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neysaadept · 5 days ago

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Prometheus Chapter 6

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 6 - Restart

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.9k

AO3

Chapter 5

You walk into Quantico with a new sense of purpose after having drinks with Prentiss last night. The barrier that the section chief had built up with assumptions and unknowns had been removed and replaced with cautious optimism. That you can work with – a mutual understanding that you’re both on the same side, you meant no harm and were not a threat to the BAU. As it was a workday, you only shared another drink together but the two of you nursed them slowly.

As you still couldn’t say much about your past, you did elaborate on the high-speed pursuit that Tara hinted at.

“Yeah, so it all worked out. Dumb ass fell right into the spike strips. Took care of that quick once I got ‘em there,” you explain before taking another swallow of beer.

“They never learn.” Prentiss smiles and takes a sip as well. “But keeping pace with them was something else. No wonder they panicked.”

You smile. “Yep! Intel was good that they weren’t carrying much. They fired off a few rounds here and there to scare us off. Try and get me to fall back. They just never got the memo that the CIA Surveillance and Pursuit class was renamed cuz of me.” You raise your beer and wink at Prentiss. “Now affectionately known as the Maniac Chase Class.”

“Oh my god! That was you?” She laughs, shaking her head in amazement.

“Yeah. I gotta wee bit carried away on my third try.” You shrug coyly. “Really wanted to beat that record.”

“You demolished it.” She smirks. “And the car.”

“Which slid across the line for a new record,” you explain with pride and then pause for dramatic effect, holding your arms out, beer still in hand, “And … I walked away without a single injury.”

“See, that part I thought was all hype,” Emily admits and looks inquisitive.

“No, sadly. It helped I was young and dumb when I did it.” You say with introspective embarrassment. “I was so fucking stupid.”

She snorts with agreement while doing mental math. “Wait, how old were you when he recruited you?”

“Young,” you vaguely admit.

“But you joined before me,” she says, knowing you were aware of her records and nod that she was correct. “I joined late ’97 and everyone just naturally talked about the course like that.” You heard the implication. She meant that the nickname wasn’t a new idea and was trying to figure out how much longer you have been in the CIA before she joined.

You clear your throat in caution. “Leave it alone, Prentiss. I … I honestly can’t say anything more.” You grimace, knowing you already said too much.

Emily didn’t press for further information, but you knew she gleaned enough to make educated assumptions. You felt like a fool, letting your guard down like that, but the conversation flowed easily between the two of you. It felt … nice, being able to connect with someone new. That hadn’t happened since Rebecca.

You’ll need to keep your guard up since Prentiss reaffirmed that you would be a proper member of the BAU starting today. They would want to get to know you, and you them. You just have to remember to tone it down and not get carried away with enthusiasm. Keep Brian’s wisdom close to your heart that this is new to you and ground yourself. Don’t get swept away with emotions, like last night.

It was a late start at Quantico for you since you had to start at Langley. The stipend funds had been approved and your signature was needed on a lot of paperwork. Finance assured you that the money would be deposited into the BAU budget by the end of day. Prentiss would be able give Bailey the proverbial finger on Monday when she distributed the funds, pushing the unit into the green, leaving the penny pincher helpless with his mission to disband the BAU that way.

Prentiss had texted you that the team would be ready for you in the conference room discussing their current caseloads and leads and would wait for you, providing you that proper do over with them. You appreciated that and said as such in reply.

As you head off the elevator to the sixth floor, you felt a renewed sense of purpose and belonging. You even put a little more effort into your outfit, choosing a charcoal grey pants suit with a black sleeveless semi-spread polo collar, and comfy black work shoes with decent tread. You had your backpack on, holding the straps over your chest as you survey the area.

True to her word, the team was already in the conference room. Garcia happens to see you first and smiles big, giving you a quick, animated wave that caught Prentiss’ attention. She was standing and angles her body to the left to see who was there and visibly relaxes noticing it was you. The team follows her gaze as Prentiss gestures for you to join them.

JJ looks from Prentiss to Rossi, who was suspiciously smirking up at Emily. “And why are you smiley this morning?”

“Hm?” he looks over at her as Prentiss’ attention turns towards the exchange. “Oh, just delighted Whitlock can join us. Orientation’s a pain in the ass.”

He was equally relieved and surprised that Emily spoke to you as quickly as she did. Because of that, he wouldn’t press the orientation fib being told to the team.

“Man, I wish I had the short version like she did when I joined,” Luke grumbles playfully.

“Yeah, but you needed a lot of work honey, and honestly … still do, unlike our CIA cutie,” Garcia chides as you walk in.

“That my new rank?” you say with twinkling eyes and a brow raising to the group. “CIA cutie?”

The members collectively chuckle and laugh at the joke and as you look at Prentiss, she was fighting to keep her lips from curling upwards.

“No. Still a consultant.” Prentiss admits. She gestures to an empty seat between Tara and Garcia. “Please have a seat and we’ll get started.”

