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it-was-summer · 20 days

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Come In With The Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all, I'm so sorry for the late posting. I know that I don't have a new chapter of 'Video Killed the Radio Star' out yet, but stay with me here. This is part one (of two) of my 500 followers post! I want to thank everyone for reading and being so sweet throughout the years. I really hope you all like this first part! The second part will probably be posted sometime this upcoming week. AND IT WILL BE 18+. I'm estimating sometime between Thursday and Saturday. Again, this is not proofread because I never learn. Love you all- Em <3

Link to the Ao3: Come In With The Rain

You are on Part One! -> Part Two (Coming soon...)

Yee olde masterlist

WARNING: Slow burn ahh fanfiction, emotional cheating, an accusation of emotional cheating, couple fighting, sex mentioned, alcohol mentions, drunk reader at one point, light cursing, babygirl Spencer Reid, suggestion BLINK AND YOU MISS IT SUGGESTION that Reid is Bi, reader is referred to as a woman, she/her/hers pronouns at some parts, and mention of feeling like a burden. AND probably something else, idk.

Plot: Spencer Reid becomes friends with you after bumping into you at a grocery store. Instantly enamored with you he develops a crush. A crush, apparently destined to fail, because why wouldn't you have a boyfriend?

Word Count: 10,365 (That's correct... 24 PAGES)

Day One

Almost everyone could agree that Spencer’s job was incredibly arduous. If not arduous, it was strenuous, formidable, occasionally crushing, onerous; the list goes on. Overall, his job –despite all its pitfalls– was something he loved. There was one thing he was starting to hate more than anything, though: he couldn’t seem to keep all his groceries from going bad after a week of back-to-back cases.

Spencer narrows his eyes at his messy handwriting, looking back and forth between the paper in his hands and the cans in front of him. He just couldn’t find the can that he was looking for. Penelope had loaned him her recipe a few weeks back, and despite his disastrous efforts in the kitchen, he was determined to give it a shot. His mother never taught him how to cook –not that he blamed her, of course– so it was truly an area in which he simply lacked a lot of skill. Given his eidetic memory, he didn’t really need a list, but Penelope said this brand was best for her recipe when they talked last week. He didn’t want to risk it, so he wrote it down.

He turned his head side-to-side, looking for a nearby worker, but found none. The only person in this aisle was him. He frowned a little before the sound of a sigh passing behind him made him jump. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing behind him, staring at a list in hand. He couldn’t help but wonder when you had gotten there and how long you had been standing behind him before your sigh alerted Spencer to the presence of another life form in this aisle.

Your head tilted slowly, your eyes met his, and Spencer felt his mouth drying. He wasn’t charming around beautiful women like Derek; most of all, he hadn’t expected to run into one at the grocery store. Your eyes stayed on Spencer for a second before they moved towards the cans in front of them. Spencer felt like a warmth had just been pulled away from him in the absence of your gaze.

He shuffles out of your eyeline as you scan the cans with a soft smile. “Thank you,” your voice was light and airy, carrying a softness that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing. Your body is closer to his as you walk toward the cans and carefully reach up on your tiptoes to grab a can of sauce on the highest shelf.

Spencer gets the idea stupidly slow: He should get it for you. He clears his throat and maneuvers his body to avoid touching the beautiful stranger beside him. He slides the sauce can off the shelf and hands it to you.

He’s greeted with a dazzling smile, dimples on your cheeks, and eyes shining bright under the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. “Thank you,” you repeat before you stare at him expectantly.

Spencer can’t help but feel like his IQ is taking slashes as he stares at that smile, “Spencer,”

You gave him a gentle nod as you walked the sauce over to your cart, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m Y/N.” You say as you look over your shoulder at him, hair falling into your face. For the first time in a long time, Spencer can feel the ends of his fingers twitching with anticipation at the idea of offering to brush the hair out of your face for you. He gives you a soft smile instead, his eyes trailing back to the list in his hands in an attempt to stop himself from staring.

Your voice near him almost makes him let out a yelp of surprise as you say, “Are you looking for something? I don’t work here, but I cook a lot.” You say matter-of-factly, suggesting that your cooking hobby somehow made you an expert in the grocery store layout.

Spencer felt like handing you his list and following you around like a puppy dog for the rest of his grocery shopping if it meant you’d keep standing this close to him. “Yeah, uhm, this brand of chili beans.”

“Oh, you haven’t looked low enough.” You barely even glance at his list before bending your knees and crouching down to the lower shelf to grab it. You look up from the ground, holding the can of beans for him to take with a bright smile before you say, “You’re so tall you must have forgotten about the lower shelves.” A laugh escapes your lips as Spencer carefully grabs the can from your hand.

You stand up with a gentle sigh. He can tell that you’re about to say something else when a man’s voice interrupts you. Your eyes grow brighter at the sound, and your head quickly turns toward the sound at the far left end of the aisle. “I got the cheese.” As he approaches, the man shoots the shredded cheese into the cart with a grin.

You mouth a soft ‘yay’ as the man’s arm quickly wraps around your waist. “Josh, this is Spencer. I was just helping him look for a can of beans. Spencer, this is Josh.”

Spencer feels his lips draw into a tight-lipped smile as he waves his free hand, “Nice to meet you,” He says with a slight nod.

“She’s always talking to strangers, I swear. Stop making friends everywhere you go, you little angel.” Josh says as he pinches your side, earning a melodious laugh from you. Spencer feels a little nauseous.

“Hey, gross.” You chuckle lightly as you pull Josh’s hand off your side, “Anyways, it was nice to meet you, Spencer. See you around.” You grab the handle of your cart with a beautiful smile before rolling the cart out of the aisle with Josh in tow.

Spencer watches you until you take a right and disappear from his view, and now he can only look at the can of beans in his hand. He sighs at his luck, smiling a little with amusement at the fact that you have a boyfriend. His short interaction made it clear to him that you were easy to get along with. Beautiful, kind, easygoing, of course, you had a boyfriend.

Spencer silently resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never see you or Josh again as he continued with his unneeded list.

Now, he felt like the fabled gods of fate were laughing down at him as he made the last trip to his car. He was closing the trunk of his car when he heard a familiar voice yell out his name from across the parking lot. “Spencer!” You yelled with bags in hand, panting lightly as you approached him with a light jog. “How funny is this?”

A sarcastically bitter voice was in his head. Only the Ancient Greeks would find this funny. “Do you live in this building?” he asked as his eyes scanned the parking lot for Josh. His shoulders relaxed as he realized that it was just you.

“Yeah, third floor.” You say as you readjust the bags in your hands. Spencer gave you an amused smile as he slid his last two bags on one arm, extending his free arm toward you.

“Need some help?” He offers in a soft voice. You give him a grateful look as you nod, handing him a slightly heavy bag. Typically, you wouldn’t have accepted help from a perfect stranger, but almost everything about Spencer screamed non-threatening, so you let yourself be a little trusting.

“Can’t believe that we’re neighbors. I'm glad I talked to you at the store; I made a neighbor friend!” Your speaking speed almost matches his when he is going on his excited ramblings.

Spencer pushes a door open with his back, holding it open for you with his foot as he laughs. “I guess it's plausible, being that the grocery store is as close as it is.” He’s quick to move to the next door, repeating the motion.

You smile gently as Spencer opens another door for you, this one leading the two of you to the stairwell. “Oh, you’re probably one of those people who doesn’t believe in fate, aren’t you, Spencer?”

“I would have to say that I absolutely fall within the twenty-nine percent of Americans who do not believe in fate. Nothing is predetermined.”

“Maybe you’re predetermined to believe that,” Is your quick remark as you walk in front of him on the stairs.

“Not likely,”

“So, what? You’re a cynic?”

Spencer smiles wide at the question, “How does my not believing in fate make me a cynic?”

You grin, tossing a skeptical look over your shoulder, before speaking again. “Not believing in fate is such a cynical thing to do,”

“And what does that make you?”

“Stupid and optimistically in love.”

Spencer shakes his head, his eyes glancing at the door that leads to the second floor, but he continues to follow you up another flight of stairs without complaint. “I would label myself as a realist.” And a profiler, but he was careful to leave that part out. The cases over the years proved one thing to him: nothing was predetermined. There was an opportunity for change everywhere.

“Okay, Mr. Realist, what about luck?” You asked as the two of you approached the door marked for floor three.

He thought for a moment as you held the door open for him, “Maybe,” was all he could say as the memory of when he was struggling with his aim came to mind: killing an UnSub with a shot to the head when he had been aiming for his leg.

“So you do believe in fate.” You turned your body to walk backward down the hallway with a satisfied, winning smile as you looked at him before slowing to a stop in front of your apartment door.

“Fate and luck are not the same thing. Luck is usually used to describe an outcome; it’s a notion. It’s circumstantial. Fate defies logic, science really.” He said as he handed you your bag carefully. His eyes glanced at the number on your door: thirty-seven. “You live with your boyfriend?” Spencer asks before he can stop himself, silently screaming at himself for being a creep.

The question barely phases you as you reach into your pocket, searching for your keys. “Yeah, moved in six months ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Spencer hated small talk. Actually, he secretly hated the fact that the first person he found attractive, after months of failed dates, was taken. He also hated that you were living a floor above him for six months, and he hadn’t known about it– hadn’t known about you. Above all, he hated that he enjoyed your company already, especially having only known you for more than a few hours at best. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“A year and eleven months,” you answer with a soft smile, your eyes giving way to soft emotion as you open your door. “What floor do you live on again?”

Spencer wants to say that you never asked, but he didn’t want to seem rude. He was sure you couldn’t be rude if you tried, that sweet smile of yours not capable of the act. “Second floor,” he answers as he readjusts his bags timidly.

With a soft gasp, you set down a bag or two, “Oh! I’m sorry.” You apologize softly as you look up at him, your eyes beautiful and tender. Spencer can’t remember if he is mad when he looks into those eyes.

Spencer let out a meek and barely audible “It’s okay,” He decides it truly is.

You bite your bottom lip and smile at him, “Well, thanks for your help, Spencer. I really appreciated it. Come up some time and say hi!” As you beam at him, you move a stray hair out of your face.

Spencer nods slowly, swallowing thickly, and manages a soft smile. His feet move his body back to the stairwell slowly. “Okay, I’ll do that.”

Day Forty-Two

You’re laughing over something Josh said. Spencer doesn’t really get it, but you seem to think it is the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. Punchlines usually went over his head, but he was always happy to nod along with a smile on his face.

Spencer honestly didn’t want to come up and visit you and Josh a month ago. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps he just didn’t have it in himself to stay away from your electric personality—why he visited you and Josh three Saturdays ago was still a mystery to him.

As Josh walks away with a smug smile, you turn to Spencer. He watches as you lean towards him, eyes tracking Josh until he’s out of sight. Your amused smile falls from your face as you whisper a soft, “Did you get that?”

Spencer is taken aback at the question. You laughed at Josh’s joke; how did you not get it? Why did you laugh so hard if you didn’t get it? He wonders until he’s whispering that same question to you, “If you didn’t get it, why did you laugh?”

You smile a little cheekily and only slightly embarrassed, “I didn’t want him to know I didn’t find it funny. Sometimes, he falls short of witty humor.”

Spencer smiles at that, shaking his head as he stares over at the area where Josh disappeared. “Why don’t you just tell him that you didn’t find it funny?”

“Because,” Your voice sounds offended, but the amused look in your eyes tells him differently, “I’m his girlfriend of two years, and I’m nice. Unlike some people.” You give him a side-eyed glare, making Spencer gasp in mock defense.

“I’m nice!” He hisses out in a defensive whisper. He briefly falters at your incredulous look before slowly nodding in defeat, “Okay, I’m a little mean sometimes.”

You smile again and face him, your hands moving as you talk, “Which is funny because you’re perfectly nice when you’re around me.”

Spencer didn’t have an answer to that one either. After being friendly with the couple for a little over a month, he just could not be friends with Josh. His jokes flew over Spencer’s head, he talked over you (and sometimes him), and he never seemed to take your interests seriously.

Last Monday after work, you called Spencer, asking him if he wanted to go to the movies with you to see a tragic Italian film. He was quick to say yes, partially because of the excellent movie selection and because he wanted to be around you more.

When he asked why Josh wasn’t joining them, you simply said that it wasn’t Josh’s thing. That didn’t sit right with him, but he let it go. Then, the day after, you called him again, asking him if he’d be willing to go with you to one of those paint-and-sip places around town that weekend.

His answer was another resounding yes, and he didn’t even drink. Then the question came again during the class, and you responded with the same thing– it wasn’t Josh’s thing.

Josh’s thing was going off to work all day and then coming home to ignore you for a good two hours before dinner. Then he was all yours again. At least, that’s what Spencer saw. He understood that everyone needed their alone time and that he was being a little petty and a little jealous toward Josh.

He wanted to be the bigger person, honestly. It was just so hard when your boyfriend made it so easy for Spencer to hate him. He’d never say that to you, of course. You looked at Josh like he had hung the moon yesterday and then created the stars today. You never missed a chance to talk about Josh around… well, anyone—the precursor to Spencer’s current dilemma.

Deep down inside, he knew that his inappropriate crush on you couldn’t possibly get worse. So he thought, What’s the harm in becoming close friends with you? If anything, it was likely that seeing more of your personality would pull his rose-colored glasses off his face and force him to see you in a normal, less love-sick light. After all, he had gotten over his embarrassing crush on JJ and saw her almost daily at work.

When Josh walks back into the room, he’s on his phone. He barely glances up from the text as he speaks to you, “Hey, babe, would it be okay with you if I head out for the night?”

Your eyebrows furrow with confusion, “But Spencer is here, and we were going to finish the movie, remember?”

“Right, but I already know what happens. I mean, it’s a tragedy, right? Spencer and you always have more fun together doing your nerd stuff. No offense, Spencer. The guys just want me to go out with them.”

A realization dawns on your face as you realize he’s not asking so much as telling you he’s leaving. You nod slowly, letting Josh kiss your forehead before he grabs his keys and leaves. You look over at Spencer, who is trying to be polite by not watching the scene, looking down at the television remote with a deep interest.

You smile slowly, sadly, and turn your body a little on the couch facing the television. The rest of the night is spent in your living room with Spencer, sitting next to each other and watching a movie before ending with your head on his shoulder and the soft tone of someone saying they “Liked the movie.”

Day Ninety-Three

You could feel something starting to slip. It was a familiar feeling; something in the ground was shaking. It shook you, at least. You always noticed it first—a crack in the ship's hull. You were always the first to address it, too.

With Josh, it used to be customary for him to apologize for any indiscretion and try to fix the damage. But false promises are like duct tape in the ship’s hull, slipping and sliding against wet wood, water pouring in until the whole ship goes down.

It wasn’t always like this. Him coming home and ignoring you for hours, only to acknowledge you late into the evening. It was relatively new to your relationship. Well, if you consider nine months new. By now, you could only label it as consistent. Before you lived with your loving boyfriend, he would crave out time in the evenings just to talk with you for hours or take you on dates that sometimes lasted for days on the weekends.

You knew that living together would take some of that away– everyone deserved to have their private time, and you weren’t going to start demanding day-long dates anytime soon. You just missed the effort he used to put in, the time when he would make days for the two of you– hours for just the two of you.

A year ago, Josh would have jumped to see that weird new Hungarian horror movie with subtitles for you if you had asked. He would have attempted to stay awake during it, hold your hand during the parts that scared you, something lovely.

The first crack started when you moved in with him. One evening, you had gotten home from work early and occupied the living room for a few hours, watching some random French movie that had been recommended to you by your best friend. She didn’t like this kind of thing but knew you did, so you were grateful that she had thought of you.

When he came home from work a little later than usual, he saw you on the couch with a plate of pasta, watching the movie intently. You turned your head towards the door and smiled wide at him. “Hey! I made spaghetti, grab a plate and watch this movie with me? I’ll restart it.” Your hands were already reaching for the remote when a heavy, annoyed sigh cut through the air. You looked over at him again and gave him a gentle, empathic smile, “Hey… did you have a hard day? We don’t have to watch anything we could–”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to do anything with you right after I get off work?” Josh hissed out as he threw his keys onto the wooden kitchen table.

You felt your head reel back a little at the question, and you laughed a little, pushing yourself up to sit on your knees on the couch. “I’m sorry?”

“Have you ever thought I might want to come home after work and not talk to you for a few hours? I mean, I thought that after living here for two months, you would have caught on, but clearly you haven’t. I come home, and you’re right there, ready to talk. Prepared to force me to sit down and watch some… foreign language film that has some profound meaning that you’ll blabber about for thirty minutes before bed tonight.”

You blinked a little at his harsh words, which were unlike him. He never seemed annoyed by your passions, hobbies, or ramblings. In fact, he always seemed to encourage them. You tried your best to give him a genuine smile, “Love, you’ve had a long day. Let’s just take a second and get some food in you, and then we can d–”

“You’re not getting it,” he laughed bitterly, a sound that caused a sick knot to grow in your throat. “Sometimes, I’m tired of it being we, we, we, we. I’m always doing things with you: Cooking with you, reading with you, watching movies with you, sleeping with you, going on dates with you. Ever since you moved in, it's like it's always an ‘us’ task or a ‘we’ task.” His voice was rising in volume, and you felt your breathing becoming shaky. “I feel like you're always on top of me. It’s suffocating! Maybe I just want to be alone for a few hours. Maybe I don’t want to watch your stupid, fucking, symbolic foreign films.”

“I... I didn’t know that’s how you felt.” You breathed out as you slowly turned the television off and got up with your plate. You wanted him to apologize, you wanted him to soften those brown eyes and start telling you that he didn’t mean it. You wanted him to tell you that work was brutal that day, and he had accidentally lashed out at you. But he just stared at you, panting a little. “I’ll leave you alone some more. I, uhm, I’ll watch this alone in our room.”

And that was that. You had convinced yourself that you were a problem. You were too clingy, always in his space, always trying to force him to like your hobbies, always trying to share too much of yourself with him, always too much. So you decided that maybe what you wanted to do wasn’t his thing anymore.

Besides, you had plenty of friends that liked the same things as you did… maybe. Molly didn’t like foreign films, but Alex enjoyed them enough. Molly did like to paint, but her schedule always conflicted with yours. Sabrina was also a fan of painting but had moved to Boston last month. The list of her friends with crazy work schedules could go on and on, as could the list of friends who moved. You had thought about reaching out to some of them, but Josh’s words rattled you to your core, and suddenly, you felt like a burden for wanting to spend time with your loved ones.

Then, after six months of living with Josh, you met a man in a grocery store—a tall, hazel-eyed, intelligent man. Spencer Reid was unlike any man you had ever met in your life, a rare friend. He was transparent, often going into long, passionate tangents that always had you learning something new. So when he randomly mentioned a foreign film he wanted to see that weekend in one of your conversations, you felt comfortable asking him to come to the movies with you.

Then again, to the paint-and-sip place where the two of you failed to partake in any wine and managed to paint two terrible renditions of sunflowers. Spencer Reid was becoming a friend that you didn’t think you’d burden. Your other friends were quick to explain that you weren’t too much. Still, maybe it was because he had helped you carry your groceries up to the apartment the first day you met him or the way he was so happy to listen to your stories and thoughts. Something about Spencer Reid made you believe him when he said that you weren’t a burden.

And he was nice to be around. Then, there was the pesky fact of Spencer being attractive. At first, it was more of a passing thought. The way he wore his glasses late at night, how his hair fell to one side, the way his fingers were so gentle with books. He was a good-looking man in a nerdy way. Mix that with sweet, caring, and accomplished; he was a threat.

A threat to anyone but your loving boyfriend of two years. Sabrina was laughing over something you had said over the phone, her giggles rising in volume as she tried to speak between them, “He’s a.” Giggling. “An adonis of th–” Cackling. “The mind!” She managed before asking, “What does that even mean?”

“It means he’s a very smart-minded, attractive person.”

“Oh, so you’re like… crushing on the hot mind guy and fighting with Josh. Got it.”

“I’m not fighting with Josh, and we talked about it last month. We’re okay now.”

“Still ignoring you when he comes home?”

You pause before you let out a slow sigh, “Yeah.”

“What’s his record?”

“Four hours and fifteen minutes. He said he will try to be more attentive throughout the week, but he just keeps…” You trail off. You can imagine Sabrina shaking her head on the other side of the line.

“What about the weekends?”

“Going out with his friends more, he visited his mom’s last weekend. Nary a date night in sight, not since our second anniversary at least, and that was..”

“Yeah..” There was rustling, chips maybe, on her side of the line. “Maybe he’s planning something big. Maybe a trip? I don’t know, maybe you should bring it up again.”

You nod a little, your hands typing away gently on your work computer. “Maybe. The last time I mentioned missing our date nights, he just said, ‘We have dinner dates every night at home.’ That was an incredible feeling.”

“Something about weaponized ignorance is coming to mind.”

“Don’t,”

“Josh has been lacking in good boyfriend points since that stunt with the cake on your birthday,”

“He got a little icing on my nose!”

“Don’t,” She dragged out the ‘t’ sound, “Care! The disrespect! Your dress! Ugh, I’m going to get worked up. Talk to me about Dr. Genius.”

“What about him?”

“Does he ever, maybe, do something you wish Josh would start doing?”

You laugh, “What? No…”

“So you don’t wish that Josh would know the symbolism behind The Red Shoes and go into how… what did he say?”

“That art was worth dying for, and that Hans Christian Andersen's original story surrounded a sense of morality and religious–”

“Ah, Ah, Ah, so you don’t want Josh to know that?”

“He doesn’t need to know that,” your fingers falter in their typing, “Two people can have similar interests and not be in love.”

“Right, it just seems like lately, you’ve been…” You hate the awkward silence that follows Sabrina before she carefully speaks again, “Maybe replacing Josh with Spencer in your hobbies. I know Josh lashed out and was wrong, too, but this Spencer guy… he clicks with you– your hobbies, at least. And your witty humor, too. It seems he matches your intellectualism and your passion for learning, exceeds it even, but Josh is steps below you. Josh, he… just always seems so tolerant of your hobbies.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Nothing,” a voice calls her name, “Look, I gotta go. Josh is great, and I’m just being silly. Maybe I just have a grudge against him or something. I love you.”

“I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” You reply quickly before she ends the call.

You shake your head a little at her words, still swimming in your mind as you go back to charting something on your computer. What did that even mean? Josh is steps below you. He wasn’t dumb. He just lacked… that dry humor you had with Spencer sometimes. A quick, witty remark that had one of you smiling in seconds. Besides, that notion was ridiculous, given you had only known Spencer for three months. Josh made up for it in love… and you did love him.

All couples went through rough patches, but you were sure that if you raised your concerns again with Josh, things would change. You nod a little at the thought as you sigh, shifting in your chair slightly as you readied yourself to be engulfed in your work.

Day One Hundred and Forty-Six

Spencer could feel the bass of some pop song thumping in his chest. It had been a pleasant and slow week at the BAU. While he would have loved to go home and sit down with some book of his choosing, he allowed Penelope and Derek to convince him to go out with them.

The bar wasn’t too far from his apartment complex, so he didn’t mind. Penelope was twirling her drinks tiny umbrella between her fingers as she pointed towards a pretty red-head dancing in a dark green dress. “What about her?”

They have been playing this game for ten minutes now. By they, he means Garcia and Morgan. The game is ‘Who does Spencer find pretty at the bar?’

“Babygirl, you have a great eye,” Derek says as he points the woman out to Spencer, but before he can say anything else, Spencer decides they’ve played this game past the point of amusement.

“Why can’t we accept that I don’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, again?”

Penelope frowned a little, giving Spencer a pleading look. “You said that the last time we took you to the bar, you were willing to participate next time. It’s next time, Reid.”

Spencer remembers the conversation and groans softly as he sips on his water. He hated disappointing them with his lack of effortless charm. It had improved through the years, but he still struggled to find the right words to say in front of someone he found attractive.

“Come on, Pretty Boy. Are you going to back out of your promise?” Derek’s voice is teasing as he smiles at Spencer. Spencer can’t help but feel a sense of newfound obligation. He knew what was holding him back and hated himself for it.

