did you do?” He said as he snatched the mug from my hand, setting the empty one aside in place of drinking the one I had given. I shrug my shoulders, staring at the foam bubbling out of my cup. “Ah, just spent a little too long in th’ pits of hell itself.” I joke, winking playfully. He scoffs. “Why do you still even bother to joke around with me and act like we’re friends?” He grumbled, and I smiled with a bold determination set in my expression. “Since I think you're probably super nice, I mean... beyond that rude shell of yours.” I respond with confidence, despite the uncertainty that lingered in my mind. What I usually expect was a scoff, or a roll of the eyes, or some other dismissive gesture, but instead he laughs. Not at me, for once, but what I had said. I was more-so used to it, from other people in my life. I can be a bit of a joke, that I knew. “Soren, you are a different kind of naive.” He replies with between chuckles as he settled down, taking another hearty drink until the mug was empty. I did the same, leaning back further until I was sitting down. ‘Yeah, I know that, too.’ I refused to voice my thoughts aloud, though, instead crossing my arms. “Maybe so. But hey, it's worth a shot, innit?” I smile, less bold but with a slight softness to it. I was growing weary, eyes fluttering as my body tried to force sleep. I could tell, from the silence that took over for a few moments, that he was debating on whether or not he was going to actually question all the cuts along what he could see. He must have settled on not bothering, sighing and shaking his head. “Whatever you say, kid.” He muttered, to which I pout, just a bit. “I’m not a kid!” I immediately protest, arms flinging out just a bit in overzealous expression. “You're like 4’5”. You're a kid.” “4’10”, first off, secondly I’ll fight you, mister!” I let my offence fade, giving a mischievous smirk, and putting my fists up jokingly. He shakes his head a bit. He tended to do that a lot around me. What can I say? I specialized in being a bother, and an annoyance. I’ve come to accept that.   “You would be knocked out in one hit for starters, missy, even if you weren't beaten to shit.” Shane replies, sighing as I shake my head to dismiss the remark. “Oh whatever!” He hides his amusement behind a slight smile as I go to get up, my stance slightly wobbly. Jeez, did the alcohol already get to me?... However, it was after a few steps that I get an answer. I heard a gasp right behind me. “Holy shit, Soren!-” I look back, confused, as he gets up and shakes his head, “Your back, Soren.” “Huh?” I raise an eyebrow, more curious than before, and reach behind me. A damp warmth takes my hand as I make the grave mistake to check, only to find the darkened crimson shade of blood staining my palm. My eyes widen, with a sick nausea briefly twisting my stomach. “Oh fuck.” “You should get that seen, and maybe fast. That looks pretty bad...” “No, No it's fine. I can fix this myself. I’ve taken scouts, I know how to patch this up. I just...need to head home.” I reassure with a smile. Shane doesn't seem to buy it, and goes to quickly object, but before he even could I had walked right out- hellbent on not letting Yasmine or Harvey know about this particular incident.

“I can fix this myself… I can fix this myself.” I reassure myself as I start walking home, not even listening to see if Shane has followed me. I had to keep pressing forward, it wasn’t an option to let Yasmine or Harvey know. So I kept saying that, just to myself, almost like a mantra. Before I could even feel it through, a wave of vertigo made me trip and fall- and wouldn't you know it? My head slams right into a rock. 

Man, my luck couldn't have been worse today. I saw stars, briefly, with pain shooting through my whole body between the damage dealt earlier, and the striking new pain blooming from the side of my head.  Either way, it instantly rendered my mind unconscious as the blood loss takes hold, some sort’ve muffled groan dying on my lips as it passes. 

[olderjustneverwiser]

Start Again (Sonny Carisi)

Hey look who actually worked on a request she’s had sitting in her inbox for probably a year. When inspiration hits, I suppose. 