You nod and slip past Prentiss, sliding the backpack off your shoulders. You place it on the ground behind your chair and sit down. As you look at the BAU members starting back at you, you feel daunted. But you got this and look eagerly at Prentiss to kick this off.

“I know things have been hectic this week with all the changes and assignments and getting Whitlock up to speed on FBI protocols. She still has a few more items to go over, but I’m pulling her in since we can use all the help we can get,” Prentiss explains. “Garcia, mind getting Whitlock up to speed where we’re at?

Garcia immediately speaks up, almost bouncing on the seat at the chance. “You got it, Ma’am.”

Emily winces and presses her hand down towards Garcia. “What have I said about that?”

She smiles. “Not to call you Ma’am.”

“Please remember that.”

“You got it, Boss Ma’am.” Garcia says cheekily.

Emily sits down in a huff, and you have to cover your mouth to hide the smile on your face. The team did not hide their amusement at the banter.

“Anyway,” Garcia says and laces her fingers together before turning her hands inside out to crack them, “time for catch up!”

Her fingers dance across the keyboard and immediately your eyes go to screen depicting a U.S. map with sixteen dots. Each dot had a line that led to a description of the kill kit number, contents and the city and state of its location. Two of the dots are red, the others blue.

“We have recovered fourteen of the sixteen kill kits, no thanks to our firebug in holding right now. The two missing are from Indio, CA and Rockville, MD and your technological goddess is monitoring anything in the surrounding areas that sounds Sicariusy like.”

“How wide’s the radius?” you ask.

“Fifty,” she answers while you nod. “So far nothing’s pinged that shouts out, ‘I’m a Sicarius henchmen’. However, Mr. Dishonorably Discharged had a test kit that was really oooooold based on soil samples.”

“Five years isn’t that old,” JJ says.

“But the kits being activated by Sicarius, it is,” explains Rossi. “All the lockers we’ve found have new tech, supplies, chemicals …”

“Lab did confirm the soil samples from our kits are newer. So why give Green something older?” Prentiss asks the team.

“Maybe this one fit Green’s M.O. better?” Luke offers.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” says Rossi.

“What are you thinking, Dave?” urges Prentiss.

“That Green was set up?” you offer, looking between Prentiss and Rossi.

He half smiles, impressed, and points to you casually. “Kid’s good. That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Maybe he was testing Green to see what he’d do. Confirm if he was truly loyal or not.”

“And either way, Sicarius would get what he wanted. A big explosion or expose Green for who he really is,” JJ says emphatically. “

“All right.” Prentiss takes a moment to digest this and addresses everyone. “Give me some options.”

Luke leans back and gestures to Garcia. “Green was the last to see his sister. So, we’re thinking a cognitive interview might help him remember any details of that night. Anything that could help him ID the guy that took her.”

“Good luck trying to get him to agree to it,” states Tara. “He has big problems with authority figures. He won’t cooperate unless he has good reason.”

“How’s not finding his sister’s killer a good reason?” you ask.

“Oh, he’s really pissed off.” Prentiss says as you raise a brow. “We took away his chance at catching Sicarius and enacting his revenge.”

“And he really doesn’t like that I’m a Fed again.” Garcia pouts with that admission. “He sent me all that info thinking I was still distanced from all of this.” She gestures wildly at the room.

Prentiss looks sympathetic. “But we have to try. Luke, I need you to talk to Green and get him to agree to the cognitive interview. JJ, keep watch on the exchange.” They both nod and she addresses Garcia. “Keep working on any leads that might help us find those missing kill kits. Whitlock, you’ll assist.”

You visibly perk up at the sound of your name and look thankful for a hands-on opportunity. Inwardly, you were doing backflips. Prentiss could feel you buzzing with internal excitement and chuckles. “Not like you can catch up on any paperwork you don’t have yet.”

Rossi and Tara groan while Luke and JJ share a smirk.

“Oh, don’t even,” admonishes Prentiss. “You both get to play catch up in between interviewing Green until a case comes in.”

Luke is silent, lowering his head in defeat as JJ frowns while pouting. “Aww.”

Now that the team had their assignments, Garcia was utterly giddy and squeals towards you. “Come Robin! To the Batcave!”

Garcia catches you up on everything over the next few hours. From the hidden message apps on the unsubs phones, to the discussion forums, and how Sicarius used this to gain followers so he could teach them the ways of being sadistic killers. She had identified the usernames of the unsubs and was able to find that they all chatted with Sicarius - User45125. They also learned about the different murder methods that matched up with the bodies found in the shipping container. Out of the lockers that are missing, the BAU believes that kits would contain methods to kill by acid and strangulation to match the last of the victims.

“I can’t trace any direct messaging, so that’s why all of this is based on the forum info me and JJ combed through,” Garcia says, ending her lengthy summation.

“What a sick fuck.” You shake your head in disgust. “Play with the first round of victims and pass all that fun on to his new friends who do it all over again.”