His inappropriate crush on you had grown to be near debilitating, and even though Spencer had told himself that it’d never happen, he kept holding out hope that one day it would. He had gone on dates in the near five months he had known you, but he always ended up comparing his dates to you. They never laughed as sweet as you. They came up with the same academically related jokes you did. They never– they just weren’t you, simple as that.

“Fine, but someone else. She’s pretty, but I think that girl is her girlfriend.” He pleaded softly, watching as a taller brunette woman spun around the pretty redhead to the beat.

Penelope clapped and set down her drink, “This next one has to be perfect.”

“Pretty boy’s future bride,”

Spencer felt his cheeks flush at that, and he nudged Derek with a nervous laugh. Penelope was still scanning the crowd. The bar wasn’t empty or devoid of beautiful women or men for her to choose from, but no one screamed Spencer Reid material. Derek was scanning the crowd with her, always happy to see her passionate about something, even if it was Reid’s love life.

A gasp slipped past Penelope’s lips as she grabbed Derek’s arm tight, her index pointing toward someone by the speakers. Derek’s eyes landed on who she was pointing at, and he smiled wide, nodding quickly, “Future Mrs. Reid material,”

Spencer can barely see where they are pointing as he tries to look toward the area that Garcia is pointing at. Then he sees her. It’s you, and his heart drops. He wants to tell his friends he knows that isn’t ‘Future Mrs. Reid’ at all, but Derek and Penelope are already pushing him into the crowd. He glares back at them and stubbles with his footing for a second before walking toward you.

You’re wearing a beautiful black dress, hugging your curves. In the flashing lights, Spencer thinks that you’re shining. Your hips sway lightly to the beat as you stand near the speakers, alone.

Spencer gently taps you on your shoulder, and when you turn around, you have a glare on your face before you see it's him. He almost laughs at how you gasp and loudly scream, “Spencer!” Your hands fly out to his shoulders, shaking him gently as you giggle. “Hi!” You’re so drunk.

Spencer is sure that Penelope and Derek are watching the scene unfold with confused expressions as he laughs softly, your hands on his shoulders gently shaking his body side-to-side. “Hey, where’s Josh?” He yells over the music.

“Getting drinks!” You yell back in an excited tone.

He smiles wide and shakes his head a little; he usually doesn’t find drunk people endearing. But right now, in the flashing lights of the bar, your rosy-cheek face and tipsy giddiness have him feeling a little more enamored than usual.

“Who are you here with?” You ask loudly, your hands falling away from his shoulders.

“Uh, my friends, coworkers!” he replies as he stands beside you to point out the confused-looking pair staring at them.

“Can I say hi?” He could tell that your friendly disposition continued even when intoxicated, and he found himself adoring the consistency. He nods gently, and you’re smiling so much. Spencer wonders how someone could be so excited about meeting someone else’s friends.

He leads you over, your fingers grabbing the back of his button-up as he carefully leads you through the crowd. The gentle pull of your fingers gripping his shirt makes his cheeks burn as he stops in front of Derek and Penelope. “Y/N, Derek, and Penelope. Penelope and Derek, Y/N.”

You let go of the back of his button-up quickly as you extend a giddy hand, “Hi, I haven’t met any friends of Spencers yet.”

Derek looks amused as he shakes your hand, his eyes flicking between you and Spencer, “How do you know the boy genius?”

“I found him looking lost in the grocery store. We’re neighbors! Well, almost,” You let go of Derek’s hand to point towards the roof, “I’m on top of him.”

Spencer can feel the breath knocked out of his lungs as he quickly corrects you, “She lives on the floor above me.” He explains before either of them can make a joke.

Penelope matches your happy attitude as she shakes your hand, “We had no idea that Spencer had a friend in his apartment complex! How long have the two of you been friends?”

“Almost five months,” You say with a little giggle, leaning toward Penelope slightly. “Spencer comes over to discuss movies with me or books, or we went to a poetry reading last weekend.”

“He comes over often, huh?” Derek’s voice asks playfully, and you nod quickly.

“The mothership is always beckoning,” You joke, laughing harder than you should at your own joke.

Penelope slowly drops your hand, tilting her head, and her flower earrings sway slightly. “And... your roommate is okay with that?” she asks carefully, and Spencer wants to ask why she doesn’t simply ask if you have a boyfriend.

“Oh, no. Josh doesn’t care. He’s my boyfriend of two years. Nothing can break that security, I’m sure.” You look towards the bar for him and catch his eye. You wave high and wide for him, and he smiles, shaking his head at you as he waits for the drinks.

“So, Pretty Boy here is just a friend.”

You giggle a little at the nickname and try to cover your smile with your hand, looking at Spencer. “Pretty Boy?” You giggle out. Spencer frowns a little and goes to defend himself, but you’re already nodding, “He is a pretty boy. That’s fitting.” Then, he feels like his body is on fire.

Derek is about to say something when Josh slides behind you with two drinks. “Always with Spencer,” he teases softly, kissing your cheek before handing you your drink.

“Josh, these are Spencer’s friends, Penelope and Derek.” You say, taking the drink and happily taking a small sip.

Josh holds out his hand for them to shake, a charming smile on his face, “I thought Spencer’s only friend was my girlfriend.”

Penelope doesn’t laugh, but she still manages a polite smile and shakes his hand before Derek does the same thing. Spencer fidgets a little, still beside you. You turn your head up toward him, and you mouth a soft, ‘He’s drunk’ as a way to excuse Josh’s behavior.

However, recently, Josh has been acting like that sober. He would demand to join the two of you at the movies while complaining about the movie selection. He’d sit between the two of you if the opportunity arose, which wasn’t strange. What was weird was how he’d become more physically affectionate with you in front of Spencer. Spencer hated that– hated looking at it.

Josh quickly grabs your shoulders and says, “We should let you all get back to your night.” It sounds like a suggestion, but he’s already leading you away. You gasp as he guides you away from the three of them, and you quickly smile, wave, and yell out a quick, ‘It was nice to meet you’ before you walk further away with Josh.

Penelope sips on her drink as a way to stop herself from talking, but Derek breaks the silence first. “So he’s jealous of you.”

Spencer wants to deny it, but even he can’t deny the facts. “Not at first, but now… I don’t know if I’m not nice enough or if I did something, but yeah, lately, he’s been like that.”

Penelope sighed and looked toward where you and Josh had walked off to, “She seems sweet,”

“Yeah, Reid’s head over heels for her too.”

“Wait, Spencer, are you?”

His cheeks are flushed, and he’s shaking his head a little, a lame attempt to try and hide his feelings. Derek lays it on thick, “Come on, he doesn’t let just anyone touch him. Did you see how he looked at her when he approached her earlier? Like a lovesick dog with a bone in his mouth.”

Spencer raises his hands and scoffs, “Okay, I’m working on it, alright. She’s just easy to be around. I’m getting over it.”

Penelope is swooning over the information, “A forbidden romance,”

“Her gatekeeper boyfriend and you, the pretty boy genius from downstairs,” Derek adds.

Spencer sighs, annoyed with their teasing, “Alright, let’s drop it.” The pair gives him a look, and he adds a soft, “Please.” Seeing their friend’s annoyance didn’t usually deter them, but the way he shifted from one foot to the other as he begged them to stop had Penelope and Derek sharing a look before letting all their silent jokes go. Spencer was grateful that evening had returned to normal, his nervous thoughts slowly slipping away with easy conversation.

Day One Hundred and Eighty-Three

You’re sure Josh is mad at you for something. You just can't get it out of him. A few weeks ago, he had been nothing but sincere. Soft again, sweet again, him from a little over a year ago. It was beautiful, and it felt like he had finally listened. It felt like he had come back around and somehow repaired the hull.

Then he started ignoring you again. You had been careful, so careful, not to suffocate him like he mentioned. You make sure that you go out with Spencer on weekends. You distance yourself just enough for Josh to miss spending time with you. Spending time with Spencer was also good for you; he helps keep your spirits high.

He kept you feeling lighter than air. He would text you sometimes on cases with the team when he was out of town. Little reminders, little jokes, and sometimes… It felt nice. You didn’t know how to describe it. Thrilling, calming, extraordinary, and tumultuous all that once. It confused you, pulled at the heartstrings, softly tugging at something deep within you. It unsettled you and made you ache when you looked at Josh in bed next to you.

But his sweetness distracted you. Erased longing and replaced it with familiar love. You knew his steps, and he knew yours.

And now, he was angry with you. You didn’t want to ask, and you didn’t want to be a pest to the man you loved. You hoped he would just come right out and say it. You hoped that his cup of secret rage would overflow and spill over.

The sound of heavy footsteps disrupts your stagnant reading. Your eyes kept reading the same sentence. Every time you tried to continue with the following sentence, you found yourself unable to do so. You set the book face down on the bed and smiled a little at Josh as he stood in the doorway. It was Friday night, and Spencer was on a case. Molly was busy, Christina was busy, and everyone was busy. So you stayed home, attempting to read.

He was drunk, no drunk didn’t even cover it. He looked like death, pale with red eyes and muttering incoherent things to himself. “Josh�� are you okay?” Your smile quickly faded, and you moved to the edge of the bed, watching him sway against the door frame.

He didn’t answer and just laughed a little, which turned into a groan and then a sigh. You push yourself off the bed and walk to him, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek, but before your fingers can touch him, he smacks your hands away with a deep frown. “Josh!” You gasp as you pull your hand away, rubbing at the slightly pink skin.

“Not right,” he mutters, and you shake your head as you try to understand what he’s talking about.

“What’s not right? Josh, are you okay?”

He stumbles as he pushes past you, his shoulder roughly bumping into yours as he sits on the bed. You stay by the door. “This. Us, not right anymore.” He roughly puts it together.

You can feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach as you turn around to face him, “What are you talking about?”

“Not right anymore,” his drunk hands are dramatically waving between the two of you, “You’re not,” he motions to his chest lamely, “Here anymore.”

You can feel the tears threatening to rise in your eyes, your breathing becoming fast as you shake your head. “I’m here, you’re here.” You point your index into your chest, just above your heart. “What are you saying?”

“Not here,” He repeats loudly.

“I am here!” you yell back as you walk to him. “I don’t know what happened tonight, but we can discuss it, Josh. We can fix things.” You can feel the weight of the world crashing down on your chest, its weight making it difficult to breathe clearly.

“No,”

You’re quick to talk over him, “Yes, we can,”

“No, we can’t,”

“Whatever it is, it’s okay, we can–”

“No–”

“It’s okay, I won’t be mad–”

“I’m in love with someone else,” He yells, his spit hitting your cheek. Your hands twitch slightly at the feeling, but you can’t move. All you can do is stare at him with a gaping mouth, opening and closing repeatedly like a fish. You couldn’t form the words, and your mind was blank. “Don’t give me that.”

You feel like someone else’s voice is speaking, “Give you what? Shock? Disgust? You’re in love with someone else. How else am I supposed to react? Do you want me to be happy? Oh, Josh, I’m so happy for you and your mistress! I’m so glad that you’re fucking her and me at the same time! I’m so happy, so happy!”

“I’m not fucking Estelle, she and I,”

“Your coworker, are fucking you kidding me?”

“Oh, shut up with the pity party!” He looks sober suddenly, his face red and twisted with rage as he stands up from the bed. Your footing slips a little before you catch yourself walking back from him. “You think these past six months I’ve enjoyed having him over here all the time? Giggling with you in the living room over some intellectual private joke that I don’t get, o-or how about when you disappear with him every weekend you can? Introducing you to his friends in bars, going to movies with you, you didn’t try hiding it from me!”

“Him? Who are you talking about?” Then it dawned on you, and Josh could tell from how your back straightened and how you looked at him with unsure eyes. “Spencer? You think I’m cheating on you with Spencer?”

“Not physically, but yes.”

“Josh, what are you even saying right now? I made a friend who likes the same things I do. I mean… a year ago, you told me that I was suffocating. You told me that you didn’t enjoy my hobbies. Did you just expect me to stop them? How did I cheat on you? Spencer and I we’ve never–”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve never fucked, or-or kissed him! Emotionally, you gave up on us. You’re only emotionally available for him. He gets you, all your jokes, your kindness, everything. He has it all. You’re always running into his arms!”

“Running into his arms? Josh, you push me to him. I don’t love Spencer; we are just friends. He’s there for me because he is my friend! What are you going to say now? Th-that I forced you to Estelle, who, by the way, I saw last month at that Holiday party for the office. Are you going to tell me that me being by your side all while having a friend with the same interest as me was too much for you?” You can barely breathe.

“You know it's more than that, don’t play victim. I can see the way you look at him. You used to look at me like that, and then six months ago, you met him. You didn’t even try.”

“I didn’t try.” You repeat back before you’re scoffing a little, pacing the room quickly. “You shut me out. You stopped talking to me for months. If anyone has the right to play the victim here, it’s me. I don’t see you for hours. We had the day off for our second anniversary, and you didn’t talk to me until noon. When I moved in with you, did you even want me to be a person? Or did you want a perfectly still doll, interesting only when you want her to be interesting, talkative only when you want to listen, ready for the taking when it was good for you? Go ahead, treat me like a fucking doll.”

Josh is shaking his head now, his breathing ragged as he slowly runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t,” He pauses, his eyes looking at a photo of the two of you from two years ago framed on the bedside table. “It doesn’t matter anymore? I don’t love you anymore. You can make me the villain. I don’t care. I want you out.”

You swallow hard at his words and laugh a little, “Where am I supposed to go?”

“I,” He looks at you, and you see how tired he looks. The part of you that still loves him feels crushed; the other just feels angry. “My name is on the lease. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’ll let you pack a bag, but I want you,” he motions towards the apartment, and you assume he means your presence in the apartment and your things. “Gone.” And he doesn’t let you say anything back, walking out into the living room.

You stand still; you feel frozen. You don’t know if you want to start crying, start packing, or just call people to see if you can crash at theirs. That feeling, the feeling that he planted in you rises inside you. You’ll be a burden, suffocating, and miserable. But you need a place to sleep for the night.

Your shaky hands reach for your phone on the bed, randomly calling people. Alex is out of town, you know. Christina just moved and doesn’t even have a couch yet. You call Molly, but she doesn’t answer. You wish you lived in Boston so you could call Sabrina, but that’s unrealistic. You keep scrolling through the contacts and try to think.

As you reach the next contact, your fingers falter, and your mouth feels dry. You hesitate multiple times before hitting the call button. You wait with bated breath as you bring your phone to your ear.

Ring.

You should hang up. This is a bad idea.

Ring.

Doesn’t this just prove Josh’s point?

Ring.

You don’t even know if he’s back in town or when he’ll be back. You should hang up before he answers; call someone else.

The third ring is cut short as Spencer picks up the phone. Your hands shake as he says a gentle, tired, “Hello?”

“He-hey.. Uh, are you still in Illinois?”

“No, we’re an hour out. Are you okay? You sound like you’re upset.”

You lick your lips quickly as you debate, telling him everything: the fight, how Josh is kicking you out. Instead, you settle for, “I just need a place to crash for the night, and I know it's a big ask, and you’re getting home from a case, but–”

“Yes, yeah, you can stay at mine.” You let out a slow breath and nod a little, a sense of temporary relief settling over you.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I… I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be at yours in an hour?”

“See you soon,” Spencer says before you hang up the phone. You get to work as fast as you can, grabbing luggage from the closet and packing like a mad woman. Anything you can fit into the case, you carefully fold or roll up and stuff inside.

An hour comes around, and you’re packed enough for a week at the very least. You grab the only thing on the bed that’s yours, a dark green blanket, before slowly rolling the suitcase into the living room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re not in your body anymore, watching the scene from the ceiling.

Josh turns, a phone against his ear, and you only catch the ends of an ‘I love you’ before he hangs up. He draws his lips in a tight line before asking, “Where you headed?”

You feel like he knows the answer, “Spencer’s.”

His lips turn upwards, and he laughs; he laughs so hard that he’s gripping his side. “Ye-Yeah, that's right. Prove me right. Run straight to Doctor Reid. Fucking rich.” He snips at you as you finally feel the tears start to well up in your eyes. “You know what let him have my sloppy seconds.”

You gasp softly, the comment like a punch in the gut. “Have fun fucking her in our bed. Make sure to put the pictures face down before you give her the most underwhelming four minutes of her life. I’ll be back tomorrow to start packing.” You say as you start stepping through the front door, slamming it behind you. You’re panting lightly in the empty hallway, your mind numb as tears stream down your face. You don’t remember lugging your stuff to the second floor or getting to Spencer’s door.

The only thing you remember is the sound of your name and gentle hands grabbing your chin and tilting your head up with care. You remember sobbing, hyperventilating out the events of the past evening to him as he helps you inside. And the eventual call of sleep that reaches you on Spencer’s couch.

Day One Hundred and Ninety

Spencer could hear the soft sounds of your computer playing something in the living room. Last Friday… Well, technically, early Saturday morning, you had your head on your knees outside his apartment door. The sound of sobs had him dropping his dirty go-bag and grabbing your chin to soothe you.

He listened to everything: how Josh thought that you were emotionally cheating on him with Spencer, how Josh had fallen in love with a coworker, and how he kicked you out. You said you would have stayed, but the lease was in his name. It was a stupid decision of the past catching up with you– your words, not Spencer’s.

You had told him that it would only be for one night, but Spencer wasn’t going to make you couch surf all week. He insisted that you stay with him until you found an apartment. He let you stuff your boxes of things in his study and was happy to do it.

The worst part about this arrangement was seeing you like this, seeing you so heartbroken. You went to work a little later than him, came home later than him, ate, slept, and repeated the cycle. He kept catching you with a dissociative look on your face. Too scared to ask you if you were okay, he would awkwardly attempt to cheer you up with your shared hobbies. But that only worked for so long until you were ending the night with that numb look on your face again.

He lays in bed, wondering if he should go into the living room to check on you. He barely thinks it through before he throws his covers off and slips out of bed. He has plaid pajama pants on with an old CalTech shirt, and when he walks into the living room, he can see you pause what you’re watching on your computer and smile at him.

“Hey,” you whisper, even though it's just the two of you in the apartment.

“Hey,” Spencer whispers back before sighing and walking toward the back of the couch. “Can’t sleep?”

You look up at him before returning to the dimly lit computer screen, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” His quick reply has you nodding a little. You shift a little, pushing yourself up to make room on the couch for him. He takes the unspoken invitation and sits down next to you.”What are we watching?”

You lick your lips nervously, “Romcom. When Harry Met Sally.”

Spencer glances at you before he admits, “Never seen it.”

You gasp softly, and that playful light returns in your eyes for a second. He hasn’t seen that light in a week. “Spencer Reid, you haven’t lived.”

Spencer takes the opportunity to joke around with you, making a buzzer sound with his mouth. “Wrong. I’ve been alive for many years.”

This gets a weak smile from you, but still a smile nonetheless. “You want to watch it with me? I know it's late, but… maybe it’ll lure you to sleep if you find it boring.”

Spencer grins, glancing at the clock to see how late it is. He shakes his head a little, “Maybe we could just talk for a second? I’ve barely seen you this week.” He suggests. You’re quick to nod, shutting your laptop. You lean back on the sofa and bring your legs up to sit crisscrossed. He watches you. Your eyes are no longer red or puffy, but the skin on your cheeks still seems pale, lacking their natural rosiness.

“I found a great apartment, but I can’t move in until the end of this month.” You break the silence first, hands folding awkwardly in your lap.

Spencer nods, resisting the urge to hold one of your hands as he speaks. “That’s fine, and I’m not kicking you out anytime soon. You’re stuck with me for three more weeks.”

You chuckle a little at that, “Ever the gentleman,” You say softly, but your eyes don’t have that light anymore. You seem distracted, your eyes lingering on him briefly before staring at your hands. “Spencer,”

“Yeah?”

“What do you do when everything feels like too much?”

Your voice cracks softly as you ask the question, and Spencer is scared you’ll start crying again. He always feels useless whenever you cry, a genius without answers. He swallows the nervous lump in his throat: “I read, or sometimes I force myself to go out. Whenever I’m overwhelmed, I end up at the public library. Or sometimes, if I have the day, I go to the Smithsonian. But... it’s been a while.”

You seem to perk up a little at the mention of the Smithsonian, and you give him a playfully little side glance, “Air and Space?” You guess with a small smile.

He smiles and shrugs, “Sometimes,” he returns the playful sideways glance. “Portrait Gallery?”

You’re laughing a little as you nod. Spencer feels relieved to hear its soft melody. “Portrait Gallery.” You confirm your pick with a soft sigh.

Spencer lets warm silence spread for a second, his eyes occasionally flickering over to your serene expression. “What about you? What do you do when you’re overwhelmed?”

Your eyes meet his as he asks the question, and for a second, you seem a little surprised that he is asking you anything. He wonders if you expected him to keep talking or ignore the tension in the air around you.

“Well, reading is lovely. Museums, movies,” you pause for a second, and your expression softens. “Music. I love music when I’m feeling overwhelmed, sad, or happy. It’s a universal fix, music.”

“What kind of music?” He has heard you talk about music before, how you didn’t understand people who hated it. Music helped him escape to childhood memories, the good ones at least. He wondered if it had the same effect on you.

“Everything. Pop, country, indie, anything that moves me. I like classical too, but only sometimes.”

“Why only sometimes?”

“I like it in ballets, plays, movies. I like the visual representation that accompanies it.” Your eyes leave his slowly, “Like a music box with a ballerina inside.”

Spencer finds that this version of you, the melancholy version, is blunt. You don’t people-please or avoid questions; instead, you would directly state something. He liked how you directly stated your musical likes and how honest they were. He finds himself wanting every version of yourself that you have shown him lately, and he feels a little guilty for it.

A soft gasp from your lips stops him from overthinking, “Oh shoot,” You mutter as you pull out your phone, looking at the calendar before you curse softly.

“What’s wrong?’

“I, uhm,” You swallow hard and set your phone down, “I just remembered that Josh and I were going to celebrate our third anniversary a little early this year. Our second wasn’t the best, and he promised we would do something I wanted to do. We had tickets to see Swan Lake.” You chew on your bottom lip slowly, getting lost in the thought before you say, “That’s next month. I gotta cancel.”

Spencer can see how you slump at the thought and how sad it makes you to cancel the plans. He feels himself saying the words before he can even process them: “I can go with you.”

You turn to him with a soft laugh of disbelief, “What?”

“We could go together. Make the most of it. I mean, I like Swan Lake.”

“Spencer, it would be wrong to spend what would be my third anniversary with you. I mean–”

“It wouldn’t be the exact day. You said it was a couple of months early, so it would just be us…going to see Swan Lake. Just friends, seeing a ballet, and getting dinner or something. A night on the town. Something to keep your mind off things,”

He hopes you’ll agree to the offer, his heart beating loudly in his chest as you stare into his eyes. Your eyes dart back and forth, rapidly looking into his eyes and then at his face. The silence is killing him, a knife in his back as he tries his best to breathe normally.

Then you’re giving him a slow smile, a little shy at first, before you beam at the suggestion, “Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go to the ballet together. I mean, I would do it with or without Josh anyway. Now I’ll be able to go with someone who will actually enjoy it, even better.” Your eyes meet his hazel ones again, and you place a tentative hand over his. “Thank you, Spence.” Your voice is sincere, and Spencer feels his body relax when you touch him.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my evening two months from now.” He whispers in the air between you before he slips his hand away from yours and stands. He yawns softly, “Now… let’s get some sleep.”

You nod, a small smile still on your face as you lay on the couch. “Night.” You whisper as you close your eyes.

Spencer stands and stares down at you a little longer than he should before he takes a step toward his bedroom. “Goodnight,” he says as he walks into his bedroom. He’s thinking about your genuine smile for another hour before he even closes his eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED...

