#not entirely sure how good a job google translate did with this

[madamspeaker]

Now that she is no longer Speaker of the House , Nancy Pelosi considers herself "more conciliatory". There is little sign of that when it comes to Trump and the Republicans. "If only they could see he's a weakling."

In the semi-darkness of the restaurant at the Four Seasons hotel in Washington, Nancy Pelosi leans forward to read the menu. She studies it as carefully as a bill. Why is that lemonade in the list with the cocktails? “Because it contains alcohol,” says the waitress. "But I can also make regular ones."

Since her departure as leader of the Democratic group in the House of Representatives last November, Pelosi, 83, has been a backbencher in Congress. Is she used to the difference between being Speaker of the House, one of the most powerful people in American politics, and now simply representing the District of San Francisco?

"It's fantastic," she says. “I have more time to think. I used to always be working. I slept maybe four hours a night. I felt responsible for every word in every law, in every debate. No, I'm really happy."

How do you view the reactions of your Republican colleagues, who did not want to lose Donald Trump after the indictment of taking state secret documents?

“For thirty years I was on the committee on the intelligence services. After a meeting I had to leave my own notes in a safe. You weren't allowed to take it outside. So the Republicans certainly know how to deal with it.

“Our position as a world power is jeopardized by the disclosure of secret services sources and methods. The people in our intelligence services are therefore less safe. That Republicans are defending Trump blindly, as if he is above the law and the Justice Department is being used as a weapon against him, makes me suspect that they may be projecting their own bad intentions against the department onto this case. Why would they question the independence of the judiciary so much?”

Well why do you think?

“Because they are afraid of this man. Afraid for his voters in their districts. I wish they could see that he's a weakling. Our country needs a strong Republican Party. It has played a major role in the history of our country. Take your party back, I'd say to the Republicans. They're behaving like a cad's cult now.

"Don't you notice that the Republican leaders are silent about the danger our country is in because of Trump showing classified documents to others? I find it baffling that none of the prominent Republicans are saying, this is no good. Because they know it's not right."

Chris Christie, one of the Republican presidential candidates for 2024, called the charges "highly incriminating" and Trump's behavior "irresponsible."

“But has he also said that he will not vote for Trump if he becomes the Republican nominee? Well then.”

The regular lemonade is brought, she sucks the straw and rearranges a pin with the American and Ukrainian flags in her lapel. The white pantsuit she wears is the same as at the 2019 State of the Union, when a record number of women took office in the House of Representatives. The Democrats had won the majority and she herself had been elected Speaker of the House for the second time after 2007-2011 . When President Trump said in his speech that he wanted to embrace “the endless power of cooperation” and “the common good,” she stood up and gave him an ostentatious round of applause dripping with sarcasm — one of many theatrical stunts in her long career. career.

You've worked with Republicans often enough. Do they all mean bad for the country?

"They weren't like that before."

You have been in the House since 1987. When do you think it went wrong?"

I think it started a little over twenty years ago. When dark money became an important, divisive influence on our politics. These large donations to parties and politicians, whose origins are not clear, prevent us from doing what is necessary in the field of climate or gun control. The arms industry and the big fossil energy companies are shutting down all legislation to protect their profits. They don't care what the Republicans do as long as they get their tax breaks."

Democrats also benefit from anonymous donations, don't they? The New York Times saw that the Democrats had raised almost twice as much money as the Republicans for the 2020 election.

“Make no mistake, the Republicans are the handmaidens of dark money . We have written legislation to put that money in the spotlight, but they do not want to support it. We have legislation that makes election donations transparent, removes barriers to exercising everyone's right to vote, and ends partisan and unfair drawing of district boundaries before elections. We propose that impartial committees classify the districts. This is a law that strengthens our democracy. And they don't support it."

You think today's Republicans are radical. They have a majority in the House, a very small minority in the Senate. Do you think all their voters are also radical sectarians?

"No, I do not think so. Let me tell you a little bit about the history of the American system. When our ancestors founded a constitution and a nation, they could only do so with a compromise: each state, regardless of its population, got two senators. This is to prevent states with many inhabitants from blowing away the little ones. But then there were less than three million Americans and those entitled to vote all looked alike.

“Now our country is wonderfully diverse, the population has grown enormously and the thirteen states of 1776 have become fifty. In California we have 40 million people, Wyoming has less than 580,000 – and they are both still represented by two senators. So the Senate is not necessarily reflective of the population. We respect that. But the senators of the sparsely populated states are much more likely to be Republican, and they've tightened up the skewed representation by demanding a 60-40 majority on many ballots. In this way they reinforce the dishonesty.”

But they also have a majority in the House, where the reflection is more faithful.

“This is partly due to the unfair division of the districts. Fortunately, the Supreme Court just delivered a major ruling on Alabama's election map.” That map was rejected because the districts were drawn in such a way that the African-American vote was given almost half the weight of the actual population. “This is an important statement. I worked hard on it, along with former Attorney General Eric Holder. We want independent committees to classify the districts. If we lose, at least it's fair."

Do you really think that peace can be restored to the country through such laws?

"Oh yeah. I think they remove a lot of the distrust among voters. Then they know that their voice is worth as much as that of others.”

Why can't you address those skeptical voters as well as Trump?

"Because we don't lie to them. In the 2016 elections, the key question was: 'Do you believe in the future?' Technology, globalization, jobs disappearing abroad - people who face the future with little confidence are frightened by this. And Trump capitalized on that fear.”

That sounds rather condescending. I noticed that Trump voters often said they were old Democrats. I asked: why did you leave the Democratic Party, they said: the Democratic Party has left us.

“Yes, but then you are talking about cultural issues. The three G's: guns, gays and God - where God is very important. The Republicans always pretend that the Democrats don't want to know anything about religion anymore. Nonsense. I am a very religious person. Many of those people who pray in church on Sunday do not celebrate the values ​​of the faith when they step outside. The Gospel of Matthew: 'For I was hungry and you fed me; I was thirsty and you gave me drink.' They think: I don't want to help the poor at all.”

In the HBO documentary "Pelosi in the House," you tell campaign volunteers that cultural issues like LGBTIQ rights are in the DNA of the Democratic Party, "but that's not what we're addressing. We only talk about economic issues”. Is your party insecure when it comes to cultural issues?

“That was a few years ago. But: yes, when I enter a company, I don't mention the right of women to choose an abortion. We think this is an important right, but opinions are divided on this. And you don't want people to immediately think, oh, this isn't for me. You want to get them on common ground first. So you talk about education, about healthcare, things like that. After that you can file a divorce again and say: I think the right to abortion is very important. But that doesn't open the conversation.

“Trump has linked cultural issues with false promises about the economy, like a quack with a miracle potion. He says: I'm going to build a factory for you here. And that appeals to people who are afraid of losing their jobs. Of course he never builds that factory, or it will close again very soon.”

He received 75 million votes in 2020.

“If you fear globalization and innovation, your biggest fear is diversity. Newcomers to the country are taking my job away. Women are pushing me out of the job market. LGBTQ people get high positions, and I don't. The press fueled that sentiment in 2016 by repeating that those voters were uneducated. They were. They were trained to fight our wars, to raise our families, to build our country. They may not have had a college degree, but that doesn't mean they are ignorant. It was portrayed as the elite against white, less educated men. And the Hillary Clinton campaign team has not refute that clearly enough.”

How is it then?

“However we proceed from here, we must try to forge a unity. That too is part of the luxury of no longer being a Speaker : I can adopt a much more conciliatory attitude. What I say should come across as patriotic, with respect for differences of opinion.

“Nothing is more important than making laws that benefit Americans, such as President Biden's infrastructure bill . Some delegates care more about their re-election. No, we were chosen to do our job, not keep our job.

“The care bill, the Affordable Care Act, is perhaps the most important thing I've done in this regard. Millions of people benefit from this every day. When it passed, President Obama called me and said, "I'm happier tonight than I was the night of my election victory."

In the book Dying of Whiteness, an uninsured Tennessee man with a deadly liver disease says he would rather die than sign up for Obamacare.

“Funny you mention Tennessee. In neighboring Kentucky, Obamacare was a great success. They didn't call it Obamacare, they called it KentuckyCare and everyone signed up. This is typical of the Republican trinity: they don't believe in government, they don't believe in science and they certainly didn't believe in Barack Obama – with everything that goes with it.”

What are you implying?

Barack Obama was not a very political president. That was a plus, but the Republicans portrayed him very differently: as a seasoned party man. He wasn't that biased at all – I sometimes regretted that. They have made everything suspicious, his background, his wife, his parentage, his birth certificate, unheard of.”

If you want to win back voters from the Republicans by saying they need to change, then I think you can wait a long time.

“As long as our differences move within the boundaries of the rule of law, I have no problem with it. But now there are politicians who do not believe in public administration. I respect differences of opinion, they are essential in a democracy, but I cannot respect people who endanger our rule of law.”

Republicans say: If conservatives storm the Capitol, it's called a coup. When protesters set fire to police stations after the death of George Floyd, it is called 'the good kind of trouble', a winged expression from the civil rights struggle.

That is absolutely not comparable. The storming of the Capitol by people carrying guns, spearheaded by the President of the United States. And on the other hand, setting fire to police stations or overturning patrol cars. People have raised their voices against it. Many of the demonstrations that got out of hand were hijacked by anarchists, such as in Portland, Oregon. Terrible. And it hurt us in the elections.”

What do you think, were the Capitol stormers dissatisfied or desperate?

"I think you must be pretty desperate to storm the Capitol."

Some people actually seemed hopeful.

“The people at the Capitol? Sorry, those were […].” Pelosi uses a word that she immediately says should be cut. And then she uses it again. “Those were disruptive […], they shit on the floor in the building. You cannot call such people hopeful.”

From time to time, diners from other tables glance furtively at Pelosi, who underscores her words with sharp gestures. And then they look at the three big men sitting on the benches next to us: bodyguards. A man with a white shirt over his trousers and a baseball cap on his head shuffles uncertainly to a table. Pelosi looks up and smiles. He looks a bit like her husband, Paul Pelosi.

On October 28, 2022, a man broke into the Pelosi's San Francisco home. Only Paul was home. "Where is Nancy?" demanded the intruder. Paul kept him talking and managed to call the police. When it arrived, the assailant hit Paul on the head with a hammer. Pelosi spent six days in the hospital and weeks of rehab.

Their daughter Alexandra had previously said that the attack also had one happy consequence for her father. “Half his life he walks beside her as the man of. Now there is applause when he enters a restaurant.”

How is your husband?

“He is moving forward. But it will certainly take months, a blow to the head does a lot to you. It was close enough or it would have been fatal.”

There was a stir in the Netherlands when Minister Kaag was confronted with the concerns of her children about her safety. They were afraid that she would suffer the fate of her distant predecessor, Els Borst, who was murdered by a deranged man who opposed her euthanasia law. Have your children also been concerned?

“Did that happen in the Netherlands? Unacceptable! This happens when women are effective. If that first woman had not been so decisive in making the euthanasia law, she would not have been attacked. And that current minister also sounds like an effective politician.

“My family has generously supported me in what I wanted to do. When people ask me how I feel about the danger, I say that I am obviously a masterful legislator and, above all, a masterful fundraiser—otherwise they wouldn't want to mess with me. I try to shrug it off, but I can't be indifferent about its effect on other women.

“When I first entered the House, there were 13 female Democrats. Now there are more than ninety . I always encourage women to run for office. Some say, I can't bear to see my kids coming out of school crying because they've heard bad things about me. But then I answer: we need you. The more women in politics, the more normal it is considered. Aggression and violence are the ways the system tries to discourage women from participating in politics.

“On January 6, our Capitol was stormed. They wanted to shoot me and hang the vice president. And the president did not lift a finger to prevent that. I don't worry so much for myself, but I do worry about my family, my children and grandchildren. They targeted me and got my husband. That has had a crushing effect on our family. Paul isn't political at all, and then they try to kill him. Yes, of course you think: how necessary is it that I continue to play this role in politics? In an NRC profile about her mother, Alexandra Pelosi said that after the attack on her father, there was no longer any doubt: her mother would resign.

After the conversation, Pelosi quickly walks to a side room where the photographer is waiting. “I hate posing. And the worst part is that I have to do it every day.”

What did you actually think of the documentary your daughter Alexandra made about you?

“She showed everything. I was in the picture without make-up, in my pajamas. Beforehand she let me have a look. Then I said: that, that and that, you can still get that out of it, don't you? She said: Mom, that's the trailer already, the movie is finished, nothing can be changed. No, I had nothing to say at all.”

[patscorner]

One More Try

Summary: It all went downhill when your dad died. You were drowning, and time and time again, Nika would jump in to save you. Until you started to take her with you.

wc: 2,335

Contains: Alcoholism, death of a loved one, addiction

a/n: The Croatian translation I got is from Google Translate, so I have no idea if it's correct or not. If it isn't, let me know, and I'll change it. Enjoy!

______________________________

Part of you wanted to go back in time. The other part wished you could speed up, past the hard part. But you couldn't.

You'd dated Nika for two years, starting your sophomore year of college, and everything was amazing. She was kind, caring, and anything you could ever want in a girlfriend. You had your flaws, but you managed to put them behind you for her. You did a pretty good job, for the most part. Everyone slips up, but Nika was there to catch you.

That's not to say that Nika didn't have her own issues. She did. She'd built up walls from a previous relationship, walls that you tediously tore apart. You both loved each other despite the other's problems.

Arguably, though, your issues were far worse than Nika’s. While hers was a mental block, yours was not only mental, but physical. Before you met Nika, you were a party girl. Every weekend was filled with going to a bar or club, searching for an exhilarating night out constantly. It was okay at first, college is supposed to be filled with drinking and partying, but eventually, that's all you did.

Your grades began to slip, and you lost all of your friends, ones who tried to coax you into reining it in, and focus on your work. You were angry. Angry at your friends, angry at your family, angry at the world.

Then you met Nika. She was like a breath of fresh air. Even as your friend, she helped you clean up. She helped you realize you had a drinking problem, something your other friends never had the patience to do. She was always there for you. Through the withdrawals, through the sleepless nights, through the relapses. She was always there.

Eventually, you realized you'd fallen in love with her. You pushed yourself to be clean, for her. She deserved someone who had their problems under control, and you wanted nothing more than to be that for her.

You did. When you hit your one year sobriety mark, you asked her out. Much to your surprise, she said no at first, reasoning that putting too much emotional strain on you might cause issues. But with enough convincing, she eventually said yes.

And that was the start of it all.

Two years go by, and you've never been happier. You were three years clean, and you rarely went to clubs and bars anymore.

Until your dad died.

Your entire world crashed, as did your sobriety. He was your whole world, and even though he lived miles away, he always made sure to talk to you everyday. He loved Nika, their bond one of the strongest. She saved his little girl, how could he not like her?

When you heard about his death, you immediately called Nika, who was at practice at the time.She didn't answer, but with tears in your eyes, you dialed her number seven more times before giving up. Having no other good ideas, your heart broke further as you packed a bag and drove until you ran out of gas. You found yourself at a convenient store in the middle of nowhere, alone with your thoughts. After sitting in your car for two hours, you went inside and bought a bottle of liquor.

You downed half of it, tears running down your face. Your phone was off, so you couldn't get the thousands of pity messages from family and close friends.

You sat in the bed of your truck, bottle in hand, for hours. You watched the sunrise, feeling nothing but your heart being shattered.

Meanwhile, Nika had finally gotten a break from the excruciating practice following the team's loss to South Carolina. She checks her phone, and her eyebrows furrow in concern, noticing the missed calls from you and a couple of calls from your brother and mom.

She immediately stands up and walks out of the gym, standing outside as she calls you back.

No answer. She calls again.

No answer.

She repeats this process a few more times, before deciding to call your brother back, who answers immediately.

“He-” She starts, before being interrupted.

“Have you seen her?” Your brother asked abruptly. “Wha- no, no, I just got out of practice. What's going on? Everything okay?” She asked, her voice laced with worry, her brain flying through any possible scenario.