You were sitting to the left of Garcia, lightly turning the chair back and forth with a foot on the floor. To your delight, it didn’t bother her. It was a habit you developed over time to help you think. You look over the conversations that Sicarius had with the unsubs and Green. He definitely narrowed down the chosen ones based on their psychopathic thrills.

“How many are on this message board again?” you ask, gesturing at the screens.

“Over half a million. Which just…bleh!” Garcia pauses, shivering for dramatic effect, “Makes me feel all squicky that there are that many of them chatting in one spot. But I narrowed down the really, really, bad naughties to seventeen k.”

“Damn. Fucker’s been busy.” You go silent as you calculate options with the information the BAU had.

Garcia glances at you, seeing your eyes darting back and forth in concentration. “What’cha thinking there?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just … “ you pause, words softening, “a half formed thought. A possibility.” You turn towards Garcia. “Can you narrow the users further by who hasn’t been active in a few months? At least since Green last contacted Sicarius? Bonus if longer.”

She blinks rapidly at you and looks put out. “Can I?!” She then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Since you’re new, I will let that slight pass, but there is nothing I can’t do, missy.”

Except get your file, but you don’t need to know that!

“Apologies, M’Lady!” You smile, making sure to file that away to not offend the bubbly woman in the future. “If you would be so kind and continue working your magic?”

“And the lady shall be kind!” Garcia says with vigor and starts narrowing down the possibilities further.

The two of you work diligently over the next few hours. You guide Garcia with different traits to knock down the users into something manageable with the information that can be extracted from text. Emoji use, shorten expressions, length of posts, seeking knowledge and showboating instead of trying to engage in an emotional connection, aggressive language use, and interests.

“Here you go.” Garcia calls up a list of usernames that fit your specifications. “One-hundred and thirty-four.”

“Have any of those spoke to our guy at length? Something substantial?”

“Hm, yes!” She pulls those up.

That got you down to thirty-eight. “And how many of those appear to have contacted him through direct messaging?” You couldn’t know for sure but based on the flow of conversation and quality, there were hints.

She types quickly. “Ah, fourteen.” She shows you the names.

“List them by last known contact with him – earliest to latest.”

“Done.”

“Now pull up last few messages from each.”

“Also done.”

You read through them, ignoring the majority as you skim but there were a few that stood out.

Dark_Muse: Fucking cunt is finally gonna pay!!! Girls night is gonna end on a high!!!

_piouspisces: Woke up from a dream today. Hope it comes true. Just have to set up the right ingredients. Need advice on lacing paper. I have some ideas but need confirmation.

FlamePit23: The world only makes sense at sunrise and sunset. It’s when it looks like the world is set on fire. Beautiful.

You point to that last username. “Show me this one’s profile.”

Garcia clicks on it and reads. “’Nothing burns as bright as the rage inside you. Cultivate and embrace it. Keep it under your control’. Oh, they go on to say to never make any friends. That’s cheerful and lonely.”

“But they admitted to ‘nurturing others so I can take them off guard. Like my mother did to me when I was younger’ makes me think this one’s female,” you say while tapping the screen. “What’s the date and timestamp on the last message?”

“That would be … August 12, 2022 0550.”

You would bet that it was close to sunrise on that day when the user posted.

You pull your hand back to cup your chin in thought as Garcia looks oddly at you. “You know, I’ve been doing this a really, really long time, and I can usually predict where people are going with their data mining. But you? I have zilch of an idea because this makes no sense to me.”

You heard she was talking, but you weren’t listening. You were too focused on formulating a plan.

She puckers her lips in annoyance at being ignored and snaps her fingers twice in front of your face. “Hello?”

“Oh!” you say, jerking back into awareness. “I’m trying to come up with a crazy plan.”

“Please tell me this won’t result in you going AWOL again …” Prentiss had entered and neither of them had heard the door open.

You and Garcia share a look wondering if she even knocked as Prentiss walks in further expectantly. “Well?”

You sit back and reassure her. “Ah, no. Course not.”

“Wait. So, you really went AWOL?” Garcia asks curiously. “Did you serve before the CIA?”

“I didn’t serve.” You bit your lower lip and nod, coming to terms with what you can say. “I did some training with military personnel. All informal.”

You and the other four recruits had gone through training with the Green Berets, Navy Seals, and Delta Force. Something you couldn’t disclose as it technically never happened, hence, the informal part of your cover. You also are glad Garcia was distracted by that and didn’t ask you to elaborate on the AWOL matter.

Garcia whistles. “Wowzer.”

That made you smile. “A very simple, yet precise, way to put it.”

“A talent of hers for sure. But let’s get back to this crazy plan of yours,” insists Prentiss as she leans against the desk on the other side of Garcia.

“Again, it’s just the start of one but it could be a way to infiltrate Sicarius’ chosen ones without the need for vengeance to fuck things up.”

“You really say that word a lot,” notices Garcia.

“What?”

Garcia struggles by opening and closing her mouth like a fish to try and get the word out, but Prentiss beats her to it. “Fuck.”

“Huh?” You look at the section chief with confusion. “No thank you?”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant!” She answers, speaking quickly as you fluster her with the insinuation, and you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer.