111 notes · View notes

galedekarios · 2 months

Note

I think the reason some Galemancers think the astral scene is the “lesser choice” is because you get 5 extra approval points if you choose the bed scene. Both are good! But that’s what I would think. Also, I believe the astral scene pushes him towards the crown more vs the bed.

thank you for your message, anon, and for trying to explain!

however, i think there's some confusion and (unintentionally, i'm sure) false information here that i'd like very, very much to clear up:

a) approval points

both choices have the exact same approval points attached to them: five in both cases.

astral sea scene:

Player: I'll remind you we're newly acquainted, not newlyweds. Gale: Then we'll start writing the prequel. Gale: What do you say? Player: I think that sounds delightful - but I don't see a bed. ['Gale 5']

old ways scene:

Player: I don't need illusions. I want the Gale standing right in front of me. Gale: Are you sure...? I could conjure up any sight that you could dream of, and a few you could not. I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could do more than woo you. I could wow you. Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no goddess., FEMALE ['Gale 5'] Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no god., MALE ['Gale 5'] Player: You don't need to impress me, Gale. I'm no deity. ['Gale 5']

you can net five approval points in the last night alive scene in other ways too:

telling gale you love him:

Player: I'm in love with you too. ['Gale 5']

2. leaning in for a kiss:

Player: Lean in for a kiss. ['Gale 5']

3. gale also doesn't mind if you change your mind during the astral sea scene and want to return to the 'real' world:

Player: It's beautiful, but it's you I want to be with. The man, not the illusion. ['Gale 5'] - Player: I want to be with the real Gale - the man, not the fantasy. ['Gale 5']

these are NOT extra points. you will ONLY get these if you didn't choose the "Player: I think that sounds delightful - but I don't see a bed. ['Gale 5']" option in the same dialogue tree i listed above to follow through to the astral sea scene, but instead return to the "old ways" scene (gale snaps his fingers and the illusion of waterdeep disappears).

4. the friendship version of the scene also allows the player to not five approval points if the player chooses to stay with gale under the stars:

Gale: Yes... but there is so much to live for, and so few moments in which to house it all.Approval_AtLeast_30_For_Sp6 Gale: Damn you. Damn you for giving me so much to care about. Our friends, our adventures... this would have been so much easier if it was just me. But it isn't. Gale: If there is a way - any way - to save all that's grown dear to me, I want to seize it. I just cannot fathom what that might be, other than to fail Mystra and condemn the world. Gale: Stay with me, will you? I don't want to think of it any more, but I don't want to be alone either. Player: Stay with him and watch the stars in silence. ['Gale 5']

the second part i want to address because that is (again, i'm sure it's completely unintentional so no worries, anon, and/or a misconception/misunderstanding) false information:

b) choosing the astral sea scene pushes gale towards the crown

that is completely factually wrong and i felt it was important to clear that up. there is not a singular flag in the entirety of the scene's files that determines pushing gale away or towards godhood, away or towards the crown.

not one.

which makes sense because at that point in time, neither gale nor the protag even know about the crown. it's only at the end of act 2 that you find out about it, and it triggers gale's act 3 choice to pursue the crown (and godhood) or not to.

the only flags set in gale's act 2 romance scene is if you push him towards sacrificing himself or making him understand that he doesn't have to do that and that you'll find another way with him.

i've detailed that in a meta post about those flags.

if you would like to check the file for youself, you need to open "CAMP_GalesLastNightAlive_SD_ROM", which contains gale's act 2 romance scene.

the only other flags that appear in this scene are the following:

ORI_State_Partnered = False / True

ORI_State_DatingGale

CAMP_GalesLastNightAlive_SD_ROM_Event_CollateralDamage = False / True

ORI_Gale_Event_PushTowardsDeath

ORI_Gale_Event_PushAwayFromDeath

as well as the flags for approval (to determine which scene variation you get -> low approval, friendship, romance) and for karlach, as she has special dialogue in this romance scene with gale, depending on whatever or not she got the second upgrade that allows her to be able to touch.

again, my goal here is just to clear up misinformation about the scene. none of the two versions have a disparity in approval or have a 'negative' consequence attached to them in terms of flags.

what i, personally, find interesting and what i would like to add at the end of this post are the devnotes. we don't have that many in this scene, however, gale makes it clear that if you pick the 'old ways' scene - which is, in and of itself, a perfectly valid choice to make btw depending on how you rp your character, and i have two characters myself who have different ways of doing this scene - the devnote makes it very clear that gale is bowing to the player's preference.

it's not his wish. it's the player's wish.

and it's a wish that he respects to the utmost:

Player: It's beautiful, but its you I want to be with. The man, not the illusion. Gale: The old ways then. If that is what you wish, so be it. devnote: Tactful, bowing to the player's desires Gale: A small gesture towards your comfort.

all in all, i think personal preference is something else entirely, but i do think - looking at everything i've laid out here - it's very sad to see one scene painted as the 'lesser' for reasons that are factually wrong.

if ppl are interested to read a post taking on a more favourable reading of the astral sea version of gale's act 2 romance scene and want to understand why some people might prefer it, i'd greatly recommend this meta by @clericofgale. i've also talked about my own feelings (this is my personal opinion) in the tags of this post:

#i've spoken about this already but the amount of times i had to read derisive takes on the astral sea scene #because people think that making gale understand that he is more than his magic #is the same as separating him entirely from it #it does him a great disservice when it's such a great part of his life #you are romancing a wizard and a wizard comes with magic #i think it's also important to note that gale believes this is his quite possibly last night #the scene is literally titled that in the files: 'last night alive' #it's not a show it's love and acceptance and vulnerability #he is trying to share what he can and as much as he can with the person he loves in what little time may be left to him #he shows you his home and bares his soul to you in hopes you'll accept him in his entirety for who he is and the things he holds dear #when you deny him he acquiesces but he is doing so on your wishes and your comfort alone - not for his

again, thank you for your message, anon! 🖤

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 8 months

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illicit affairs

the one where Joel doesn't call

Summary: After making peace with Joel's decision not to get in touch with you, you move on with your life and meet your new neighbour and his friends.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, angst, fluff, some heartbreak

A/N: Pick your own ending part two. feat Frankie Morales

illicit affairs master list // Pedro Masterlist

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If was three weeks after you were back from Austin that you realised that Joel would not call. That he did not want to be there for you and most importantly for his daughter. You were talking almost daily to your brother and mother.

So you knew that he had broken up with your mother and gone Mia almost immediately.

More than once your finger hovered over the call button over the number your best friend had found online of his construction company.

You were dying to just yell at him.

Yell at him for breaking your heart.

Yell at him for breaking your mothers heart.

Yell at him for being a coward and leaving you without a word.

Yell at him for leaving you to carry all the consequences of one weekend full of sex.

Because that was what this was to him, wasn’t it?

But what good would that do?

It wouldn’t help you in the end. And frankly you were scared of how he would react if you cornered him. If you got him on the phone in the first place.

He obviously did not see you that more than a nice fuck, so you let yourself wallow in your heartbreak for some days more before you decided that it was time to move on with your life.

Your life would change in a matter of months and you were nowhere close to being prepared.

All your friends in Seattle cleared their whole weekend when you finally found your dream apartment. You spend the whole day painting and building the nursery with your best friend while all your other friend carried your furniture and emptied your boxes full of belongings.

It was when you took a snack break and sat down on your new sofa to eat that you noticed a couple of faces you hadn’t seen before, helping to set up your new dining table.

It was the day you met Frankie.

——

„Are you sure they are not gonna be mad?“ Frankie’s arm was wrapped around your waist as you walked down the aisle, searching for ice cream.

„That’s what the ice cream is for,“ you teased and he chuckled before he kissed you.

A squeal came from your daughter who was in her seat in the shopping cart. Her wide brown eyes looking around in wonder.

Frankie tickled her belly and she laughed loudly, a couple of people turning their heads towards her joyful laugh.

She was already so big at only seven months old.

Frankie smiled at you and it still was like your breath hitched every time you looked at him.

After you moved into your new apartment right across from Frankie’s you started hanging out together. You were both new to the neighbourhood, and while you still had your friends near by, Frankie’s friends (who had been the other three guys in your apartment, helping to set things up) had left his place and Seattle shortly after to get back to their lives.

It started with you inviting yourself over to dinner when you were positively drooling at the scents coming from his apartment on a daily basis.

He would tell you about his mother teaching him how to cook when he grew up.

You went to get groceries together weekly, him helping you carry them, insisting that you had to take it easy, your belly getting bigger by day.

He was there at night, when you couldn’t sleep because your back hurt.

He had been there, when your baby moved for the first time.

He had been there when you were so horny after he kissed you for the first time, you had spend all night desperately seeking pleasure only he could gave you in the end.

And slowly over the months leading up to your due date, you fell in love with each other.

He had been there with you when your water broke, held your hand while you were in labour, witnessed your daughters first breath and cry, tears in his eyes.

He was the father to her, you had only dreamed about.

Your mother absolutely adored him and your brother was jealous. Mostly because Frankie was straight and he was absolutely in love with you.

You visited Austin regularly.

And you never told your mother the full story of how you ended up pregnant.

Your mother still asked you occasionally if you’re sure you did not want to move back, but Seattle was now home. Frankie’s best friend Santiago would move to Seattle in the next year and Frankie and you had just bought your first house. It was a fixer upper. It would take some time for it to be finished, but you were absolutely in love with the vision Frankie had for the place.

You caught the ring on his finger, the ring you put there last week.

It had been a small wedding. Just your closest friends and a dinner after at your favourite Pizza place.

He had asked you to marry him on the anniversary of your first meeting and you had said yes without one doubt in your mind.

That you found an open date at the courthouse for the week after, after jokingly checking for the next date had been a pure accident.

You both made the decision to just take the date.

You wanted to be married to him. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

At the courthouse you also filed the documents for him to officially adopt your daughter.

He was the dad you always imagined for her in everything but paper.

But that was only a matter of time now.

Frankie caught you looking at his ring, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he smiled. He took your hand, his thumb rubbing over your finger before he leaned down and kissed you softly.

You were in Austin to tell your family in person that you eloped and were married, hoping they wouldn’t be too annoyed with not being invited.

You wanted to shout it from the rooftops, you were so disgustingly happy and in love.

When you parted from his lips you smiled as you turned your head, looking for the favourite flavour of your mothers ice cream.

You saw him then.

Out of the corner from your eyes.

Joel.

He was starring at you, surprise written clear on his face.

Frankie was back to entertaining your daughter and Joel’s eyes dropped to the baby giggling up at your husband.

You could not read Joel’s expression, but when he made an attempt to come closer you shook your head at him. He blinked, stopping right away.

„We gotta get ice cream for grandma, so she doesn’t kill your dada because he married your mama without telling her,“ Frankie said in a baby voice and you broke away from Joel’s gaze looking at your daughter. She was grabbing Frankie’s finger, her tongue out, a wide smile on her face.

„No one is killing anyone,“ you said, closing your eyes and letting your head drop against Frankie’s shoulder.

„You okay?“ He asked. He looked in the direction Joel was still standing, meeting the man’s eyes, having noticed you tense up.

You took his hand, nodding your head and Frankie looked back at you, checking in.

„I’m perfectly okay,“ you said with a smile before you kissed him softly, letting him pull you away to look for the ice cream you came here for in the first place.

#my fic #Frankie Morales x fem. reader #frankie morales #Joel Miller x fem reader #Pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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presidentofthelipglossclub · 2 months

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GUESS WHO'S BIRTHDAY IT IS!!

in honor of my birthday here are some more rescue bots headcanons!!

they (as in constructed rescue bots) have extra color receptors which allows them to see more types of light than other bots, as well as advanced hearing (they’re also the only bots with noses so they have an extra sense)

all of them have outliers (its a requirement to be a rescue bot)

blurr changed his paint job (post s4, before he showed up in rid15) because heatwave and blades basically bullied him into it

the academy where they studied was on a moon of cybertron’s, and they actually spent very little time on cybertron itself. it was sorta like a field trip spot, and they went very infrequently

quickshadow was the academy's champion shot, and she won a bunch of competitions

the rescue bots all had specialties outside of what they actually did (heatwave was a history nerd, boulder studied xenobiology, blades took journalism, chase did psychology, quickshadow was a data analyst, hightide took astronomy)

hightide was actually friends with both orion pax and megatronus separately before they realized they all knew each other

in that same vein, servo and lazerbeak were longtime friends because they grew up together

optimus is so ridiculously tolerant towards whatever the rescue bots do that they actually have a running bet on how much they can get away with before optimus gets angry (he never once has)

blurr's reputation as most annoying bot ever has been intact since way before the war when he was a racer

blades got his name through an awkward mishap at an armory that heatwave never let him live down

related to that, all the rescue bots' "names" are really more of nicknames. their names are listed on documents but their primary identification is through serial numbers because they're cold constructs

boulder had a practically bullet proof reputation at the academy as the perfect student so whenever the others wanted to get away with something they always involved him

when salvage heard about DIY's he got super into them and started making tons of pointless stuff. he never even followed the good channels, only stuff like troom troom

chase succumbs to peer pressure ridiculously easy

heatwave gives really good advice but only on accident

quickshadow and hightide like to hang out and trash talk optimus whenever he does something they don't like

blades only has field medicine training, he's not cleared for any actual treatment outside of an emergency (he can do first aid and EMT stuff but can't, like, prescribe things or do surgery). this has not stopped him from trying things though.

salvage is actually from one of cybertron's colony worlds, but he grew up on cybertron

ok here's a fun little surprise is honor of my birthday: the humans are also included in headcanons!!

kade was actually very good at gymnastics, he just got bored of it

chief burns needs glasses but he prefers to wear contacts

dani had a very extreme scene core phase, and her hairstyle is a remnant of that

frankie has super high government security clearance as a super genius and daughter of one of the world's best scientists, so she knows all kinds of military secrets

doc greene and chief burns met in childhood, doc's family moved away, and then when he got older he moved back to griffin rock and reunited with the chief

graham is the biggest night owl because of college. sometimes, when he has trouble falling asleep, the bots invite him to movie night and they all watch reruns of old movies or shows

building off that, there are two kinds of movie night: the first is with the whole burns family, rescue team, and sometimes others such as optimus or the greenes. the second is less of a movie night and more of a "we need something to do while the humans are sleeping, let's watch trashy tv all night." this kind of movie night is really just the bots (minus whoever has night shift)

professor baranova actually used to be pretty upbeat, although she was a bit misunderstood because she's neurodivergent (i also headcanon that after the whole living underwater for 28 years thing she developed DID and multiple alters to cope with the loneliness, so she's now a system)

woodrow and optimus are in a qpr. optimus refers to him as his amica, and also privately thinks of him as his human partner

doc greene at some point developed a working synthetic energon formula completely independently. when ratchet first met him (post war, probably right before he was hired to work at the rescue academy) and learned about this he lost his shit

bumblebee and dani race together all the time when he visits

this is where i'm gonna stop this post, because it's pretty late for me lol. it was my birthday today, so happy birthday to me!!

also y'all PLEASE talk to me abt any of these headcanons i will be thrilled to elaborate!

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booksandabeer · 1 year

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Stucky Recs: Road Trips!

Well, well, well. Look at that! After only three months of constant whining about having no time to do it, I've finally managed to put together a new rec list! Yay.

The theme of this list was requested by multiple people and really, who doesn't love a good road trip story, right? And let me tell you, there are so many good ones, this post could've been twice as long. I'm actually already hoarding fics in my little folder to do a part two later this year.

But for now, please enjoy my effusive ramblings about the following 10 Road Trip fics + 1 Rail Trip fic:

🚗 you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all by biblionerd07 | T, 15K

Author's summary: Steve and Bucky aren't really much of a Steve and Bucky anymore these days. Steve's sure it's because Bucky doesn't see himself as the same guy who used to love Steve. In a desperate attempt to prove him wrong, Steve begs Bucky to go on a road trip together, the way they used to dream about, and does his best to remind Bucky of who he is.

A post-CW canon divergent fic that's in a lot of ways very soft, but with just enough of an edge to keep things interesting and the reader uncertain as to how everything will play out in it. This starts with a somewhat disaffected Bucky who has not (yet) regained all of his memories and a Steve who, in his desperation to reconnect with him, tries so hard but ends up saying and doing all the wrong things. As they travel around the country, they both find ways to let go and to unlearn and relearn each other. Features moments of heart melting yet tongue-in-cheek sappiness (so the absolute best kind of sappiness) and a fun background Sam/T'Challa pairing.

🚗 a black sky prickled with small lights by emilywithoutY | M, 26K

Author's summary: There's this: The July heat. A wide open road. An obnoxious country song on the radio. Bucky in the driver’s seat.

Or: Two hundred-year-old men and their Great American Road Trip

The ultimate, unashamed Steve-and-Bucky-visit-the-Grand-Canyon wish-fulfillment fantasy—and I mean that in the best possible way. The summer road trip vibes are impeccable. This is technically the third part in the Litanies series, but it absolutely works as a standalone. However, if you ask me whether you should read the entire series, the answer is obviously a resounding yes. It's not only one of the best EG-Fix-Its I've read but also comes with an additional fun and sexy twist on how to get these two to finally get their heads out of their asses. Anyway, in this installment, they have already done that and now they get to enjoy the road, their freedom, and most of all, each other. Includes: healing along the way, long overdue conversations, and the attempt to reconcile the joy of finally having all that time with the bittersweet reality of having all that time.

🚗 Blue Moon by what_alchemy | E, 15K

Author's summary: "Now are you gonna run away with me or not, Rogers?”

God, this story (this author, really)! I’ve read this fic so many times I’ve lost count. It features one of my favorite post-WS characterizations of Bucky. One where he's still—somehow after everything—a romantic at heart, but also clear-eyed and unsentimental enough about certain things to not shy away from laying out some uncomfortable truths for Steve and the reader alike (there’s one line in particular that is seared into my brain and every time I read it I personally feel so called out). Steve may be a bit more cautious and softer about it, but oh, he gives back just as good. Nobody is handling anyone with kid gloves here. A story about learning how to be together (again), defining one's very own version of 'Happy Ever After', and about being very much in love, and also very horny for each other.

🚗 Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) by dorian_burberrycanary | E, 20K

Author's summary: Steve has never felt right running away from a fight, even if the fight is with unanswered questions. But it’s not running if it’s a road trip and the oldest, thorniest unanswered question is along for the ride.

If you follow my blog you will probably already know that I am head over heels in love with this entire EG-Fix-It Series. This third story is finished, but Steve & Bucky's road trip continues in part 4, which is currently being posted (updates weekly). I believe this fic can be read as a standalone but, really, why would you deprive yourself of even a single word of this absolutely magnificent series? Every word, every detail, every narrative choice feels deliberate and well thought out. It's a masterclass in subtle storytelling and yet so rich in its themes, characterizations and descriptions of people, places, and food. This fic will make you hungry in so many different ways. A lot happens between the lines which may require some patience at times, but when the emotional payoff hits—it really, really hits. I cannot recommend this enough. Spectacular all around.

🚗 where the days are longer by endofadream | E, 13K

Author's summary: And maybe that’s what they’re running from. Those ghosts. That minefield. The suffocating pressure to live up to who they used to be when who they used to be has now become stale, recycled words in textbooks and museums and clickbait online articles.

They fuck off to the coast, trying to put as many miles between them and D.C. as possible. New York is loud and claustrophobic at the best of times, but California has the open skies and roads that make Steve ease a little more into his skin.

I have such an immense fondness for this story. There are some very minor problems with shifting POV in the first chapter, but please don't let this deter you from giving this story a chance—it's got so much heart. This is a slow and meandering piece that can be best summed up as: Steve and Bucky being so very much in love. Set in some undefined period post-CATWS, in a world where the events of Civil War never happened, Steve and Bucky decide they’re tired of fighting and conforming to what everyone else wants them to be and just get in a car and drive all the way to California. There, they start figuring out how to live in the future while also accepting that they can never quite leave the past behind, and that time, indifferent to the tragedies of (not quite) mortal men, will inevitably keep marching on—whether they want it to or not. To quote directly from the story itself: They’re both men out of time, so they make their own.

🚗 Lightning in a Bottle by odetteandodile | E, 63K

Author's summary: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking.The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction…

Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride. It gets more complicated from there.

This AU offers an intriguing twist on the The Road Trip as a genre, Shrunkyclunks as a trope, and modern!Bucky as a character—it's an electric ride from start to finish—in more ways than one… *wiggles eyebrows* ...yeah ok, I’ll see myself out. It was either this or something about 'chasing all kinds of storms together' and I just couldn’t resist. Anyway, this story is a clever and unique take on canon events (not just limited to the CA movies!) and I don’t really want to give too much away and spoil all the fun, so I’ll just say this: If you are in the mood for a thrilling sci-fi/adventure/romance hybrid-story with beautiful evocative writing, characters that actually act like the smart, competent grown-ups they supposedly are, sex scenes that are both hot and emotional, and a touch of spy/mission fic to go along with a free crash course in weather phenomena—this is the fic for you!

🚗 The Only Familiar Thing by brideofquiet | E, 39K

Author's summary: Steve takes a breath, steels himself, and asks, “Where are we going, Buck?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one driving, Steve.”

And before Steve can protest, Bucky gives him that broad, toothy grin again. The worry pitted in his stomach ebbs, and he decides—what the hell? Why not? Steve pulls his helmet on and swings a leg over the bike. Bucky settles in behind him, and he cranks the engine to life.

A Post-CATWS fic, in which Bucky has returned to Steve after being on the run for a while. They are together, share an apartment in Brooklyn, and Bucky has regained most of his memories—so yay! All good, right? Well, things are going…uh...let's say they're going. See, Steve and Bucky are still very much in love—the thing is, they're pretty good at the being in love part but pretty awful at the talking about it (and everything else that matters) part. So much so that they accidentally on purpose non-communicate and out-stubborn each other into going on a road trip, where things will eventually—inevitably—come to a head. Throughout the trip, the tension between them builds and builds until finally they have to admit that sometimes being partners, lovers, best friends, and knowing someone better than anybody else in the world, still doesn't mean that you can *actually* read their mind. Sometimes you gotta use your words. The author skillfully manages to create a story that treats its characters and their conflict seriously, while also infusing it with a healthy dose of humor and romance to always keep the readers on the right side of 'frustrated' (i. e. invested, not irritated).

🚗 old college try by kafkian | E, 19K

Author's summary: Bucky wonders if it’ll ever stop feeling like stealing: Steve Rogers, Captain America, the hope of a nation tucked into Bucky’s right hand. It’s the heist of the century.

In which Bucky Barnes remembers himself, Steve, and what it means to be selfish – not necessarily in that order.

Another old favorite of mine. Set post-CACW, this fic starts with a recently defrosted Bucky and a somewhat unmoored Steve in Wakanda, as they try to figure out what to do next: Keep fighting the never-ending wars of other people or run away, see the world, and retire to a quiet life? Well, since this is a road trip fic, I think you can guess which option they go for. It's a beautifully written story about Steve and Bucky's journey across continents and decades, and their ultimate arrival in a life that they never dared to hope they could have one day. This was written in 2016, so right between the fanfic avalanche caused by TWS and the frenzy of EG-Fix-Its. Re-reading this for the first time in quite a while made me realize that—aside from being a fantastic story in its own right—it's also an interesting commentary on popular Stucky fics that came before it (you can see clear influences but also some gentle rebuttals to popular fanon of the time) as well as very much a product of its time. And I don't mean that in a negative or disrespectful way at all, but simply, that it also serves as a fandom artifact; a text that reveals and reacts to certain trends, shifting attitudes, and developments in Stucky fanfiction over the years. Either way it's definitely well worth a read.

🚗 The Long Way: A Stucky Fancomic by BeaArthurPendragon, LittleWolf82 | T

Authors' summary: After Thanos is defeated, Steve doesn't stay in the past. This is the story of where he and Bucky go next.

A little something different here: a road trip fancomic! And oh, it's only one of my favorite fic writers teaming up with one of my favorite artists—what's not to love? This is an EG-Fix-It that simply ignores the last five minutes that Ruined It All and instead tells the story of what could've or should've happened to Steve and Bucky after EG. A story that is infinitely kinder and truer to these characters. Sweetly told and beautifully drawn—an absolutely wonderful collaboration.