Masterlist

Request for anon: Can you possibly write a Sonny imagine where you’ve been working together for a while and you moved to New York to get a fresh start and get away from a really bad ex who caused a lot of problems and he somehow tracks you down at the precinct and then Sonny gets super dominant and protective of you and then ends up admitting to all of his sweet, gushy feelings for you once your ex finally leaves? *Unrelated, i’ve gotta say, you’re one of the best writers i’ve seen on here so far:)*

While I don’t agree with you, I thank you for the nice compliment! Enjoy!

gif is very relevant

You had many reasons for leaving your small Southern town and moving to New York City. You craved the rush of big city life; the constant hustle and bustle, the city lights at night, and the plethora of different people and cultures you were destined to be exposed to. It had been a dream of yours for years, to pack up your life, move far away, and find out once and for all if you could hack it in a place like San Francisco, Seattle, or New York. Still, over the years you came up with excuse after excuse to stay in your hometown; your comfort zone.

In all honesty, you were terrified. Not about the so-called “dangers” of living in a city like Manhattan or Oakland, but you were scared of not making it once you were there. You knew you were a good detective, the number of closed cases under your belt was proof, but could you handle a big city? Were you good enough to handle that challenge? You wondered if you could ever make yourself do it. To take the plunge and go for the one thing you had always wanted. You finally got the push you needed a little over six months ago.

You really thought you were going to marry him one day. He was kind, and thoughtful, and giving at the beginning. He bought you things and made you feel beautiful, but after two years, you were finally starting to see what kind of man he really was. Manipulative, mentally and emotionally abusive. He was used to getting what he wanted, including other women, while he was still dating you. After finally convincing yourself that you deserved better, you began actively looking for openings in a few of your favorite cities, and after countless phone interviews, Lieutenant Olivia Benson with the Manhattan Special Victims Unit offered you a place in her crew.  

You decided to only tell a few select people that you were leaving; you didn’t have many close friends to begin with and you made the few you did tell promise not to tell Him where you were going. You packed all of your belongings in a single day, not wanting to waste anytime, and only two after you were offered your new job, you were off, leaving your ex-boyfriend a note telling him that you were leaving. No more, no less.

After being with the SVU for about four months, you were just starting to feel like one of the team. Benson was fearless and expected a lot from her crew, but she was a hell of a detective. Finn never failed to make you laugh, and you and Rollins quickly became close, the two of you bonding over being from the South. As cliche as it sounded, Mike was more like a brother to you, and you enjoyed spending time with him, (although, you admit you did have the smallest crush on him when you first arrived.) And then, there was Sonny.

Sonny was your partner, but he had become your closest friend in the city. It was hard not to become good friends; the two of you spent a lot of time together on the job, but you and Sonny just clicked. Whether it was going out for drinks after a tough case or hanging out at his apartment while he cooked for you, you always had a good time with one another. There was no pressure, no expectations. Just two friends enjoying one another, for the most part.

You would have had to been blind to think Sonny was unattractive. His killer dimples and bright blue eyes were hard to miss, and you found yourself admiring his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves in the bullpen. You believed that he thought the same of you, you had caught Sonny staring a few times. Neither of you acted on it, though. You knew sleeping with a co-worker would not be the smartest idea, and you were still raw from your break-up. Sonny knew about your ex, and being the gentleman that he was, he never brought up the two of you being anything more.

You had just finished your paperwork for the day and was shrugging on your coat, finally able to go home and relax. Walking over to Sonny’s desk, you noticed he still had a stack of unfinished work.

“Sonny, it’s almost eight. Why don’t you finish that tomorrow?” He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair at your question.

“I don’t know, I wanna finish tonight. Might take a break in a bit though, get some food.”

“Do you want some help? You’ll be here another hour or two at least,” you didn’t want to stay, but you hated to think of him here all night.

He chuckled and shook his head, “Like I’d ask you to stay. I’m good, really. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” you made your way out of the office. In the elevator you thought about dinner, if you wanted to cook yourself a meal or just pick up something on the way home. You didn’t necessarily feel like cooking, and on your way out the door of the precinct you decided to just stop at Shake Shack. Quickly making your way down the steps, you heard a familiar voice call your name, making you stop in your tracks.