He's silent on the other end for a second, but answers quietly. “No-uhm. Dad died a couple hours ago, and nobody's been able to get in touch with her since mom told her. Was really hoping she was with you.”

Now it was Nika’s world to crash. She had no idea where you could possibly be. She'd done her research on recovering alcoholics, and she prayed you hadn't relapsed.

She finished her conversation with your brother, before going back inside, eyes filled with tears.

Immediately catching everyone's attention, she fills them in, and they all agree to help find you. They split up in groups of two, Nika being paired with Paige.

After three long hours, Nika starts to give up hope. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow. It's getting bright-” Nika starts.

She's interrupted by a phone call from KK and Aubrey. Paige picks up and puts in on speaker.

“Yo, what color is her truck?” Aubrey asked. Nika’s heart starts to beat a little faster. “Blue.”

“We found it. KK, pull over next to it.” Aubrey speaks. “ You want us to wait for you, Niks?”

“Fuck no.” She responds without hesitation. “Ju-just make sure she's not hurt please.”

“She doesn't look hu- oh shit.”

“What?!” Silence.

“What's ‘oh shit’?!” Nika all but screams into the phone.

“She's not sober, Nika.” KK answers softly. Nika freezes. All your progress, gone, and it's all her fault.

“Wha- what do you mean?” Nika asked, even though she and everyone else knew exactly what the brown girl meant.

“There's a half empty bottle of liquor in her hand.” Aubrey elaborates.

“Where am I going, Aubrey? Send me the ping, or whatever.” Paige says, before Nika can say anything else.

Aubrey hums in agreement. “I'll send you the location.” As soon as Nika gets the ping, Paige speeds towards the destination. Aubrey stays on the phone, and Nika can hear her and KK trying to get answers from you, to which KK informs Nika that you weren't speaking, and staring into space.

This worries her further, but she can't do anything. You don't answer. KK puts the phone up to your ear so Nika can talk to you. Nika’s body shakes with anxiousness, Paige rubbing Nika’s thigh, attempting to bring her some comfort. “Sranje to sam unčinio.” Nika mutters, putting her head in her hands. (Shit, what have I done)

Eventually, Paige pulled up to the other two cars.

Nika is out of the car before it stops moving, sprinting over to you, eyes raking over your body, inspecting for any signs of harm.

“Bebo, are you okay? Are you hurt? What's wrong?” She stood between your legs, bombarding you with overwhelming questions, before noticing the distant look in your glazed over eyes.

All you can do is shake your head, tears falling down your face as you look into Nika’s eyes. Her eyebrows stay furrowed as she pulled you a tight hug. “I was so worried about you.” She whispered against your shoulder.

You don't hug her back, you just rest your head on her chest.

“He's gone.” You mutter. She hums, her chest vibrating against your head. “I know.” She whispers.

“‘m sorry.” You whisper so softly. She almost misses it. “I'm so sorry.”

She shakes her head and pulls away from you, putting her hands on your cheeks, cupping your face. “It's okay, my love. It's okay. I'm just so glad you're okay.”

You shake your head, looking down at the half empty bottle that you drank. “I fucked up.”

“That's okay. Everyone falls. But what matters is that you get back up.”

Your heart flutters, the first thing it's done in about seven hours. “I don't know if I can come back from this one.” You look up at her.

She's beautiful in the sunrise, and even under the circumstances of her panic state and your drunkenness, she's the most angelic girl you've ever seen in your life. Her hair out of its normal ponytail, and in a bun on the back of her head.

She'd say the same thing about you, how your eyes were glowing in the sunlight.

“You will. You're one of the strongest people I know.” she pulls you into a hug, and this time, you hug her back. "We got this bebo." She pulls you into a gentle kiss before hugging you again.

After a while, she and Paige help you as you stumble to the car.

You wish that this was the last time they did so.

But after the incident, things only got worse. Your grades slipped once again, and no matter how hard she tried, Nika couldn't pull you out of this slump. But you weren't exactly helping her. You didn't want help. You'd found comfort in the toxic liquid, numbing the feeling of emptiness in your heart where your father once was.

Eventually, Nika had to cut it off. You knew it was coming, and you understood why, though that didn't make it any easier.

You'd always been supporting her basketball career, always going to games, picking her up after practice, and making food for her.

You didn't do those things anymore. You didn't do anything anymore. You didn't plan dates. You didn't leave the house unless it was for more drinks. You were right back where you'd started.

So when Nika showed up to your dorm in tears, you knew what was going to happen. In your head, you'd replayed how this would go in your head, and every time, you were angry with the Croatian. But when she said: “I can't do this anymore” all the resentment was forgotten, replaced with love and understanding.

She tried. She tried so hard to rescue you, but you can't start a car without the key.

You knew she was strong, strong enough to break up with you, because God knows the other, easier option was to stay with you and potentially lose herself while helping you find yours.

So you weren't angry. You were proud.

Fast forward a year, you were barely passing your classes, doing the bare minimum. You knew your dad wouldn't want you to give up, so you stayed, even after the break up. Nika was heartbroken by the breakup and threw herself into basketball.

When things got really bad, you thought about calling her, but you never did. You'd exchanged texts occasionally, her checking in on you, but the conversations never lasted long.

So all of that led you to here, handcuffed in the back of a police car.

Well, actually, what led you there was a bar fight you'd started, because you heard some bitch shit talking Nika. After all this time, you were still madly in love with her.

You don't even really remember how you got there. You just remember throwing punches. Throwing punches for someone you didn't know anymore.

And when the cops asked you for an emergency call number, only one came to mind, and that could be because you were young, drunk, and alone, or it could be because she's all you've ever known.

You gave them her number, and they called. No answer. They called again. No answer.

It's funny how the cycle repeats itself. They called once more before asking you for another number.

“I don't have another number. Try it again.”

The cop shook his head. “Sorry, kid, we called three times, no answer.”

Tears brimmed your eyes. You needed her. “I don't give a fuck, call her again.”

The cop sighed and called the number once more before coming back over to you. “Call it again.” You said. You're not giving up. The dial tone is all you have, and you need more. You need her.

This time, he put her on speaker, and it rang. And rang. Then, for the first time, on the third ring, it went to voicemail.

Declined.

The cop looked at you with sympathy. You just looked down at your lap. “Do you have anyone else to call?” he spoke softly.

“Only her, it's always only been her.” You say, tears falling down your face. “Call her again.” You whisper.

He shook his head. “She's not gonna pick up, kid. You can't think of anybody else?”

You shook your head, your frustration leaking through. “No. No! Okay!? There's nobody else! I don't have anybody else!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, alright. Why don't we go down to the station, and see if she answers when we get there,” he suggests.

“Just let me call, I'll give you the blood test, I'll- I'll go to jail, I'll pray to God. I'll do anything. Just call her again.” You plead with him. “Please.”

He sighs deeply. “Let's go to the station, see if she answers?” he repeats.

“I swear she'll call me back, just wait please. Please, she'll answer, okay, she will.” You say through sobs.

“Ma'am, are you on any medication?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Fuck that, sir, look, call her again. Then-then, if she doesn't call back in five minutes, you can take me to jail or whatever.” You sigh out.

The cop contemplates for a second before nodding. “One more try.”

He dials the number once more, letting it ring. It rings once. Twice. A third time.

“The number you were-”

“Fuck!” You exclaim, putting your head down in defeat. Tears fall from your eyes, as you look at the officer, who looks at you with pity.

“I'm sorry kid.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I'd dial drunk

I'd die a drunk

I'd die for you.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie

[biahouse]

Important, Gregory House x Reader

(This is my first story on Tumblr, and also my first Gregory House story. English is not my language, technically all of this is Google translate, so I apologize for any mistakes. But I hope you like it, I have a lot of ideas about our crazy doctor)

You love House. He doesn't care about anyone, but he cares about you. That's something, right?

The first time you met Gregory House was at your job interview.

You knew House's fame in the medical field, so your dream was to work with him and learn about his somewhat orthodox methods.

What you didn't expect was to be completely enchanted by the man 15 years older than you. House was moody, irritating, stupid, arrogant. A card-carrying asshole.

But there was something that made you suspicious every time he entered the diagnostic room. However, you weren't the only one.

You were good at hiding your crush on House, but Cameron always let it be known how much he liked his boss and what deeply upset you.

You were nothing compared to Alisson Cameron. Cameron was beautiful, kind, hardworking, confident. Everything you could never be, even if you tried hard.

That's why you shelved your feelings, buried them at the bottom of your chest and tried to hide as much as you could.

3 years have passed since you joined the team, and now with the departure of Chase, Cameron and Foreman, you were the only original member and House became more and more dependent on you. You have now done the work of four people.

And like a good doctor, you did your best to treat every patient who arrived at the department in the best way possible. But it was exhausting you.

The dark circles became increasingly prominent. You were sure you had lost 2kg in that week alone, since you didn't have time to eat and your hair fell out more and more every time you combed your hair.

But it was three weeks after you were working almost alone in the diagnostics department that your body reached its limit.

House and you were discussing what could be ailing an elderly man when he came up with a really interesting theory.

As always, you were sent to do tons of tests, but the moment you got up from the chair, your entire body lost consciousness.

“House” you mumbled the man’s name as you felt your entire vision blur.

"Yes?" The man responded, distractedly analyzing the symptoms chart.

"I think I'm going to pass out" was the last thing that came out of his mouth before the world went black.

•••

You heard the machine beep before your eyes could discover the place around you. It was hard to open your eyes, the bright lights of the hospital room shining brightly into your eyes.

You could feel your throat dry, and the various threads clinging to your body. It was uncomfortable and you tried to adjust yourself on the hard bed.

"I wouldn't move if I were you" House's unmistakable voice sounded in the room and his gaze shifted to the man lying on the bedroom sofa. "Welcome to the world of the living"

“Hi,” your voice sounded hoarse and you coughed, feeling your throat raw.

"Here" House stood up at an impressive speed and handed him a glass of water with a straw. You sipped the liquid with relief, your throat feeling better within seconds.

"How long was I gone?"

"2 days" House limped so he could check his devices. "You were exhausted, dehydrated and malnourished. New diet?" The man joked.

"The patient..." You started to get worried about the man they were treating.

"You're impressive" House looked at you curiously. "I tell you she's a living dead woman and you care about the patient."

“I’m fine” You waved your hand at him.

"It's not what your scans say" He shook the folder in his possession. "Why didn't you tell me that you couldn't do everything alone?"

“Because I can do it” You insisted.

"You're going to have a week off, until you can recover. In that time, I'm going to review some resumes, you need help" House said once again looking deeply at you.

"Why? You don't want new people on the team, you hate change" you tried to argue, knowing what the man was like.

"But I care about you. I think that's more important than my distaste for people" His admission scared both of you, but neither would admit it."Rest, I'll be back in a bit, with something called food"

And with that he left the room. Leaving behind your flushed face and your racing heart.

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Dofus Novel 4, The Thirsty Beheader

I apologize for my absence. Translating this novel has burned me out from the fandom in a pretty major way, and I also got into a different fandom in the meantime and am, like, three 4k word chapters deep into a longfic for said new fandom. Besides that, I had a depressive episode and went insane for a while. Basically, I've been a bit busy.

At the same time I release this post, I have uploaded the new, updated versions of both translations (since this liveblog is mostly a reason for me to reread and fix stuff) to MEGA and VK, so I recommend you download the new versions!

I will mostly be copying the text directly, to bypass tumblr's image restriction, but some screenshots will be provided. For example:

If pride is a sin, then the typesetting and cleaning I went through with this book will have me go to hell after I die. (I don't think I'm a master, but I did a pretty good job, ok?)

A cart had just entered the District of the Lost Steps. It stopped in front of the store, as two Srams* got out.

I love the internal consistency of the street being named here. Thank you, author of this book, for caring.

“Are you sure about this,” asked the little guy, “Is this really the right place?” “Yeah,” replied the tall one, “There aren't thirty-six Shushu* houses in the neighborhood.”

LMAO this is something Kerubim is actually known for, huh?

At the time that this book takes place in, joris can't read very well. Cute...

Also, hehe... I am pretty proud of the way this part of the book was cleaned + the font + the layers and colors and opacity I applied to the text, to make it fit in with the paper.

^^^ This is me btw, during this entire post. ^^^

The entirety of the epilogue and prologue are typed on top of cleaned backgrounds sourced from the scan. The rest of the book is typed in front of a digital background. This artistic choice was made because....... You can't set different pages to be different colors in word. You have to overlay some image or a textbox, if you want a page to be a different color.

Anyway — I had a lot of fun searching for the fonts from this book! (and far less fun searching for appropriate fonts for the Russian translation since none of the fonts this book uses have cyrilic versions...)

The fonts this book uses are: Dimbo, Chelsea Market, and Aleo. Google them for all your Dofus Aux Tresors de Kerubim related needs.

The fonts I chose to use in the russian translation are: Brydan Write, Correction Brush, Curinn, and Itim. I just had to make do with what I had, ok?

“My Papycha said it's urgent!” exclaimed Joris, “He could be in danger. Maybe he's being attacked by the Thirsty!” Even Pupuce looked worried. Simone reread the message, thinking out loud: “The Huffing Bow Wow tavern is in the Pandawa district... There's plenty of bamboo milk there. Maybe the neighborhood is overrun by the Thirsters?” “And soon, the whole city will be under attack!” concluded Joris.

Nobody knows how to escalate a situation better than a 7yo with anxiety. God bless <3

The Ecaflip goes full "war machine" mode: he cuts and slices through the living dead for the entire night, and when the golden disk of the sun finally rises over the horizon, the scenery is carpeted with the Thirsty. The region is saved. Kerubim becomes a legend. To thank him, the local lord offers him the... “Hey... Joris? Are you listening?” asked Simone. She began shaking the boy, who, abruptly snapping out of his reverie, mumbled: “Huh? What?”

Joris is so normal. So sane.

“Bye-bye,” added Bowiknif. But Luis slammed the door in their faces, roaring: “You're not going anywhere!” “Oh yeah?” hissed Bakstab, “Is that so?” “Would you like us to chop up your friends with a Brakmarian steel sword of Chouque?” questioned the other, “Or with Samuel J. Axe?” Luis muttered what sounded like a string of expletives, before reluctantly opening the door to the two robbers, who bolted out without further ado.

I'm LITERALLY fucking insane about this.

“I'm sorry,” said Luis, “I tried to hold them back, but...” “We know, we saw everything,” the girl cut him off, “You did your best, Luis.”

Actually deranging. Also explains why Luis did fuckall about Sipho, Harebourg, and Ush — there's just not much he can actually do.

She spotted a Dragoturkey standing near a trough. In two strides, she reached the animal, untied it, and climbed onto its back like an experienced Dragogirl*. “Let’s go!” she said to the boy.

This once again raises a some questions about Simone's past — when did she learn how to ride dragoturkeys? Is it the same reason why she knows how to fight, at least a little?

Then again, maybe she's just being an Osamodas here.

I love, love, love the Simone&Joris content in this book. Their bond is so important to me... She's the aunt who stepped up.

This art is so nice...

They had run like mad through half the city, arrived at the wrong address, turned back just as a thunderstorm broke out, wandered around in the rain in the Pandawa district, and FINALLY arrived at the Huffing Bow Wow Tavern, a large, long building with a thatched roof.

They're so fucking stupid. I love them.

“Ah, there you are!” called out Kerubim, “I almost thought you’d make me wait some more!”

I wish english also had the phrase "I almost thought you'd be late" as a cunty response when someone's an hour or three late to an event. I don't think the english translation I made conveys the sheer frustration.

Kerubim raised an eyebrow — a perfect copy of the circumflex accent:

I struggled with this part a lot in russian sjfkgdfg. It made me nerd out a little bit too.

I didn't have a lot of comments here, but eh. It was nice to finally get this over with dfjgkdsfg.