🚗 i need a forest fire by tomorrowsrain | T, 65K

Author's summary: In which Tony Stark makes a reckless decision, becomes a wanted fugitive, goes on the run with the former Winter Soldier, and learns how to forgive. For his part, Bucky Barnes is just trying to hold himself together. AU, post-Civil War.

This is the only fic on this rec list that does not have Bucky and Steve going on a journey but instead it's Bucky and...Tony. WAIT! Hey, come back! I know that for a lot of Steve and/or Bucky fans the idea of reading a 65K fic that heavily features Tony Stark does not really sound like an enticing prospect. BUT! Hear me out. This is a fic that runs with one of the core concepts of fix-it fanfiction, which is: What if these characters actually talked to each other for a change? And yes, it gets messy and complicated and often painful—nothing is glossed over and no one is let off the hook easy. What you get here is a fantastically written story that is simultaneously an intimate & slow character study of both Bucky and Tony, a grand sweeping road trip fic with a thrilling plot that will have you on the edge of your seat (there is a moment in this where I really thought it was all over), AND a decade spanning tale of epic love. If you're worried that there is too little Stucky or Steve in this, don't be. Even before he shows up around the halfway mark of the fic, Steve is very much present the entire time. It's incredible what the author pulls off here. This is one of my all-time favorite fics. I love it a totally not normal amount.

🚂 Will There be Any Freight Trains in Heaven? by phoenixflight | E, 56K

Author's summary: It's summer of 1934, a quarter of all Americans are unemployed, and record numbers of migrant workers are hopping freight trains to seek their fortune out west. What are two boys from Brooklyn to do?

Or, Steve and Bucky ride the rails, become socialists, and fall in love, in no particular order.

This story is a bit of an outlier on this list because not only is it the only fic that's set in the pre-war period, it's also not strictly a road trip fic, but a rail trip fic. Usually the road trips in these stories are either (1) a last ditch effort at saving a friendship/relationship, (2) a way of finding oneself and/or making peace with one's past, or (3) the 'we survived all this and here we are together in the future, so let's go and actually see some of that world we fought so hard to save' victory lap. The impetus for travel in this fic, however, is born out of sheer necessity. It's the height of the Great Depression and Steve and Bucky are really poor and really desperate—so desperate even that they're willing to leave behind Brooklyn, their families, and their lives as they know it to go look for work in the West. This is not a fic that's always easy to read, circumstances are dire, attitudes are, ahem, authentic to the period, and the nostalgia-tinted glasses about the good old days before the war will get firmly knocked off your face. It's also a story that will show you time and time again that sometimes you will find kindness, love and almost overwhelming humanity in the places you least expect it. And listen, if period accuracy and a very political Steve Rogers do not convince you, let me tell you that there's also a lot of pining in this. So. Much. Pining.

Ok. This was fun.

Next up: Short fics under 10K

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stucky rec list #steve x bucky #steve x bucky fic rec #stevebucky fic rec #stevebucky #my recs

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luminalunii97 · 2 years

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Iran's protests revolution is not simply about hijab or bodily autonomy, rather those are parts of the issue: a meta post (part 1)

I don't think I can stress enough that today's conflicts between people and the governing system is not to correct the system, rather to make a fundamental change by getting rid of the current corrupted system altogether. Why? Because we came to this conclusion throughout this 4 decades that this system is impossible to work with. (You can't correct ideologies, theocracy, dictatorship, and worst of all a religious totalitarianism) So when you talk about IranProtests2022, don't limit it to mandatory hijab, it goes far far beyond that. As one favorite slogan on the streets states it:

این آخرین پیامه، هدف کل نظامه

(this is the last message, [our] target is the whole system (regime))

*I'm going to use historical facts, people's chants on the streets, and the constitution of Islamic Republic to make my point across*

What you hear today the most on the streets in Iran is the melodic slogan آزادی، آزادی، آزادی (freedom, freedom, freedom)

which is a generic demand that holds all forms of freedom including freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom flow of information and freedom of choice in its belly. Seeking freedom is not a recent development in Iranian society. If you study Iran's history for the past century, one thing is very clear: today's protests-going-on-revolution has old roots. You could say the fight for democracy, what is thought by Iranians to be the only path that enables people to gain individual freedom and to establish social justice, has started more than a hundred years ago, by the constitutional revolution.

The incompetency and corruption of the kings and their royal dependents during the Qajar rule, the vast interference of foreign powers in the country's affairs, and the shift in western politics towards liberation were possible factors that pushed Iranian figures and people into rising up for freedom. But due to many obstacles, among them foreign interference especially by Russia and Britain and later on USA mostly because of the natural resources in iran like oil, and furthermore culture and religion, this fight for libration and democracy hasn't been won yet. There have been various attempts in this ongoing fight, two well known examples are Mohammed Mosadegh government and the notorious islamic revolution 1979.

But our main focus here is the issue at hand. Why Islamic Republic of Iran must go?

In every area you could think of, Islamic republic has f-ed up these last 4 decades. International affairs?! F-ed up. Financial prosperity? Safety and peace? Environment? Managing water resources? Saving endangered animals? Job making? Education? Women's rights? Queers rights? Ethnic groups right? Human rights? Even representing Islam? Freedom of speech? Freedom of religion? Freedom? All f-ed up.

I'm going to give you examples;

Women's rights:

This is important because women are the leads in this protests and their demands are at the center of it all. Women's rights are the heart of this revolution.

Women in iran cannot wear what they want. It's not just hijab that's mandatory, it's a specific dress code. I have a hijabi friend who loves wearing long sleeved blouses and long skirts. But she can't. Because hijab should fit into a specific style to be accepted and blouses are not acceptable clothings. There are should and shouldn'ts women must follow. Look at some examples:

No tight pants, no bright colors, no hair, no bare foot, no makeup, no short manto, no tight manto, no buttonless manto, no short pants, and check out, there's more.

So if you wear your hijab like below you're going to either get arrested or be thrown out of a governmental institute:

But the thing is forced hijab is not the only or even the most important problem for women. Here is a list of women's issues in Iran, this is what gender apartheid means here: (tw for misogyny and rape)

*Women can't drive a bicycle or motorbike in iran, the funny thing is they can sit behind a man on a motorcycle but they can't be the driver themselves!!!

*women can't go to stadiums to watch men's sports.

*women can't get a passport or travel without their husbands permission.

*women can't get married without their father or grandfather or court's permission

*women can't go to work or get a higher education without their husbands permission

*University students who are women in case of staying in a dormitory need their father or husband's written consent.

*Women can't even check into a hotel on their own

*women can't become judges because they're "emotional"

*women can't run for presidency because the first condition to become a candidate is to be a man

*Women can't decide to get a divorce, and their child custody goes automatically to the father so they should fight for both

*a woman's testimony in court has half the value of a man because they're not "trustworthy"

*a woman's blood money is half a man's

*a woman's share of inheritance is half her brother's

*a man can marry up to 4 wives but polyamory not only isn't recognized for women, there are serious punishments including death penalties for women who have sex with anyone who's not their husband

*The law considers sex within marriage consensual by definition and, therefore, does not address spousal rape, including in cases of forced marriage. It gets worse. Women are supposed, by law, to always say yes to their husband's sexual advances. A man can take a complaint to the court about his wife saying no to him for sex!

*fathers are considered the "owner" of their child therefore if a man kills his child he won't get appropriately punished and only spend a brief time in jail. This worsen honor killing in iran where some fathers kill their daughters for reasons like having a boyfriend.

*the legal age of marriage is very low, 13 for girls and 15 for boys, and even that's more of a formality. It's possible to get married at any age. That is by far one of the most alarming things about Iran's human rights violations, child-wives shouldn't exist.

...

The thing is, fighting for women's rights isn't something new in Iran, it has never been this widespread though. After the failure that was 1979 revolution, the government started to oppress women more and more as it went on. Women's protests against discrimination started early on and continued after islamic republic was stablished. Watch this report made by TIME around 2 years ago. Look how far we've come:

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vampzzi · 2 years

Text

RAZBERI & WHISKEY

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Gender Neutral reader

cw: eventual smut, slow burn, creampie, rough sex, hair pulling, degrading, friends to lover, black reader, uhh overestimation, masturbating, ghost is kinda creepy and he's a drunk, public sex (people can see you through the glass window but they don't so don't worry), poorly beta read

cross posted on AO3 - edited!!

It was a windy day, the sun was out and the tree blew in the strong winds almost as if they were dancing. Birds chirped and flew around the town as cars placed by the shop and sounds of horns and people chatting as they walked along the sidewalk.

Today wasn't as busy as there was no one in the shop today as you were inside of the cellar, your fingers dancing along the different bottles of alcohol as this would be your second job ever.

You’d been loyal to your old job ever since you were 16 and when you first got the job, you were a waiter. Wasn’t the biggest paycheck ever but hey, at least you made money. That takes you back to some good memories that stay at the back of your head, always on your mind 24/7.Flashback . .

“ Name!! Look at the new uniforms!!” your co-worker held up colored fabric with lace on them, the long sleeve shirt was decorated with lace from the collar to the collarbone. Also following the pattern along the arms as the pants were plain as they were just a plain color. The males version was the same but the lace wasn’t on it and it was just a plain button up and pants but there was a little lace on the bottom of the button up.

“That’s really cute” a smile is on your co-workers face as she jumps up and down “I decorated them myself and got them approved”. You knew your co-worker well, she was your best friend after all, this meant you also knew about her saving up so she could apply for a high tier fashion school as you were happy for it and supported her actions no matter what.

“Can you try it on and tell how it feels, pros and cons and if you like it?” listing everything else she needed to know as you nodded as the outfit was handed to you and your hands brushed up against each other, she quickly retracted her hand.

It was clear as day that she was clearly flushed by the action. But you ignored it and headed to the bathroom as the clicked shut,

Co-worker pov (cherry) Her heart beated in her chest as she gulped, she had never been so nervous. She has had a crush on you since forever. Ever since you walked through those doors and applied for this job, more thoughts swarmed her mind as she looked at the bathroom door and started feeling loopy. What if you didn’t like the outfit, what if she messed up your measurement?, what if it was itchy and uncomfortable. What if..what if..you hated it!

Hands in her hair as she gripped tightly at it and tried to breathe to calm down but she couldn't, she was full of anxiety as she didn’t even notice by the cloud fogging her mind that she was pacing around at a quick pace as she stopped in her tracks as she finally came to realization of what she was doing.

“What am I doing ? “ I’m sure they’ll love it, they said they love the design, I just hope the fit is good enough and fits perfectly for them because they’re perfect. We’re perfect for each other. Her mind drifted off, your skin is so soft the way you would kiss her, tongues dancing against each other as your hands were cuffing her chest and then..

Snapping out of that thought as she looked around, she felt so dirty thinking of you in such a way but she just couldn't help it, she walked over to a table and sat down and waited. She wondered how your lips felt, how your skin felt pressed against her, how it felt to be yours. How it would feel to be your one and only. She felt love obsessed but she didn't wanna drive you off, no no no. She’d never forgive yourself if you guys left on a bad note.

End of cherry’s pov You were inside the small rest room as you began to pull your shirt over your head as you placed it on the coat hook on the back of the door. The pants were next, as they also went on the coat hook as you grabbed the shirt and put it over your head and pulled it all the way down till it reached your waistline, the shirt fits perfectly as it has tons of breathing room.

You had to give her credits for the top as you looked in the mirror and it was gorgeous to stare at, you grabbed the pants and put them on next, buttoning them up as you turnt to the side and then the other. Looking straight forward, this entire aesthetic was pretty, it’s giving vampire.

Turning around and opening the bathroom door and walking out, you smiled as she sat there at one of the tables, rubbing at her temples. Was she stressed? Was it any of your business? You threw the thoughts away and walked up to her.

You guessed she heard your footsteps as she immediately looked up at you “So, how is it? Tell me everything” she looked at you as you looked inside her eyes and saw her pleading. Pleading for the truth? Was it even pleading, seemed more like lust. Why is this even on your mind, stay on topic name.

“I love it, the aesthetic of it is exquisite, the fitting size is excellent and I think the other staff members will like it. I also wanna add how good you did with size, the breathing room is just right” you can see a glimpse of shine in her eyes as her face lights up, she’s blushing.

“I-I’m glad you like it name” She gets out the chair to give you a tight hug as you wrap her hands around your waist as you wrap yours around hers. The hug is platonic and sweet as she inhales your scent and keeps hugging onto you tight.

The moment feels odd…but she brings her head out of your chest and looks at you, the moment is weird now and you can’t help squirm a little as you let go but she stays close. You feel locked in this eye contact with her as the next moment she feels bold and her lips are against yours and you’re taken back.

You don’t know how to react as you just kiss back. Her lips were as perfect as you remember plump and soft, the cherry lip gloss on her lips really sealing the deal.

Ending of flashback “(Workname)?” Drawn out of your thoughts by the sounds of that voice, you look at your hands as you're holding a bottle of whiskey in your hand. When did you grab this off the shelf, no time to think as you place it back on the shelf and go back out to the main area as you’re behind the counter. “Ghost!! it’s so nice to see you again”, you cross your arms as he’s sitting down.

The decorative skull mask on his face as you can see his intense gaze as it can make anyone uneasy as you put your arms on the counter and lean close to him. “The usual?” He nods and without another word you disappear to grab the bottle that reads “Stolichnaya Razberi” along with cinnamon whiskey as you walk back to him and grab a clean glass.

Opening the cooler to the side of you and grabbing the ice scoop and taking the glass in hand and pouring the ice inside the glass. Closing the cooler and placing the ice scooper down and setting the glass down. You pop out the bottle of Razberi and pour into the glass as it hits the ice and Ghost watches the glass and your hands.

You feel nervous being stared at like this but he visits every Friday so why are you so nervous? Placing the bottle down and grabbing the whiskey and pouring onto the razberi as it mixes and creates this golden color, you grab the glass and pass it to Ghost as he catches it. “Thanks” he mutters as the mask kinda makes it hard to hear but you heard it. “My pleasure”

You grab the bottles off the counters and place them back in their reserved spots as you turn back to Ghost and observe his features. He was such a mysterious dude, he came in on Fridays and you guys talked a little bit. You found out he was a part of Task Force 141 and that’s about it.

He likes to keep to himself which is understandable. He also likes to come during closing hours, you stay open just for him to come in but this also strikes another thought, are you attracted to Ghost? No, you couldn’t be right?.

You guys were friends as you asked if you were and he just nodded but you couldn't tell if that was his honesty or the alcohol taking control.

He always got so responsibly hammered, he was sober but not to the point where he couldn't drive home, well there was one time you had to drink him home. He never wanted it brought up, I guess cause he’s embarrassed of that moment, but also the fact he let himself go that overboard. You’ve gone overboard like that before and ended up throwing up all over the floor and passing out, not your best moment but it was at a highschool party so whose to say anything about it. Let’s hope you don't run into any old highschool friends, or you’ll be in for a surprise.

Your eyes linger on Ghost again, looking at what you could, his hands on the skull part as he raises it and pulls his mask up to expose his lips as the drink disappears as he gulps it down in one go. Slightly shaking his head as you can tell by his lips that drink was stronger. His lips, scarred but so soft looking. He got up from his seat and passed over 15$ dollars, the drink was 7 but he always tipped you.

Taking it from his hand with a smile you thank him as he nods. He’s off as he walks to the door and pushes it open as the bells chime as the door closes, he’s off into the darkness as you're left in the bar alone. Pocketing the 15 dollars and grabbing a rag as you put it under some water and ring it out, beginning to wipe down the counters before you close up and head home for the night.

Putting the rag in the sink in a presentable manner you grab your keys and phone from under the counter and leave from behind the counter.

Making you sure you turn off the lights and exit the bar, locking up for the night and heading for the car. Starting up your car as you drive off to your destined area.

The car ride is foggy as your mind is clouded with thoughts as you look ahead, it’s a full moon with minimal amount of clouds as the music plays as you stop at a traffic light. Fingers tapping against the wheels as the light takes forever to turn as it finally turns green and you're free to continue your peaceful drive home.

Pulling up into your neighborhood as you drive through and turn down the road and finally pull into your driveway as you place your hand on the gear shift and put your car into park as you turn off the car. Opening the door and getting out as you look around as it’s dark and walk to your door, grabbing your keys and opening the door.

Locking your car as you get inside and placing your keys down on your table as you turn around and lock your top lock and bottom lock. Taking your shoes off and making your way through your house as you hit the bathroom and begin undressing, turning on the water and turning the knob as the shower comes on. Giving it a chance to let it warm up as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

Walking over to the shower and placing your hand in the water as you feel the water and deem it warm enough and step inside as you let the warm water trickle down your body as you think those perverted thoughts about Ghost get the best of you.

Hands running down your body as you run your hand over your aching arousal, fingers circling as you think of him as your body is warm. You tease yourself as you pinch your nipple and slide the finger past your arousal as you can feel just how tight you are.

You relax your muscles that grip your finger tightly as you slowly thrust and curl it as you let out a gasp. Pushing another finger in, you really feel the burn as a moan is drawn out of you. It's breathy and loud, “fffuckkk ghost..~” you pause as you pull your fingers and think of what you just said. He’s all on your mind, holy fuck.

You spend the rest of your time, showering and trying to get over that embarrassment that lingers inside you.

timeskip

You’re back in the bar, wiping counters as there’s customers sitting in front of you, one of them demanding a refill of tequila sunrise as you grab the bottle and refill the drink. “You’re an angel dearrr~” the last part comes out slurred as you flash him a smile and he smiles back.

Ghost watches you through the shop. No, he’s not a creep. He thinks you’re pretty, he loves your attitude and smile. He’s seen you get bratty and nasty which is 98% of the time he sees you doing the morning - afternoon work hours. He should just talk to you, but he’s not one for talking or friendships even though you guys are “friends”. Fuck, you’re messing with his head. He’s got a hella lot to say about you though.

He should be working, right now. Well he is. Just a side task, 2 more minutes won’t hurt right? Just stare at your pretty features a little longer, he feels smug under his mask from last night. The way you couldn’t stop looking at him, the way he could tell you were nervous and intimated, such an ego booster.

Okay, two minutes up. But you catch his eyes anyways, he keeps his posture still and shows no sign of panicking. Could he be looking at you or something else, don’t be foolish. He’s not looking at you. Probably something else. You shrug and wipe the glasses as Ghost walks away and you feel that intense crushing weight lift off your shoulders.

Putting the glasses down as you click your tongue and your gut is telling you to take your lunch break and chase after him. But, you’d look insane doing that. Chasing after him and embarrassing him in public. What if he’s at work right now? He’s in uniform. He could be doing a super important mission and you’ll fuck it up acting like a lovesick highschooler chasing after their crush.

You do need to step out and have a drink yourself, as you tap your co-worker and tell them your heading out for a break as they give the alright and you grab your favorite drink and pour some in your cup as you leave from behind the counter and go out the door behind the shop.

You take a sip of your drink as you pull your phone out from your jacket as you scroll through social media and drink. You don't even know his name, whats is his name?. You open the instagram search bar and type the name in “Ghost” maybe you’d find him that way.

Nah, just a bunch of irrelevant people and fan pages of ghost but not the actual ghost you know, you sigh out of frustration as you just have to wait till closing hours. Once the cup is empty, you put your phone back in your pocket and before you open the door. There he is, Ghost running down the sidewalk but he stops to look behind him.

He makes eye contact with you or you assume he does as he just stares as you wave at him and he nods at you and he’s off and you smile and head back in. Placing your cup down and serving the customer asking for rum and coke. She wants more coke than rum which is understandable.

She’s awfully gorgeous, the blue dress clings to her body and her gold earrings hang from her eyes, her makeup is light. Red lipstick and eyeliner with a decorative wing, you pass her the drink and she flashes you a smirk. Ohh, makes sense now she’s here for fun.

You’d take her to bed, if you knew what you were doing. You’ve never had sex, sexual encounters yes but actual sex no. Makes you feel embarrassed, your co-workers and friends are all non-virgins. Puts you in this position of constant embarrassment, but you’ll find the right one.

As the day passes on, customer after customer. Drink after drink, It’s finally closing time walking up to the drunk man whose been for 2 hours as you shake him and tell him to get lost as he mutters degrading terms towards you as you roll your eyes and pretend to give a damn.

Wanting to clean up before Ghost comes, you turn the sign to “closed” and gather all glasses and place them in the sink. Grabbing the rag and wiping the stains off the counter while putting the rag in its place and grabbing his usual off the shelf as you place it to the side of you.

The bell chimes as you look up and low and behold, it’s Ghost. He sits down and you make his usual rather quicker today and pass it to him in which he pulls his mask up and drinks. “Soo uh, do you have another name besides Ghost?” He places the drink down and makes eye contact with you “Simon Riley” his voice is hoarse and rough as it makes your leg jolt. “I like your name”

“Thanks, You?” “Well, you know my work name but my real name is “ Name Last name ” Ghost likes your name, he repeats it in his head as he likes the way it sounds, the way you say it.

He holds his glass, “Oh? Feeling bold tonight” you tease at him as he smirks under his mask as you fill his glass up again. He takes a sip as you guys have small talk for the first time in a while. “You must really love your job huh?” “…yeah” it took him longer to answer that it feels like you overstepped with that one. But maybe not?

He’s completely hammered, he’s blushing red under his mask and it’s not from embarrassment or arousal. He’s sober as hell and it shows. You lean forward as Ghost looks at you, he’s quiet and he hiccups and removes the skull part of the mask rubbing his temples through the remaining mask.

“Are you gonna be okay?” asking with pure concern for him, as he looks up at you and still no response as you fidget with your fingers and look around, grabbing a cold bottle of water out of the cooler and passing it to him. “You should stay hydrated though, you’re gonna have one hell of a headache” pausing as you turn around “I think I have some painkillers, stay right there”.

Disappearing to your locker, as you take your key and open it as you push some things around and grab the bottle of painkillers, shaking the bottle to still find it’s full. You walk your way back to him as you pop your head out and walk to him “Got em” taking four out the bottle and laying them in front of him as you close the lid.

He sips on the water as he grabs the painkillers and downs them as he drinks the water, you click your tongue as you look at your phone and notice its 1am. “Do you have a friend that can pick you up?” or I could just offer him a ride again. “Or do you want me to drive me home.”

He doesn’t answer as you sigh out “I’m driving you, get the fuck up” you say with slight frustration as he gets up and you walk out with him. He sways slightly as you lock up the place, having zero time to even bother turning off lights and cleaning up.

You open the door for him as he gets inside the car and you close the door for him, walking to your side and getting inside. The car ride is quiet, Ghost is asleep. The painkillers must have knocked him out, you also have to go to work extra early cause of him. He lives on the outskirts of town probably because of his line of work, pulling up to his house.

You gently shake him as he wakes up and looks at you, he’s still bubbly as you get out and open the door for him as you help him up the stairs. Standing on his doorstep, you feel around him for his keys as you grab them out his pocket and return to him to look at him, he’s kissing you. His rough scarred lips against your own as you pull away and turn away.

“No…you’re drunk Ghost” you see something in his eyes from that but you can’t make it out as you gulp and unlock his door, helping him inside as you close the door. “Uh where’s your room?” He points in the right direction as you look through the rooms and find his bedroom.

You sit him down and help get his gear off, taking his harness off along with his belt then comes his tactical pants as he stands up a little and towers over you as you pull them down and off his legs. His skin is warm as you leave his shirt on. You shouldn’t take his mask off, not without his consent. So, you leave it on as you lay him down and pull the cover over him.

He’s loopy right now but he’ll be better in the morning as you sit his keys on his nightstand and make your way out his house, actually..you grab a sticky note out your bag and a pen and write down that you drove him home and your number. Sticking it on the fridge as you then leave his house, making sure the door is locked before you get into your car and drive your way home.

Timeskip… It’s early morning, as you wipe down the counters, bust some tables along with sweeping the floors and polishing some glasses. Since Ghost was turnt up to the max last night, you didnt get to do your duties, he also left the skull part of his mask as you locked it in your locker.

You don’t want it getting stolen, everything is clean, so you flip the sign from closed to open as you get yourself right behind the counter.