You knew who was behind you, but you were almost afraid to turn around. How the hell had he found you? In a city of almost nine million people, how did he know that this was where you were? Better yet, how had he known that you were in New York? Slowly you turned around, finding yourself face-to-face with your ex, fearing what he would have to say.

“How did you find me here?” You tried your hardest to keep your voice level, when all you wanted to do was run. You were not going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know he made you nervous.

“Easy,” he answered. “I knew you wanted to move somewhere different. And I know you love New York. Once I figured that out, a quick google search and a few calls were all I needed.”

“Oh, so you stalked me? That’s healthy.” Reminding yourself to stay calm, you hadn’t noticed that he had backed you up against the wall outside of the precinct. Now you were scared, but still, you tried not to let it show, “I have a gun, you know.”

He laughed smugly, “You won’t hurt me with that. Now, it’s time to come home with me. We can go to my hotel and talk.”

“I don’t think so. Now let me leave, or I can arrest you,” you tried once again to move past him, but he had both arms on either side of you. You stared into his eyes, not backing down, only taking note of your surroundings when he was pulled off of you. Sonny had grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him next to you against the wall.

“The hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Sonny still had his hands on your ex, giving him a look he normally saved for suspects during an interrogation. For the first time since you’d known him, your ex looked genuinely scared. Sonny turned to you suddenly, his eyes softening, “You okay?”

“Yeah Sonny, this is my ex.”

“What, is Long Island here your new boyfriend?” your ex asked from his place against the brick, causing Sonny to shove him harder.

“You shouldn’t be talkin’ right now, you piece of crap. Now, I could arrest you for harassment, and if I wanted to I could add in assault to that, but let’s make a deal. Go home and leave her alone, and I won’t slap a restraining order against you. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” he responded.

“Good, because I’m serious,” Sonny said, “if I see your face anywhere near her, her apartment building, or this building, I’ll lock you up so fast your head’s gonna spin. And another thing, I’m from Staten Island, you moron. Now get outta here,” with a final shove Sonny let him go. Giving you a nasty look, your ex finally started walking the other way. You closed your eyes and let out a breath, and you felt Sonny’s hand on your shoulder.

“You sure you’re alright?” He asked.

You nodded your head, “Yeah, he just startled me. I’m glad you were here. What were you doing out here anyway?”

“I took a break to get some dinner. Right after you walked out, I thought about askin’ if you wanted to come with me, but then I saw you and him out here.”

“Ahh,” you didn’t know what else to say. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, until Sonny decided to break it.

“Hey, so, um, this probably isn’t the best time to say this, but there’s no time like the present right?” He laughed at his own comment before frowning and shaking his head. “That was a dumb thing to say, sorry. Uh, look, I like you. I’ve kinda liked you for a while but I didn’t say anythin’ because I knew you had just gotten out of a relationship, and we’re partners anyway so I didn’t want things to be weird between us, but I do really like you. And I’ve been wonderin’ if you’d go on a date with me some time?”

You were stunned and you felt your heart swell. You figured Sonny found you attractive, but you had no idea about his feelings for you.

“You know, there may be rules about co-workers being together.” you said quietly, causing Sonny to look down at the cement in defeat. You smiled, “But I think I’d be willing to skate around the rules for you.”

Sonny looked up at your last comment, his eyes shining. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Sonny. Do you want to go on that date now? I’m starving and I think your paperwork can wait until the morning.”

He smiled and nodded, and you swore you could see the faintest blush on his cheeks. “Italian okay? There’s a place a few blocks from here that serves the best cannelloni in all five boroughs.”