“What’s so funny?” she snaps.

“You!” you answer between cackles. “I knew what you meant.”

Garcia at least has the decency to look away while trying to fight off her own snickers as Prentiss takes a hand to her head to rub at her temples. “I swear to god, Whitlock …”

“Anyway …” you grin. “The idea is to chat him up with a username that is not entirely inactive but hasn’t been used in a bit. Think we found a prospect.”

Prentiss’ irritation with you changes to interest. “That so?”

Garcia nods. “Now that I know what the plan is, yes. I can do a deeper dive into this user and see what I can dig up.”

“Less is more, in this case,” you explain thoughtfully. “If we infiltrate this way, we gotta have enough info to be this user without him really knowing who this is. So, if you can find who they are, then we’re back to finding another. Because that means he would know their identity, too.”

Prentiss nods. “Do it. Green isn’t cooperating at all like Tara figured. He wouldn’t agree to the cognitive interview. Might as well see how this pans out while JJ tries to change Green’s mind.”

“On it, Boss Ma’am!” Garcia jests as she gets to work.

Prentiss looks up at the ceiling as if searching for patience, but as brown eyes come down, they focus on you. “Come with me and bring your stuff.”

“Sure thing.” You rise, grabbing your backpack but before you follow Prentiss, you squeeze Garcia’s shoulder. “This was nice. Working with you, that is.”

She tears her eyes away from the screen to look up at your soulful eyes. You really appreciated how Garcia jumped into working with you with fervor and not giving you the cold shoulder from earlier this week. “Aww, sweetie! Yes, we’ll keep working at it to make this idea blossom into a full blown plan!”

You smile so hard your cheeks hurt and stay that way until Garcia gets back to work. You then meet up with Prentiss to walk out together.

“Good first day.” It was an observation by the section chief.

“Yeah, it really was.” You were smiling again. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Her tone carries a mystique to it, and you become captivated while walking to the bullpen together. “But I owe you a proper thank you. Langley sent me the confirmation of funds.”

“I’ll behave.” Prentiss’ eyes widen when you say that. “I won’t start making it rain money at you in celebration.”

She chuckles. “So, you can control it?”

“Occasionally.”

“Good. Then I’ve no regrets in getting you something.”

That made you perk up. “You got me something?”

“Bit overdue, but …” Prentiss stops without warning at the first desk to the right when you enter the bullpen. “… it’s yours.”

You are befuddled as you shift your gaze from Prentiss to the desk and audibly gasp. Resting on top of it was your name on display as a consultant. “Wow.”

Pleased with your reaction, she nudges you with her elbow. “This is when you’re supposed to thank me.”

“Ah, right!” you laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck before looking to her with a radiant smile. “Thank you, Prentiss.”

Your response without jest disarms her like it did last night over drinks. Your gazes lock for several beats and you just stand there with sincere gratitude that she welcomed you as a member of the team.

She recovers quickly with a stiff nod and motions to your desk. “You’re welcome. When you’re done getting settled, get back to working on that angle with Garcia.”

“You got it.” You immediately round the desk, already slipping off your backpack to place on top of it as Prentiss heads to her office.

That felt really nice to say in your head. Your desk. When was the last time you had a desk with a name plate? Everything you did was covert up until now so flashing your name and credentials was the equivalent to placing a target on your back with a bright flashing sign that says, ‘Shoot me!’. The right people knew your name when on mission, but most of your identity was done under aliases and callsigns.

You take a quick inventory of what’s on the desk – laptop connected to dual monitors, keyboard and mouse, stacked plastic organizers, phone, stapler, black plastic pen holder that was empty.

Guess I’ll have to find supplies…

You pick up the stapler and click it, watching a used staple hit the desk. At least that was ready to go for all the paperwork you’ll be doing now. The team will be excited to hear that! You then pull out the chair to get acquainted with the drawers only to be shocked for the second time today.

Waiting for you on the chair was a six pack of Diet Coke bottles with a blue sticky note attached. You peel it off to read and immediately smile.

Welcome to the BAU, Whitlock.

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds x reader #Criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily x reader #emily x you #prometheus

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fungusgnat444 · 3 months ago

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könig brain rot again

I’ve been rewatching the alien movies and I can’t stop thinking about writing something where könig is one of the engineers from Prometheus 😩😩😩😩 im insane, it would be so big🥴🥴🥴🥴 (pic from the set of Prometheus😳 look how tall aaaaahhh)

#konig #konig x you #cod konig #cod mw2 #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #konig imagine #konig cod #konig fanfiction #konig mw2 #alien prometheus #alien engineer #Alien au

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aphroditeslover11 · 11 months ago

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Can You Hear The Music?

I apologise for the cheap title grab, but I was out of ideas! Some preferences for how some of the boys would react to having a musician as a partner, I’m a violinist so this is kind of based around my experiences. Anyway, enjoy!!

Warnings: Consumption of alcohol, I didnt proofread this, sorry!