Ghost Pov Waking up the first thing that hits him is he has a headache, but it’s minor and the second thing is he’s half naked in his house. When he gets home, he only remembers talking to you and then everything gets weird. Fuck, he must of got wasted last night, like really bad.

“Oh, bloody hell” he mutters as he pulls his mask off and rubs his temples as he gets up and gets ready to start his day. Doing the essentials as he puts his uniform on, a clean shirt, his tactical pants then the harness and his mask. Something’s missing. His skull piece, he mentally groans at this. He left it at the fucking bar, how stupid could he be.

He makes it out of his room and sees a yellow sticky note on his fridge as he gently pulls it off the fridge and reads it.

“Hey Ghost, I brought you home since you were completely wasted last night and got you into bed, Hope the painkillers help your hangover. - Name (W/N) Also here’s my number if you need anything XXX - XXX - XXXX”

“So they brought me home” at least it was them, anyone else would have been a dangerous risk for his work as he grabs his phone and pulls it out his pocket. Debating if he should text you about his mask but he needs it so he enters your number into the bar and shoots you a text.

Unknown: Do you still have my mask?

You : Yeah, I locked it in my locker so it wouldn’t get stolen or broken.

Unknown: I’m coming by to get it

You: Alright

Putting his phone in his pocket as he also remembers, he left his car there. Oh, fuck this day at this point. He’s frustrated now as he makes his way out the house and he begins his walk to the bar.

Switch back to you Getting a text back from a number you didn't know but with the simple mention of a mask you automatically know it’s Ghost texting you. Also you save his number as the mention of him swinging by makes you look into the small mirror as you think you look okay.

Lace shirt and slacks with your normal shoes, yeah that’s okay. You keep serving customers, as you look outside every now and then. The bell chime makes you turn your head forward to the door as he comes inside, people around look intimidated and scared. As some move out of his way and some leave the bar out of fear. What a bunch of scaredy cats “The mask” he says as you nod and make your way to your locker, unlocking it and grabbing it as you give it to him as he attaches back and looks up at you. You smile, you still haven't forgotten that kiss and he probably doesn’t even remember it, if he doesn’t, it’s for the best.

He leaves and the door shuts as you lay your head on the counter, the day drags on slowly but when the closing hour comes it’s so worth it. So so soooo worth it, so it starts out slow right? The usual, talking and then boom.

You’re on top of the counter while he kisses you, his skull mask is to the side of him while his other mask is pulled up to his nose as you can feel his stubble beard tickle the sides of your face.

His hands placed on your hips as his grip is tight, his tongue is swirling inside your mouth as you moan into the kiss, your tongue fighting back but he ultimately dominates you. Your hands on his shoulders as the other is trailing from the top of his neck to his collarbone and then moving lower and lower.

He catches onto this and grabs your hand, gripping onto it with light force. Carefully not to apply too much to it as you pull away from the kiss with a thin line of saliva disconnecting from you two “Don’t think I don’t know what you want dear” he pulls your arm downwards as he gets closer to see his breath facing over your face as he eyes lock onto yours.

“Cause I want it just as much as you” this part has you gulping as you look and pull away, you have to tell him you’re a virgin. You have to, or you can lie. Why can’t you just lie? Uhh cause of the ultimate pain you’ll feel??? But what if he acts differently cause I’m a virgin. He won’t.. “Hm?” he looks at you with concern as the room is silent for a good 3 minutes as you finally gulp down your anxiety and finally let him know the truth. “Before we start…I just want you to know that..I’m a virgin” you say the last part in a low voice but he hears you.

“You’re a virgin?” repeating right back to you as you nod “Fuck love, are you sure with me?” you nod repeatedly as this boosts his ego, taking someone else's virginity and not only that you’re a whole cash prize to him. You’re perfect in multiple different ways.

“I’II take things slow okay?” He pushes your legs open as rubs against your garments, he can feel the heat radiating on his hand as he holds eye contact with you as you look away in embarrassment. “Eyes on me dear” he purrs out as you look at him while continuing to rub, pulling the garment aside and playing around with your soaking hole, running his finger over it.

He pushes a finger inside as you yelp out and open your legs up for him on the counter as he works his finger inside as your walls clench around his fingers “relax, okay?” you breath out and nod as you try and relax your body as it becomes easier to move his finger but it’s still incredibly tight inside. “Wanna try another?” the second finger is tracing your hole “yyes..” he pushes the other one inside as this when the stretch sits in, his fingers are larger than your own.

Your walls pulsing around his fingers as he thrusts into your wet throbbing hole, the sound of squelching and your breathy groans and moans have him smirking as you can visibly see his expression. Curling those fingers as you jolt and thrash around as he keeps his hand on your abdomen as he pushes you down to hold in place as the orgasm rocks through your body.

He’s still going he has to overstimulate you to get you to a certain point, as his fingers continue to work inside you as you whine and whimper at the intense pleasure and pain that is creeping up as another orgasm feels like it’s gonna rock through your entire body as you can’t move because of his big strong arm holding you down.

He’s easily handling you like you’re nothing and it’s showing a lot, you should be disappointed but you won’t be once that cock is inside you, leaning your head down as you moan out more “fffuckk ghostt, feels so goodd~ ddont stopp” biting the inside of his cheek “don’t plan on stopping anytime soon..but don’t you want my cock inside this wet hole of yours”.

A rough slap is applied as you squeal out as he chuckles and begins to unbuckle his belt as he takes it off and puts it on the floor while working his buttons as he pushes his pants down and boxers when his cock springs out. He also makes sure to take the harness off as it joins the pile.

You’re hypnotized and terrified, it’s so big. It’s thick in size and his head is narrow or is it a mushroom head? Who knows, all you know is that thing is gonna be in your stomach for sure. “Mesmerized by it? Take a picture sweetheart, it lasts longer” you huff as he chuckles again and helps you up as you stand up.

He sits down as he puts you on his lap and leans his head back, he grabs both your legs and spreads them open, holding onto them with his broad muscular arms, locked into a full nelson position “You ready love?” His voice is tired and rough as it strikes you in all the right places.

“Yes, I’m ready.” You brace yourself as he lowers you on his fat cock as you bite your lip as you want to scream out from the stretch but you bare with it. He’s so unbelievably big, you can’t even believe it as he continues pushing you down “A little bit more” you can't even believe a “lil bit more”

He’s fully sheathed inside you, you’re to the base of his cock against his pelvis as he stays still “tell me when you’re ready.” “Alright…” you guys sit there joined for 5 minutes as the pain subsides and feels less unbearable like a knife to the heart. “I..I think I’m ready ghost”

“Simon, call me Simon dear.” He begins to thrust up into you while holding onto your legs, the pleasure runs through your body as it has you moaning and whining from the burning stretch and his brutal pace. “Holyy shittt you’re not h-holding FUCK! B-back” biting your lip as he continues to fuck into you.

“Not one ugh..bit” this position you can’t see his face nor can he see yours but the way he reaches deep within you feels so fucking good, you don’t want it to end. He grabs both legs and holds them close to your body. This position reaches so deep inside you actually think he’s inside your stomach at this point.

“Ohh you’re so big Simon, so so big. D-don’t know how much I..c-can take..” he smirks at that while he keeps thrusting his dick inside your abused overstimulated hole, he’s trying to control himself from bursting his load right now. But you’re so fucking tight, he doesnt know how much last before he creampies your stupid hole.

The more he thrusts, the more grunts and groans leave the both of you “someone could see me fucking me yk?” you freeze at this but the thought of someone seeing you fucked stupid makes you clench harder as it has Simon throwing his head back from the intense squeezing of your hole just how tight can you get? He’s slowly falling apart, bit by bit.

“Who says I’m not into that?” you tease him as he smirks “you’re one dirty person love” He keeps fucking into you, faster and faster. The pace getting so fast his cock almost slips out as the sound of rough skin slapping and moans echo throughout the bar.

You clench around him as you orgasm, he holds back. But the way you moan the way, you clench around him, he cums inside you. Flooding your hole full of his cum as you choke out a whine “simonnn” the warm feeling of him filling you up and some of it dripping out has your thighs almost giving out.

Panting as it wasn't for simons strong arms you would limp on the floor, as you turn your head to look back at him “One more round before I close up or after this round you take me and do me all time” “fending for that second option” you smile as you pull yourself off his cock and grab onto the counter “let me try something, sit up for him”..

He sits up and you get on his lap, sinking back onto his cock as he holds you by your hips as you keep your hands on his shoulders. “Getting the hang of it?…” nodding while rocking back and forth as you can feel the overstimulation but you could care less about that as you take his cock inside your heat.

“Fuck kid, you’re gonna kill me” you smirk “don’t die yet” the rocking turning into bouncing as you hod on tight to him as he thrusts up into you to match your pace, as you both pant and moan each others name as the place feels so hot and you can’t keep yourself as you feel lke you’re chipping away slowly.

You can’t keep yourself together as he fucks into you rather desperately while you bounce on his cock trying to keep the pace moderate but it’s so sloppy as you both pull each other into a messy kiss, tongue, lips and tons of moans.

It’s unbelievably dirty down there, cum dripping down his cock while you bounce on his cock, its a ring around his cock and it's some on the seat which you’ll have to clean later but it's extremely hot.

“Gonna orgasm again, do it bitch..cum again” He grabs your hair while he fucks into you at a unbeatable pace as you lost your balance and almost fall off his lap as he holds onto you tight. He’s quite literally molding his dick shape inside you, you’re perfect for each other. Meant to be as you orgasm on his cock again, that tight squeeze again has him cumming inside you, overflowing your insides.

Tons of it dip out of you but you breathe out, and calm down as you pull yourself off his cock and he grabs some napkins and assists you with that creamy mess as those go in the trash. You’ll need to dump that trashcan in the morning. If you even come to work.

Helping you put your undergarments and pants back on him, he tugs himself back in his pants and grabs his harness as he puts that back on along with his belt. Attaching his skull piece to him as he turns to you “Ready to go?” “Yeah, ‘m ready..” As you leave the shop and flip the lights off, turning around and locking up the place.

Ghost helps you to his car, helping you inside as he gets in the car and begins to drive to his house, the car ride is silent even after all that just happened. Before you know it , you’re at his house as you get out and walk slowly to his door as you guys get inside and he closes the door.

A shower would be nice but once he gets his gear off and you both lay on the couch together, you’re out like a light. Soft snores being heard from you both as the moonlight lingers on you both. What a night it was for you both.

#BITEVINYLCOD #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon x riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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nateconnolly · 7 months

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I made a Patreon lol.

Here's the free sample post:

THE CREATION MYTH OF KILL 6 BILLION DEMONS

INTRODUCTION

I love fantasy religions. I love it when fictional humans try to understand worlds like Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere and Tolkein’s Middle Earth through a religious lens—especially because in those books and in many others, the fantasy religions are somewhat true, and somewhat false. It’s really fun to look at a fictional universe through the eyes of a character who might not see things objectively. Religion usually plays a role in that. But, if I’m being honest, a lot of fantasy religions are just Christianity wearing a fun hat. Don’t get me wrong, I am fascinated by Chrisitianity, and I really enjoy a lot of fantasy versions of Christianity. But it’s a great special treat when a fantasy story goes the extra mile and portrays another concept of the divine. That’s one of many reasons that I love the webcomic Kill 6 Billion Demons. The webcomic’s fictional religion Atru has parallels to Taoism, Gnosticism, Advaita Vedanta, theothanatology, Biblical divine nomenclature, the list goes on. I just threw a lot of big scary words at you, but I promise, this is a beginner level essay. I’ll break everything down into bite-sized pieces. I just wanted to list out some of K6BD’s religious influences to show that they are complicated, and diverse.

This is specifically a essay about the creation narratives. K6BD is an amazing comic—later on, it tackles questions about time, free will, and optimistic nihilism, but I won’t dig into that stuff here. Those things would require their own essays. Here, I’m going to try to explain how the seven-part world came to be. More specifically, I’ll examine the stories that White Chain, Cio, Michael, and the old devil’s tale tell us; then I’ll look at fictional holy texts found in the Concordance.

I’ll also compare and contrast with a lot of real world religion and philosophy. I want to be clear that the creator Abaddon and I have never spoken. I don’t know where he got most of his inspiration. I’m not revealing any information that wasn’t already available, I’m just compiling it and offering my own thoughts. Unless I specifically quote Abaddon, assume that I’m not even talking about his inspirations. I’m drawing parallels because it’s fun, even though it probably won’t give us new insight into how the text was created.

I promise I’m not trying to convert you! I genuinely don’t want to make other people believe the religion that I believe—or any religion at all. I’m just trying to show you how understanding some real world religious and philosophical concepts can deepen your appreciation of K6BD. Obviously, there will be tons of spoilers, so go read the webcomic if you haven’t already. It’s absolutely genius.

Lastly, I want to say I will discuss suicide and murder.

Ok, let’s get started.

PART ONE: THE FIRST AND GREATEST DIVISION

Let There Be No Genesis

White Chain begins the history of the universe with the words, “Let there be no Genesis,” closely echoing the in-universe fictional Psalm I. “For indeed, there was [no Genesis]. God has always existed and has never existed.” As White Chain tells her story, we are shown the god YISUN. This figure is sometimes described with it/its or she/her pronouns, but for the sake of simplicity, I’m going to follow the example of the fictional Psalm I, and use he/him. I might call him “YISUN” or “God” with a capital G depending on the context.

YISUN was eternal, and the “undisputed master of the entire omniverse.” He predates everything else, and without him, nothing would exist.

YISUN has at least twelve bodies, probably more. Some are smiling, some look mad; some resemble insects or animals; most hold weapons; and all are different colors. The central white body has four arms. Abaddon has said that YISUN’s appearance is directly inspired by the Hindu god Vishvarupa. Hindu gods are frequently depicted with multiple body parts, an artistic tradition that Doris Srinivasan calls “the multiplicity convention.” She explains some of the religious and artistic reasons that many Indian gods have multiple body parts in her book “Many Heads, Arms, and Eyes: Origin, Meaning, and Form of Multiplicity in Indian Art.” The tradition of Hinduism is long, and diverse, so the multiple limbs in one text can mean something very different from the multiple limbs elsewhere. Srinivasan closely examines a vast expanse of Indian history, and I don’t have time to present all her ideas. I would like to specifically focus on the interpretation that multiple limbs represent the manifestations of a singular godhead.

Srinivasan writes that “Multiple versions of a myth are facilitated by the idea that there exists multiple aspects or manifestations of a godhead.” Think of the difference between Greek and Hindu goddesses. Bruno Snell suggests “that these four women signalize the four aspects of all womanhood,” but Srinivasan qualifies his interpretation. The Olympian women “are not multiple forms of [one] Divine Woman, as is the case in Hinduism.” Artemis and Athena are different people who are both women, plural. Parvati, Sati, and Uma together are Woman, singular. Zeus, Demeter, and Poseidon are gods, plural. Shiva, Vishnu, and Krishna are God, singular. That’s not how all Hindus see things, but it is one Hindu perspective that I find especially comparable to K6BD.

Similarly, the multiple bodies are only manifestations of a single God: YISUN. All of his bodies are a single person. In Hinduism, the plurality of the divine can be seen as empowering and liberating. Multiple body parts signify that the god is a well-rounded entity. But Abaddon makes it look like a curse. He turns the artistic convention around. Using the same symbolism and metaphysics, he tells a radically different story. As White Chain says, “Being was only circular.” “YISUN had no equal… It was a wretched life, without meaning or perception. Imagine infinite stories to tell… and nobody to tell them to.” Perfection is lonely. At this point, YISUN is the only thing that exists, and that can’t be fun. All those arms and heads cannot satisfy YISUN’s need for companionship. It’s fascinating to me that when White Chain says YISUN had no one to whom it could tell its stories, Abaddon chose to illustrate multiple heads right next to each other. Even if those heads told each other stories, the speaker and the listener would still be the same person. Dissatisfaction with isolation is why YISUN created the world.

Although not all Hindus follow the school of Advaita Vedanta, in this case, I think it will be helpful to compare and contrast with Advaita. As Ram Shanker Misra writes in “The Integral Advaitism of Sri Aurobindo,” “Brahman [ is] perfect, absolute, infinite, need[s] nothing, [and] desir[es] nothing…” Brahman is full of all perfections. And to say that Brahman has some purpose in creating the world will mean that [Brahman] wants to attain through the process of creation something which it has not. And that is impossible.”

But that’s exactly why YISUN created this world. He wants to gain something that he does not have: companionship.The universe is God’s escape from himself. There was no Genesis, but there was “the first and greatest division: division of self”: “God committed holy suicide.”

2. The Divine Suicide

White Chain’s story is similar to Friedrich Nietzsche’s famous claim that “God is dead,” but Nietzsche did not mean God was a real entity that had literally died. He meant that intellectually, it was impossible to continue believing in God, and that all intellectual achievements founded on belief in Him had to be abandoned. Nietzsche’s claim is a famous example of a philosophical school of thought called death of God theology, also called “theothanatology,” which means “the study of God’s death” in Greek.

“Death” can mean a lot of different things in this context. Sometimes it’s metaphorical, sometimes it’s literal, and usually, it’s a very confusing mixture of both.

Nietzsche proposed the death of God as a social claim about humans. He’s talking about what we can believe, what we should do, and what we need to accept. God never really existed, but as religion loses followers and influence, even the idea of God has begun to “die” because it no longer has power over the real world.

“Death” can also mean God exists, but in a way radically different from what people usually mean when they say “God.” The Rabbi and philosopher Richard L. Rubenstein thought God exists as a “ground of being,” but not as a supernatural entity that made a covenant with Abraham. Rubenstein proposed the death of God as an intellectual change in what humans think the word “God” means.

And, finally, “death” can just literally mean “death.” The Protestant theologian Thomas J.J. Altizer wrote “we shall understand the death of God as an historical event: God has died in our time, in

our history, in our existence.” This isn’t a social claim about humans—it’s a metaphysical claim about God.

Death of God theologians usually mean more than one thing when they say God is dead. Nietzsche wasn’t just trying to convince Christians to become atheists; he was also trying to convince many atheists that they disbelieved in God in the wrong way. Altizer had radical thoughts about what human beings are able to believe.

White Chain means that God is dead in the literal sense. She is proposing a metaphysical belief that God, as a historical figure, chose to actually kill himself. White Chain is not rejecting or critiquing religion—she’s asserting that her religion, in which God has died, is fact.

You can see slight parallels to Nietzsche, Rubenstein, Altizer, Hegel, Zizek, and Blake in White Chain’s version of the fictional religion Atru. But there is no better comparison than the king of sad philosophers Philipp Mainlander.

Mainlander was an atheist—but not in the sense that people usually mean when they say “atheist.” Mainlander believed that there was a God at some time, but that time is now over. There isn’t a God anymore. Mainlander is pretty unique among death of God theologians because he explicitly describes God’s death as a suicide. Whittaker explains that Mainlander thought “[a]ll things have their origin in what may be called… the ‘will’ of the absolute being… to annihilate itself.” Essentially, the cause of the universe is God’s suicidal desires.

God was a “real unity,” but his death caused a “collective unity”—that’s the universe where we live now. God had been a total and undivided One, but now the universe is made of distinct parts. God cut himself apart into the pieces of the universe. God created the world by becoming it, and he became the world by dying.

Mainlander said “the knowledge that life is worthless is the flower of all human knowledge.” He thought suicide was desirable, and ultimately, he put his money where his mouth was. The biggest difference between Mainlander and White Chain is that she doesn’t seem to think ordinary people such as herself should follow God’s suicidal example. Even beyond the views of a specific character, the story of Kill 6 Billion Demons reads as an affirmation of life’s beauty and value.

But the webcomic clearly argues that making a better world is a bloody project. So it should come as no surprise that making the world itself involved bloodshed. First and foremost, the blood of God. What’s so interesting to me is that both White Chain and Mainlander equate God’s suicide to the creation of the world. Our life comes from God’s death. Creation and destruction aren’t opposites—they’re different ways of looking at the same process. At the end of Book 2, Allison destroys Mottom’s evil tree and a lot of her palace—but this destruction is also part of the creation of a more just and free world.

So, what did God’s destruction create? What came after YISUN?

3. The Duality of Un and Yis

The destruction of the total unity creates duality. I know that’s a little confusing because YISUN had many faces, but remember that behind all of those faces was one God, and only one. Not anymore. “From division was birthed duality. White Un, Lord of empty and still places, master of all that is not. Black Yis, infinite mother of the rampant flame. Master of all that is''

I cannot avoid comparing the White and Black gods to the Yin and Yang—a spinning black and white symbol usually associated with the religion Taoism. Yin and Yang represent a cosmic duality. Yin is associated with femininity, darkness, passivity, and even numbers, among other things. Yang is associated with masculinity, light, activity, and odd numbers, among other things. Mainstream Taoist philosophy asserts that the universe can be understood through duality. So, why are these pairs important? And why do things get paired together in the first place?

As is written in the foundational Taoist text the Tao Te Ching, “Being and non-being create each other. Difficult and easy support each other. Long and short define each other. High and low depend on each other. Before and after follow each other.” What’s so interesting about the pairs is they “create,” “support,” “define,” and “depend on” each other. Black can’t exist without white, and white cannot exist without black.

As the Encyclopedia of Philosophy puts it, “...yinyang is emblematic of valuational equality rooted in the unified, dynamic, and harmonized structure of the cosmos. As such, it has served as a heuristic mechanism for formulating a coherent view of the world…” Essentially, neither of these opposites are “dominant” or “truer.” Choosing one side won’t help you understand the universe because the universe is their partnership. Their equality gives “structure to the cosmos.” That structure is order, not chaos, but it is differentiated. There are two different things: Yin and Yang. They contradict each other, but at the same time, they make the universe. Yin and Yang are a productive paradox.

I’d like to return to the notion that “being and non-being create each other.” At this stage of creation in K6BD, UN and YIS could not exist without each other. Their very existence is the fact that they are not a unity. If there was only one of them, then there wouldn’t have been a division—and they are nothing more than the product of division. Just like how being and non-being create each other, the Master of All That Is and the Master of All That Is Not create each other. YISUN was characterized by his totality—he was the total sum of the omniverse, there was nothing else. After the division, Un and Yis experience otherness. The first otherness in the omniverse. It’s difficult for them to find balance—in fact, they immediately went to war for seven years. At the end of their seven-year war, Un and Yis made love for seven days.

I want to be very clear that this is not a depiction of actual Taoism. Yin and Yang are not gods with faces and minds. Notably, the Tao Te Ching asserts that yin and yang are “older than God.” so make of that what you will. But I think Taoism is thematically relevant to this era. Two opposites have to come into balance with each other. The whole universe is a duality of interconnected forces.

K6BD repeatedly emphasizes the need for community. As Allison says at the end of King of Swords, “I couldn’t have done this without any of you… We make mistakes. We learn from each other. We all still have so much to learn. Once I saw that as a weakness, now I’m certain it’s not. Someone who lives still thinking like that… struggling to do everything themselves… I can’t help but think how alone they must be.”

YISUN had to do everything all by himself, and we saw that Allison was right—isolation was a struggle, even for God. But the struggle is over, and in its place is duality. Partnership. The first community.

These are the first four parts of a fourteen-part critical essay. You can read the rest here.

Bibliography is on the free Patreon post.

#patreon #nate's writing #original post

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inafieldofdaisies · 11 months

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Happy Halloween from Calahan who is taking over the cult indefinitely (a.k.a. WIP Wednesday bcs I'm late, kinda) | "Sinners Welcome" Drabble

I had this idea floating around about doing an edit of Cal cosplaying as Joseph for Halloween, so here y'all go. I'm just so proud of it. I went as far as designing his tattoos myself as graphics to use. Below we got the story that goes with the edit, I will be posting it on AO3 soon, too. It gets nsfw towards the end because John do be sinnin'.