[tpodmdgt]

Platformer Post-mortem + Asteroids Elevator Pitch

My main inspiration as to what I wanted to add into my platformer was the Trine series but without the multiple characters. My game started off with having basic animations and sprites as a starting point so I could focus on the core mechanics of the game. As the game was a platformer, the movement and enemy movement were main features that I wanted to work on as it is the most important part of the game. To begin, I only had basic movement of the left and right arrow keys to move and space bar to jump. This would allow me to figure out the limitations of the jumping mechanic so no platforms were impossible to reach. After adding the movement and platforms, a basic enemy was added to get an idea of what it would turn out to be. This was presented by a simple slime moving back and forth on a platform where the player could defeat the slime by jumping on its head. If the player walked into the slime, they would die and it would remove the player sprite. With the general concept and idea of the game being made, I decided to add onto the movement and add a sliding mechanic for a more advanced movement system. This would allow players to slide under obstacles and gain access to small hidden areas throughout the level. After building out the level to become larger, the sliding mechanic was able to be used effectively. Coins were also added for the player to pick up but at the time of prototyping, they did not serve any purpose and didn’t count towards anything.

If I was able to redevelop my prototype, I would definitely add more things to it. The first thing I would add is different sprites and animations to the player character and enemies. This would allow for a more immersive experience which was unable to be done in the prototype due to the large focus on the movement and gameplay. Another change would be to add even more movement options to really grasp the concept of a stealth platformer which is what I was aiming for in the beginning. If I had more time to work on the prototype, I would have liked to add a double jump and possibly a teleport type feature which would allow for greater movement throughout the level and the player would be able to combo moves together to find hidden areas which would be usually out of reach.

If I could change the prototype and what I intended for it, a few things would indeed change about it. First, I would implement different types of enemies which would add variety to the prototype gameplay as having the same enemy with the same way of defeating it can become boring rather fast. By having a faster enemy or an enemy with increased health, the gameplay would change drastically and would make the player have to adapt to the changes with the challenges that they are facing. Another change would be adding a points system which would give some incentive for the player to try and complete the game faster or by trying to find all of the hidden areas for more points. This would make the game more competitive as people would try and get a high score.

Overall, the prototype was a solid first attempt at a platformer game which has made me understand the process of making games and the difficulties that may occur.

Asteroids Elevator Pitch

Elevator Pitch: A mix between asteroids and a bullet hell style of game which will contain asteroids for some down time and obstacles, but the main feature will be the different types of ships which will spawn which all have their unique shooting pattern.

Image:

Google images: Space ship fighting, Retrieved from: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fblog.en.uptodown.com%2Fspaceship-battles-shootouts-endless-array-spacecraft%2F&psig=AOvVaw2cRGNyJ5DZmBqz2RoQvBQx&ust=1631066562970000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAsQjRxqFwoTCLjO48vi6_ICFQAAAAAdAAAAABAD

Controls: Mouse movement, space is to shoot.

Selling points: Different ships which switch up gameplay and how the player will handle the enemy. Power ups which also change up gameplay (Multi shot, penetrating shot)

Fullerton, T. (2018). Game Design Workshop: A Playcentric Approach to Creating Innovative Games. ProQuest Ebook. Retrieved from: https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/qut/reader.action?docID=5477698

[stefi-delly]

This is a short af piece for now since I'm just doing an impulsive thing and seeing what happens. What happens here takes place in the universe of my other fic, Subject 204, but there's no need to read that to understand what happens here. I'm just doing a fieldtest and playing around, I guess. If there's enough interest in this AU, I'll add more to it, but my priority is to finish Subject 204 first. But when that's done, I may have time to play with this some more.

(fanfic) (Ao3)

The empty halls were dark and cold. There was an eeriness to it that sent a chill up Chloe's spine, as much as she'd rather not admit that to anyone, not even herself. After all, what would David say if Chloe said that she didn't want to take the graveyard shifts because the facility was creepy at night?

That was just dumb as shit and it was bad enough that David already clearly perceived Chloe as dumb as shit. No amount of helping out in the garage was going to change that dipshit's mind, so why bother trying? After all, just because Chloe smoked pot and dropped out of school didn't mean she was an idiot.

Well… maybe.

Maybe dropping out of school wasn't her finest moment. Particularly when her lack of money became painfully inconvenient, keeping her from engaging in her miscellaneous hobbies. That and money got tight for Mom, with the whole trying to support a useless daughter thing.