[alohastyles-x]

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚂𝚗𝚘𝚠 - 1

A Dark Disney Retelling of Snow White and the Huntsman ft. The Winter Soldier as The Huntsman.

Dark Disney Retellings Masterlist | Synopsis

Warnings: This story will contain graphic descriptions of torture, violence and gore, possible smut scenes (undecided), cursing, brief mentions of reader being nearly emaciated as a result of torture.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Note: ahhhh it's here!! I can't wait to unfurl this project for you guys! <3 There are rough Russian translations at the end, I'm sorry if it's innacurate lol, I banked on google translate for this one. Enjoy my loves!

The cold metal erupted a fire against your raw skin, the red marks from the lashings earlier a grotesque sight against the stark white of the room. Your skin had attempted to stitch itself together, but the process was slow and painful, as you could feel each individual cell regenerating into flesh.��

And yet not a sound escaped you. Your life depended on the silence of your movements.

There weren’t many rules in Hydra’s camp, but the most important was that you kept quiet, silent during it all. How else were you supposed to become a master assassin if you couldn’t silently handle pain? Their methods were unorthodox, but damn did they work. The first time you screamed, a volt of electricity ran through your body, locking your muscles in a painful grip. They continued, until your screams turned to groans, then turned to silent tears. 

It had only been six months since your father had told you he enlisted you in this program. For the country, he had said. For your people. You wondered often if he knew the pain you were subjected to here. You’d like to think he didn’t, for your sanity’s sake. 

“Up, now.” One of the guards' voices echoed as he entered the room your cage was held in. You stood determined, despite the pain that erupted through your muscles as you moved. Quiet as a mouse, you held your head high, awaiting whatever order followed. 

“Good girl,” another voice said, a short stocky man entering behind the guard. You didn’t recognize him, which meant he was an operative of Hydra, sent to check in on your training. He smirked as he looked you over. Your skin had turned alabaster white from the lack of sun and the cocktail of chemicals they injected daily. Your jet black hair was stringy, dehydrated from the lack of moisture. Your skin laid over your bones like paper, weakening by the days from the lack of food and intense physical training. You resembled a shell of your old self, which is exactly what Hydra wanted. 

“I hear you’ve been doing well,” his accent was different from the guards and trainers in the facility. He was English. His voice was deceptively gentle thanks to his accent, unlike the harsh Romanian and Russian the other guards spoke. 

“That’s good. It means we’re doing something right.” The smirked returned, making your skin crawl. He paused, for what reason you weren’t entirely sure. A beat passed before he decided to fill you in. 

“I have news, dear. You’re ready for the next phase. See, phase 1 was all about your endurance, and your initiation into a nearly immortal existence. We had to prepare you and your body for the job of a silent killer, a silent operative, if you will. You’ve proven beyond a doubt you can handle the kind of work you will be used for. Now we move to phase 2. You’ve heard the stories of our current Winter Soldier, yes?” 

How could you not. You were reminded of him constantly, compared to him with every task you failed or completed. Of course he had an advantage over you- a robotic limb and a manipulated brain that could be controlled with words. They refused to do that to you. They wanted you pristine and willing to submit. The true feminine version of him in all accords except one. The very first night you were here, they had brought you into the Red Room, a multipurpose training room in this facility. It started with an operation, ending one of the feminine qualities about you. They didn’t want to risk the effects the chemicals would have on any offspring you may one day produce. Later the room was used for training on grace and your ability to move in silence like in a ballet. The irony was not lost on you. 

You stayed silent to the English operatives' questions  as you’ve been instructed to do. It was yet another test. One you passed with ease. 

“Wow. You all truly have trained her well. I’m impressed. Anyway, darling, Phase 2 is now about strength- mental and physical. I’m not sure if you’ve looked in the mirror lately,” he paused to chuckle at his own humiliating joke. “But you’re not exactly buff. Far from it. Phase two will be about returning your strength and power back to you. The torment is over, you can rest now. You will be given a training room with equipment to use at your will to regain your muscle, while enduring mental tests to strengthen your mind, like puzzles. You like puzzles don’t you?” 

It sounded too good to be true. You knew better than to give into the false hope of an easier training phase. Either the operative truly had no knowledge of the camp you were in, or he took pleasure into tormenting you even more with the promise of a release from torment. You assumed it was the latter. 

He continued on with the details of your next training phase, as you stood silently, looking straight ahead. The guards behind him had a nasty smirk as he spoke. There was no way the operative was this clueless, you decided, which led to a stray tear falling onto your cheek at the thought of what new torment you were about to endure. 

“Don’t cry dear, this is all for the greater good. You’ll see.” He said, reaching through the bars to place a calloused thumb over your tear. His grip was firm as he wiped it away, and it took everything in you to stand completely still. 

He left with a few words to the guards on how to initiate this next phase. When they were out of sight, you slunk down in the cage, curling into a fetal position. You had to find a way to escape. You knew you couldn’t take much more of whatever training they were about to give you. 

It was that night that a plan formed in your mind, flawless in execution that was bound to work. It was a gift given from the gods above. 

Midnight struck with an eerie silence that echoed across the base. The lock to your cage had been picked, the door left ajar. The room was empty, and the guards stationed outside of the door stood confused, wondering where you went. 

“Subject 340 is missing, I repeat, subject 340 is missing,” the guard said into his mic, as he illuminated the room with the flashlight attached to his gun. The room was without a doubt empty. You had hid in the shadows behind the door, waiting for the guards to do their midnight check on you. As they entered the room, you slipped behind them through the door, taking off silently down the hall. 

Red flashing lights and sirens erupted following the command of the base leader, yelling for every guard to be on the hunt. Your bare feet padded silently down the hall as you ran,  using the red blinks as a guide. The hall slinked around into a centralized area, where you knew from your intelligence training that a group of guards would be stationed, waiting for you. 

There was a small opening in the wall next to you- a vent. You slunk through, following the narrow hall until it opened up to another hallway. You weaved in and out of various halls and vents, making it closer and closer to the exit you needed. 

Like a ghost in the night, you dodged guards, cameras, and motion sensors. It was rather easy, your small neglected frame helping to slip through the crawl spaces and vents without any evidence you were there. 

Finally, you made it to the vent you knew would bring you to the outside. It was almost too easy, as you dove through, crawling until you made it to the other side. Popping out the vent, you winced at the cold air that blew through, and another siren began to blare. It was the breached siren. You hurried out into the cold, taking off to the direction of the treeline. 

You were careful in how you stepped, ensuring footprints were not left behind you. It was a dance you knew all too well, mimicking the pattern you were taught in the Red Room.

In the end, it was their own tests and training that helped you escape under their noses.

“What do you mean you lost her?” Your father boomed, his voice echoing off the walls of his war room. His face was red with anger, as he stared down the Hydra operative who had come to give him the bad news. It should have been Alexander Pierce before your father, relaying the vital information. Instead, he sent a lowly operative, resorting to hiding in his compound like the weak coward he was. It was a trait your father despised- cowardice. 

“That is all the information I have, sir.” 

“Where is Pierce?” Your father demanded, slamming his hand on the table before him. The operative flinched slightly in response. 

“To my knowledge, he is investigating her disappearance.” 

Your father shook his head, mulling over what his next steps would be. Anger boiled through his veins. He warned them to keep a close eye on you. He knew your intelligence surpassed whatever they expected, and your determination would outrank whatever test they gave you. It was why they wanted you, and why he let you go. Your intelligence would one day outrank him if left uncontrolled, you were a threat to him and his position on the council. Hydra had succeeded so well with The Winter Soldier, he had no doubt they would succeed with you. It turns out he was wrong, and if there was one thing he despised more than cowardice, it was being wrong. 

You, after months of training, left alone to do as you please terrified your father. He visibly paused as the thought erupted into a beautiful plan. 

“Tell Pierce to send The Winter Soldier after her. He’ll find her faster than any of our men can combined. It’s the only way we can ensure she is found and returned… tell him by whatever means necessary.” Your father said, looking the operative in the eyes as he delivered his message firmly. 

The unnamed hydra operative nodded, saluting your father before retreating from the room. 

The operative now stood before Pierce, in his own war and council. room. He had delivered the news just as your father had given it to him. Pierce just looked at him with wild eyes, unsure he heard the operative clearly. 

“He wants us to unleash the Winter Soldier on her? Does he know that means her fate is sealed once she comes into contact with him?” Pierce asked, eyeing the operative with a curious look. A man sending a killing machine after his own daughter did not sound right- not even to the head of Hydra. 

“He said ‘by whatever means necessary’,” the operative replied. 

Pierce nodded. 

“Let’s go find him then.” 

It was easy to find The Winter Soldier’s hide out this time around. He had resided in an apartment just north of the city. He lived simply, with skeletons of furniture decorating it. Pierce sat in the dark, awaiting his return from his day in the city. 

He was no longer The Winter Soldier at this moment, his alter persona turned off. Right now, he was just James Buchanon Barnes, a Romanian citizen who lived a quiet life. He had gone to the markets, buying various fresh fruits and vegetables to use for a dinner he planned to make that night. 

When he returned to his apartment, he sensed something was off before he even opened the door. It was his decades of training that led him to approach carefully, opening the door slowly and silently, before proceeding into the apartment. 

He avoided the floor boards that creaked, setting the bag of fruits down as quietly as he could on the kitchen counter. 

It was then he recognized why he felt the way he did. Alexander Pierce sat just beyond the kitchen wall, illuminated only by the lights from outside the window to the left of him. He had yet to see Bucky’s presence, which would give Bucky the upper hand had he wanted to attack. 

Instead, he slunk around the corner of the kitchen into the dining room, catching Pierce’s attention. 

“Ah! James! There you are.” Pierce said, his tone friendly. Bucky sat quietly before him, waiting for Pierce to get to why he was really here. 

“We have a new mission for you.” 

“For me or for the Winter Soldier?” Bucky asked, his voice tight. He hated the transition to and from the Winter Soldier. It left him in ruins, a bit more fucked up than he was before. Not to mention the mental switch with the final word spoken hurt like a bitch. 

“I think you know the answer to that by now James.” 

Bucky sighed. He wasn’t in a position he could refuse, bound by the spell of words. Pierce pushed forward a glass of whiskey before him, offering him an outlet of relief. Bucky reluctantly picked up the glass, knocking back the warm liquid with ease. 

“Can you at least tell me the mission before the switch?” Bucky asked, hopeful for a little autonomy in the situation. 

“You know I can’t do that either, James.” Pierce responded. He actually looked empathetic with his response. 

Bucky lowered his head, waiting for Pierce to begin the cantation of words, waiting for the mental switch up into the Winter Soldier. 

“Желаниe, pжавый,” The cantation began, a piercing sound echoing in Bucky’s mind. 

“Семнадцать, рассвет, Печь,”

He grunted at the feeling erupting through his body. 

“Девять, Доброкачественные, Возвращение домой, Один, грузовой вагон.” 

Something snapped within Bucky’s psyche. He was no longer the gentle and calm James Buchanon Barnes. No. He was the silent ghost of an assassin. 

“я готов отвечать” 

He was The Winter Soldier.

Feedback is greatly appreciated <3 <3

[centrally-unplanned]

Comic Box 1997 End of Evangelion Issue - Archive Scan

Comic Box was a magazine in Japan launched in, from what I can gather, 1982. It was a bit of an ‘alt” magazine - it has an imprint, Comic Box Jr, which focused on doujinshi for example - and would cover anything anime-adjacent, including western films. The October 1997 release of the magazine was dedicated to the release of the End of Evangelion film, and to answering the question “what was the phenomenon called Evangelion?”. Towards that end it features fan submissions, art, comics, essays, all talking about what Eva meant to them. Some are serious, some are fully comedic, way way more than I expected are erotic, and overall it is a time capsule of how the anime community was thinking about Evangelion when EoE came out. The magazine dissolved in 1998 from what I can tell, so this was one of its last releases - you can still see its absolutely vintage website here! Complete with dashing chibi cat gif.

I discovered this magazine through japanese anime/manga archivist-in-residence ehoba on twitter, who provided photos and rough summaries of some of the pages. They are just camera photos of an open magazine though, not scans, and not at all complete. I hunted around for a while to find a scanned version, messaged ehoba and a few others, posted on forums like Evageeks, and drew total blanks. I couldn’t find any listings of it online, so I set the quest aside...until I was placing another order for some artbooks for import and decide to check Yahoo Auctions Japan and lo and behold, there is was! It arrived this week.

So that image above is not one pulled from the internet - I have scanned the entire Evangelion segment of Comic Box - October 1997 issue. I am a neophyte scanner & image editor, these aren’t gonna be amazing or anything, but while I hope to make a more polished version I wanted to share the drafts now. I really aspire to translate it, but of course I don’t speak Japanese, so I am going to see how far working with some people I know and brute-forcing with AI would go. If you are interested or know someone who would be, definitely reach out! 100% would crowdsource this. If someone already scanned and translated this, also let me know, I would groan heavily and curse my google skills but i’d rather it be available and know, and not waste time.

Below will be some reduced-down PNG’s of the magazine to fit Tumblr image limits with Ehoba’s notes and a few of my own attached to them. A link to the full images as a singular PDF is on the Internet Archive [Here]

A reflection of a very known thing in this magazine is that, from my perspective, End of Evangelion is definitely Asuka’s moment to shine, but it didn’t matter because the 90′s Eva fandom *loved* Rei. She was the most popular by far, and I think dethroned Sailor Mercury on the ‘best girl’ polls in magazines of the era. Nowadays if you poll audiences - as the NHK did recently - Asuka is the most popular girl, but it was a different, proto-moe-boom time.

"Evangelion was fake. A fake made by one director, or by the staff. However, it was a very real fake. God, it was so good."

Watermelon Kaji absolute goat here; so cool indeed

How much Asuka is suffering in all these images vs god-salvation Rei is, again, saying alot about the waifu wars.

"I don't think episode 25 and 26 were professional work. I understand that the ADR script and previews with layout sheets are supposed to be avant-garde, but something is wrong with it." "TV show is not an individual's job, so I wanted them to deal with the schedule limitation."

90% sure this Asuka ‘escaped’ and I saw it on the internet in the early 2000′s - maybe the author published it elsewhere in a doujin, I assume a lot of this art would have been repurposed for other mediums.

Honestly the art is incredible for this magazine sometimes, the splash pages they have are filled with Evangelion’s anime-spiritual energy.

"Unit 02 has a mouth, which means it can give a blow job." "The biggest surprise is Rei in cowgirl position. The official content does that, so hentai authors have nothing to do."

(Gainax putting hard-working hentai doujin authors out of a job, what assholes!)

"My heated up feeling toward Evangelion was quick-freezed by episode 25 and 26. EoE defrosted it, but now I feel distant from Evangelion."

How much Episode 25-26 come up here is great evidence for how divisive they were - End of Eva is absolutely seen as commentary on, and opposition to, the TV ending. I think in the west the initial reception of the original ending is overall more positive? Certainly nowadays, would be curious how it is seen in Japan today.

OCR’ing this image will literally murder me, pls I can’t

"Bullshit plot, surficial information, shallow dialogues, inconsistent direction, story with tons of plot holes, the director's masturbation, the otaku's useless attempt to enlighten other otaku..." "BUT I LOVE IT."

10/10 take

"'Sincerity' of someone I don't like just confirms that I still don't like them. Anno apparently thought that honest depiction of himself can be depiction of otaku, but that's not wrong. Anno is exceptionally creepy."

God-tier Anno portrait here. I love how many of this art showcases “settings” from End of Eva and which ones hit the audience - re-using the movie theatre seats for Shinji, that is really cool!

Evangelion - Slayers edition! The artist names are in the black box panel on the page lining, I absolutely hope to track down a few of them and see what kind of works they made.

"I think each material of Evangelion was nothing new. In the early half, however, I was moved by their techniques of arranging and remixing those materials." "Creators' strong desire for expression supported this story, but I'm not sure."

"Adam and Eve in the Eden East" "I hope they will live happily after the ending."