Tommy Shelby:

He would almost certainly be there to support you. The only thing that would stop him would be if there was some really urgent business he needed to attend to. He would be there, probably sat on the front row so that he had the best view of you that he possible could. He’d turn up after the performance and insist on carrying all of your bags for you, case and all, with a bouquet of roses like an absolute sop. He wouldn’t have a musical bone in his body, so the fact that his partner did never ceased to amaze him and would make him the proudest man on earth. He’d always comment on how brave he thought you were, even though he was the one that actually went out fighting in France.

Neil Lewis:

The first time he heard you play was when you were practicing, thinking that you were in the house alone. Since then, he had taken to sending random bits of film music on YouTube your way asking if you could play it. He’d drop anything to come along to your concerts, he’d always be sat there with a stupid smile on his face and he’d tell anyone that was with him that you were his. He’d be your biggest support and would always rave over you once you came off the stage. I feel like he would end up with a tradition of dragging you back to the video-store and making you watch ‘The Red Violin’ or something after, probably with a couple of beers, to celebrate.

Robert Fischer:

If you were with this man then there is no doubt that he would have gifted you an instrument worth many thousands of pounds as soon as he saw that you were serious about your music. There would be a rack of designer black dresses and matching heels in your wardrobe as he would insist that you needed a new one for each concert. On the evening he would definitely be there, he’d send flowers ahead of him and you would have to go through the embarrassment of his driver delivering them to your door. He’d probably sit somewhere random in the middle of the crowd so that he didn’t distract you or take any attention away from you if anyone spotted him - he’d be quite conspicuous in a perfect suit having come straight from work. Afterwards he would insist on celebrating, he’d arrange for a car to take you out and there would be a bottle of Moët and a platter of oysters waiting for when you arrived at the bar.

Oppie:

Performing in front of this man would be absolutely terrifying - he isn’t remotely musical but he listens to a lot of classical so he will know if you go wrong. I see him as that annoying person that likes to sit around and watch you practice and gives you irritating pointers when he thinks you are wrong despite having never picked your instrument up before. Even so, he would still be there whenever he could to watch you in concerts. A lot of his friends were musical so you ended up forming little groups with them, especially his brother Frank who was good enough to be a professional on the flute. It would become a fixture that you would get together for informal concerts at the university and then go back to Robert’s for martinis. He was never one to dish out much praise, but he always made sure that he knew he was proud of you when he saw you after a concert. You’d also find the odd piece of fresh sheet music left on your stand when he found something that he thought you would like to play.

Jim (The Delinquent Season):

He would absolutely adore having a musical partner, he’d probably play a bit of piano and guitar himself. He loved to spend an evening mucking about with some fold music together with a glass of wine. Rather than playing classical music like you were more used to Jim would probably have encouraged you to take up some folk music as you were in Ireland. Once a month or so you would try and make it to a folk evening at a local pub, taking your instruments with you. This was your favourite type of performing - informal and relaxed and surrounded by friends with him by your side.

#american prometheus #oppenheimer #cillian murphy #oppenheimer x reader #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #robert fischer x reader #inception #christopher nolan #jim x reader #the delinquent season #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #can you hear the music #music #fanfiction

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spooky-something · 11 months ago

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You dudes think you guys are cringe???? You dudes think your Frankenstein hyperfixation/Special interest is bad??? Embarrassing???? Cringy???? You feel like a loser for it???

WELL DON'T, BECAUSE WE GOT A FUCKING PHYSICAL COPY OF A FRANKENSTEIN FANFIC FOR CHRISTMAS....

I WISH THIS WAS A FUCKING JOKE, BECAUSE THIS GOES CRAZY... /Srs

#frankenstein #gothic lit #classic literature #victor frankenstein #gothic literature #classic lit #the modern prometheus #mary shelley #clervalstein #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fan-fic #fan-fiction #horrific #Christmas #I'm a fucking LOSER DUDE #LAME #LOSER

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muscari-midala · 2 months ago

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Questions to the Void

Elizabeth Shaw x David 8

an: First time posting a Fanfic on Tumblr because there isn't enought Prometheus content, so I thought I share in on here as well!

David's chest rose and lowered itself slowly, simulating a calm breath.

He found out that it calmed her, gave her comfort.

He did everything for her comfort.

Elizabeth's red curls fell wildly over her shoulders, now as long as they had not been for years.

Lost in thought, her fingers wandered over the fabric of David's gray shirt.

The Engineers' ship they used had enough food and water for a lifetime, even though she still couldn't get used to the consistency and taste of it.

All of her surroundings were alien and weird. Everything was weird.

But David was there, and that helped her to stay sane.

The android pulled her closer.

He had gotten really good at reading her expressions, and often knew when something was wrong.

"Elizabeth?" Her brown eyes met his silver ones.

"Yes, David?" She noticed how his body got warmer, another thing he simulated for her, to make her believe that he was human.

But to be honest, she was slowly starting to see him as one.

At first, she hated him, but that didn’t last for long.