And that was how Chloe now found herself wandering the admittedly creepy halls of Prescott Research Institute. It was a bright enough place during the day, bustling with activity as the employees did their science-y things, poking and prodding at psychics or typing intensely into their machines. Though she would never say it out loud, Chloe did envy the scientists who got the chance to research and study stuff as fascinating and phenomenal as psychics. She was curious about it, to say the least. But she did lose her opportunity to be one of them when she decided that school was useless.

"Could have had it all, Price." It was dumb, talking to herself. But in a place this dark and quiet at this dead time, Chloe had to find some way to stay sane. Even if that meant acting a little insane. Like talking to herself. "Could be raking it in as one of the scientists but instead you're stuck counting pennies as David's probationary pet guard." Grumbling to herself, Chloe finished up her rounds on this particular floor and pressed the down button on the elevator.

There were a few other people on the other floors, either scientists working late shifts, interns trying to go above and beyond or unlucky rookie guards like Chloe.

But most of the world was enjoying the comfort of their beds right about now and Chloe resented them for it. David, especially. He got to enjoy cuddling up to Mom and getting his stupid greasy hands all over her while Chloe was stuck here, bored out of her mind.

And just a little creeped out.

"Damn you, David." Chloe muttered to herself, if only to break the uncomfortable quiet as the elevator opened up to one of the lower floors. "Damn you for leaving me with the crappy, boring shift while the rest of the human world is chilling or partying right now."

She pointed the flashlight in front of her as she walked down the hallway. This floor seemed deserted. None of the rooms had their lights on. At least in the upper floors there was some semblance of activity. Here, it was just totally dead.

It was so dark, her mind was starting to fill in the gaps with imagined figures and that just added to the whole creepiness factor. Without her issued, heavy-duty, bulky as hell flashlight, Chloe would probably be walking into walls. The only other sources of light were the glow of control panels next to the doors.

The hairs at the back of her neck were prickling and she tried to shake it off. There was just something about this area that felt so off.

With a huff, she pushed herself forward.

It was tempting to turn around and just go back to the upper floors, but David had given Chloe a good long earful about being thorough and familiarizing herself with the facility. If she didn't know this place's floorplans better than her own tattoo by the time he came in for his morning shift, there would be no end to the nagging.

So she focused instead on walking owards, familiarizing herself with whatever she saw.

"What even is this floor?" Upon closer inspection, the doors revealed themselves to be heavy, with small windows at eyelevel and a panel of some sort at shoulder level. "Those look more like prison doors than-"

Chloe gasped, catching sight of someone in one of the rooms.

Fumbling with her flashlight she lifted it up and pointed it at the thick glass. The beam of light cut through the darkness of the room, throwing the figure inside into the harsh contrast of light and shadow.

Her hair was sticking out at odd ends and what looked like blood could be seen on her nose and hands. A thin fabric almost like a hospital gown was draped over her scrawny frame. And as the girl turned her head to squint at the light, Chloe felt her heart skip a beat.

"Max…?"

[kootenaygoon]

So,

I was watching music videos again. 

Dragon smoke unfurled before me, my living room throbbing with purple Targaryen magic, while Tove Lo sang from my glowing laptop. I gotta stay high all the time to keep you off my mind. I was shirtless in my Shambhala tights, allowing YouTube to send my mind careening through what some algorithm had decided should be my mental breakdown playlist. Repeatedly it returned to a haunting electronica track from Disclosure: You help me lose my mind, and you believe something I can't define. Help me lose my mind. Mika was at class at Selkirk College while I raved, trampling her rabbit’s shit pebbles into the carpet with my slippers.

All around me were canvases, procured with my final cheque from the Star, at various states of completion. I’d finished a couple more flamboyant self-portraits, but now I’d moved on to psychedelic dinosaurs, shape-shifting jelly-fish, and paintings of both Mika and my barber Jesse Lockhart. Right now I was working on my first nude, a beach scene set on the fictional island of Quatsino, with my UBC manuscript’s protagonist knee-deep in the surf. Paisley’s dreadlocks hung blonde around her shoulders, and on her forearm I had painstakingly recreated the rose tattoo her real-life counterpart got back when we lived together in Victoria. I could’ve easily been painting Kessa. A joint hanging from my lips, I felt tears slide down my cheeks like fat slugs, my mind flashing back and forth between fiction and non-fiction. Sometimes it seemed like there was no difference — these were all just characters in my mind, and real or not they spoke to me. 