"The theater was like a funeral after the screening. No, I should say it was a literal funeral. Evangelion ended, it died. In terms of entertainment, Evangelion was completely and brilliantly killed."

Kaworu’s insta-inclusion into the ranks of the kid cast is always amusing to me; he is in one episode of the show after all, barely in Eva! But he is all over the art immediately. The power of design - and also being one of the first gay characters on television (as opposed to OVA’s) in Japan.

Hopefully if I can make progress on translation I can have actual thoughts to add to the scan, certainly I will post results if I get them.

I value, way too deeply to be honest, the preservation of the other side of the ‘media mix’ - how people responded to the media in question and what it meant to them. It is way more likely to be lost than the media itself or documents from the production side. May this contribution to preserving a bit of that experience be of value to those out there who would be interested in the history of Evangelion, and anime more generally.

If you think you know anyone or your followers overall would be interested in translation help, I would appreciate the broadcasting!

[33max]

Ok, I'm writing this in my notes so I can go to your Tumblr later to ramble.

First of all LUCY THE CHAPTER COUNT MADE ME HAPPY. I want aaaaaall the Turkey Dino I can have.

I love how Daniel referred to this Max thing as delicate. It makes me all fluffy because YES, it's exactly how I feel when I'm reading: delicate.

“He puts his toys away,” Daniel says, like that just reinforces his point. “If he’s playing with his dinosaurs and he wants to play with his cars, he puts the dinosaurs away before he gets the cars out. He doesn’t make a mess.” This part broke my heart a little because it makes me think in real Max. I know he's the only one who can talk about his trauma, but it feels inevitable.. With all the things I read about his childhood, how he expresses himself about certain things. Of course I feel for him. Maybe it's just because actually I'm thinking in my childhood. ANYWAY LOL didn't meant to be annoying. Let's move on.

"From Michael Italiano Staliano

He looks so happy

A couple of minutes later another text comes through.

From Michael Italiano Staliano

I just want you to know that you both have my support with this and you don’t have to hide it from me when I come over to train or cook, he doesn’t have to fight it around me" Michael is everything good in the world sprinkled with rainbows and marshmallows. I want a friend like him.

“Mate,” Daniel starts, he’s going to be honest, he has to tell Michael this isn’t just hard for Max. It’s hard for him. “You don’t get it. I can’t stand the thought of not being there for him like this. I’m coming home, but I need you at my place until I get there.” THIS PART. I always struggle a little with the lack of communication between characters, and you just did Dan COMMUNICATE. And I love you for that! This fic is constantly outdoing itself. (I hope I used the right word, I used google translate for this one)

"Max is running around the apartment, screeching, and throwing what looks like yoghurt at Michael." MY HEART, LUCY. This was so wholesome.

I'm so mad that I can’t give you more kudos. I want to kudo your entire life for writing this thing that makes me feel so so so happy, Lu. I hope writing it gives you the same amount of happiness that reading you gives me. Of course I'll be impatiently waiting for another chapter (and maybe for another chapter count going up lol).

Sending, as always, all my love and good vibes. Bye Lu!

Oh my goodness I am so glad that the chapter count going up has been well received! I was really nervous everyone was waiting for the last chapter and I just had to split it because I didn’t want to post a 12k chapter when the others were around 5 or 6k!

I love that you’ve mentioned the “he puts his toys away” part because I would say that conversation between Daniel and Michael was the part of this chapter I struggled with most. It didn’t come as naturally to me as the rest, and actually I second guessed it a lot!

Michael is a good friend! A really good friend! He pulled through when Daniel needed him! I do think that Daniel struggled a lot with asking him, firstly because it’s this new thing, secondly because he doesn’t want Max to be uncomfortable, and lastly because he’s jealous. That’s his job. I guess the need for making sure Max was safe came above all his feelings about it!

Writing this series brings me a lot of comfort and I’m so glad you’re enjoying reading it! It means so much to me! I don’t think the chapter count will go up… but that’s okay… because I have like 4 one shots planned 😅

Thank you so much for your lovely message ♥️

[alln64games]

Sumo 64

JP release: 28th November 1997

PAL release: N/A

NA release: N/A

Developer: Bottom Up

Publisher: Bottom Up

Original Name: 64 Ōzumō

N64 Magazine Score: 90%

N64 Magazine gave this Japanese-only sumo wrestling a rather impressive 90%. Even so, I was surprised as to how much I actually enjoyed this. Unfortunately, there is no fan patch for this game but thankfully Google Lens did a pretty good job at translating the dialogue – it was a bit odd in places, but I got the general gist of it.

And, surprisingly, there really is a lot of dialogue, as this has a fully fledged story mode – not just pitting you against other fighters like every other fighting game, but a proper story about you joining the professional Sumo wrestling and your life outside of the ring. You’ll encounter good or bad events based on how you perform in the matches.

Each match is extremely short but very fast paced. The game suggests optimal moves, but you can also do your own thing. To be completely honest, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing most of the time and there was a lot of button mashing, but I did deduce that there was a rhythm to the fighting, and performing moves in time to your opponent’s bar flashing is what triggers your finishing moves. The matches are only on average 30 seconds but extremely frantic and they are surprisingly a lot of fun.

As you defeat higher ranked opponents, you’ll gain stars which let you achieve a higher rank, with your goal being to be the best Sumo wrestler. After each tournament, you can also play a minigame.

There are five minigames: sleeping, eating, training, jumping and fishing. The first four are short, enjoyable distractions while I couldn’t figure out the fishing at all. They’re a nice, relaxing change of pace for a quick breather before the next tournament. Sleeping has you rolling around a little island collecting stars, eating has a judge calling out food you need to grab before your opponent, training is a “simon says” and jumping has you moon jumping high in the air, bouncing off trampolines and clouds as you pop balloons.

Between some individual matches and tournaments, you’ll progress in the story. To begin with, it seems like a bunch of random events as your character interacts with a few different girls (eventually going on dates with all of them), rivals and a few other characters. I am not sure how much your performance in the game affects the outcome, but one girl (Akira) eventually suggests marriage – which was surprising as my main character had stood her up on two dates. On one, he overslept, on another, he forgot and had a date with someone else.

The only direct choice was choosing your response to the marriage, although I suspect that saying you want to concentrate on your Sumo for now has the same end result, as if you say yes, Akira suggests waiting until you’re at the top anyway. However, the encounters and dialogue are charming on their own.

As you approach the high ranks, the story becomes more plot focused as you get attacked and then discover a “Dark Sumo” illegal gambling ring. You shut it down (you still have no input on this, it’s just dialogue) and the leader vows revenge – which he does on his wedding day as he kidnaps your wife.

The ending is both utterly absurd and wonderfully charming at the same time as you have your final fight with this villain and his “ultimate body”.

Sumo 64 is a combination of really enjoyable short fighting mixed with charming dialogue (which would probably be even better if it got a proper translation). If you understand Japanese or are willing to point your phone at your TV a lot, this is a surprisingly great game.

The animations are simple but delightfully accurate with for example, wrestlers sweeping aside their long skirty bits (technical term) as they squat down for the ‘off’ and cheering crowds throwing their cushions in the air when their favoured wrestler wins. Even better, the announcer calls every player’s name, rank and tournament record (wins and losses) and then delivers a running commentary during every bout.

- Max Everingham, N64 Magazine #11

Remake or remaster?

There is another Sumo game in this series on N64, so a compilation of both with a proper translation would be great.

Official ways to get the game.

There is no official way to get Sumo 64

[urara04]

Actually most AC people I know are already tagged, so lemme just...

@ayameiris4​ @edwardslostalchemy​

Nickname: Urara!! It used to be Mermila, but that was my middle school username, so think of it as the skin a snake leaves behind (and all the cringe that goes with it)

Sign: Libra, with all it’s pros and cons

Height: Last time I check I was like 165 cm?? But that was a few years ago and I’m not sure I’m growing anymore lol

Last thing I googled: how to make a bullet list in tumblr

Song stuck in head: I am BEGGING you all to look up Flappie by Youp van ’t Hek. Yes it IS Dutch but like. You have no excuse to not look it up now.

Number of Followers: Including the bots? 55

Amount of sleep: Darling I can sleep even when I don’t notice it I am NOT getting enough sleep I need my winter break like right now

Dream job: Multiple options actually. I’d love to be a (game) programmer, and I’m actually in college for IT. I would’ve loved to be an elementary school teacher though, if college didn’t work out.

Wearing: I got back from work so like. A black undershirt with looooong sleeves. Some normal jeans (slim I think?). Cute Christmas themed socks. And a big ol green sweater, which is very fluffy and keeps me warm, and looks awesome too!

Movies/Books that summarize you: What, like me as a person??? I’ll just do the ones that matched my vibes/I can’t stop thinking about I guess. Hacksaw Ridge. Diaries of a Dork. Enola Holmes. Ooooh I forgot about Legally Blonde! And then for the books (which I found out are only translated into Dutch??? Shame) is the entire Princesses of Fantasia and Witches of Fantasia series by Thea Stilton (yes I DID name two middle school book series because someone reminded me of them and they just. are a cornerstone in my personality)

Favorite Song: Got multiple, of course. There are a few bangers in CyTus II, like Lunar Mare or ͟͝͞Ⅱ́̕ or even Celestial Sounds! Other than that I can’t stop listening to Awakening (Persona 5) or this Ezio’s Family Remix. This list will 100% change in the future, but these are the bangers I can come up with for now (my DMs are always open if you have some songs to share of course)

Favorite Instrument: I am adept at the piano, although I didn’t really do anything with it, but personally I like the drums. The vibes of it are unmatched in comparison to the piano.

Favorite Authors: Help I also haven’t read anything in FOREVER??? Wait there’s this author I saw on our national shopping site that makes these twisted/bad ends/what-if situations of popular fairy tales, and I’m itching to buy the Peter Pan one, because the concept sounds SO good to me. She also did Red Riding Hood and the Little Mermaid I believe. Also, of course, gotta say Rick Riordan as favorite author.

Fun Fact: There are only two books in the Bible who are named after women (some book titles are named after the main character/writer in it), which is a really small quantity, given that the Bible has 66 books, but I adore the fact that Esther’s story is filled with determination and love for her people, and without her, the Jews would have been eradicated back then. And she protected them without killing anybody (personally) and by exposing the corrupt roots in the council to the king. I’m so. Esther is such an inspiration to me. Nobody did it like her, and I really REALLY want a movie that is similar to her story, because behind every great king hides a great queen, and it takes only a few words to change the course of history (this is the basic rundown of her story, there hides much more story in her book, which isn’t that big, and illustrates a part of Jewish history too)

15 Questions, 15 People

I got tagged by @nemo-of-house-hamartia so thank you!!

Nickname: I go by Ani on this site ONLY because my name is coincidentally the same as an AC char skull emoji.

Sign: Aquarius

Height: 5'0''/1.524 m

Last Thing I Googled: "five feet to meters"

Song Stuck in My Head: Paralyzed by Big Time Rush

Number of Followers: 986

Amount of Sleep: I napped a lot today if that counts

Dream Job: I'm studying to be a teacher but if i HAD to choose a dream job, it would be filmmaking (directing or writing)

Wearing: Khakis, crocs, gray shirt that says "American by Birth, Transgender by the Grace of God"

Movies/Books That Summarize You: This is so tough. Maybe Lord of the Rings for both

Favorite Song: I'm going with the most played song on my Spotify Wrapped because my favorite song changes constantly, so it would be Come To Your Senses from Tick Tick Boom

Favorite Instrument: Piano and guitar

Favorite Authors: J.R.R. Tolkien, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo, Anne Rice, Neal Shusterman, Rod McKuen

Random Fun Fact: Tinky Winky (the Teletubby) was used by a well known American televangelist Jerry Falwell as an example of the dangers of homosexuality being shown to children: namely, because he had a handbag, was purple and had an upside down triangle for an antenna.

Tagging: @baddestchineseassassin @servalans-flowers @mazikomo @ellzblue @benewhorian @catpop12343 @thou-babbling-brook @ramshackledtrickster @asscrackcreed @rk1kincorrect

[fortheloveofwonderland]

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

[chouhatsumimi]

Hi! I am trying to become a japanese to English (& vice versa) translator. I can't find any sources to check the English to Japanese translation. It is difficult to get which grammar must be used since I am not a japanese native and don't know any natives to ask either. I have studied till N2 level but have no experience and must start freelancing to get experience so I need to figure out how to translate on my own. I can only use free translation software but I am not sure about it's reliability. I have seen questionable translations when it's for Japanese to English. Do think you can give any suggestions or anything that might be helpful?

Hi! I did put in a little time searching for the kind of tools you might have had in mind.

It seems that there are many that function in the exact same way but have different interfaces. Here are two of them. Many others can be found by searching "日本語文章校正ツール" or similar keywords. https://dw230.jp/kousei/

https://so-zou.jp/web-app/text/proofreading/

While they can point out some things to look out for, from the testing I did with them, they overlooked some pretty obvious errors, while also catching some things that I couldn't figure out why it thought it was wrong/sounded bad, or how to fix it.

There was one more I found that I didn't try, because it involves downloading software. This page explains the software, and another page on the site offers the download. The webpage is sponsored by a university, so I think it's safe to assume its trustworthy, but it might be a hassle and I can't say for sure if it works.

https://www.pawel.jp/outline_of_tools/tomarigi/

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

That said, it's most common for translators to work from one language INTO their native language. While interpreters often have to go both directions (J <--> E), translators typically work either (J -> E) [English native speakers] OR (E -> J) [Japanese native speakers]. If you grew up bilingual, maybe you can translate both ways. But if English is your native language and you learned Japanese as a second language (which is true of my situation), it's pretty much not going to be worth bothering to do E->J translation, unless there are extenuating circumstances. The reasons for this are 1) You can't be sure that the translation you produce reads smoothly or is error-free 2) While you might think, but yes, if I do a really thorough check and compare it against native Japanese examples, I can be pretty darn sure it's perfect, the amount of time it takes you to do that is not going to be cost-effective. Like anything else, people purchasing translation as a service usually want the end result to be done well, in a timely manner, and as cheaply as possible, so it doesn't make sense to hire you for E -> J when they could hire a native Japanese speaking translator, or send their work to an agency to find that translator for them.

If you ARE translating into Japanese and are not a native speaker of Japanese, it is a good idea to have a fellow translator who has the opposite native language you do (in this case Japanese & English), and ask them to check it over for you (which, considering that's part of their job, you'd probably pay a small fee for). They could do the same to have you proofread their translations into English. Some translators consult friends/spouses, etc., but I think this can get old for them sometimes, so it's advisable not to rely on them for your job. You mentioned not having any native speakers to ask right now, but this is still an idea you can file away for in the future when you meet more people and get to know other translators.

In short, if you're aiming to become a translator working with Japanese but are not a native Japanese speaker, don't worry about translating into Japanese. Just focus on translating from Japanese into your native language.

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

Translation software: let me make a distinction here between "machine translation" and "CAT [computer aided translation] tools".

Machine translation is Google Translate, DeepL, anything like that. There are times when they work well, but particularly with a language like Japanese that likes to imply a lot of information instead of stating it directly (such as who is doing the action described in the sentence), they're pretty much always going to miss something. In any situation that someone is looking to pay a translator to do work, it's because they already know machine translation won't cut it. One thing that's becoming more common is MTPE (machine translation post editing), where a translator "fixes" what's wrong with a machine translation (or more often than not, just re-translates it from scratch because what the machine came up with is mostly useless).

CAT tools, on the other hand, are widely used by translators. Paid CAT tools such as Trados, MemoQ, Memsource, etc. can be very expensive, and are often provided by a translation agency to their translators. (Also, most of them require a PC operating system.) There's more I could say, but since I haven't been in any situations that require them, I don't have any personal experience. I do have experience using OmegaT (free, works on Mac) and Felix (free, I use it on Windows). They both take a little tinkering to figure out how to use effectively, but basically what they do is, once you've translated a segment of text, they store the original segment and the translated segment, and for each new segment you go to translate, the CAT tool compares it to segments that you've previously translated to see if you can re-use any of what you came up with before. They can also have a built-in dictionary function, but that's basically just having your typical web-based dictionary but more automatically and in a more convenient location.