She really tried to not let him get close, to not let him into her heart for what he did to Charlie, for what he did to her, but she failed.

A few days after they had set their course, she started to repair him.

Brows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip full of bite marks, arms and hands soaked with his white android blood.

It took a few days until he could move and walk again, but after a week he was back to full functionality.

Was she scared? Of course she was.

How should she know that he wouldn’t betray her? But he did not. In fact, he gave her everything he had.

He prepared the Engineers' food, searched his data for music and books, taught her the language of her creators because she wouldn’t be swayed in her decision to search for them.

That one question wouldn't leave her mind.

"What are you thinking about?"

Elizabeth shook her head before laying it back onto his chest, looking at nothing in particular.

"I just can’t understand it. Why do they hate us? Why would someone want to destroy the beings they brought into the world? Why don’t they love their creation?"

She didn’t notice that she had put her hand over her womb, where staples once held the wound together, until he tangled her fingers with his.

The only child she would ever give birth to was a monster, an alien which had tried to kill its ‘mother’ the moment she cut it out of her body.

"What if we don’t find them? If this search ends in nothing?"

He probably would never understand why she needed to know, just as he couldn’t understand her belief in her God after everything that happened to her.

But it was important to Elizabeth, so it was important to him.

Elizabeth was better than every other human he had ever met.

For him, Dr. Elizabeth Shaw was holy.

She was quiet for a moment before she looked back up at him.

"Then at least we tried."

#prometheus #alien prometheus #elizabeth shaw #david 8 #elizabeth shaw x david 8 #fanfiction #I hope I'm doing this right #alien

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sarafangirlart · 4 months ago

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Ok so considering that Hesiod wrote Pandora in a misogynistic manner where she is evil bc she’s a woman and later writings conflated her with Eve and had her be a naive innocent soul I’d like to propose a middle ground. Y’know order 66 from Star Wars where all the clones became besties with their Jedi but were programmed to turn on them once they get the signal and there is nothing they can do to stop themselves from killing their friends? I imagine something similar with Pandora, where she was programmed by the gods to be Epimetheus’s perfect beautiful and cunning wife, help him take care of mankind after Prometheus returned fire to them, and for a while things go well, they have a daughter named Pyrrha.

One day Pandora receives a vision to carry out what she was created to do, she doesn’t want to doom her people, she doesn’t want to doom her daughter, she doesn’t want to betray her husband, but she does it, she opens the jar and all of humanity suffers for it.

#this is mostly fanfiction but I want to know your thoughts #I wonder how Epimetheus reacted to all this #was he angry? heartbroken? confused? scared? forgiving?#greek mythology #ancient greek mythology #greek pantheon #pandora #epimetheus #zeus #hephaestus #Pyrrha #Prometheus #eve #hesiod

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dreamerdaria · 11 days ago

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All truth has a price. He has paid with the realisation that the hissing snake on his forearm had finally reached his throat, injecting its venom into the bite. Draco is able to utter two curse words, which means he really does wish her dead. “Murderer,” it hisses at him every night on the mission. “Kill or they'll kill you.” He's in a theatre of the absurd. Where there are no rules or algorithms, sheer chaotic chaos. So a new principle is born in Draco's head. Fight or flight. Fight when they fight you. Flight when there's no other way out. Fight or flight or die. Fight or flight is the only right way out.

Chapter 6. Little innocenct lie of Prometheus.

On a January morning, Hermione wakes up not in her bed, but on a lonely island in the middle of the ocean. In this place, terrifying creatures are just one of the mystical mysteries she has to solve. Surrounded by best friends and longtime enemies, Granger tries to get off the island and find the answer to the question: how did they end up here?

This story is about love, choice and death.

And about whether the sacrifice of one wizard is worth the well-being of millions of people.

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eriksdefender · 11 days ago

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I'm here to share another shitty piece I've started to write!

It's my little mix of Alien and X-Men. In fact, it is Cherik, but it's Charles and my beloved blonde psycho android malewife.

It is short, but I promise, it will get better.

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsehrr is david 8 #david 8 #alien covenant #prometheus #xmen alien mashup #idk why im doing this #cherik au #charles xavier x david 8 #fanfiction #writers on tumblr

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imagininglotsofthings · 2 years ago

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I have a toxic ex I broke up with almost ten years ago. Periodically he has contacted me over the years. I've told him to stop. He did it again. Not going into much more detail, it's personal.