"Donovan.", Whitehorse called out as soon as Sabrina walked in through the door, a part of her feeling glad he was saving her from the compulsory morning small talk with Nancy. "Morning, Sheriff.", she sent him a small smile, noting the deep frown he wore for such an early hour. "Walk with me." He didn't wait for her to reply, heading towards the small kitchen in the Sheriff's Department. Silence took over as he waited for the coffee machine to grant him, if she had to guess, not his first dose of caffeine for the day. "Is everything okay?" "You're with Rookie today.", he mumbled as he took a sip from his mug, "Pratt called in sick, and I need someone to keep an eye on him." She nodded, "Fine by me." "Good, good.", his voice lowered, "To be frank, Hudson refused after hearing where they'd be headed." "Jesus, boss… you're making it sound like me and Gray are about to go to war.", Calahan poked his head into the room, lips twisting into a cheeky smile. Whitehorse's eyes narrowed as he smoothed down his mustache, "I'm more worried about you starting a war, Rookie." A snort left the younger Deputy, "Not on my to-do list, no worries." "I've heard that before.", he turned to Sabrina, "Donovan, just… try to keep him in check, will ya? Make sure he doesn't kill anyone." Calahan sent her a 'can you believe this guy' look over their boss' shoulder, "Will do." Whitehorse sighed, "The last thing I need is John Seed showing up out front, and makin' demands again. Am I clear, Rookie? Stay out of trouble." "As clear as this fine morning, sir.", the words were paired with a dramatic salute. "It's fucking overcast today, Rookie."

Sabrina bit back a laugh as he made a hasty escape before Calahan could raise his blood presure even more than he already had. "Kid." "What?", to an outsider the innocent look in Hartley's eyes would have been convincing enough, but by then she knew better, especially with the overall satisfied demeanor he had going on even after being prematurely scolded by Whitehorse. "Where are we going?" The smile that took over his face promised trouble, "Payin' good old Joe a visit." It's all he provided as an explanation before he spun on his heel and gestured for her to follow him. "I didn't get a coffee." There was an extra bounce to his step, strange giddiness, and he didn't even bother to stop when he muttered, "Already on it, Gray. It's waiting for you in the car. Chop-chop."

Minutes later, they were pulling at Joseph's Compound, the music Calahan had playing in the cruiser drawing the attention of the two Eden's Gate members manning the front gates to it. The fact they rested their hands on their holsters as he shut off the ignition wasn't lost on Sabrina. "Cal?" By the looks of it, he wasn't sharing her concerns about things going sideways on trigger-happy Peggie territory, "Yeah?" "Try not to make them angry… for me?" He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before nodding quickly, "I will try my best, partner." She knew it was all she could really get from him as a promise, especially considering his previous run-ins with Joseph's men. There was a reason why Hudson had refused to tag along with him for the day - avoiding paperwork or having to talk him down from the edge. Chances were, their routine visit could result in a fight breaking out, punches being thrown or worse. Sabrina exited the car, following Hartley towards the entrance of the Compound as he strutted like he had no care in the world, headed straight for the cultists.

"Joseph called us in.", he announced and crossed his hands over his chest, regarding both men with a bored expression. "Morning.", she added, refusing to buckle under the scrutiny that somehow had ended up on her instead of Calahan. "Ask for Mercy.", one of the bearded men grumbled out, dark eyes revealing little as he extended his hand to point down the road behind him. "Well, that didn't sound menacing at all.", Sabrina remarked under her breath as she and Hartley followed the muddy path surrounded by fences on both sides on foot, and judging by how trodden it was, large processions from and to sermons weren't uncommon. The observation was just another awful reminder of how big of an influence the cult had, how many it had sucked in with its practices and empty promises. "Fucking weirdos. There better be a woman named Mercy waitin' or I'm-"

"You promised to stay calm.", she reminded him, gaze trained ahead in anticipation of anything malicious after the man's cryptic words, "I take it that you don't know who we're looking for?" Calahan snorted, "Not like I and Joseph's many wives hang out at the same spots. Hell, most of them don't even dare to look me in the eye, let alone come near me, like I'd seduce them just by breathing in their vicinity." "Rubbin' off your sin on them?", she asked jokingly. "Sins. Plural. I contain multitudes, Gray." Sabrina could feel everyone staring as two advanced ahead, a couple of houses and other small buildings coming into view, with a church towering over in the distance. There was a decent crowd around the spacious property despite the early hour. Men and women all dressed alike - in worn-out clothes bearing the symbol of their leader, the red Eden's Gate cross in stark contrast with their muted appearances. In the sea of beige and wary faces something captured her attention - a woman in a white vintage looking dress moved with conviction, but instead of coming to them and sparing them the hassle of looking for 'Mercy', she aimed for a redheaded man Sabrina had only seen on printed materials of the cult.

"That one, I know,", Calahan nodded towards him, coming to an abrupt stop and leaning in to whisper, "Jacob Seed, grumpy son of a bitch. Last person, I'd ask for directions, though." Without doubt, the oldest Seed did have a serious, over-disciplined aura about him, far different from the easy-going, dangerously charming act John put on in his attempts at recruiting new people for his brother's Project. Sabrina bit her lip as the woman with curly blonde hair tilted her head to look up at the man towering several inches over her, her demeanor relaxed in spite of the way Jacob was regarding her - like he wanted nothing to do with the interaction. As if he could sense the two sets of eyes watching them, his icy stare shifted from her to the Deputies standing a couple of feet away before he said something quietly and nodded in their direction. "Good morning, Jakey.", Calahan raised his hand in a mock wave, and the Seed brother sent him a frown before heading off the way the woman had come from without returning his greeting.

At the same time, she progressed forward, a friendly grin brightening her features as she came to a halt in front of Hartley, definitely not keeping a purposeful distance like the rest of Joseph's followers, "Deputies." He appeared completely taken aback by the bold move, especially with her deep brown eyes set on him. In ways she couldn't fault him, he had a weak spot for women, even more when he became their sole focus. Sabrina was the first to speak, "We were told to ask for Mercy." "That would be me. Mercedes Sibley. If you would follow me…", she spun around with that, uttering quiet hellos to people and leading them past the church where a house resided spaced out from the rest marked with phrases in latin. Sins, to be exact. Nothing was written above the doorway of this one, Sabrina realized. Mercedes pushed the door to the house open with her and Hartley close on her heels.

She wasn't sure what to expect from what she deemed as the home of a cult leader - somehow the plain walls in need of repaint adorned by a couple of portraits and newspaper clippings felt mundane, too normal. The short hallway led into an ordinary looking living room, where Mercedes made a right turn towards one of the open doorways, announcing in a far gentler voice as she reached it and moved aside so they can pass through first, "The Deputies are here, Father." Joseph Seed, the man that had built a giant statue of himself and pronounced himself as God's mouthpiece, sat in one of the chairs at that small kitchen table while his older brother stood nearby as if on guard duty. The gun and knife holster strapped to his tight certainly hinted at that. "Good morning, my name is Deputy Donovan, my colleague and I are here on a call.", Sabrina explained while Calahan remained silent, an unreadable expression coming over his features when his blue eyes set on the 'Father'.

"Shouldn't we call John, let him handle things?", Jacob grunted out, pretending like they weren't even in the room as Mercedes moved past him and resumed a position behind his brother. To Calahan's credit, he made none of the expected remarks, his serious demeanor beginning to worry Sabrina to an extent. "Somebody broke in, brother.", Mercedes glanced in the oldest Seed's direction, his gaze narrowing at the last word she had said in a sickly sweet tone, "Does it make sense to call in an attorney for that?" Joseph's eyes bounced between the Deputies, finally coming to rest on Hartley's, "Sit, Mercy, my child. There's no need to call John at the moment." Mercedes complied by slipping into the chair next to his, silently hinting for Sabrina to do the same. She cleared her throat, settling into her seat across from the woman before pulling out her report notebook and laying it down on the table, "How about we start from the beginning then?"

Calahan loomed behind her, hand grasping the back of her chair, standing watch just like Jacob was for his brother. Joseph pushed his sunglasses up his nose before leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him, "I went to bed last night, and nothing was out of place. After waking up this morning, I noticed a couple of things were missing." Sabrina noted his words down, tapping her pen on the page, trying to avoid any unnecessary eye contact, "Things as in?" She couldn't imagine how stuffy the room would feel if John had been there too to make demands, possess the conversation. How fully outnumbered they'd be then. "Personal belongings.", Jacob cut in. "We would need a list of anything that's been taken, Mr. Seed.", Sabrina sent him a quick glance, just in time to catch his eyes darting to Mercedes. Interesting. "My old Bible,", Joseph began, lips pursed in disdain, "an engraved belt, a black custom blazer and… my rosary. I believe that's all."

"Okay.", it was a strange list of items to be stolen, but Sabrina didn't say anything as she jotted down each item, "Any sign of forced entry, or better yet, can we take a look around ourselves?" "I still think we should call John.", Jacob grumbled out again, making Mercedes sigh quietly. "He doesn't lock any of the doors.", she said eventually. Calahan snorted at that, whatever energy for acting decent running its course, "So, the perp just… entered?" "Which is still a crime, is it not?", Mercedes asked slowly. "Technically, yes.", he chuckled, "But, Father here is making it a hundred times easier on thieves. So frankly, anyone living on the property could be a suspect. He's lucky nobody has done other serious crimes upon his person while he sleeps. A slit throat for example." "I trust my children, they would never steal from me, let alone hurt me.", Joseph argued. "Do you, now?", Calahan's voice took an edge, "Can they say the same about you, Father?"

"So much darkness,", the Father's eyes rose up to look over Sabrina's shoulder, "is trapped within you, child, looking for a way out. My family could help you, set you free from it." "I'd take no help from a man that doesn't even know how to protect his own home. If I were you, I'd worry more about the thief lurking amongst your people instead of my poor blackened soul… after all, stealing is a sin, is it not?" Jacob came closer, "It was an outsider, we are certain of it. So just do your job and find them." Sabrina nodded as she closed her notebook, "We will take a look around then." Mercedes rose up with that, "I can show you two-" "Sit down, Mercedes.", annoyance seeped into the command as Jacob strode past the table and out of the kitchen, calling out for Sabrina to follow him. He pointed at each door that led outside, the old floorboards groaning beneath his feet at almost every step he took. Calahan stayed behind in the kitchen doorway as she took notes, leaving her to ask questions and navigate the hostile waters.

"Your brother sleeps where?" His chin lifted up towards a doorway that led out of the living room, "Down that hall." "Heavy or light sleeper?" Jacob crossed his hands over his chest, impatience oozing from his body language, "How is this relevant?" "Considering I'm trying to determine most likely point of entry… it would be helpful. If you have better things to do, Mr. Seed, I'm sure Ms. Sibley won't mind taking it from here." His jaw ticked at the suggestion, "Light." Sabrina focus zeroed on the backdoor, and she walked back and forth a couple of times while scanning for any potential evidence the thief might have left behind, "Would you mind…" "I mind." It took a lot of willpower for her to not roll her eyes, reminding herself the quicker they wrap up the report, the sooner her and Calahan would be rid of dealing with the Seeds.

"It would be helpful if somebody with different stature-" Jacob repeated her movements before she could finish her sentence, then turned back to her with a 'are you happy now?' expression. "Thank you.", she lifted her attention from her notebook, making sure to pick her next words carefully, "Your brother claims the perp entered the house during the night while he was asleep." At his nod she continued, "And his floors aren't exactly-" His icy blue gaze narrowed at that, "What's your point, Deputy Donovan?" "I assume the items were in the room where he sleeps?" "Yes.", a hand scratched his bearded cheek. "And he didn't hear anything?" "Are you accusing my brother of lying?" It was at that point she began to wonder if John in fact had been around, he would have been easier to deal with, or he would have ended up avoiding answering her questions even more, especially with how cagey Jacob acted, like she wasn't there to help, but rather arrest Joseph.

"I'm not accusing Mr. Seed of anything. In an investigation every bit of information is useful, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. You called us, I'm just trying to do my job here." "Mercedes called you. I had nothing to do with this.", he corrected her coldly. Sabrina spared a quick look in Calahan's direction, finding him watching the two silently with a dark smirk from his previous spot, before she pulled the door leading out of the back of the house open. Her eyes remained casted downward, and she could feel Jacob standing close as he peeked over her shoulder at what had captured her interest. "Do many visitors use this door usually?" "No." At his confirmation, she crouched down, taking a picture of a fresh footprint left in the mud and measuring it with her hand roughly, she hushed the part of her telling her the size of the shoes the thief wore seemed to match Calahan's.

"So this is the point of entry?", he inquired for once as she got back up. "It would seem so.", she pocketed her notebook, "Anything of significance back there?" "That way leads off the property." Sabrina carefully avoided stepping over the only evidence left behind, her sights set on examining the path the perp had most likely took after snatching Joseph's belongings. "I will need to take a look then.", she didn't expect for the oldest Seed to follow, but he did, the crunch of leaves and twigs signaling his steady pace behind her. The silence only broken by the occasional chirping of birds around them was unnerving, even more paired with the fact she was being shadowed by an armed individual who wasn't exactly keen on her and Calahan's presence at his brother's Compound. Yet she refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was making her uncomfortable, she had no doubt he would enjoy every second of it.

"I haven't seen you around before.", Jacob mumbled in an even tone as she advanced forward, watching her every step carefully as the path pretty much disappeared into an overgrown grass. If it was anyone else, his attempt at small talk would have made her smile, she'd probably would have tried to ease the person's unease at it, instead she kept her answer as short as possible, the same way he had before, "You folks don't exactly have a habit of asking for our help." A noise of agreement left him at the same time her boot caught on what she guessed was an exposed tree root, making her trip as she navigated the terrain soaked by the rain from the night prior. The dreaded faceplant never came thanks to the hand that wrapped around her upper arm and steadied her, followed by a dark chuckle. "Careful now, Sabrina." The fact he knew her first name despite remarking how he'd never seen her before was a red flag on its own and confirmed he knew more than he let on, the choice of using it at that exact moment though, was what gave her pause.

She held his stare in defiance before shaking off his hold, "I can handle myself." The bored expression swooped back in place as he lifted his shoulder, "Be my guest." Sabrina covered the remaining distance to the property line in a rush, worrying about what would await her upon returning to the house, if Calahan would have managed to keep his cool as promised. To her relief Jacob settled for keeping any further comments to himself, trekking a few feet away behind her until they reached the fence that was meant to keep intruders out. Or members trying to flee, in… A well-thought cut in the chainlink greeted them. The sought after point of entry and escape. "You're better at this than expected.", he remarked quietly, pulling at the fence as his face scrunched up into a frown. Sabrina pursed her lips at the offhand compliment before snapping a couple of pictures, "Not sure if I should say thank you or feel insulted."

All she got as reply was an unreadable look before he let go of the mesh the thief had snipped at to gain entry on the cult's land. "So perp goes through all this trouble, risks getting caught by your brother… for a belt, blazer and old bible?" "Locals have been know to do far stranger things to Eden's Gate property." "Still… are you certain nothing else is missing? Anything beside your patience, that is.", the last part she uttered out in a low voice, but judging by his reaction he heard it. All she could describe him as was appearing insulted at the bold but very true observation, "I'm absolutely patient." She raised an eyebrow and set off towards the way they came from, "Sure." "Far more patient than your partner back there.", the 'partner' part he said as an insult, clearly thinking as highly of Calahan as the young Deputy did of him. Just when she was convinced he would slip back into avoiding conversation, he spoke up again, hesitation lurking behind his words, "Do you think he was lying?"

It was quite obvious who he meant, still she settled for a simple, "Who?" "Joseph." "About which part?" The idea anyone, let alone someone so close to the Father was questioning something he claimed had happened, was certainly an unexpected outcome. By then Jacob had caught up, falling into step beside her, "Being asleep. Considering you were a detective…" "You read my records or something, Mr. Seed?" "Something like that." Sabrina sneaked a fleeting glance in his direction, "You actually want my professional opinion or is this some tactic you picked up from John?" "I want the truth." A sigh broke free as her eyes came to rest on the house that was drawing closer and closer, "Well, do you think your brother would sleep through a person entering his home, no, worse, his bedroom… rummaging through the space in the dark for the items while leaving no traces behind?"

"It was a compliment.", he muttered when they reached the backyard and he pushed his way inside first, his stony demeanor returning at once. Whatever doubts were plaguing him were none of her business, her sole focus as she followed in his wake was making sure Hartley was okay and staying true to his promise of peace. "Cal." Calahan had hardly moved from where she had left him and he gave her a puzzled look before asking, "We done here?" "I need like 5 minutes.", her smile was forced when she entered the kitchen where only Mercedes was still seated, while Joseph and Jacob were nowhere to be found. "He won't be pressing any charges…" Sabrina shifted in place, "We haven't established any suspects yet, Ms. Sibley." "I'm just saving you time, Deputy.", the blonde got up with that, smoothing down her dress, "John has decided to take it from here, figure out who's done it and make sure the incident doesn't repeat."

"You heard her, Gray.", Calahan added behind her, "We're off then, miss." He sent Mercedes one of his signature winks before storming out of the house, and to her credit she appeared completely unfazed in comparison to the usual response he got from women, "I will see you out." Sabrina nodded and set out after her, meeting up with Hartley who was waiting for her outside by the entrance. With a final wave from the woman, the two were off on their way back to their cruiser, quickly becoming the center of attention once more. A couple of feet down the dirt path she spotted another familiar face that stared at her anytime she would turn on her TV or drive through town. The man that had decided to take over the 'investigation', believing he was more capable. John was engaged in a hushed conversation with Jacob, pausing whatever he was saying to steal a look at her.

"I feel like we're animals in a zoo." Calahan let out a chuckle, "Sadly no petting, though. Speaking off…" To her horror, his voice rose as they passed the two Seed brothers, drawing in even more eyes to them. "Anyone feelin' like sinnin' tonight?", he hollered cheerfully, "Halloween party at the Spread Eagle. Girls, I'd even buy you a drink. Dancing's on the menu, too, followed by other activities if you're lucky." The dark expression that came over John's face was enough for her hands to wrap around his arm and squeeze his bicep in a warning as she whispered under her breath, "You promised to behave." "I behaved plenty.", his smirk was full of pride, "Plus, look at Johnny, I'm pretty certain I saw a vein in his forehead pop, I need to get closer to see-" She ushered him along, knowing things were bound to end well if he and John were to butt heads right then and there, "Follow the path, kid." To the youngest Seed credit, he refrained from giving them a piece of his mind, and Sabrina wasn't sure if it was thanks to the crows and his brother watching his every move or because he was planning another appearance in front of the Sheriff's and making Whitehorse's day hell.

"Do you think I'd get lots of candy, Rin-Rin?", Savannah asked with an excited smile as she peeked over the back of the couch. Sabrina sank in the empty space next to her, and her sister snuggled into her embrace, "Even if you don't.", her voice lowered like she was about to share a little secret, "I hid a stash for you someplace in the house." Excitement shone in her green eyes, "My favorite candy?" "Of course, pumpkin." "You know, bats use echolocation to find their food?" Sabrina released a chuckle, "Then it's even more fitting." A knock sounded, making her rise up from her seat, curiosity swooping at who was stopping by when Ms. Darcy wasn't meant to be there for a good couple of hours. She swung the door open, finding Calahan leaning against the doorframe with one of his usual grins, a black duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, a familiar pair of yellow tinted shades covering his eyes.

"Hey." "Kid?, she gave him a confused look as he pushed his way inside, "I thought we were meeting at the bar?" "Tiny!", he greeted Savannah, and before he could blink, a blur of red curls was rushing at him, and he scooped her sister up like she weighted nothing. "Uncle Cal,", small hands came to rest on his shoulders, as her mood brightened even more at the surprise visit, "did you come to see my costume?" "Of course, Sav. You're going to be the cutest bat." He lowered her back onto the ground, turning to Sabrina with a determined expression, "Speaking of costumes, Gray…" There was twinkle in his baby blues as he regarded her, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was just as excited for the holiday as Savannah. "You're yet to tell me what you're even going as.", she raised an eyebrow in a question, having no idea what he would actually pick. His lips twisted into a smirk, "A beloved character, if you will."

"Oh?" "And I kind of need your help… seeing how you're the one with artistic skills, especially compared to little old me." Sabrina nodded, "What are we talking?" Calahan's response was to chuck the duffel bag at her, and she caught it swiftly before dropping it on the floor and unzipping it to see what he had brought along as materials. Her hands lifted a pair of dark gray jeans that laid on top, covering the rest of the items inside, and she needed a moment to process what she was staring at. A belt engraved with the Eden's Gate cross. A black blazer. A well-worn bible that looked like it was close to falling apart. No, not a bible, rather than a Joseph's version of it. A rosary was at the bottom, confirming her suspicions further. "Calahan.", Sabrina muttered in disbelief as her gaze rose up to his, registering the sheepish expression he wore at the discovery.

"Yeah?" "It was you." "No comment." "I-", she shook her head, "I have no idea what to say." "Say you will help me by drawing a couple of tattoos for me?", he paired the words with puppy dog eyes for good measure. "Jesus, Cal." "You're in troubleeee.", Savannah giggled behind him, completely oblivious to the fact her beloved uncle had committed a crime, broke the law when he was supposed to enforce it. "Pretty, please?", his voice dipped, "I went through so much s-", he stopped himself before a curse slipped out, "stuff to get them… I'd draw the tats myself, but well… angles aren't exactly friend, and I feel like this look deserves more, you know?" "And Whitehorse?" "You heard Mercy, there's no case for us to worry about. Joseph can, uh, fluff off." Sabrina sighed, "I can't believe this."

He shimmied towards her to pick up the bag, "That a yes?" "I-" "Say yes. I knoooow, wrong brother.", he tried mimicking John's usual tone from his broadcasts, successfully making her laugh as her frown melted away. "You're going to owe me one." Calahan made a cross over his heart, "Goes without sayin'." She took a deep breath before pointing at the hallway that led upstairs, "Bedroom then, I will be right up." "Not something I expected to hear from you.", he wiggled his eyebrows before disappearing up the stairs. "Sav, I will help uncle Cal with his costume for the party, I won't be long, okay?" Her sister nodded excitedly, a rush coursing through her system like she had already gone through the candy reserve hidden for her, "I can't wait to see his." Sabrina winced at the idea Calahan most likely planned on going shirtless that evening and showing off as much as he could, "Behave while I'm gone, okay? If you need anything, just holler." "Okay.", Savannah's attention shifted back to the TV, and Sabrina rushed out of the living room and towards her bedroom.

Hartley had made himself at home in one of her armchairs, jumping to his feet as soon as she came into view. "Ready?" Sabrina rubbed her forehead as she rummaged through the drawer that held all body paints she had left from previous Halloweens, "Don't expect miracles." "Want to see my sharpie rendition of Joe's tattoos? Then we can talk about failures.", he asked before lifting his shirt over his head, "I showered before coming over, by the way." Sabrina gestured to the chair in front of her vanity as she selected what brushes she might need, "You're a lot, you know that?" "Just try not to fall in love.", Hartley added jokingly as he shuffled over, muscles flexing as he sat down in his designated spot. "That won't be an issue." Her disbelief made him laugh out loud before he muttered, "It's a thing. Like for real." "Then maybe Mary May would tonight?"

"Doubtful.", his tone became sober for a second, regret swooping in, then another grin erased his scowl, "I found you pictures." Sabrina released a dramatic sigh of relief, "Good, because it ain't like I've seen Joseph naked, so you'd be getting generic tattoos without references. You're lucky you're not getting prison ones, consider you committed a crime last night." "Pfft, he has extras of everything I took. The only reason he called us in was because he couldn't believe someone had the guts to enter his actual house." She didn't bother to point out the bible looked treasured, somewhat irreplaceable based on its state. The fact Joseph might value the items wasn't going to change Hartley's mind and make him return what he stole, not even because of the risk he might get into trouble with Whitehorse, but simply for the idea he refused to bow down to any of the Seeds. He pulled out his phone, presenting a couple of shots from sermons the Project no doubt used to promote themselves.