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

For going into freelancing, I have a few recommendations.

Apart from CAT tools, some resources that I refer to frequently are http://nihongo.monash.edu/cgi-bin/wwwjdic?9T (basically looks up all the words in a sentence at once), http://thejadednetwork.com/sfx/ (if you're doing anything with sound effects, like manga), https://tsukubawebcorpus.jp//search/ (this is a corpus, I have another post on how to use it -here-, it's probably going to be your best bet when it comes to checking grammar), https://books.google.com/ngrams (for when it comes to figuring out what turns of phrase are commonly used in English), and https://yomikatawa.com/ (for figuring out the readings of names in Japanese, though there are other sites that work similarly).

When it comes to practicing, contests are a good place to start. The two I know of now are run by JAT in October (https://jat.org/events/contests) and JLPP deadline of 7/31 (and they're long, so it's probably too late for this year unless you're free between now and then: https://www.jlpp.go.jp/en/competition6/competition6en.html ) You can also practicing doing translations for fun. Any kind of media you enjoy (manga, video games, variety shows, newspaper articles) is a good target for doing a practice translation. Just be wary that it's not a good idea to post your translation in a public location on the internet, because it could be infringing copyright/licensing agreements, etc. Finally, there are websites like Gengo, Conyac, Fiverr and others where you can do gig translation work. They can be useful for practice, but also have the pitfall of paying, like, 5% of the rate you should be getting. This is an ongoing debate because on one hand, you can get practice while still getting a little money for it, but on the other hand, if customers can get people to do that work for 5% of a livable wage, that makes it harder for aspiring and working translators to find enough work that pays well enough to support themselves doing only translation for a living. Entertainment (primarily manga) scanlation groups also a significant enough force to merit a mention here- many aspiring entertainment translators find themselves a part of such a group. Practice is practice and developing your skills is important, but they also have many many of the same problems associated with them as I mentioned above, namely infringing on copyright and contributing to the inability of anyone to turn entertainment translation into a livable full-time job.

Another recommendation I have is to join some J/E translation-focused groups. This page lists a number of them: https://shinpaideshou.com/translation/ I can personally vouch for JAT as I am a member and I got my current job by being part of their directory. They run an online training program (eJuku) once a year around April, and applications only stay open for a few days, so if you're interested make sure you keep your eye out. Another one not listed on that page is https://swet.jp/ which is not entirely about translation, but it is heavily related and they host some good events. Twitter is also a very good place to be if you're getting into J/E translation. I prefer to keep my tumblr and twitter separate but if you DM me, I can give you my handle so you can see who I follow and who among that seems worth following to you.

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

In closing, I see you say "I have studied till N2 level but have no experience and must start freelancing to get experience so I need to figure out how to translate on my own." I'd say, give yourself some time. Even at N1 there's still going to be a lot you don't understand (or at least there was for me, that's why I started this langblr). I'm sure there are differences in our situations, but it was about five years ago for me that I started diving into translation- I think I was between N2 and N1 then. I've done a lot of translating and gotten a lot of experience since then, but I also have and am experiencing a lot of burnout. (In fact, I'm procrastinating right now by answering this....) Many translators have a job and translate on the side, and it's also common to gain experience with a company or agency before diving into supporting yourself on freelance work. I'd encourage you to take a breath, get experience when and where you can, and remember that if you keep at it long enough, you're sure to get there- just don't wear yourself out or worry to death in the meantime!

OH and definitely keep track of what projects you do, how long they are, and how long it takes you to do them! Knowing your speed is important when it comes to setting your working rates. I am always doubting these, and they differ from person to person, but my current estimates are that I can do 600 moji (Japanese characters) per hour, ~10 min. of audio per hour, and I try to aim for $45~$60 per hour. Generally the lowest acceptable standard rates are $0.05-$0.06 per moji and ~$5 per page of manga. You'll definitely get requests lower than that, so remember your sanity and don't be afraid to say no, there are plenty of opportunities out there!

[guardianofrivendell]

Oh Deer (request)

Legolas x reader

Requested: Yes! @lotr-th-nin-meleth​ asked “Hey! Could I get a Legolas x Reader where the reader is caring for an injured baby deer she found in the forest and she's usually really gruff and cold and keeps to herself? So Legolas gets all soft watching her be soft and she asks him for help or something you can choose and he's just all flustered and it's cute. Thank you xxx”

A/N: I switched it up a bit, hope you don’t mind! I also skipped the ‘old’ Westron Legolas usually speaks, to make it easier for me. Because I can do that.

Warnings: one soft curse word, mentions of blood, Legolas in love (yes, that needs its own warning)

“You are remarkably quiet today,” Legolas said to you after almost half an hour of silence.  You didn’t say anything back, eyes scanning the forest around you. Legolas shook his head. There was just no way to distract you, always focused on the task you’d been given. 

You were part of the Guard of Mirkwood. From the very beginning you had proven to be an exceptionally good fighter. Every mission you were sent on turned out succesful and with no casualties, so it didn’t take long for you to be allowed to go on even more dangerous missions.  Even though you had an impressive record, being an Elleth made it extra hard. It didn’t matter how skilled you were and that you’d showed more than once that you were tougher than most of the other guards, they still belittled you for being female. So when you were on duty, you put on a facade: stern expression, cold stare and not a sound unless you were spoken to. 

Despite your gruff facade, the Prince of Mirkwood had taken a liking to you. Not that you noticed; after all, you were too busy proving your worth.  Legolas made sure he was assigned to your group on patrols or vice versa - not that he didn’t have a choice, being Prince and all - and always suggested your name when there was a two-person job. All very subtle of course.

Today had been no different. There had been a sighting of a few Orcs wandering the forest, not that far from the palace. Thranduil instructed him to send a few guards to go and solve the problem. Those ‘few guards’ turned into Legolas and you. 

And now you were making your way through the forest, hunting some Orcs, with Legolas by your side who was desperately trying to make conversation. 

“You are allowed to speak, Y/N. It’s only me.” “Yes, only you... Don’t you think it’s rather strange our King sent only two guards? How many Orcs were seen again?” “Enough to handle ourselves, do not worry.” You scoffed. “I’m not worried, you know damn well that I could take them on my ow-” A sound in the distance made you cut off your sentence. Legolas heard it too, and you signaled him to climb the trees.

You both jumped from one tree to another with ease, until you reached a small clearance. There you could see about a dozen Orcs, most of them taking a rest, a few trying to make a fire to keep the spiders away. You signaled to Legolas to stay put, while you made your way to the other side of the clearance. 

He rolled his eyes at that. Shouldn’t it be him telling you what to do? But he listened anyway and waited for your signal. In his mind he was already planning how to attack the pack, thinking he could easily kill 4 or 5 Orcs from where he was hiding before making his way down the tree. This was almost too easy. 

A screech in the distance made the Orcs jump up and 3 of them disappeared in the woods, running past the tree you were hiding in. It seemed like the pack hadn’t been complete. You waved to Legolas, signaling you would go after them. Before he could protest, you were gone.  Why did you always have to prove yourself? He had no visuals anymore, but he could hear how your feet touched the ground. Your fight had begun. 

In one swift movement he took his bow and notched an arrow, and shot the Orc closest to him. Before he let himself drop down, he killed two more. He smirked to the six remaining Orcs and switched his bow for his two blades.  “Let us begin,” he muttered.

*

It was over in less than ten minutes. They didn’t even put up a real fight, Legolas thought.  Probably too exhausted from wandering through the forest for so long. He looked around but couldn’t see any sign of you, not even with his Elven eyes. Suppressing the slight rush of panic he felt, he began to look for you. You were tough. There was no way you couldn’t handle a handful of exhausted Orcs by yourself, he kept repeating in an attempt to reassure himself.

He ran through the forest, fighting the urge to call out your name. The last thing he wanted was to alert anything else of his presence.  “Legolas!” He halted immediately, frantically looking around him in an attempt to locate you. This was not a good sign, he thought. You knew how dangerous it was to draw attention to you this deep in the forest. It could only mean one thing... “LEGOLAS!” He tried to ignore the despair in your voice, and ran as fast as he could in the direction of your scream.  After a few agonizing minutes he found you hunched over on your knees. “Y/N?”

When you turned around, his heart stopped. Your hands were covered in blood. Red, not black, he realized.   He fell to his knees at your side, his eyes searching your body for injuries. “Where are you hurt?” Your tunic was no longer a lighter green, but stained with a dark red. He tried to remain calm for your sake, on the inside he was definitely freaking out. You didn’t answer him, and burst into tears instead.  “You’re going to be okay,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Everything is going to be okay.” He put an arm under your knees and around your waist and lifted you up with the utmost care, but you stopped him.  “Y/N, I have to get you back home. Just... please, let me take care of you.” “It’s not mine,” you said in between sobs, pointing to your drenched clothes.  “What happened?” Legolas asked, completely lost by now. He sat down on his knees with you still in his arms. If he wasn’t feeling so helpless at the moment, he would enjoy holding you this close. It felt nice. “I-...” You tried to take a long breath to calm down so you could tell him what was going on, but it only made it worse. Legolas rubbed your back softly until you found your voice again, relieved it seemed to help a little. “I-... I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

Legolas looked at you questioningly. Him? He scanned your surroundings but couldn’t see anyone.  You got up from his lap and took a few steps away from him, motioning him to follow you. He had to keep himself from taking your hand.  You took another ten steps and crouched down. Legolas heard you sniffling again.  What he saw in front of your feet, was probably the last thing he expected to see. A small deer, probably still a baby, lay on the ground. A large gap in his side, clearly your work. 

“Oh,” he sighed, finally understanding why you were so upset. The deer had definitely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A laugh escaped his throat. You narrowed your eyes at him. Was he really laughing at you?  When he saw you were annoyed at him, he shook his head.

“Y/N you really are curious. Slaying Orcs, killing off spiders, you don’t bat an eye. Doesn’t affect you in the slightest. But an injured deer got you all upset?”  You felt the blood rise in your cheeks. Was it your fault you just really loved the forest animals? Someone had to take care of them, so why not you? You noticed him staring at you, a certain emotion in his eyes you could not seem to read. “What?” you asked him. “You’re cute... I mean-,” Legolas corrected himself too late. “It’s cute, the deer... is cute.”

You didn’t say anything back and Legolas cursed himself.  “You know what, let’s take it with us to the palace. I’m sure our Healers could do something for him,” he suggested. He wasn’t entirely sure they could do that, but if it would make you feel better...  “Are you sure we can do that?” “Of course we can, I’m the Prince.” He winked at you, and lifted the deer into his arms. You rolled your eyes at his cockiness. He was nothing like his father. 

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.  “Anything for you...”

A/N: Aaaaaah, I’m so bad at endings 🙈 I wanted something smart or funny, maybe I’ll change it later on if I can think of something. Sorry!

A/N part 2: It’s at times like these that I curse myself for not being a native English speaker. So sorry that my writing feels a little forced sometimes, but that’s mostly because of my lack of English vocabulary or because I can’t think of another way to say things and Google Translate can only do so much. So why not write in my own language you ask? Well... I don’t think there are a lot of Flemish (or Dutch) speaking Tumblr users waiting for Flemish lotr fics :)

[yesttoheaven]

AMOR FATI

pairing – neil x female!reader

wc – 3.8k

warnings – mention of death, self-blame, anxious/intrusive thoughts, questioning reality, refusal of help, guns, stalking, but I swear there's a light at the end of the tunnel haha

a/n – The last time I suffered so hard for the death of a character, was when Newt died (Maze Runner) and now Neil has captured all my attention and his death has hit me in the same way 😩 I needed a happy ending so I decided to write this!

The Eternal Return and Amor Fati mentioned in this fic are one of the main ideas of Nietzsche's philosophy.

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

She approached the painting hanging on the wall, watching the details closely. Ouroboros. A serpent eating its own tail. Months ago, when Y/N was visiting an antique store in Mumbai, she saw that same symbol. The owner of the establishment approached when she realized her interest in the piece and explained that Ouroboros represents the ideas of movement, continuity and, in consequence, Eternal Return. A concept that the universe and all existence and energy has been recurring, and will continue to recur, in a self-similar form an infinite number of times across infinite time or space.

"Max finally fell asleep." Kat returned to the living room, attracting Y/N's attention.

She walked away from the painting, taking back her seat on the sofa and asked:

"How is he after everything that happened?"

For a moment, Kat looked at the painting on the wall and then at the friend she won in the midst of confusion over the Algorithm. At that time, despite being fighting on the front lines to prevent a possible Third World War, Y/N seems complete. Happy. Today that happiness no longer exists in her eyes.

Letting out a sigh, the woman sat next to her, answering:

"Sator was never a present father. He was always busy... now i can see the kind of work he was involved in. Anyway, Max just got used to his absence."

"It's notable that he's happier at your side. When we first met Max was a bit of an introvert, but today he is radiant." Y/N confessed, showing a small smile and the blonde shook her head, agreeing with her words. "How's everything?"

"Perfectly well. It's weird sometimes... After years of being stuck in a failed relationship, freedom is good."

"It seems like life is good for one of us." The woman let out a bitter laugh, putting the latest events on a scale, but she didn’t want her friend to think she wasn’t happy for her. She really was. "I'm sorry, I just..." The words remain stuck in her throat, while she covers her face with her hands. In addition to physical and mental fatigue, Y/N tried to hide her grief.

Kat touched her shoulder, showing that she was here.

"I know you're hurt, but it's been three months and you never talked about what happened that day... This is not good for you."

"What do I have to say, Kat? The guy I fell in love with was a fucking time traveler! And now he's dead and I don't know what to do. My life just... stopped without him."

"I can imagine how difficult it's for you to cross that line without Neil at your side, but giving up is not an option. Grief is consuming you little by little and you are just accepting it..."

"We are trained to contain our emotions and deal with death in the best possible way. It used to be easy for me, but then he came and turned my life upside down." Y/N put her hands on her knees and stood up, walking without an exact destination. "Neil was always one step ahead of us all..." She stepped forward too and found the painting again, but her mind was lost in thoughts about him. Neil knew her so well. And he had a charming smile, but completely arrogant at the same time. "I was sent to Mumbai to help two agents and when I arrived at Priya's penthouse that night, there he was. When he saw me, that was the first and only time that he let his guard down. I'll never forget how he looked at me, it was one of those breathtaking moments... Completely cliché, I know."

On the sofa, Kat was impressed. When Y/N turned towards her, there was a bright smile on her face. The simple memory brought her a breath of happiness and Kat enjoyed seeing her friend like that, but unfortunately that moment did not last long. Memories aren't enough. Neil is dead and nothing can change that.

"I miss him so much, Kat." The smile disappeared as soon as tears appeared in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks.

"My dear..." Worried about her, the woman got up quickly and approached Y/N, wrapping her in a tight hug. "I'm really sorry."

"I spent the last three months locked up in my a-apartment because I thought I could handle this situation on my own. At times I b-believed it was just a fever dream... Maybe I was losing my mind, but this is proof that everything was real." Through tears blurring her vision, she looked at the watch on her wrist, remembering that night.

Y/N was in a private cabin on the ship. The others were with Ives and Wheeler, going over the mission in search of any loose ends. A standard procedure. Y/N knew she should be with them, but she needed a moment alone to organize her thoughts. And that moment is now. The past few weeks had been a real mess. The inversion was difficult to explain and mainly to understand. She was used to field missions, but being an inverted soldier on the battlefield was not in her plans. Either way, she agreed to be a part of it and running away with biased assumptions was not going to help. Humanity depends on them.

Three knocking on the door caught Y/N's attention, but she remained silent, waiting for the person to give up and leave, but when it didn't, she just murmured 'Come in'.