But now I really want to read fanfciton. And you know what would be great self fulfillment and self indulgent fanfic? A young Erik Lehnsherr, or a Bucky Barnes, or Loki Odinson, or David 8, or Walter (Alien: Covenant) or TASM Peter Parker fanfic about OC or reader's ex not leaving them alone, and how Erik or Bucky or Loki or David 8 or Walter or TASM Peter Parker (oh, or Wanda Maximoff, or young Charles Xavier, even) would deal with it and what they would do. Anyone have one? Or want to write one for me? Pretty please? Let me know. Comment below. Thank you!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

#erik lehnsherr x reader #david 8 x reader #bucky barnes x reader argument #Loki Odinson x reader #Wanda Maximoff x reader #Alien Covenant Walter x reader #Walter x reader #marvel fanfiction #x men fanfiction #Prometheus fan fiction #Alien Covenant fan fiction #self indulgent fanfic #protective Erik Lehnsherr x reader #young Erik Lehnsherr x reader #young Charles Xavier x reader #tasm Peter Parker x reader #scarlet witch x reader #Magneto x reader

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neysaadept · 4 days ago

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Next Chapter will divert into a case. I hope I do it well with what I have planned.

FBI probably has me on a watch list with my search history. 😆

My wife loves Criminal Minds and SVU and thinks my case works. Hope it translates well when I write it out.

Fun part will be Prentiss, Reader, and Rossi on the case!

#emily prentiss #prometheus #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader

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hummingbee-lievable · 3 months ago

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The first day the world cracked, his chains broke. He laid there, in dazed confusion, until the shadow of the eagle blackened the sky.

Then, he was running. He was running and screaming and laughing and crying and his legs were alien to him but they transported him anyway.

The shadow did not follow.

He found a cave and stumbled in, gasping and heaving, his not-fully formed liver aching in a new and delicious way. Collapsing, it took him hours to start to wonder. Wonder why he had been freed. Wonder why the eagle had not followed.

The first day, he cursed at the eagle, berating it until it the ire turned to screams and the eagle was gone. As the days proceeded, the insults and weaponised words began to quiet, until he was weeping for his release, at first to the eagle, then to Zeus himself. It took several years before he began to stop speaking at all. And when he stopped speaking, he began to notice that the eagle's talons were sharp, but they were also quick. That they held him in place while the hazardous beak ripped his flesh from him in one sharp movement. And once he stopped fighting, the creature that had been assigned to his torture didn't even bother to land. It just ducked in, grabbed what it came for and seemed to almost be running, given the speed at which it flew away.

About 300 years into the eternal punishment, he noticed something else: as the eagle flew away, it dropped something in the distance. It circled for a moment, and if he had thought such a creature capable, he would have said it seemed almost anxious. And then it was gone.

After that, he noticed that it dropped the liver every time. It was always in a different spot, at a different distance, but it was unmistakable. Each time, the eagle would make a weak attempt to dive after it before flying away.

The waylaid Titan decided he was bored enough, broken enough, and curious enough. When the eagle dove down the next day, he waited until the deed was done and then, gasping through the pain, he said 'Wait.'

The eagle halted midair, and turned around, its eyes wide with panic.

'Don't be afraid', he uttered, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this seemed. 'I just want to talk.'

The eagle's eyes widened. It lingered briefly, and then flew away, faster than he had ever seen it.

He saw now, that it could not only understand him, but that it had more going on its head that 'attack, eat, repeat'. So he began to talk to it. At first it was jokingly, things like: 'ahhh, my regular! So good to see you. And what'll you be having today?' or 'You ever get tired of liver? I could offer you some spleen today, maybe even a good lung. I hear those are fun to play with; you can blow them up like balloons!' As time progressed, he began talking about other things, too. He would tell stories of his ventures, or talk about the gossip he'd heard (and warned him never to tell anyone about Aphrodite's deformed left toe- high heels are deadly, you know). He would sometimes talk, too, about his woes. He told the eagle why he was chained to his rock (might as well be his, after all of this, right?), and be would talk about the things he missed: the smells of the foods the clever humans made, the excitement and joy of invention and the firelight in their eyes that accompanied discovery, and truly, he just missed knowing what was going on. He was endlessly bored and curious of the world that continued without him, a longing that would slip into his stories. Often, he would talk about the books he had read, and that was when the eagle would linger the longest.

It always seemed to find little ways to extend the process when he talked, landing instead of flying away, circling him as though he could then justify to any passing god: 'just finding the best angle at which to eat him today, hahaha'. The eagle once, caught up in a story about a bull and some prudent decisions regarding its internal organs, took longer that usual cutting him open. He took great effort not to show his response; he had already observed that the eagle seemed to recoil when he was unable to restrain from twisting his lips tightly or moaning in pain, always disgruntled when it did its job faster and flew away faster. He began to realise that, in a strange way, the eagle was almost gentle in its attacks (in the ways that it was possible, that is).

About 786 years (but who's counting) into the setup, the eagle landed clumsily, whining and whimpering. Immediately, the Titan was at attention. 'What happened?' The eagle curled its head under its wing, trying to hide the pitiful sounds it was making. Looking carefully, he saw that the creature's leg was indented with bite marks, and its wings were scored with scratches from deadly claws. 'Listen to me.' He spoke softly. 'Go to the Wildwoods, the ones where the nymphai still reside. Find the Poramêïdes, the river-dwellers. Ask them for their oregano balm. Tell them that I sent you.' The eagle did not move, shuddering under its wings. He grew frustrated. 'Listen! You're going to get a nasty infection if you don't do something about this, and I'm not interested in lying around waiting to meet the next winged nightmare who's been assigned to me! Get yourself together and get out of here! I want you back here, tearing out my liver tomorrow by sundown! And take my liver when you go! Don't drop it this time, eat it. You'll need the sustenance. Now, go!' The eagle's head had lifted, its eyes wide in awe and confusion. At his final command, it ducked its head, grabbed its dinner and flew away, leaving him with the familiar pain and a newer, tighter one sinking in.