Stacked on the kitchen counter was three or four copies of my last issue of the Star, the one featuring the #MeToo story with Mharianne and Laela. I’d asked Ed about the story while collecting my things from the office, and he’d hinted that it may be on the chopping block due to my departure. I insisted it was done, everybody was interviewed and signed off, it was all ready to go — “you would literally be silencing sexual assault survivors,” I made sure to say. Then I called the president of Selkirk College, begging him to talk sense into Aaron Layton and letting him know I was planning to publish it online myself. They couldn’t kill it, not now. They could take my job away, but they couldn’t take that story. They ultimately ran it without my byline—a masterpiece without a proper signature.

Meanwhile, I had other things on my mind. 

“You didn’t wear a condom?” Mika asked, when I told her about Natalya’s potential pregnancy. She was looking increasingly more concerned when she returned to the house to find me manic and monologuing.

“I hate condoms.”

“So what were you using for birth control? Wasn’t this chick married?”

I dragged my knuckles against my temple, my skin trembly and sweat-slicked. “I thought she was too old. She’s like 42 or something. And she’s already got kids, right? I thought she was on top of this shit.”

Mika rolled her eyes. “You have nobody to blame here but yourself. Seriously, you don’t get my sympathy.”

I had initially intervened in Mika’s life because she was in the midst of a break-up, and I empathized with the struggle of going through something so publicly embarrassing in such a small town. It wasn’t until we moved in together that I encountered her real personality — she was a hyper-nerd, into science and learning and the weekly Bingo night. She was one of the bud tenders at the local dispensary, which was a convenient way for me to meet the owners.  Amidst my chaotic and prolific dating life, I was trying to keep her on a platonic level. 

My Nelson sister, something like that.

“This is toxic masculinity, right here. I’m such a fucking asshole,” I said. “This is what Me Too is all about.”

“Not everything is about Me Too. You’re just obsessed with that lately.”

I shook my head. “Kessa’s dead, Mika. That’s a real thing. Fucking pedophile rings and rape everywhere. This is what the woman are raging about. They’re dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Like those girls on roller skates, in the Chet Faker video. You know the one?”

By this point she knew me pretty well, and as her eyes narrowed I realized this was more than a normal high. I was operating from an extra elevated plane, like I’d lost sensory hold over my body. It was an intoxicating place to be, far from the shame and darkness of the banal. I’d tried one of the pills Natalya gave me, and it was making the room vibrate.

“You’re on something,” she said.

“Natalya gave me this shit to micro-dose. Like mushrooms and speed or something. I just had one like an hour ago.”

She sighed. “You need to be careful, Will. You’re acting strange.”

However I was acting, things finally made sense. I felt like I’d peeled back a layer of existence and discovered the writhing snake-belly of reality. Trump was grabbing everybody by the pussy, waging Twitter war with Kim Jong-Un, while here in Nelson there was some sort of conspiracy to ruin my fucking life. Was it really the Kessa situation that did it? How did they convince Ed to betray me? I thought of that cop who punched a woman, how he sat on the pay roll for years while they figured out his outcome. Was I worse than him? Did I deserve to have my life up-ended for going to a fucking funeral? What were they afraid of? I rattled through my theories on this as I drove Mika to school, and she mostly looked out the window. I wondered if she regretted moving in with me. I’d become that mentally ill freak people talk about, posting my shit all over social media. I just didn’t care anymore.

“So is she going to get an abortion?” Mika asked. “Did she say?”

I shook my head. “She hadn’t even taken a test yet. She said she was just feeling funny, and when she was leaning over she felt something weird.”

“Something weird like what?”

“She said it felt like a tear, like a muscle tear maybe? I don’t know, I was fucking panicking. I told her to call my sisters.”