"So, here you are." The man used a surprised tone of voice and closed the door behind him. "What will our superior think when he learns that you are running away from the briefing?"

She let out a laugh before answering in the same mood:

"Don't worry, I know this mission like the back of my hand. I just needed a moment."

"There's something wrong? Are you ok?" Neil spilled the questions quickly, visibly concerned for her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Neil." Y/N smiled at him, but looked away just seconds later, confessing: "Maybe I'm a little surprised by the situation. I have spent years dealing with terrorists, but the inversion is really not my point."

"I'm not good with advice, but someone once said to me: Don't try to understand. Certain things in the world do not need an explanation."

"It's wise advice, but I'm a methodical person. Logic has always been my ally in missions."

"A methodical person, huh?" He asked with an arrogant smile playing on his lips and she just rolled her eyes. "I know how worried you were when Sator shot Kat, but we are using the inversion to save the world and you're one of the most brilliant agents I have ever seen. Everything will be fine."

"Are you praising me?"

"What's that? Can't I praise my partner's talent?" Neil pulled up a chair to sit across from her, crossing his arms.

"In that case, thank you. Remind me to put this on my resume." Those words made him laugh and that sound could easily be compared to music in her ears.

Touching her knee, Neil added:

"We are very confident with the mission. You don't need to worry."

"Are you sure?"

"I cannot say that unforeseen events do not happen, but we are prepared for that." Y/N knew he was right, but this mission is the biggest one so far. It's not about saving a country. It's about saving the entire world. This was arousing insecurities in her and it was like walking in a minefield. Ironically, she was familiar with this, but not in such catastrophic proportions. "I want you to have this." The man took his watch off his wrist and handed it to her.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" The question came out as a whisper from between her lips.

It didn't make sense. Why does everything in this conversation look like a farewell?

"We will be on opposite sides tomorrow, but i want you to know... I will always be with you, Y/N."

"I saw the way he looked at you... That's how I used to look at Sator before he became a monster in my life." Kat started, running a hand through Y/N's hair. "When I was lying on that stretcher and partially drugged with the medicines, I saw him beside you... watching you sleep. There was so much love in his eyes. Love for a lifetime, Y/N. So don't do this to yourself. The way he left hurt us all, but there was nothing you or any other agent could do to change what happened at Stalask-12. Neil saved the world. This gave us a second chance. You cannot give up now. This organization needs you. And keeping your mind busy at that moment is the first step towards a fresh start."

"N-No, I can't..." She broke the hug, shaking her head in denial. "I left the organization."

"What? Don't you work for Tenet anymore? But when we first met you told me that you can't imagine working in another area... And that this is your life's work."

"Being an agent is my life's work. I was in Yemen when Tenet found me and assigned me to this mission. My only job is to make this world a less hostile place, but the motto of this organization is not what I believe, Kat. What's happened's happened. Really? It doesn't work for me." Y/N ended the sentence with drops of anger in her voice and Kat did not say a single word.

Through the newspapers, Max's mother followed what was happening in Yemen over the years – a real endless war – and knowing that Y/N was in the middle of it, makes the situation unquestionable. People died in front of her eyes. Friends of the corporation. And then some time later, Tenet arrived with a fresh start, but in the end everything remained the same. She lost Neil. It is as if her life's work never had a happy ending because the world will never stop being a hostile place.

"He knows?" It was easy for Y/N to identify who she was talking about. The Protagonist. Or just TP.

"Here's another problem. I worked with him and indirectly worked for him at the same time! God, that man created this organization! And his name remains a mystery to us all!" She pinched the tip of her nose, feeling frustrated with all the secrets that haunt this organization. "And answering your question, yes, he knows, but he did not argue about it. I was a complete mess and he was not doing very well either... He stayed in my apartment for the first month, probably to make sure I didn't do anything stupid." And Y/N would be forever grateful for that. She likes him. Just as friends, of course. TP was a reserved man, but it was he who held her when everything was falling apart. "But we've had a fight. I blamed him for what happened at Stalask-12 and since then we haven't spoken anymore."

It was easy to see that they carried more pain than they could actually bear. Y/N lost her great love and the man lost his best friend. The situation just turned into a conflict between them and that was the result.

Realizing the sadness reflected in Y/N's eyes, Kat decided to change the subject of the conversation. Keeping that thought, she smiled and pointed to the painting on the wall. Maybe that could help.

"You seemed interested in this one."

"Oh yes, in my spare time I am a lover of art and its meanings. It is really attractive the way Ouroboros is connected to the Eternal Return..."

"And Amor Fati too." Kat completed, piquing Y/N's curiosity. This part was new to her. "It's impossible to affirm the Eternal Return without loving life. We need to learn that things happen as they do. Sometimes seemingly good. Sometimes seemingly bad. We don’t always get it our way... Unless we choose that whatever way it is, is our way. When we choose to Amor Fati, to love everything that happens, to love our fate, then we will always get it our way. Because the way it is, is the way it is. Unchangable. And therefore it must be good, even if it sucks."

These words touched Y/N's heart. This was a contradiction to what she is experiencing right now. Love your fate. She would like to understand and accept what happened, she really wanted, but why is it so difficult to move on?

Because Neil is dead.

That was the only explanation for her. The end of a relationship would be more acceptable. If he were alive, things would be completely different now. However, grief is overwhelming. How could she just accept what happened?

"I... I gotta go." That was all she managed to say before picking up her bag and leave the penthouse, ignoring Kat's protests.

When the elevator doors closed, an exhausted sigh left her mouth and the instant she saw her reflection in the mirror, Y/N wanted to cry again. After three months alone, she thought visiting her friend would be a good idea. Kat was willing to help, but the problem was that Y/N is not allowing herself to be helped. As soon as the doors opened, she left the metal box and found the hotel lobby partially empty. Her watch showed it was 3:13 AM, this explains the absence of people on the street as well. In front of her car, she searched the bag for the key and coincidentally her cell phone started to vibrate. Probably the text messages were from Kat, but confusion hit Y/N the instant she looked at the identifier and saw that the messages did not belong to any of her contacts.

Stay away from the car

They put a bomb

I'm on my way

Her first reaction was to take a few steps back and look around, trying to understand what’s going on and find the person responsible for these texts, but Y/N was alone in the dark street. When she thought it might be an unnecessary prank, a black SUV approached at high speed. The car stopped just a few meters away from where she was, but that was enough to make her body freeze.

"Y/N, come on!" The man exclaimed, the urgency in his voice would have made her run immediately, but she didn't move. Her feet had frozen on the floor. This cannot be real. "Come on, get in the car! We don't have much time!" He tried again, it was possible to hear the sound of the other cars approaching.

Y/N watched in slow motion the moment he left the car and ran towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"How is this possible?" She asked in a whisper, completely lost in his blue eyes.

"It's good to see you too." Neil admitted, feeling his heart race. She looked so fragile in his arms. Very different from the last time he saw her. "We have to go." He accompanied her to the car and as soon as Y/N took the passenger seat, he returned to his seat.

For her this moment was like a fever dream, so she just looked down and started counting her fingers. One, two, three, four, five... Neil noticed, but said nothing, just kept driving. The cars were fast approaching, but he would do everything possible and impossible to get Y/N away from these people.

"Give me your cell phone." He looked at her for a brief moment, but when Y/N didn’t react, he wasn't sure if she heard it, so he just took the phone from her hand and threw it out the window. That was enough to get her out of the numbness:

"What the fuck, Neil?!"

Despite the adrenaline rushing through his body, the man laughed.

"If I found you because of your cell phone, they can too." After that, he crossed the red light and made a risky turn, trying to end this chase. "Before you ask, no, this is not a dream. Unfortunately this is very real..." Neil didn't like what he saw when he adjusted the rearview mirror. "And now they are getting ready to shoot us."

That observation put Y/N on alert and she looked back, seeing a man with an AKS-74U and another with a Beretta M12.

"If you knew it wasn't a dream, why didn't you bring an armored car?" She ran her tongue between her lips, smiling at the man beside her. Neil tried to argue, but she just took off her seat belt and picked up the Glock 19 stuck in the vest he was wearing.

Y/N crawled out of the car and sat at the window opening. This encouraged the men in the two cars to start shooting, trying desperately to hit her. Neil shouted something that she couldn't understand and then she felt one of his hands on her thigh, giving her stability to continue with the plan. With her arm resting on the roof of the vehicle, Y/N aimed the gun at the car that was closest to them. Her intention was not to start a firefight in the middle of one of the main avenues in the city, but she had no other option. Holding her breath, she fired the first shot and the bullet hit the tire, taking the car out of circulation. Y/N celebrated while preparing for the second car, but dealing with this one was not an easy task. Now they were in a tunnel and, consequently, losing speed because of the other cars that came along the way. Neil left two pats on her leg, indicating that she had better get back in the car and that is what she did. Screams, honks and gunshots echoed through the tunnel, turning the place into a war zone. Whoever these men were, Y/N knew they weren't going to give up.

Tired of playing cat and mouse, she went to the back seat, getting on her knees. Through the broken glass above the trunk, Y/N adjusted the aim of her gun, ignoring the sniper and focusing on the driver. With another accurate shot, the bullet hit the man's chest and he lost control of the vehicle. The car overturned for a while, streaking the asphalt, but no other car was involved in the accident. Y/N sighed in relief and looked for another possible threat, just checking, but when she realized that the area was clean, she returned to the passenger seat, leaving the gun on the dashboard in front of her.

"Next time I'm going to get an armored car." Neil comments, stepping on the gas. "Nice shot, by the way."

"Anytime." Y/N smiled, trying to control her breathing.

With the adrenaline disappearing from her body, it was hard for her to believe that this was really happening. For many nights she cried, wondering what it would be like if Neil just came back to her, but now she was afraid to wake up and realize that it was just another vivid dream.

The sun was rising when they arrived in a shed away from the city. Seen from the outside, the place was a little scary, but the interior wasn't that bad. There was some equipment like trackers, walkie-talkie, bulletproof vests, weapons, ammunition; a table with a mess of papers and on the other side two beds and something that Y/N supposed to be a private bathroom.

"Where we are?"

We. That simple word echoed in her mind. Y/N thought that "we" didn't exist anymore.

"For now in a safe place. It's dangerous for you out there." He answered the question and took a bottle of water, handing it to her after taking a generous sip.

"Who are these people, Neil?" She wanted answers, lots of answers, and that frustrated the british spy because for the first time he didn't know what could happen.

Neil had a mission and that mission ended with him dying in Stalask-12, but after what TP did, everything changed.

"We have a name..." He wanted to say more, he wanted to reassure her, but that was all he had at the moment.

Y/N drank some water and left the bottle on the table, looking at some reports and photos. All photos were of the same man.

Lenard Vaher

"But apparently they don't just want you..."

It took a few seconds and when the realization hit Y/N, concern appeared on her face.

No, not him.

"Where's TP? He's safe, right?"

"He was going to see you when Lenard's men kidnapped him. This happened three weeks ago." And considering the anger in Neil's voice, finding TP was proving an almost impossible task, but in the midst of so much concern, one point attracted Y/N's attention.

"You said he was going to see me..."

"There was something he needed to tell you." Neil sighed, resting his hands on the table. A few strands of blond hair fell over his forehead, but he quickly shook his head back, as he always did. "He returned to Stalask-12, Y/N."

After that statement, the only sound that could be heard was Neil's footsteps closing the distance between them and the first thing she did was put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Neil smiled. And that was not one of his famous smiles. That was a shy smile. His heart was beating like a drum and it was all because of her. Loving Y/N was something so special and pure, that Neil accepted his fate without a second thought. Saving the world, he was giving her a second chance to live, but now he is the one who received a second chance.

"I missed you every day." Before she could begin to consider the meaning behind his words, he settled his mouth upon hers, robbing her of thought.

She closed her eyes and melted against him, flattening her hands on his arms. Neil caught her bottom lip in his teeth, nibbling and licking at it until she thought she might perish from the intensity of the feeling. She whimpered at the sensation, and he rewarded the sound by deepening the kiss, giving her everything she desired. His tongue stroked hers, slow and insistent. A lush, decadent pleasure unfolded within them, snaking through their veins as though it had lain coiled in anticipation for years.

Just waiting for this moment.

–––––––––––��––––––––––––

a/n – really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ;)

[sasster]

I dunno if you guys can tell but I haven’t done a lot of fantroll stuff lately. Or really. Much of anything. But I DID write this.

Mind this is just some oc species shit, BUT it would mean quite a lot to me if you guys read it. Since it’s the... Longest thing I’ve written in .. All of 2021? Yike!

Anyway, as usual, here is a link to a google doc if reading it on my blog upsets the minds eye.

----

“You know that we are practically Gods in comparison, right? It is a marvel that my people are not in the conquering business. We would be very good at it, do you not agree?”

Their captor spoke with a high in their voice, Qei was positive that they’d gotten their hands on some sort of mind altering substance to get them into the mindset that they were in -- Well, how else could you explain prattling on your master plan to a supposed lesser species? He found it rather foolish for the younger Cardali to speak so loudly and so boldly in front of newly rounded up prisoners. That was to say nothing to the tragically gaudy and unnecessary large castle-like structure that he and the four others of his crew were dragged to. Truly, he’d never seen such high ceilings outside of the Temples on Cardalith. What a waste of resources.

The upside is that the People of Aeilur were a remarkably easy species to mimic. They have no real sexual dimorphism, at least not one noticeable from the outside looking in, nor do they spend a lot of their time on ridiculous beauty standards. They were just a product of their world. Aeilur is a beautiful planet, actually, lush with fauna and vegetation long extinct on most other worlds. A strong, sturdy, practical people, with pacifism practiced down to an art, they wouldn’t raise arms even if an entire army to make a grab for their planet and it’s bountiful resources. It was Falarittus’ responsibility to help keep such things from occurring.

Qei could see how an opportunistic megalomaniac might have taken advantage of such information, he just never thought that he would see the day that one such megalomaniac would be an Ambassador of Cardalith, one of their own. He was disgusted.

There is a tug at the shackles that restrain his top set of hands, indicating that while he was lost in thought he’d stopped shuffling behind. He emits a low inquisitive grunt, he was going his usual hm, but he supposes that this is the only translation his current form could offer. How fascinating! He’d have to make plans to spend more time with the People of Aeilur. Under less pressing circumstances.

There is another sharp tug at his reins and he resumes trudging along behind the madman. How humiliating. Demoralizing. It was important for him to experience this though, so that he could speak to his short experience under their thumb when it came time to trial. There would be a trial. Not that Qei was worried that Falarittus would have much of a case. It would be short.

Not as short as it would have been if Qei were to let his patron in on the manhunt -- Why that temperamental giant would have lost it before they even stepped foot into this… Mansion? Seriously, this thing was gaudy. Might’ve burned the whole thing down Himself. No matter, this was always going to be a job for Qei. He even felt bad bringing along a crew with him. Diollea insisted he bring back up “just in case”.

He threw a worried glance over his shoulder to gauge them. They seemed comfortable, and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

Oh. Right, Falarittus was still talking.

“Once they see what I’ve done for the people of this world, the Gods themselves would shower me in praise. My peers and superiors would turn to me for guidance in the new age!”

It looks like Qei tuned back in just in time for a gem! He couldn’t help himself as the air quickly expelled from his new and quite long proboscis, which resulted in trumpets quite a bit louder than he was anticipating. He thinks this might be what a laugh is for this species. He did not intend to be laughing, but the idea that their creators would entertain the idea of the subjugation of any species, let alone one so peaceful as the People of Aeilur, was preposterous!

Only an idiot who made their home the size of a mall would have such delusions.

“What is so funny, worm?”

Worm! Perhaps not letting Diollea come was the mistake, this miserable pile of goo would long be ashes in that event. The trumpets were coming in spurts now, and Qei’s guess was that these were the equivalent of hiccups or maybe wheezing.