"You know, for a cult that hates technology and sinning, they sure are relying hard on both to lure people in…", Sabrina uttered out, beginning with a crudely done, faded reddish tattoo on his right clavicle, spelling 'Sloth'. Calahan snorted, "Have you seen John? Fucker is the very definition of honey trap, then you have Faith… Hell, the little lady from this morning certainly was one too." "Both brothers were acting strange around her." "Jacob?", he huffed at the idea, "Ain't no way. John, I can picture being frustrated as fuck and losing his mind at the fact his brother banned sex." "Whatever you say." "All that talk of sin, like come on.", he argued, "Folks are talkin' about him and his life before the Project…" "I suspect I don't wanna know." His grin remained in place, fully fueled by the fact he was getting what he wanted while gossiping about the family that was a thorn in the County's side, "Oakley and I made a bet after hearin' some interesting things from Addie. $50 says he has a sex room at the ranch Joe knows nothing about."

"And how exactly would you confirm that?", Sabrina's next step was painting a black-and-white crown adorned by the cult's cross and to Calahan's credit, even with all the unleashed energy within him, he remained seated without fidgeting too much. "No clue.", he began slowly, sounding like he was actually considering the idea, "I ain't takin' one for the team, that's for sure. No idea who would and how successful they'd be, either." "That would be a sacrifice." Hartley groaned at that, "He most definitely chants 'Yes' over and over as he comes. Guaranteed. Can you imagine it? I can't picture sentencing anyone to that torture." "I'd rather not. Sit still,", she warned as she began working on another tattoo, "Can we change the subject?" "What? Johnny fuckin' ain't your cup of tea? Because I have more thoughts on the matter." "You're on thin ice, kid." "Fine, fine.", he rolled his eyes, "He stopped by the station, you know… To his shit luck, Whitehorse had left already, almost caused him to have a meltdown before his actual scheduled meltdown."

"What about?" A laugh rumbled his chest despite her previous warning, gaze filling with a prideful gleam, "Me inviting his precious members to party at Mary May's. How I was spreadin' my sinful ideas without any shame. Told him, I'd be spreading more than ideas tonight and flipped him off before I left." "Jesus." "He's probably complaining to him still. 'That sinner, how dare he! And why can't I have some, too, God?'", he went for another attempt at imitating John's way of speaking. The next tattoo that spelled 'Lust' had quite the unfortunate placement, making Sabrina back away to examine her work up until that point. "Abs are next. It might be too far, even for us." He didn't appear bothered by the idea at all when he rose up to give her better access, "Yes, m'am. Paint me like your local cult leader, not one of your french girls."

"Hilarious.", she shook her head at his amusement, "When I woke up today, the last thing I imagined having to get close and personal with your lower regions." "Oh, come on. There are worse views. Plus, I'm wearing pants, you ain't even getting the full Hartley tour." "I guess that's true.", a real tattoo above his left hip drew her attention despite trying to remain focused on her task, and a giggle broke free as she made out what it said in a convoluted font, "Cal?" "Gray?", he mimicked her intonation, eyes meeting hers. "Does this spell what I think it does?" "Oh, yeah." It took a lot for her to keep her balance or her hand steady as another laugh made it past her lips, "But, but… why?" He shrugged, "Because it's the truth. And fyi, this isn't what I usually get from girls, you're kinda bruising my ego." "I mean, it does match Joseph's 'Lust', if nothing else."

"Fucking hypocrite.", he muttered out loud as Sabrina made a sign for him to spin around with her finger and sit down again as she moved onto his back. "I did get a feeling he wasn't being truthful about his whereabouts when 'the thief' broke in." "Entered, all that was missing was a 'Welcome, come on in, Cal' sign'.", he corrected her, "It was the middle of the night, and the house was empty, Gray. He was lying through his teeth to you, and to his brother." "I figured as much." "Speaking of…", another sin that in the reference image looked like it was inked on by a child adorned Calahan's skin, "How was trekking on your own with Jacob? Not many would dare go off with him." "Not like I asked him to come.", she explained slowly, her mind drifting back to their interaction, his cryptic words, and strange behavior. The fact she was avoiding answering the question wasn't lost on him, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Like pulling teeth, no idea why he even volunteered to tag along when the whole time he was rushing to get me out of his hair as soon as possible." Calahan scratched at his stubble, "I can make a good guess, but you won't like my theory." "I suspect as much." "I will keep it to myself then." "A first." "You're welcome, it physically hurts me to hold in my jokes sometimes." A couple of minutes later, most of the simple tattoos she could copy to bring Calahan's planned look together were done. "Damn.", he exlaimed as he examined himself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom, twisting as much as he could so he could see his back as well, "I knew I shouldn't have attempted to do these myself." Sabrina laughed, "That would have been a look." "Thank you, Gray.", Hartley gave her a half-hug, staying mindful of smudging his temporary ink, "Now Whitehorse's inevitable lecture would be worth it, truly."

"I'm honestly surprised you didn't steal Joseph's underwear, commit to the bit all the way through." A snort left him, "Please, I have my limits. Glasses are a little gift from Addie and exhibit A to him not telling the truth, because I so would have snatched his sunnies, too. The jeans are mine.", a shudder racked his body, "For all I know Joe likes going commando." "Thanks for the visual." Calahan feigned a bow, "I live to serve. Or to scar people, depending on the occasion." "I need to help Sav get into her costume, I promised to take her trick-or-treating before the party." "Ah, man, I'm tempted to tag along. Think people will give me candy?", he plopped down onto her bed with a dreamy sigh. "Considering your persistence and charm, I'd guess yes. But…" "But what?" Sabrina pursed her lips, "It might be best to stay back, minimize how many people would see you before it's even showtime. Word's bound to get to John or Joseph himself."

"True.", he nodded, "Mind if I stick around, then we can leave together?" "Of course. And if you're good, you might even get some candy from Sav's reserve. Relive your childhood to the fullest before getting the adult version of Halloween." His eyes lit up at that, "You got yourself a deal." "Just avoid making Ms. Darcy shoot you by mistake if she gets here while we're gone."

After taking Savannah out to show off her bat costume she had personally worked on in making what she called 'more realistic' and returning with enough candy that her back-up stash had become unnecessary and was gifted to Calahan, Sabrina bid her and Ms. Darcy goodbye for the evening. The latter had joked how she wouldn't mind Eden's Gate if the younger Deputy was in charge. "First thing, Darce asked me was if I had forgotten my shirt,", Hartley smoothed down the stolen blazer that no doubt would come off eventually and was the only thing he wore to cover his bare chest, "and how at least I had something on to not catch my death in the cold." "She's too cute sometimes.", Sabrina retorted as she got into her Bronco and buckled in. "Yeah, reminds me of my Nana, but…", he wiggled his eyebrows, dropping Joseph's bible and rosary in his lap before he leaned back into his seat and added, "then she told me how the ladies would sure appreciate the view."

Their laughter filled the truck as she pulled out of her driveway, an advertisement about the party at the Spread Eagle coming on the local radio station she usually had playing. "Sinners welcome." closed the message, and Calahan gave Sabrina a wink when she snuck a quick look in his direction. "Yes, it was my idea. A little fuck you to John." "Mary May's paying you for those gems or?" He chuckled, "I suggested she could also use me as a model, do some shots with my renditions of the Seed brothers." "Oh my god." "She shot the idea down, sadly. Maybe next Halloween.", he drummed his hands on the dashboard, "Good news is I'm getting free drinks tonight as a thank you for helping her decorate and set shit up." "You plan on finally doing something about your crush tonight?" "What crush?" "Very funny." "Speaking of getting laid… want me to be your wingman?" Her nose wrinkled at the offer, "I'd pass on that."

"I'm like the best wingman you can have, just saying." She pulled into one of the empty parking spots across the Spread Eagle, "I'm not sleeping with anyone tonight, Calahan." Hartley jumped off the truck, bible in one hand, while the other had the rosary wrapped around his palm a couple of times. He leaned against the door, thankfully lowering his voice so the other patrons that were pilling to go inside the bar wouldn't overhear him, "If you do change your mind, just say the word. I'm going to find you someone worthy. A stallion to ride." She let out a groan as she rested her forehead against the steering wheel, "Please don't ever say that again." His laughter followed her as she got out too and locked her doors, his arm swinging over her shoulders as the two walked towards the entrance of the Spread Eagle. Loud music and chatter filled the space as the Deputies pushed their way inside. Mary May was practically swimming in drink orders to a point she didn't even notice Calahan sneaking behind the bar to envelop her in a bear hug.

The blonde's confusion quickly dissipated as she shook off his hold, still not taking a good look at his costume, "Rookie, keep that up and you will be stuck behind the bar the whole night. Helpin', not partying." "You're no fun.", Calahan complained as he heaved himself over the counter instead of taking the long route, winning another curse from Mary May followed by her eyes widening when she finally noticed his attire. He leaned against the bar counter as she slid a drink his way, "Do you like my costume, gorgeous?" "Where the fuck did you even find…", she shook her head, but a smile played across her lips. "I plead the fifth." "Brin,", her attention shifted to Sabrina, slipping back into bartender mode, "What are you drinkin'?" "I'm his DD tonight." "So nothing new?" She shrugged as Calahan downed his first glass for the night. "I'm gonna make you something delicious." "Thank you, M."

He shuffled closer, whispering in her ear over the music, "I will be right back, have to greet my Pyrobros. Do some rounds, recruit people for my newly founded cult." Before she could even respond, he strutted over to Hurk, Sharky, and a couple of other locals that were standing around one of the tables at the far end of the bar. "So, if Rookie's Joseph…", Mary May returned to her after serving a couple of newcomers, "I guess you're going for John? If you do need a Jacob-" Sabrina's confused frown cut her off, "I'm not wearing a costume, I thought those were optional." "No?" Blue eyes ran over her blue button-up she had left mostly unbottoned after leaving her jacket in her car. "Nope. Does it look like it?" "I mean, paired with him,", Mary May's head cocked in Calahan's direction, "I'd say yes. No pun intended." A drink was placed in front of her, and she took a sip, sweetness hitting her taste buds, "I love this one."

"Yeah?", pride shone in the blonde's gaze before it shifted to the far end of the counter to a figure sitting next to the wall, bathed in shadows, "Anyways, I was gonna suggest Lizzie over there being your Jacob." It was rare anyone called Oakley Moore Lizzie, most folks weren't bold enough to engage in a conversation with the woman, let alone use a nickname she considered forbidden. "Oaks.", Mary May called out to her, gesturing for her to come closer. Seconds ticked by before Oakley switched seats, shoulders bumping with Sabrina's as her pale gaze settled on her. It's what she considered a proper greeting that was usually confused with her being hostile and granted, most of the time, she wasn't one for tolerating small talk. "Brin." "How's Betty?" Warmth melted away the iciness in her eyes at the mention of her grandmother, "You know Nana, refuses to sit down. And is now forcing me to socialize after Cal mentioned the goddamned party. I was planning on going hunting."

Cheers and whistling drowned out her response as Calahan did a victory spin for the crowd gathered inside, spreading his hands in the air the same way Joseph did and exclaiming, "The Father? I prefer Daddy, my children. Sin tonight… make me proud!" "He's something else.", Oakley commented with a smirk as she downed her whiskey, nodding past Sabrina, "Did he actually go through with 'borrowing JoeJoe's things'?" "Unfortunately. We got a call about it this morning." The news ripped a laugh out of Moore, another rarety, "Even his ratty bible?" The stolen bible lay discarded next to Sabrina, and she moved it out of the way of whoever wanted to occupy the empty chair to her left, mindlessly flipping through it until something caught her eye. A picture was nestled between the pages, its corners frayed like it had been touched many times. "What the-", the question drew Mary May's attention, and she leaned over to peek at what she was holding. "Ask for Mercy." The woman they had met that morning stared back at her in the photograph, smiling, wearing another similar white dress. "Well, fuck me.", Oakley uttered under her breath as she too huddled closer to examine the find, "JoeJoe has a dirty little secret?"

"Ah, man, you nailed the Joe-bro look, I swear.", Hurk raised his beer to Calahan for a toast just as a slender hand came to rest on his elbow. "Hello.", a petite blonde dressed as a fairy he hadn't seen around before greeted him with a shy smile, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks while she ogled his bare chest that was covered in temporary tattoos. The ladies sure appreciate it. Thanks, Gray. "Calahan.", he reached out his hand, giving her one of his signature grins, "And you are, beautiful?" A giggle left her as her palm touched his, "Cheyenne, but friends call me Cherry." "Cherries are my favorite.", he replied as he leaned in closer and straightened the dainty wings she had strapped around her shoulders, "You gonna dance with me, Cherry?" "I'd love to."

A song faded into another with Cheyenne melting further into him, her flowery perfume invading his senses while he wished he was dancing with somebody else. The same somebody that was currently not so secretly shooting daggers in his direction. Mary May was certainly not appreciating the view as she poured a drink to Grace Armstrong and then moved onto another customer. "You want a drink or something, baby?", Cherry's voice pulled him out of his staring, and he forced his attention back to her, offering her a carefree smile. "I have everything I need right here." Her hands traced his pecks before encircling his neck, her body moving to the rhythm as she pressed it closer to his on the small dancefloor. His head dipped at the telltale signs while she rose on the tiptoes to meet him halfway, their lips locking and for a second, he could pretend he wasn't kissing a stranger he just met.

It was even easier when they were blondes, yet those nights stung even more afterward. A coy smile took over Cheyenne when she leaned back, her lipstick smudged slightly, "Feelin' like going someplace more private?" Before he had a chance to respond, the door to the Spread Eagle flew open with such force it banged into the wall. The noise cut through the music and murmurs of the crowd, followed by a booming voice. Or what John considered booming voice that Calahan rather described as irritated child on the verge of a meltdown. "CALAHAN HARTLEY." The grin on his face didn't melt away at his name being called, instead, he pretended nothing had happened, forcing John to strain his vocal chords some more. Even his own mother hadn't ever called his name that way, no matter how much trouble he had been in. By the youngest Seed's tone, Calahan could guess he had somehow seen one of the many pictures and videos patrons had taken with him in Joseph's attire.

"I will be right back, beautiful.", he assured Cherry before sneaking out of her embrace and facing John with a wide smile, mimicking the pose his brother loved so much. "JOHNNYYY!", he hollered back, his night getting even better when the man's face twisted in rage at the sight of him, "I knew you would be tempted to come."

Sabrina spun around in her chair as a loud bang cut through the usual chatter around them, horror gripping her as John Seed marched through the entrance of the bar like he owned the place. His voice, or rather the way he screamed Calahan's name, promised trouble, especially since he had always been mostly calm during what others categorized as 'meltdowns'. "That damned bastard, having the guts to show up here.", Mary May, slammed a glass on the counter with way too much force, the liquid inside spilling over the edges as she regarded the man that viewed her business as something that needed to be shut down. Oakley had sneaked out minutes prior, saying how she needed a smoke if she was to sit through the night and since then hadn't returned. "JOHNNYYY! I knew you would be tempted to come.", Hartley yelled back, full of glee. Before she could think twice, Sabrina was out of her chair, cutting through the crowd that had grown silent as bargoers, including Joey and Pratt, watched the scene unfolding that was bound to end in disaster.

"Brin. Fuck.", Mary May called after her, but she pushed forward while Calahan himself advanced in John's direction, raising a hand adorned by his brother's rosary in the air. "I'd buy you a drink, Johnny, but don't think you're my type." "How dare you…you-", John barely managed to get any words out when he took in the Deputy's outfit, "Is my brother A JOKE to you?!" "Why, YES. YES. YES.", Hartley screamed back, "You love that word dontcha, Johnny? He is a JOKE. And let's face it, I'm wearing the look BETTER." Sabrina made it into the space that people had cleared out in anticipation of a fight breaking out, gliding between the two swiftly, knowing well enough that either men were close to unraveling and doing something drastic. "Kid.", she warned, feet planted firmly while feeling John's approach behind her, "Don't." Her gut told her she had a bigger chance at reasoning with him since Whitehorse was the one who always dealt with Eden's Gate's ruthless lawyer.

"Move, Gray.", his blue eyes were clear, signaling he wasn't nowhere near his boiling point as his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, ready to move her aside in sign of danger. Like hell I will move. "You came on OUR LAND. BROKE-" "FUCKING LEAVE MY BAR.", Mary May cut in, drawing everyone's eyes to herself, to the shotgun gripped in her hands, "RIGHT FUCKING NOW." "You…sinner.", John's rage switched target for a breath, "You've learned nothing, have you, Mary May?" "OUT.", her blue eyes narrowed, "Before I create more holes into your body since you seem to love those." "Look at you. All of you.", Calahan let out a dark laugh as John continued his speech, "Spreading the sin. Turning your backs on Eden. When the Collapse is on our doorstep."

A cacophony of curses echoed back from the crowd, furious stares zeroing behind Sabrina, and all she could imagine was the confrontation turning into a real bloodbath and how Whitehorse would chastise all of them for failing to stop it. With her thoughts getting darker by the second, she spun around, a pair of angry blue eyes settling on hers, "Mr. Seed." Something flew past her head, crashing into the wall and making her duck down on instinct. A bottle smashed into pieces, aimed at John. "How DARE-", he yelled again, but only managed to get two words out before she was cupping a hand over his mouth and pushing him out of the bar, door slamming shut behind her as the chilly air hit her at once. "Please, just leave.", she removed her palm off his face and placed herself between him and the entrance, the exterior lights of the bar dancing across his skin.

"You-", John stopped himself, a shaky breath leaving him as he regarded her, "Do you even know what he did?" "Is it worth getting hurt over? That bottle was just the beginning." He advanced forward again, expecting her to budge, allow him entry. She did none of that, unwavering while he drew near enough she could smell him - an expensive cologne drifting off him, stark contrast to most of the Project's members odors. "Go home, Mr. Seed." John shook his head, set on taking things too far, "He broke into my brother's home, took his belongings, and is wearing his clothes as a costume. They're all drunk and mocking him, and all he stands for on social media." "And you're sober and can be the bigger man by walking away." His eyes ran over her face, silence taking over as the party inside the bar continued like nothing had even happened.

"Are you wearing me as a costume, too?" "It's just a shirt, costumes are optional." "Good, because I'm not a-" "Go home.", she tried again, gentler that time around, nodding towards the truck he hadn't even bothered to park, instead stopping it in the middle of the road in his angry spell. "I'm not leaving without Joseph's bible." Sabrina nodded, "I will be right back, don't do anything, okay?" She didn't wait for him to respond, rushing back into the bar where the celebration was back in full swing with Hartley grinding against a blonde in a fairy costume. Laughter carried around her as she reached the bar and grabbed the bible, ignoring Mary May's string of questions with her mind set on solving the issue, ensuring the night didn't end in disaster. "Here.", she announced the second she was back outside, exchanging the worn copy of Joseph's Word to John. "I won't let him get away with this. Hartley should be upholding the law.", he gritted out and spun around, striding off back to his vehicle as she finally released the breath she had been holding.

Whatever relief she experienced began dissipating when seconds ticked by and he didn't drive off, instead rounding his truck in the dark, a faint light bouncing around as he examined something. "Somebody slashed my tires, Deputy. All four.", his voice carried over the quiet night. "What?" In a couple of steps, she was standing by his truck, his phone illuminating a jaded cut in the front tire. He huffed, "Leave, you say? Leave? They won't let me." "I'm-" "Sorry? Are you really, Deputy?" "You can call someone to pick you up…", she wrapped her arms around herself, the cold finally getting through her thin shirt. John shoved his phone back into his jeans pocket, "Absolutely not." "I don't know what to say, Mr. Seed." Reality was she had allowed herself a night to go out and have fun, and now she was stuck placating a hostile individual who in ways had every reason to feel bereaved.

His gaze casted behind her, aimed at the bar, making her worry he was contemplating having another go at Calahan and hunting down whoever had deflated his tires. "I can drive you home.", the words came out in a rush, her willingness to help getting her in trouble not for the first time. All she got was silence, his expression hard to read in the dark, so she pointed behind him, "My truck is over there." "That's how every horror movie starts.", he muttered back. "I thought your c-", she shook her head to dismiss what he would have no doubt taken as an insult, "Never mind." "What?" "Nothing, Mr. Seed. Would you like me to drive you home?" She took his nod as an 'Yes' and quickly moved past his truck, headed for her own as she sneaked a glance over her shoulder to assure he was following. Sabrina was the first to climb in, reaching over to unlock the passenger side door for him, but John stood frozen next it, a look of suspicion washing over his features.

"This feels like a trap." She gritted her teeth before forcing a smile his way, "You're welcome to walk home then, Mr. Seed. Some fresh air won't hurt ya.", then leaned back into her seat as she waited for him to make his choice. At the end, his pride won, and he got in reluctantly, clutching his brother's bible between his fingers as he slammed the door shut. "I carry a knife on me.", he warned as she started the Bronco, pulling out of the parking spot just as a person emerged from the shadows from the side of the Spread Eagle, the twinkling lights picking up their light blonde hair. Oakley. With her hatred of John, chances were she was the one that had struck while he was too busy inside the bar. "I do, too.", Sabrina retorted while he reached out and changed the radio station to the one Eden's Gate owned and used for propaganda.

Most of the drive to his house passed in silence, only disturbed by the way-too-cheerful choral songs. Every once in a while, she'd spare a quick look in his direction, catching him staring at her, too, while the tension in the small space only grew. The next time she did it, she found him flipping through the bible like she had done, his hands freezing when he got to the picture. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as he plucked the photograph and examined it. There was no shocked exclamation, no cursing in surprise like Oakley had done. John remained stoic while he stared at the picture his brother clearly valued enough to use as a bookmark in what looked like a well-read paperback. The picture was of a woman. A member of his cult. The one that was worried about his wellbeing and had enough influence over him to convince Joseph to call the police. There was a reason why both Mary May and Oakley eyed the hidden photograph with interest, why they spent a while speculating over the story surrounding Mercy.

Sabrina rolled to a stop in the driveway of the ranch, fully expecting John to jump out of her truck as soon as it wasn't moving with how extremely quiet he'd been. Instead, he remained seated, staring at his brother's bible, his features twisted into a frown. "Have yourself a good night.", she muttered, hoping it would be enough to pull him out of whatever stupor had taken over him and get him out of her vehicle. "Joseph keeps that bible on his bedside table.", he whispered, thumb brushing over the worn-out cover, "And he had the picture-" His words died down abruptly as if he suddenly remembered himself, then returned to looking out through the windshield into the darkness outside of the car, only disrupted by the Bronco's headlights. "It's none of my-" "Did you feel it, too?", John interrupted her, blue eyes moving to hers, "Even now."

A part of her warned her to mind her business, but curiosity won over it, "Felt what?" "That pull. The electricity." She said nothing, knowing her opinion were to either lie or admit he was somewhat right, which no doubt would be an ego boost to him. Truth was, something obscure, palpable hung between them, charging the air, growing stronger the closer he'd been. It doesn't matter. "Goodnight.", Sabrina repeated again and leaned over to open the door for him and make her stance crystal clear. The move was a mistake on its own because she hesitated, hand coming to rest on the door handle as his scent invaded her senses once more. "You want me to go?", he asked, watching her closely. "Yes."

Yet her fingers refused to obey, to swing the door open, prompt him to leave. Tattooed hand wrapped around hers to lift it between them, the interior light of her truck illuminating the top of his palm. The black ink that covered it. She was convinced she had stopped breathing when she pulled his arm closer, making sure she wasn't imagining things. That the tattoo her fingers were tracing was the same. That it was real, what she'd seen again and again. "Sabrina?", confusion swooped into his tone, mirroring hers. "I feel it.", her confession was barely audible, but clearly enough for him to make a choice, "It changes nothing." His eyes darkened, darting to her lips before he cupped her cheek with his free hand, "No matter. I'm still going to kiss you." No part of what he had said was a question, but she nodded anyway despite her better judgment as he leaned in, mouth covering hers.

His lips moved over her own slowly, a tingle climbing up her spine at the contact while her rational side screamed for her to push him away, no matter who he might be in her visions. It's him. Her hand braced against his chest, moving up on its own before grasping the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. It was then that she returned the kiss fully, lips parting as his own tongue darted out, a groan leaving him at the granted access. His taste took over her system while he set out on exploring her mouth, fingers intertwining with hers. A muffled tud broke the spell between them, making John pull back, staring at her intently with hunger written all over his face. "I should go. Be good." She nodded, but his hold of her hand only tightened, signaling he was torn, not exactly feeling the words. "Thing is… I don't want to.", he confirmed, licking his lips and making her wonder if he was tasting her.