“Your sisters?”

I didn’t feel like explaining this to Mika. She wasn’t tuned into the greater conversation that was going on, the one coming at me through social media. Men were failing to acknowledge their complicity in rape culture while women bled in public. Nobody was willing to admit they were wrong, because everyone was worried they lived in a glass house. Lately, though, I was wondering if I could break my own glass house. That way I could throw some stones.

“What do you mean throw stones?” she asked.

“These men need to be held accountable.”

“What men?”

“These rapists and abusers and pedophiles who took away my job.”

“I thought you got fired because of Kessa.”

I grunted in annoyance. “I wasn’t fired. I was let go without cause.”

Back in my bedroom, Lt. Aldo Raine marched before his carefully assembled killing team in Inglorious Basterds. I’d watched this clip multiple times, and had the words memorized. Brad Pitt sneered, his throat sporting a nasty scar. I sure as hell didn’t come down from the goddamn Smoky Mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half of Sicily and jump out of fucking aero plane to teach the Nazis lessons in humanity. Nazis ain’t got no humanity. They’re the foot soldiers of a Jew-hating, mass-murdering maniac and they need to be destroyed. 

That’s what was happening here in Nelson, but with rapists instead of Germans. Andrew Stevenson was sitting on the edge of my bed, wiping down the barrel of his shotgun, as I lit up another joint. Now I was watching that scene from The Sopranos, the one where Tony wants to kill the local soccer coach for molesting one of the teenage players. This shit was real life, right here. Like my Trent situation. I thought of the local soccer team, and all the abusive shit-heads that were coaching there. I wondered if one of them had crossed the line, if I’d have to add him to my kill list.

I want my scalps. 

Somewhere around that time, I realized I was expected soon at Tony’s Taphouse for my Friday night shift. That was how I was battling rape culture now, working the front lines on the bar scene. My favourite moment of each night was when frightened women approached me at the end of the shift to ask me to stand guard until some creep moved on. I took this role very seriously. This week I’d purchased a new accessory to my vested get-up: a bright red bow tie. I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror, trimmed my moustache, and thought of how Tony stumbled home drunk after choosing to spare that soccer coach of his mobster justice. 

“I didn’t hurt nobody,” he said to Carmela. “I didn’t hurt nobody.”

As I grabbed my things and headed out the door, I noticed the Ziploc of pills. There were four left now. The first one had gotten me into this productive headspace, so maybe another would help me tap-dance through this rest of this night. Why the fuck not, right? I’d been receiving upsetting emails, crazy messages, death threats. I couldn’t comprehend it all. Unzipping the bag, I cradled one pill in my palm then threw it back, washing it down with tap water. I was tired of feeling morally exhausted, defeated, exiled. I deserved a little pick-me-up. The clientele at Tony’s Taphouse would have no idea their doorman was rip-roaring high. I would be like Bodie from The Wire, standing on his corner while the hitmen descended. 

This is my corner! I ain’t going nowhere!

Before leaving, I decided to re-listen to Eminem’s duet with Rihanna, “Love the Way You Lie.” I watched my favourite rapper rock rhythmically back and forth amidst hip-high grass, his voice filled with regret and grief. Here was the ultimate embodiment of rape culture right here, the meta-Chris Brown taking swings at Megan Fox while Rihanna curls her lip. Thing was, Meghan Fox looked exactly like Paisley. The real one. And as Slim Shady rapped in front of a burning trailer, I couldn’t help but think of Ryan Tapp. I can’t tell you how it is really is, I can only tell you what it feels like. And right now it’s a steel knife in my wind pipe. 

Andrew Stevenson was waiting at the door, in a black balaclava, with the shotgun sticking out of his backpack. He cracked his knuckles together as I reached the top of the stairs.

“I need your help. You can never ask me about it later, and we’re going to hurt some people,” he said.

I blinked in surprise. “You’re quoting from The Town. That Ben Affleck bank robbery movie. Right? That scene with Jeremy Renner?”

He opened the front door.

“We’re going to hold court in the streets.”

The Kootenay Goon