Qei’s crew took some steps back as Falarittus took the several steps to close the gaps between them. Now, naturally, Falarittus and Qei were eye level, but in this form they only came to just about chest level with him. Gentle, emphasis on the giant, indeed. The latters trunk swayed between them with a gentle undulation in a behavior that Qei was actually quite familiar with! Taunting.

He’d only seen it when three sisters prepared for a friendly bout of wrestling upon their reunion; It was cute. This was not.

“Oh, did you want to fight? Is that it? Did you plan to be the warrior of your people?”

Qei merely held up his two sets of shackled hands, hands big enough to hold Falarittus’ head in it. Hands that could crack their skull like a fragile piece of pottery if he were so inclined. He could not disrespect this form with violence, though, he thinks.

The bitter laugh that erupted from the man opposite him was unlike anything he’d ever heard come from the mouth of another Cardali, and he has met many of them in his day. It was almost ear splitting and made the hairs from his arms to his chest stand on end. Danger receptors? Very nice.

“It is not in you to fight, but please raise your hands to me so that I may cite self defense back to my superiors.”

There was a sick smirk on their face as they pulled a set of keys from their robes -- Robes, they were wearing robes like some sort of high priest in a fantasy story book -- and began to unlock the cruel piece of metal from Qei’s top set of arms. This was ideal, as he was fairly certain this is the set that translates back to the singular set of arms in his natural form, as they did not rudely burst from his shoulder blades like the second set did.

“Let's keep it fair, I only have the one pair after all.”

“Fair?” His own voice was quite alien to him, raspy and guttural as it tried to form words unfamiliar to the vocal cords tongue he borrowed to speak. Standard was not a language that belonged in this mouth.

“Fair. Say it with me. F-er.” Holy. Xenophobia. How did this pass the sniff test? No, there had to be another traitor in their ranks for such an awful wretched soul to have been left alone here. An example was to be made, and Qei would make sure that it was handled swiftly. The only good news was that this was so early on, that there was just this region of the planet that experienced it. Which was a really bad thing to think was a good thing. But there was a chance that the People of Aeilur would continue to allow Cardalith’s aid.

“Fair.” Qei said, once again the word barely made it past his tusks in one piece.

Falarittus cackled wildly at this attempt as Qei closed his eyes and focused his energy intro retracting that disrespectful set of arms back into his body, he’d been shifting for quite long time at this point in his life, so the rest of the shift passed by with a pleasant hum and totally not worth describing from the inside.

He reopened his eyes to the sound of metal hitting the floor, he was now looking at his own hands, ambient green glow and birthmarks exactly where he’d left them. They were clenched into tight fists. Most importantly, though, he was staring straight into the shell shocked eyes of the once quite full of himself clown.

“Fair enough?”

“Qei’eleritte, wait, let's talk about this --”

He swung hard, possibly with more force than intended, because they crumpled to the floor almost instantly. Behind him, he could hear the humored trumpeting of his still disguised crew behind him.

This could have been so much worse.

[kimoralov3]

Hello, Old Friend

Requested by: @nuclearpizza84

Word Count: 2449

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x gn!black!mutant!reader

espèce d'imbécile = idiot in french according to google translate

Warnings: swearing, talks of attempted murder, mention of racial slurs

Charles’ POV

“Who’s the next person on our list?” Erik asked as he sat in one of the chairs, propping his feet up on my desk. I pushed his feet off of my desk then picked up the notebook filled with mutants we could possibly recruit.

“Someone by the name of (Y/N) (Y/LN). They live in Atlanta, Georgia, and as of now it doesn't seem as if they have a job."

"(Y/N)? I used to know someone with that name. Do you have a guess as to what their mutation may be?" Erik sat up straighter in the chair. Oh, now he's interested now that this person has the same name as an old friend of his?

"No I don't, but I guess we shall find out soon. If we want to make it there and back before midday tomorrow, we should leave in the next 30 minutes." Erik nodded and stood up, walking towards the door. "What if this person happens to be your old friend?"

"If this is the same (Y/N) as the one I know, they'll need a lot more convincing than us being in the same boat as them. They're quite stubborn in that way." Erik said as he stopped and turned to face me.

"Like you?" I asked as I titled my head to the side slightly. Erik glared at me before exiting the room, not bothering shutting the door behind him. There was definitely something else going on between Erik and his supposed old friend.

----

Erik's POV

I stepped out of the car, buttoning up my coat as I took in my surroundings. We had taken a taxi to a small town, not too far from Atlanta. There was a corner store across from us, some restaurants down the street, and a combined book/coffee shop. Of course you would run away here. It's the perfect place to escape from your past. 

"Well, it certainly is quite lovely here. According to Cerebro, (Y/N) comes here every other week to get some more books for the orphanage across town. Very nice of them." Charles said as he made his way towards the book/coffee shop. I followed him, taking one last look at the street before stepping inside.

One half of the shop was filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves, all marked with whatever genre of book filled the shelves. If we were to walk about a foot forward, we'd be standing directly in front of the white and grey display case. There was a counter attached where the coffee machine sat. The back of other side of the shop was filled with bean bag chairs and pillows, while the front is where the tables and chairs sat. 

"Welcome gentlemen, would you like a cup of- Erik?" A voice said as they came from the back. I turned my attention towards the owner of the voice and smiled.

"Hello, (Y/N). How have you been?"

"Wow, he wasn't lying, he actually has friends. I'm impressed." Charles said with a hint of mockery in his tone.

"Erik, what are you doing here? I thought we agreed to never look for each other again." (Y/N) asked as they walked around the counter to stand in front of us.

"Well that was then, and this is now. We need your help." I said. They haven't changed a bit. 

"Oh, I've heard that before. You can fuck off Erik, I'm never helping you again." They said as they glared up at me. You always did look cute when you were upset.

"I don't know what the history between the two of you is, but he's not asking for your help. I am. In return I'm offering to help you control your mutation. If we could sit down I could explain everything further." Charles said as he looked between the two of us.

"Mutation? What are you talking about, I don't have any type of mutation. And who even are you?" (Y/N) asked as they finally turned their attention towards Charles, giving him a once over.

"I'm Charles Xavier. You see, the three of us all have a gene- well, a mutated gene- that gives us specific abilities. I'm a telepath, and Erik can control metal." 

"You're crazy. The whole time Erik and I worked together, he never showed signs of having any special 'abilities'. Other than being an asshole." (Y/N)'s lips curled into a slight smirk at the insult.

"It's not my fault you kept getting in the way." I said.

"You pushed me off a fucking train, Erik. I think it's safe to say that that wasn't my fault."

"You're the one who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. I told you to stay in the train and wait for me, but you just couldn't follow directions." 

"So you decided that the safest bet was to push me off a moving train?"

"Exactly."

"Erik, you're not helping. (Y/N), I understand that you probably don't trust Erik, but you can trust me. If anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility. So what do you say?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, looking between the two of us. I was beginning to think that they'd say no and kick us out, but they finally came to a decision. "Fine, I'll help. As long as Erik doesn't double cross me. Again."

Charles looked at me expectedly, making me roll my eyes. Please, we need all the help we can get. Charles communicated to me telepathically. "Fine, I won't double cross you."

"Excellent! (Y/N,) let's take a taxi to your place so you can gather some of your things. On the way, I can tell you all about my research and what exactly it is we're doing here. I'm sure you'll find it all very interesting." Charles said as he led (Y/N) out of the shop. 

"You coming, espèce d'imbécile?" (Y/N) asked as they got in the taxi. I snapped out of whatever trance I was in and got in the taxi.

----

(Y/N)'s POV

Charles had spent both taxi rides and most of the plane ride explaining his findings about mutants. To be honest, I didn't understand most of it, but he seemed excited to share this information with someone new, so I wasn't going to stop him. All I knew was that I had another reason for people to call me a freak. Once the plane landed, Charles drove us to his house- excuse me, I mean mansion. "Well shit. You lived here by yourself?" I asked as I got out of the car. 

"Well, not entirely. I have a sister named Raven, you'll meet her soon." Charles said as we walked inside. I can't believe I'm in a fucking mansion. If only my parents could see me now. 

"Oh good, you're back! Hello there, I'm Raven." The blond girl said as she smiled brightly and ran over to me and gave me a hug. I was shocked for a second, but I quickly hugged her back. Is this usually how people greet each other?

"I'm (Y/N), it's nice to meet you. You're Charles' sister, right?" I asked as she pulled away. She nodded and turned to Charles. 

"The boys are sitting in the kitchen. Can you take (Y/N)'s stuff to their room while I introduce them to everyone else?" She asked him. He nodded and grabbed my suitcases, walking somewhere down the hall. She then turned to Erik. "Are the two of you getting along well?"

Erik scoffed. "Me and Charles or me and (Y/N)? Because me and Charles are getting along swimmingly, but (Y/N) is being a bit dramatic if you ask me."

"Says the man who spent 30 minutes crying because he lost track of some stupid guy." I shot back quickly. Erik's jaw clenched as he gave me a once over, then walked in the same direction that Charles went.

"Well that was rude of him. Anyway, come on, let's go meet the rest of the boys." She said as she grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the kitchen. One boy was standing in front of the sink with a beer in his hand, another one with glasses sitting at the table with a bunch of files in front of him, and a messy brown haired boy digging through the fridge. "Boys, we have a new friend. Introduce yourselves please."

"Alex." The boy with the beer said.

The boy rummaging through the fridge stood up, holding a bottle of water in one hand and waving at me with the other. "I'm Seth."

"I'm Hank, nice to meet you." He gave me an awkward smile.

"(Y/N), nice to meet you all." 

"So, what are your special abilities?" Alex asked as he threw the bottle in the trash.

"Anatomy manipulation. You?" They all looked at me like I was crazy. Did I say something wrong?

"A-Anatomy manipulation? That's a pretty violent thing." Hank said as he pushed his glasses to sit correctly on his nose.

"Yeah, it can get pretty ugly. That's why I don't really like to use them. Hurting people isn't really my style."

"I learned that the hard way." Erik's voice came from behind us. I swear this man gets on my fucking nerves.

"Hey Erik. Did you need something?" Raven asked as she turned around to face him. She is definitely interested in him. 

"I would like to speak to (Y/N) in my room."

"Why would I go anywhere with you. You gonna try and kill me again or something?"

"I promised not to, remember? Now come with me." He grabbed my hand and dragged me to his room, closing the door behind us and locking it. First of all, that's creepy. Second of all he could've given me a chance to walk without him dragging me along like I'm some child.

"What do you want, Erik?" I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I want to apologize. For being an ass. And for anything else I might have done that caused you pain. Will you forgive me?" He said. His words were rushed, he stumbled a little and he seemed out of breath. He must not be used to having to apologize for his actions. Typical.

I stared at him for a moment, switching my focus between his eyes before speaking. "Well I'm not going to say that I forgive you, but I'm glad that you decided to apologize. What made you want to do that?"

"Charles helped me see something that I couldn't see before. Although there's something I need to do to prove his theory."

"And what's that? Be nice to everyone for a day? Well good luck with that because the day that you're nice to people is the day that hell freezes over." 

"Has anyone ever told you that you make things extremely difficult?" Erik asked as he looked down at you. Why did he have to be so tall? 

"No, but then again I've never had to work with someone as stubborn as you."

"Oh I'm the stubborn one? Aren't you the one who refused to leave a bar until the bartender apologized for calling you that horrid word? Then when he finally did mutter out a half assed apology, you still wouldn't leave? Or am I just remembering things incorrectly?" Erik stated, his smile growing bigger at each sentence. I chuckled and shook my head.

"You see, that was different. He called us both slurs, and I wasn't just going to let him get away with that. Plus you know you enjoyed it, you sat there laughing the whole time." I said as I poked him in his chest. 

"I always did love the way you would stand up for what you thought was right." 

"Oh, so you don't hate me? Well there's a shock. You are full of surprises today, aren't you?"

"Why would I hate you? You're the closest thing to a friend I have at the moment."

"If I'm the closest thing you have to a friend, you seriously need to work on your social skills."

"Yeah, Charles said the same thing. Just a lot more complicated, honestly I stopped listening about a minute in. He tends to take the long way of explaining things."

"I think he's just excited to be with other people. He's been alone in this big house with only one other person to talk to. I'd be happy to be around other people too."

"That's fair. So what have you been up to since the last time we talked?" Erik asked as he sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. I sat down and smiled at him.

"You mean since the last time you tried to kill me? Nothing much really. As you see I moved to Atlanta, and I was working at a coffee/book shop. Sometimes I babysit the owner's kids while she goes away for work, and when I'm not at work, I volunteer at the orphanage. Pretty boring stuff if you ask me. How about you? Still chasing after Shaw?" I ask as I look up at him. 

"Of course, he has to pay for what he's done. This is the closest I've gotten to catching him."

"I understand. But what are you gonna do once you finally kill him? Are you gonna move away again?"

"No, I don't think I will. I think I might stay here and help Charles with his plan- even though it sounds utterly insane."

"What plan?" 

"He wants to turn this place into a school for people like us- his preferred term is mutant. He wants to help other people in the way that we never had help."

"That's actually very kind of him." Charles does seem like the kind of guy to put others before himself.

"Yeah, I guess. You should stay too, you've always been more of a people person than I."

"Maybe I will. It'd give me more time to annoy the hell out of you." I said as I nudged his shoulder. He chuckled and nudged me back.

"It's getting late, you should head to bed. It's been a long day." Erik said as he helped me off the bed.

"Yeah, I am getting pretty tired. Thanks for the trip down memory lane."

"Any time. Goodnight (Y/N)." He leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I smiled and waved as I walked away, in search of my new room. Maybe Erik Lehnsherr does have a heart under all those steel walls after all.

[ladyrivia]

Spitfire (Chapter Two)

Previous Part

Summary: Anya settles into her new environment, Carrillo and Pena continue to pine over her.

Warnings: Google Translate Spanish, guns, sexual thoughts

Anya gently shut the door, laying down and finally allowing herself to rest after hearing the click of Carrillo’s door down the hall. She closed her eyes, listening to the faint sound of the shower starting from the master bathroom. Getting comfortable she--

“Fuck,” Anya groaned, remembering her sleepwear was in her bag, in Carrillo’s car. Which was locked, and his keys with him in his room. He said I could get him if I needed anything. Plus I wouldn’t mind the sight of him shirtless.. Maybe more than shirtless. She smirked at the thought for a moment before clapping her hand over her face, dragging her hand down and holding her jaw. Stop it. You’re going to be working together. You can’t make it weird. Releasing the hold, Anya took off her jeans, folding them and setting them on a chair in the room before wrestling off her bra from under her shirt, throwing it on top of the neatly folded jeans.

Anya eventually sprawled out under the blankets and comforter, the warm embrace of the bed soothing her aching muscles. She found herself quickly succumbing to sleep, but she could’ve sworn she heard footsteps approaching her room and the door creaking open.

Carrillo couldn’t help himself, his mind completely taken over by the thought of the woman sleeping down the hall. He found his mind lingering on her big brown eyes, the blush that would creep up on her face, the way her jeans hugged her curves, the cut in the shirt being the perfect length to reveal her cleavage. Para. Stop. He felt blood rushing to his newly formed erection, fist clenching in an attempt to regain composure.

He rushed to finish scrubbing the sweat and grime off his body, then cranked the water temperature to as cold as it could go. His muscles tightened in retaliation, but he accomplished his goal of getting rid of his erection.

Changing into his sweatpants, he realised that he had left her bags in his car. Cursing under his breath, he stalked to the guest bedroom, quietly opening the door. He found Anya already asleep, her hair forming a halo around her head on the pillow and her face looked so peaceful. Espere. Wait. Carrillo found himself standing in the doorway, watching her sleep like a creep. ¿Para qué estaba aquí de nuevo? What was I here for again? His eyes focused on the dimly moonlit chair, seeing her jeans and bra sitting on top.

Carrillo felt a bit guilty about forgetting her bags, but she seemed perfectly content in her stripped down day clothes. He softly shut the door and returned to his room, shuffling into his bed. Normally he would have trouble falling asleep, the constant pressure from his job keeping his brain from shutting off, but remembering the soft features of the new agent, sleep found him quickly.