The next day, when the winged shadow darkened the sky, his body sagged in relief. This time, it hovered above him, not yet landing on the wrapped talon, bearing something in its beak. Tentatively, its beak neared hid mouth, n offering. He did not recognise it, but leaned forward to taste it regardless. It was hot and it tasted like heaven. Not from Olympus, but like he had died and been freed from his eternal torture. It was filled with legumes and steamed vegetables and garlic and chillies and both of them ignored the tears streaming from his face as the eagle held the food up to his mouth.

Each day after that, the eagle came with little gifts. Sometimes just wildflowers, other times little morsels of food. One time, it brought a news paper, and held it up with its beak as he read it aloud. He joyfully talked to the eagle about the little things it mentioned, asking questions aloud about other things, and the creature seemed just as invested and excited as he was. After that it brought the news papers every day, along with books, propping them against stacked rocks in such a way that it could turn the pages while he read to them. The eagle would perch and listen, pecking half-heartedly at carrion it had brought with it. The creature still refused to eat the liver it ripped from him, surreptitiously squared away under a wing until its departure. He joked once that his liver was likely the main source of protein for the mountain-dwellers near him. He swore the creature's shoulders shook in subtle mirth after.

Once, on a rainy day, the eagle stayed overnight, its wings protecting the collected papers and pages. Carefully, he asked if it wanted to learn how to communicate, to which it nodded. And in the ways of his old habits, he began to teach. He taught it to recognise the letters, then the words, then the sentences. He taught him how to carve letters into the rocks. One day, the eagle tore a large tore a feather from its wing and used the blood of his liver to write its letters. Later, it procurred styluses and papyrus, the tool held delicately in its beak. In this way, they began truly, to learn about each other. He learned that the eagle did not enjoy his task, but had been assigned it as the weakest in his brood. He learned that it loved stories as much as he did (though it preferred a little more action in the tales and a little less kissing) and shared his zest for humanity and its cultivations. He learned its quirks and habits as well as he knew himself. It was in this way, that they proceeded: a steady and blooming friendship, spanning centuries.

He ran as fast as he could, as far as he could, until he reached the nearest town, and then could only watch as the flames swallowed the buildings, as mothers threw their children into the river- in vain hope that their inability to swim would be forgiven and forgotten- as the godless took and took and took, as the animals yowled and hid, as the books pages curled away into ash. This, he thought. This is the gift I have given them.

His first thought was to try and help, but as soon as he entered the town, the people converged on him, chanting. 'No more gods! No more gods! No more gods!' As he fled, he realised: there were no more gods. It was the people that had kept them alive, and with their renouncement, their power was gone. The humans would have only themselves, now, and when that failed, they might create new gods for themselves, but he was obsolete. (He himself had been obsolete for eons now, but the fierceness of their final rejection was still sharp. How long he had suffered for them!)

He stayed at the edge of the town, rooted, until it was nothing. He stayed longer than that. Long enough to watch the world fight back. He stayed there long enough to watch new huts form, for the children that survived to become parents, for new books to be written, for new gods to be born. He waited long enough for the fear of eternal chains wrapping around him again to fade into dread, then to trepidation, then to a slight, niggling thing that never quite disappeared. He waited long enough to think that perhaps his friend had not followed because it had thought itself not wanted. Upon this realisation, he stopped waiting. And a town that had never realised its statuesque mascot had been one of the old gods lost another piece of the mythology that had created them.

The eagle was still there, lying at the base of the rock, its wings shrouding their collection of books. On seeing it, resting with its eyes closed, he feared that he had waited too long and, running, he collapsed, burying his face in the soft down and murmuring endearments shrouded in grief.

It took several moments for him to notice the wings that gathered around him and several more to look up into wild eyes.

'Hello old friend', he whispered. 'Been waiting long?'

If eagles could laugh (and this one could), it might barrel out at such force that it becomes tears. If a Titan and the eagle assigned to his torment could become a saving grace to each other, those tears might mingle. If rebirth is possible for the broken, two lost souls might create a new world for themselves outside of dictation. If such love is possible (and it is), the wayward lost might encounter them on vibrant nights: a pair of mismatched and entangled souls reading aloud to each other by moonlight, scars protected by wings and a head resting against feathers. If anything is possible, their eternity sings it.

#prometheus #fanfic #saw a good omens fanfiction about prometheus and things got out of control #should i be getting ready for work?#absolutely #did i just spend the two hours i have to get ready for work writing this?#also absolutely #fanfiction #good omens #thank you for coming to my addiction expression #writing

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