~

Javier didn’t stop cursing himself all to the store around the corner from the apartment building. Idiot. Fucking forgetting to set up her furniture. He continued mentally kicking himself as he picked up multiple cartons of his, and seemingly Anya’s, favorite brand of cigarettes, along with a couple bottles of whiskey. Least he could do is prepare her a DEA Agent welcome basket.

Returning to his apartment, he searched for the notepad which he had written down the storage locker number, lock combination, and her apartment number. Shit. Her apartment was the one right next to his, which had been empty for as long as he had remembered. The storage locker was close to the embassy, Anya having shipped her furniture down to the Southern Americas long before her arrival in Columbia.

Javier sat in his bed for a moment, formulating the plan of how he was going to move her furniture while smoking yet another cigarette. Satisfied, he kicked off his clothes and quickly fell asleep, dreaming of his new partner.

~

Anya ran down the hallway, sweat running down her face even though the cold air whipped around her in the abandoned warehouse. Her gun was drawn, pointed at the ground as she continued to run to the last door, kicking it down. A gasp left her throat when she saw her partner, Ethan, tied up to a chair, badly beaten and bleeding. She quickly ran towards him, kneeling before the chair he was bound to. “Ethan, oh Ethan.” She set her gun on the ground and brushed the bloody and matted hair away from his face, looking into his almost dead eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing she heard was the cocking of a gun behind her.

Anya gasped and sat straight up in bed, a sheen of cold sweat covering her entire body. Her eyes darted around the room, confused by the new surroundings. Memories of the previous night flooded back to her. Flight. Embassy. Bar. Carrillo. Anya looked at the alarm clock, 07:00. 7AM. She sighed, the nightmare had jostled her nerves. A shower would be nice.

“No bag, no clothes. Of course.” Another sigh escaped her lips as she shuffled out of bed, her bare legs being exposed to the morning light. She felt bad for going through his things, but she really didn’t feel like putting yesterday’s clothes back on to go ask him to get her stuff for her. Bingo. Anya found an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt in the closet.

She was pleased to find the guest shower already filled with toiletries, taking the extra time to scrub the remnants of long travel off her body. Exiting the shower, Anya encountered another problem, she had no clean panties. She shrugged. Guess we’re going commando for now.

Carrillo woke up shortly after Anya, hearing the shower from the guest room turn on. He quickly got out of bed and got dressed, mornings were always easy for him, whether it was years of conditioning from in the military or just naturally being a morning person. Today was a rare day, having the morning off. He shuffled to the kitchen, deciding to make breakfast for him and his new favorite agent.

~

“Steve, wake your ass up!” Javier pounded on his partner’s door.

“The hell do you want?” Steve muttered as he opened the door, his appearance disheveled by sleep.

“Need your help moving Donato’s stuff in.” He cut off Steve’s groans of protest. “You accused her of being a prostitute yesterday, the least you can do is help me get her stuff set up.” Javier purposely said this part a bit loud, so Connie would hear.

“Steve!” Connie came up behind him, swatting him on the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me that!” Steve muttered something of an apology to his wife. “Quit whining and help Javi move her stuff in.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll help you Javi, just give me a damn minute.” Javi snickered after Steve shut the door in his face, boy was he whipped.

“Don’t forget your keys! We’ll need to use your truck!”

~

Anya smelled something delicious cooking when she exited the shower, following the scent, she left the guest room and found Carrillo in the kitchen. Her footsteps were quiet, quiet enough he didn’t turn around when she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She took the sight of him in, his uniform tight over the muscles of his arm and his back. After a minute, he finally turned around to grab something from the kitchen island, noticing her.

He had to stop himself from dropping his jaw open, and suddenly all the guilt from leaving her bags in the car was gone. He would do it again to see her in his clothes again. They were definitely too big for her, his t-shirt reaching her mid thighs and the extra length of the sweatpants pooled at her feet. Carrillo chewed the inside of his cheek when he felt his erection return.

“Morning,” Anya played it off as if she did not stare at him for a minute. “Smells fantastic, what are you making?” She sat in a chair opposite of where Carrillo was standing at the island.

“Huevos revueltos con tomate y cebolla,” Scrambled eggs with tomato and onion. He pointed to one pan. “And arepas.” He pointed to another pan, switching back to english.

“Anything I can help with?”

“No, just make yourself comfortable. Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” He poured her a cup, leaning over the island to set it infront of her. The creamer and sugar were already on the island, over to the side. Anya fixed her coffee the way she liked it, extra cream and regular sugar.

“That is a disgrace to coffee.” Carrillo commented when he saw the milky color in her mug.

“Bite me.” Anya took a long sip of her drink. “I suffer with the shitty coffee at the office, at least let me enjoy it the way I like it here.” Her accent slipped again, rolling her eyes when his lips twitched up in amusement when he heard it. A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two.

“I like your clothes, where’d you get them?” Anya gaze fixed on him with a glare, but with a hint of amusement sparkled in her eyes. Last night he was so serious, she wasn’t sure if he had a sense of humor. Well, at least until now.

“Had to find something to wear after I took a shower, I didn't want to strut around in a towel.”

“Podemos recoger su bolso después de comer.” We can get your bag after we eat. He bit his cheek again, his erection making itself known again after the thought of her walking around his house in just a towel. He plated the food, walking around the counter to set her plate in front of her before taking the seat next to her.

“Thank you,” Anya gave him a big smile before digging into her food. “Damn, you really can cook, this is very good.” She praised him.

“Mi mamá me enseñó todo lo que sé.” My mom taught me everything I know. He returned her smile, taking a bite of his own food.

~

“We have to move all this?” Steve complained when they opened the storage locker.

“We were supposed to move it before she arrived.” Javier placed his hands on his hips as he analyzed all the items in storage, Steve shuffling inside to get a better look.

“Wait.. if her bed is here then where did she sleep.. Don’t tell me you--”

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Javier practically growled. “She went home with Carrillo.”

“Carrillo?” Steve’s eyes widened. “You let her go home with that asshole?”

“Don’t remind me.” Jealousy grew in his chest. “He asked me if I would rather her sleep in my bed where.. You know.” “Well, he isn’t wrong. I’m glad you kept your hands off our new partner.. I hope it stays that way.”

“What?” Javier was surprised Steve was being so blunt with him.

“She’ll eat you alive man, it takes a particular type of woman to survive the boy’s club. There ain’t no way she’d put up with your bullshit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Javier started to get defensive.

“C’mon man, don’t act as if you don’t know,” Steve raised an eyebrow. “You have commitment issues, you fuck prostitutes for inform--”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Javier harshly cut him off. “Let’s get this shit in the truck.”

~

Carrillo and Anya took their time eating breakfast, sharing stories from previous assignments and raids.

“So your partner, what happened to him?” Carrillo asked what he thought was an innocent question, but immediately regretted it when he saw her freeze, her smile fading from her face.

“Transferred.” She muttered into her coffee, both of them knowing she was lying, but he didn’t push the subject further. They finished the rest of breakfast in silence, Carrillo feeling guilty yet again. He wished he could formulate the words to tell her that he could empathize with her, lord knows he could with the amount of good soldiers he lost in the field, but with years of shutting off and building a wall between him and his emotions, the words never came.

Anya finished eating shortly after Carrillo, wordlessly picking up both their plates and moving to the sink to clean them. She let her emotions wash down the drain along with the dirty water, replacing the shield that Carrillo had slowly whittled down. Damn him. She finished washing the dishes fast, waving him off when he came over and insisted he helped.

“We should grab your stuff.” Carrillo glanced at the clock, grimacing when he realized there wasn’t a lot of time left before they would have to go to work.

“I don’t need to bring everything in, I just need a change of clothes.” Anya followed him out to his car, leaning into the back seat and rifling through her bag to grab a fresh set of clothes. Her ass was fully on display, Carrillo not too subtly staring at it while she was bent over, but quickly looked up when she turned around.

While walking back inside, Anya tripped on the excess fabric of the large sweatpants, falling into him. He whirled around and caught her, hands firmly grasping her shoulders, one of her hands were braced on his chest.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Her face flushed bright red.

“You’re okay.” He couldn’t help but give her a small smile, she was really adorable when she was flustered.

Anya’s heart raced, she thoroughly enjoyed his hands on her far too much. She practically ran to the guest room, trying to regain her composure while getting dressed. She dressed in a fresh pair of jeans, a short sleeved button down with a tank top serving as an undershirt. She tugged her black boots on, very similar to what members of the Search Bloc wore. She pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, letting a few pieces fall to frame her face.

Re-emerging from the guestroom, Anya noticed how Carrillo stared at her, his eyes committing every piece of her to memory. They stood looking at each other for a minute, before Carrillo broke the silence.

“Ready to go?”

~

“Morning fellas,” Anya greeted the pair as she and Carrillo entered the bullpen. “How was your evening, Murphy? I hear you have a lovely wife at home.”

“That I do, speaking of which, she has invited you guys over for dinner tonight, you coming?”

“Of course, Javier here has told me that apparently we’d get along well.” She nudged Javier in the shoulder.

“You know I’d never miss a chance to eat your wife’s cooking.” Javi chuckled.

“Wish I could but, I have a date with some narcos tonight.” Carrillo placed a hand on the small of her back. “I’ll come by after I do my initial rounds to get your Kevlar and gun.” He stalked off towards the Search Bloc’s part of the building.

Carrillo’s touch did not go unnoticed by either man, though Javier’s mind quickly went to jealousy. He wondered if anything happened between the two last night, Carrillo wasn’t known to be a physically affectionate guy, especially towards people he just met. His fist clenched as he returned to facing his desk, trying to distract himself from the workings of his mind.

“Great, we’ll just head there after work. I’m sure that’ll be around dinner time anyways.” Steve fidgeted with the pen between his fingers, also returning to the papers he was pouring over. Anya popped the lid of the tub again and dove into the ESCOBAR files once more.

~

“Anya,” Carrillo returned almost an hour later. “Ready for the armory?”

“Yeah.” She glanced up from where she was reading, mentally marking where she was leaving off.

“Right this way.” Carrillo started to lead her to the armory, Javier staring at her ass while she followed him. The fabric of the jeans perfectly hugged her curves, her gait naturally having a little swing to her hips. A slight erection was forming under his desk.

A pen hit the side of Javi’s head.

“Dude, what the hell?” He grabbed the pen, lightly tossing it back to Steve.

“She’s our partner, Peña. Not eye candy.” He rolled his eyes.

~

“Let’s try this one first.” Carrillo looked through their extra Kevlar vests for one that would fit her best, this would typically be easy but they also had to consider, well, her boobs.

Anya lifted the vest over her head, sticking her head through the hole and settling the heavy vest on her shoulders. She strapped the Velcro tight at her sides, wiggling her arms to test the fit.

“Verdict?” She asked as he grabbed the vest, tugging it a bit to inspect.

They were extremely close, she could feel his breath hot on her face, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. They stood for a moment, neither of them knowing what their next move was.

Abruptly, he stood back, giving her a quick nod. “It fits,” He took something out of his pocket. “Here.” He handed her what she realized to be her name tape, DONATO being embroidered in black onto the green fabric. She slapped it onto the velcro space for it, then quickly got out of the uncomfortable Kevlar.

“Thanks.” She gave him a smile. Carrillo turned to the gun locker, unlocking it and handing her S&W Model 39 pistol and a box of ammunition. Anya tucked the gun into the back of her waistband, and put the box in her back pocket.

“You’re now fully equipped.” He shut and locked the gun locker once more.

“Thank you again, Carrillo.” She picked up her Kevlar vest.

“Of course. Can’t have my favorite agente underprepared in the field.” He gave her a warm smile, patting her on the back. “I have to go back to my rounds, adiós.” Carrillo left her in the armory, returning to his demanding job.

While Anya walked back to her desk, she allowed herself to blush over the fact that he called her his favorite agent.

“All suited up?” Javier looked up as she approached, she lifted the heavy Kevlar.

“Yup.” Anya opened the empty bottom drawer of her desk, shoving the Kevlar in. She unholstered her gun, and took out the magazine, placing the body of the gun in the bottom. She took out the box of ammo, quickly counting out 8 bullets and loading them into the magazine, placing both into the bottom drawer as well before closing it.

Anya sat down and returned to the evidence box, a heavy sigh escaping her lips as she dove into the realm of Escobar again.

~

“That’s it, I’m calling it.” Steve announced as he got out of his chair.

“Me too, Donato, why don’t I drive you home? Steve and I moved your furniture and boxes in this morning.”

“Oh! Thank you guys,” Anya stood, stretching her arms over her head, her shirt riding up slightly. Javier took a quick glance. “That’d be great Javier, we’ll just have to stop by the secretary, I left my bags there this morning.”

~

“Here’s your apartment, and your keys.” Javier gestured to the door before dropping the keys in her hand. “My apartment is the one right next to yours.”

“Can’t even escape you outside of work.” Anya chuckled as she unlocked the door, tossing her bags in before shutting it and locking it again.

“You make that sound as if it’s a bad thing.” She responded with a light punch to his shoulder.

“I’m starving, where’s Steve’s place?”

“Couple floors up, c’mon, his wife makes fantastic food.” A few flights of stairs and jokes later, they arrived at the door, Javier knocking-- more like banged-- on the door.

“Hey guys, come on in!” Steve answered the door with a large grin, clearly being at home with his wife made him a happy man.

“Hi Javi, oh and Anya!” Connie quickly greeted them, giving Anya a big hug. “It’s so good to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too.” Anya returned the hug.

“I made some lasagna, is that alright?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely!”

“Wine or whiskey?”

“Wine please, is there anything I can do to help?” Anya followed Connie to the kitchen.

“No, it’s almost done, here, go take a seat.” Connie handed her a wine glass and the bottle of wine, gesturing for her to sit at the dinner table where Javi and Steve already sat, sipping on their whiskey. She sat next to Javi, leaving the seat next to Steve for Connie. A few moments later, Connie followed with the steaming dish of lasagna.

Dinner was very pleasant, Connie asking all sorts of questions about New York and the work Anya did up there. Javier listened intently, wanting to learn everything he could about her. He loved the way she talked, especially when her accent would slip, showing her New York heritage.

As Javi predicted, Connie and Anya became friends quickly, the evening was filled with their squeals of excitement when they found another thing that both of them could relate to. As the night finally came to a close, and many promises to have a dinner party again, Javier and Anya returned to their floor.

“Wow,” Anya yawned. “I am tired.” She stretched her arms over her head.

“Well, in that case, you should head to bed.” Javi leaned on her door frame, basking in her presence.

“I’m planning on it, thank you again for moving my stuff in.”

“Not a problem.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he could use his usual methods of charming women on her, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He wanted more than just his usual one night stand with his informants, there was something about her that made him feel… he couldn’t find a way to describe it.

“Oh,” Her face scrunched in realization. “Could I ride with you to work in the mornings? I’m still working on getting a car down here. License transfers and all that.”

“Of course, though if you wake up late, I’ll leave your ass here.” Both of them let out a laugh.

“Goodnight, Pena.” They retreated into their respective apartments, Anya flicking on the light and looking around her new apartment. She pulled out a couple of essentials, mostly toiletries, and placed them in the bathroom. She quickly found her “BEDROOM” box and dug out her bedding, making her bed so she could sleep as soon as possible.

Anya was getting ready for bed, shuffling to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She was surprised to find a bottle of whiskey, a couple cartons of cigarettes, and a zippo lighter with “to new beginnings” engraved. She ripped open the carton of cigarettes, pulling out a carton, and returned to her bedroom. She laid down, lighting a cigarette, letting the nicotine relax her further.

Anya knocked against the wall behind her headboard, and was pleasantly surprised when she heard a knock back.

“Thank you for the housewarming gift, Javier.” She heard a chuckle come from the other side of the wall.

“Javi. Call me Javi.”