"I don't, either." His gaze shifted to his feet, where Joseph's book had tumbled down onto the floor of her car before returning back to hers. "This is probably going to come back to bite me.", he uttered out, "Most definitely actually, Deputy. But… I'm asking you to come inside. See where this takes us." Her eyebrow rose up at his bold invitation, "I must have misheard you." "You didn't." Sabrina forced a laugh, "Don't you people have a rule about this?" "We do, quite frankly.", he nodded quickly, "I'm doing this despite it." "What would your brother think?", she pushed further, expecting him to fold, remember himself, and the doctrine forced upon each member. One, he clearly didn't respect enough. "What would Whitehorse think about Deputy Hartley committing a crime on private property last night?" It was the lawyer in him, the negotiator set on getting what he wanted, peeking through.

Her gaze narrowed, "What are you implying?" "We're both facing a dilemma, Deputy, toeing a line, you're keeping Hartley's secrets, covering for him. But there's a simple question - what do you want?" To head home and not get involved in a messy situation, especially after how you acted at the bar. "For you to kiss me again.", a satisfied smirk came over him at her answer, and he let go of her hand, only so he could open his door. "Come then.", he called out as he jumped down onto the gravel, gesturing for her to follow suit. His door slammed shut as she turned off the Bronco's engine and exited, rounding the truck where he met her halfway and took hold of her arm again. "One rule.", she muttered at his back as he pulled her along towards the ranch's main entrance, the overhead light coming on to life at their approach.

"What?" "You won't make a fuss about Calahan's indiscretion." He sighed like it physically pained him to let Hartley off the hook, "Fine. But this would be the first and last time." A small victorious smile danced across her lips as his hand wrapped around the doorknob and pushed his front door open, causing her to blink in shock, "You don't lock your doors, either? Of course, it runs in the family." Darkness ruled over the house aside from a dim light spilling out from the room ahead of them. "I wasn't exactly in the best mindset when I left.", John explained, leading her forward past a dining table and a lit stone fireplace that was providing the aforementioned illumination and separated the large open space in two. He spun around when he reached the other side of it, hand landing on her waist to drag her into him, "We're doing this?"

Her nod was all he needed to fulfill her previous wish, lips descending over hers as he took a couple of steps backward until he was lined with the couch that faced the fireplace and he lowered his body onto the leather surface, bringing her down with him. She straddled his lap on instinct, sinking further into the kiss while his fingers traveled beneath her shirt, coming to rest just at the edge of her bra. Like he had done before, he broke their liplock, leaning back to regard her as his hand made it past the lace garment, cupping her breast. "Look at you,", she said before lowering her mouth to his and whispering, "sinning." He pinched her nipple in warning, "Haven't even begun." A surprised yelp left her when John shifted until he was lying on top of her, undoing her jeans as he held her gaze and dragged them down her legs enough to have better access. "You want to stop, you tell me.", he instructed before he stole another kiss, hand moving from her waist down her abdomen and beneath her underwear.

One finger pushed inside her, swiveling into her wetness, more pooling at his touch and the satisfied growl that broke free from him. "More.", Sabrina ordered, buckling against his palm to get more friction to her clit before he complied, adding another digit to the mix as he began pumping in and out of her heat. "You're dripping for me." "Yes.", the word made it past her lips before she could think better of it, a grin appearing on his face as he repeated the movement again. Slowly that time, tantalizing her, hinting at his plan. "John.", she groaned in annoyance, "Don't you dare go there." He shook his head, "Say it again." "No." "Again and you're getting another finger." "He was right. You are weird during sex." "Who?", his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as his hand halted inside her. She rolled her eyes, "Calahan."

"Why am I not surprised the pest was talking about me." He resumed the previous infuriating pace, prolonging giving her what she wanted. "Say it, Deputy.", John repeated, and when she shook her head in defiance, he added, "I'd sweeten the deal." "How?", she moaned out when his thumb brushed against her clit, adding pressure before retreating. "Another finger.", he dropped a kiss across her lips, "My mouth. And then…" She hated how his talking alone had an effect on her, turning her on. "Then what?" He took his time considering the question before whispering, "You get to ride me." "And if I don't?" "Mmm..", his mouth lowered to her neck, sucking on the tender skin as his fingers kept the same slow pace, while her arousal grew, dripping down his hand, "I take my time. Wear you down. And, be assured, I'd enjoy every minute of it, Sabrina."

"Once." "Hm?" "I'd only say it once, don't be pulling any dirty tricks on me, Seed." "Deal.", he muttered and halted his teasing altogether, waiting for her to follow through with her part of the agreement. A shuddered breath left her when his thumb circled her clit again as encouragement, "Yes." "Such a freeing word.", John rose up, clutching her panties and pulling them down past her knees. His lips lowered to her belly, kissing a path over it while his hands spread her thighs apart, positioning her the way he wanted her. "No games." He tsk-tsked, "Where would be the fun then?" Her protests were cut short when his mouth found her center, tongue licking away at her arousal and drawing more out of it as result. "You taste so sweet. To think I almost walked away.", he remarked, peeking at her from between her legs, before diving back in for more.

Her noises urged him on as she climbed towards a powerful climax, three fingers entering her like he had promised, lips wrapping around her clit and adding much needed pressure. She rocked against his hand, sinking further into the pleasure, almost forgetting who was delivering it to her, how they had ended up there in the first place. His name ripped off her lips as she came, his thrusts picking up and only heightening the sensation. "That's it. Give in. Let it all pour out for me.", she ignored how close he sounded to his preachings in the cursed broadcasts, "There's more where that came from." He moved up her body, little tremors still coursing through her limbs as he kissed her, giving her a taste of herself. "Can you handle more?", he challenged, rising up on his heels while his hands worked on undoing his belt and jeans to leave him down to his underwear, his erection's outline pressing against the material, begging for release.

"You tryin' to trick me?" He smirked, "Nothing of sorts." "You haven't delivered on everything yet.", Sabrina reminded him as she got up too, fingers grasping the waistband of his boxers, and pulling them down. "Protection.", he mumbled to himself, "I don't-" "What… you don't do this a lot?" His look of disbelief made her chuckle, "Absolutely not." "I'm on the pill." Her hand wrapped around him, stroking his cock a couple of times as he contemplated the idea. "Yes.", he answered finally, sitting back down onto the couch, still mostly clothed aside from his nether regions. Sabrina stripped off her boots, pants, and underwear completely to ensure nothing would obstruct her mobility, his eyes following her the whole time, tongue darting out to lick his lips. With her clothes out of the way, she threw her leg over his hip, straddling him as her hand lined his tip with her entrance.

She sank down onto him slowly, relishing every inch, judging by his measured breathing and how his features twisted in concentration, he was doing the same. Trying to maintain his control. "So tight.", he gritted out, "You gonna move for me, Deputy?" She rocked against him slowly, her sleakness making her glide up and down his shaft with ease, the sounds of pleasure filling the darkened room paired with the crackling of the fire. "You're killing me here.", he whined against her lips, fingers gripping her hips to dictate the pace. "Riding you. It's what you said." "Yes." "So, let me do that. Have patience." "Deputy…" She grasped his hands, moving them to her chest, "If you want something to hold, the girls are feeling a bit ignored." "We can't have that.", John caught up quick, unbuttoning her shirt while she resumed riding him.

Her bra came undone next as he made work of the front clasp in a blink, baring her completely to him. "I will rectify the situation.", he vowed in a serious tone, his mouth swooping down to her chest, paying attention to each breast individually. His compliance caused her to move faster, arousal coating his length as she squeezed her muscles around him in attempts to coax his orgasm out. "You feel so good for a Seed. Who could have known…", she teased and let out a yelp when his teeth grazed her nipple at the jab. It wasn't long before she stumbled over the edge, her walls clenching around him and drawing his own climax, making him let go with a groan. Her name fell from his lips as he spilled inside her. "Oh, John.", she muttered quietly against his neck, euphoria overwhelming her system. "Bold and brave?", he chuckled, "It seems somebody's been listening to our radio station." A hand swatted at his chest, "You're totally ruining the moment."

He hummed in disapproval, arms encircling her body as she snuggled into him more, "Sleepy?" "A little bit." "My bed awaits." "You're asking me to actually stay over?" A series of kisses covered her collarbone, tracing her butterflies tattoo, "I'm far from done with you." She broke out of his embrace, an emptiness settling between her legs as she rose up, convincing herself she couldn't allow him to take things even further than he already had. "Deputy.", he called out, still seated on the couch, watching her while she gathered her clothes from the ground and huffed at his release running down her thigh and making it impossible to get dressed without creating a mess. His gaze met hers, shadows and light dancing across his features and partly obsecuring his expression, "What?" "You're not going to need them.", she opened her mouth to speak, but he waved her off, getting up too and snatching her clothes from her to drop them on the couch, "We're going to my bedroom."

"John.", his name was paired with a sigh at his tone that left no room for arguments. He made quick work of taking off his own boots, jeans, and boxers, pulling her in by her waist as his lips hovered over hers, "Go. Run. And you can keep thinking back to this moment, wishing you made a different choice, or you could be honest about what you want… How much you want it." His hand grasped her backside, and she could feel him hardening between them again while he kissed her, coming for breath only to add, "I'd like to fuck you on an actual bed instead of having my sweaty skin sticking onto old leather… might as well be comfortable seeing how I broke so many rules already." The idea he actually cursed out loud made her snort, "Fuck me?" "That's the plan. Just say 'Yes'. Are you staying?" Of course you're fishing for your favorite word again. Silence settled around them, heavy with possibility, with the realization he was infuriatingly correct she'd regret it.

He brushed her hair out of her face, "Your eyes are so expressive, you know that? I could basically see the battle within. Which option is winning?" Her hands traveled up his chest, locking around his neck, "Yes. Happy?" What she got as reply was a triumphant grin before he hoisted her up, legs wrapping around his waist as he rounded the couch, moving with determination with her in his arms. "Someone's in a rush. How long has it been?", she joked while he took the stairs two at a time, getting to the second floor of the ranch in couple of beats. "Way too long, Deputy." Darkness engulfed them as he headed down a hallway, pushing a door open with his free hand that wasn't holding onto her. It was where he finally dropped her to her feet, the coldness of the hardwood floors meeting as it shut with a click behind them. John was on the move again, his footsteps being her only indicator in the pitch black, then a table lamp next to his bed came to life, illuminating the space and his nearing form with faint glow.

Her eyes took in her surrounding, bouncing from his bed, sheer curtains and wooden interiors of the room, to the ordinary furniture and two doors leading who knew where before they settled on his chest as he discarded his shirt and reached out for her again. A combination of scars and tattoos marred his skin. A small old key hanging around his neck. "Not what you expected?", he asked when his hand found her cheek, caressing her skin gently. Your bedroom or the fact you're someone I've been seeing for years? "I don't know what I expected." He nodded and moved onto her own shirt, pushing it down her arms until it pooled at her feet, her lace bra following in its wake. "Definitely weren't dressed as me, eh, Deputy?" She gave him a pointed look, "I told you-" "You'd look good in my shirt. I wouldn't mind you stealing that." Her laugh was a surprised one, "Careful what you wish for… I might be planning my costume for next year already."

"Beautiful.", he whispered as his eyes ran over her naked body, thumb breezing over her bottom lip and slipping into her mouth, eyes darkening when she sucked on it, "Patience. Remind me of that, in case I forget." Sabrina nodded, releasing his digit with a pop, and he pushed her backward, mouth clashing into hers when her legs met the edge of his bed. The soft matress engulfed her body as he settled over her, hand coming to rest beside her head to keep his weight off her while the other traveled down her stomach and slipped inside her for a brief moment before retreating. Her palms braced against his chest, running over the hard planes as her thighs fell open more, urging him to act. Anticipation swam within her when his fingers grasped his lenght, his tip brushing across her wetness a couple of times before finally pushing in slowly despite how wet she was and the desire she could see in his eyes.

A stray piece of hair had fallen over his forehead, and she smoothed them away, muttering, "Fill me up already." "I'm trying to be patient here. Not embarrass myself.", his expression was focused, like he refused to fully give in, act on his urges, let his composure slip. "Fuck patient. Better yet, fuck me as promised." He blinked, considering her words before thrusting all the way in and ripping a moan out of her as her walls enveloped him, and more followed when he began to move. "I'm starting to think going after the Deputy tonight wasn't the worst idea I've had to date.", he groaned against her mouth while at the same time he threw her leg over his shoulder, sinking in deeper into her at the new angle. "He sure would die laughing if he knew how the night unfolded after I broke you two apart." "He'd be obnoxious about, wouldn't he?", he chimed in, "Probably claim it was what he had planned all along to get me back for the previous time."

She couldn't help but smile at his annoyance, "Possibly." "Most definitely.", John insisted, pairing his next words with a hard thrust, "I couldn't stop thinking about you today." "Yeah?" She did her hardest to match his movements as a climax began to build within her, and her legs parted to take more of him. "Yes.", he gritted out, a giggle escaping her at the memory of Calahan's theory about his habits in bed, "Something amusing, Sabrina?" "No." There was doubt in his gaze, but he let her answer slip, emphasizing each word with a rock of his hips, "First time I saw you up close… I imagined it so many times." Her eyes widened at the bold confession and idea he had been thinking of her to begin with, "For how long?" "Since you moved here, but I had to be good, telling myself I wasn't missing anything."

In ways Hartley had been right about the signs and his theories about John's frustration. Regret slipped over his features, prompting her to cup his bearded cheek, "I'm here now." "That you are, and I plan on making up for that lost time.", he said with conviction, slowing his pace as his hand slipped between them to rub her clit. With a couple of flicks across it paired with his thrusts, the release she could feel twisting and twirling inside her came to a crescendo. His name rolled off her tongue, causing him to smirk while he continued to move, head dipping down to whisper in her ear and sending a shiver all over her body while her hands fisted the satin sheets beneath her, "Think you can come again before I do?"

Minutes later she found herself completely spent, laying snuggled in the crook of his arm while her fingers traced a lazy pattern across his chest. "Three times.", he noted with pride, hand running down her back under the soft covers, "I'm thinking we can break that record next time." Next time? Sabrina ignored the off-hand comment, assuming he hadn't meant anything by it, that he was just still basking in his own climax after demonstrating how dead set he was on holding off until he couldn't physically anymore. "Should I expect you to show up at the Sheriff's tomorrow?" "Today.", he corrected her, "And no, Deputy. I promised, didn't I? Hartley is off the hook until whatever he does next comes back to bite him." Her grin was concealed against his neck and she placed a kiss on his skin, "Thank you."

"Does that mean you're due to work in few hours?" "Mhm.", she hummed absently, "Why?" "I might pay you a visit instead.", his caress was slowly lulling her to sleep, especially with how relaxed she felt as she laid in the embrace of someone considered enemy of the County. When she said nothing, he took her silence as agreeance to his idea, adding, "We could see that the theft case gets closed." Her fingers froze against his chest as it was toying with the metal key nestled between his pecks, eyes lifting up to meet his baby blues, "I never opened one, you wanted to handle things yourself, remember? Play detective." "I will think of something else.", he said nonchalantly, "Like my truck's slashed tires… All four of them, a serious enough offense." "John." "Yes?" "This…", she paused, wondering what she had gotten herself into, "it can't happen again."

It was then that she got her first confirmation he had been serious upon mentioning 'a next time', coming in the form of a determined look he gave her before uttering out, "We shall see about that, Deputy." The same one he wore each time he argued with Whitehorse, refusing to back down no matter how much the Sheriff tried to placate him. If how impossible to shake off he had proven to be when it came to Calahan, she didn't dare think what it would take for him to give up after their night together. A part of her didn't know if she wanted him to, no matter how disastrous the consequences promised to be.

Tagging, @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @cassietrn @madparadoxum @voidika @corvosattano @unholymilf @purplehairsecretlair @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @florbelles @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @the-silver-chronicles @nightbloodbix @clicheantagonist @wrathfulrook @harmonyowl @jillvalentinesday @shegetsburned @sstewyhosseini and anyone with something to share <3

#Calahan has so many gems in this one 🤣🤣🤣#but somehow “Paint me like your local cult leader; not one of your french girls.” is my favorite ☠️☠️#him roasting John and Joseph and just riling him up is peak; the tattoo session is just such a dynamic to have with your bestie #then we have all the pinning after Mary May; Oakley's cameo; Mer and Jacob being their usual selves #Jacob being a lil weirdo with Sabrina (what could have been if John wasn't on her mind 24/7)#Mary May pulling out a shotgun at John for walking into her bar and making a scene ☠️☠️👏👏 go girly #Savannah is adorable; give her all the candyyy; Cal being excited for Halloween and wanting sweets too 🥺#John suspecting he's gonna get horror movied if he gets in Sabrina's car and then being like fuck it sinnin time Joe is sinnin too #“Oh John” making a cameo and her being like stoop you're ruining the moment 🫠#i never expected to be so stoked with this drabble but mannn cal brings such unhinged dialogue to the table #oc: calahan hartley #oc: sabrina donovan #wip: in hope of tomorrow #fc5 ocs #far cry 5 oc #fc5 deputy #john x sabrina #ship: the diviner and the baptist #joseph seed #john seed #john seed x female deputy #myedits #mygifs #oc: oakley moore #mary may fairgrave #oc: savannah donovan #halloween #halloween edit #fc5 meme #wip wednesday

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newobsessioneveryweek · 3 months

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You have an story idea where Travis dies !

Tell me more 👀 (even though it makes me so sad when one of the full siblings die 😭, like Fred and George Weasley. Only reason I liked that the Stolls are background characters is that Rick didn’t thought it was necessary to kill of them, my heart would have been broken)

That's so valid😭😂 Rick, keep them alive so we can give them the spotlight ourselves. No deaths required, stay back Riordan!

Okay okay okay! I'm so glad you asked, Coco!

This idea has gone through several very tragic iterations and all of them are still equally eligible to be written :]

But the one that started it all goes as follows:

Like I said in the previous post where I mentioned the idea, this takes place before and during the TOA series

After the Battle with Gaea, Connor has a nightmare of Travis dying in some huge battle

This happens literally the night before Travis has to leave for college

Connor begs him on his knees to stay but Travis just reassures him that everything is fine and that there's no need to worry about the war anymore

Reluctantly Connor lets him go.

So Travis goes to college (in New Rome because I cannot be arsed to do my research on American universities and because it's convenient for the plot. VERY convenient indeed)

Connor feels infinitely more secure knowing he's brother is safe in a protected area and doesn't have to fight monsters all the time out in the mortal world

He's still sad that he's gone and goes through the mourning period as one does when your person is snatched from you by the cruelties of adulthood

But after that he's less moody and depressed

That is until that nightmare returns after a few weeks and this time it's way more vivid and terrifying

This happens out of nowhere too!

Just, one night, all of a sudden, BAM! Your brother is going to die horribly in battle and you won't even be there to say goodbye

Obvious panic attack ensues

He calls Travis via IM and he answers. This occurs during the witching hour (aka, go-tf-to-sleep o'clock) so Travis wakes up with the full intent to tell his brother to piss off because he's got a huge test at 8AM and needs to sleep

But then he notices the clear distress on his brother's face and changes course

Connor tells him about the dream and Travis does his best to comfort him

Does the whole "the war is over", "no, no monsters have appeared at all", "yes everything is fine and I'm fine and nothing bad is going to happen here ever" spiel and finally Connor calms down and goes back to sleep

But the nightmares keep happening

Connor keeps calling his brother

Travis keeps doing his best to calm him down

But it's getting tiring so after a week of this he decides "fuck it, I'm never sleeping again.”

He stays awake for three whole days, much to the dislike of literally everyone

He barely eats more than what is necessary to keep him alive

At one point Will tries to drug him

At another he has Clovis knock him out

*This idea coincides/collaborates with another fic I've got on the old to-do list btw. That fic begins here. I shan't explain it but basically Connor, Will, and Nico go on a quest :]

When they get back it's to communications being down

When the dream happens again Connor is convinced it's more than a dream and tried to call his brother

It doesn't go through

Connor decides "fuck it" again and breaks into the Big House to use Chiron's phone

This doesn't work either and Chiron catches him in the living room in a state of sheer terror and asks what's going on

Connor tells him everything that happened in his dream/vision and Chiron tries to convince him that it was just a nightmare

Neither of them believe that but Connor lets it go and instead opts to panic in silence because Chiron clearly isn't helping

He tries IMs again in the morning but still nothing

He is now in a perpetual bad mood

Then people start disappearing

Cecil disappears

Everything in life sucks

Then Apollo shows up!

They find Cecil but now he is this 🤏🏻 close to just taking the Grey Sisters' taxi to California to bring Travis back to camp but Chiron reminds him that he has a responsibility to his cabin as their councillor and he stays

After all, he can't have a repeat of what just happened to Cecil

TOA happens. The Tyrant's Tomb takes place

Travis… dies in the battle at New Rome

Apollo mentions in the book that he remembered the faces and names of everyone who died in the battle or something like that

And he notices a familiar face among the casualties

And realises he has a call to make now that communications are up and running

He chickens out and IMs Will instead to deliver the message

The following interaction ensues (basically)

Apollo: Can you pass on a message to Connor--

Will: Oh, Connor? He's right here!

Apollo, panicking: Oh, no, actually, it can wait--

Will, calling Connor over: Connor, it's for you!

Connor, leaning into the frame: Oh! Hi, Apollo! Will said you wanted to tell me something? Oh, wait, are you at New Rome? Is Travis around? Can you tell him to call me when he's not busy?

Oh boy

What's the worst mental breakdown you've ever experienced? *Insert here*

There's no happy-go-lucky way to end this but the absolute best thing I can do to soften the heart-wrenching angst of such content is to summon forth the Chthonic aspects of Hermes for my own selfish purposes and let Connor say goodbye to his brother or have Nico deliver the message

It's also a huge deal that they would cremate his body at a Roman camp in the Roman tradition and Connor demands that they bring his body home so they can say goodbye properly because Travis is Greek! He's Greek! He's not supposed to be there and it's so unfair that they get to say goodbye to him. Why do they get to see him off and not him? They're strangers! They're not even his real family-- not even his brother! Why can't Connor say goodbye?

Connor says all this during his breakdown btw because fuck if that's not true

Imagine not even being able to do the proper funeral rites for your own brother

Imagine some randoms from another culture take that away from you

I would be pissed

Also, Will is a very supportive friend in the midst of this

In another iteration Connor never tells Travis about the dream so when it actually comes true he convinces himself that he killed his brother

That he should have warned him about the battle

That if he had told him Travis would have come back or he could have prepared better or the whole thing could have been avoided in some way

In yet another iteration

Apollo doesn't share the news until after he gets his godhood back

In yet another iteration, Apollo doesn't share the news at all! Percy and Annabeth do

They find out what happened when they get to New Rome themselves after their quest

Please let me know what you think☺️ and thank you for taking an interest in my ideas my friend 🫶🏻🩷

#trials of apollo #connor stoll #travis stoll #lester papadopoulos #will solace #asks

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writershapeholeonthedoor · 1 year

Text

Old Friends

Paring: Alex Danvers/Kelly Olsen, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Samantha Arias/Andrea Rojas, mentioned Alex Danvers/Samantha Arias

Words count: 3,748

Read on AO3

It has been a long time since Alex last saw Samantha Arias.

That any of the Super Friends - she already told Kara this was a stupid name - saw her, really.

Right after Sam moved to Metropolis, Alex and her would still talk, send texts to check on each other, until they naturally subsided to the point where they were now. They hadn’t talked for years, although Alex liked Sam’s Instagram posts when she saw them. In all honesty, Alex talked more with Ruby than with her mother because the girl posted funny things in her stories and Alex replied to them often. She also congratulated Ruby every time the teenager posted about her soccer games, but that was it.

That’s why Alex was sitting at the kitchen table looking over at the envelope in her hands with a frown clear on her face. And that’s how Kelly found her when she walked out of their room wearing her gym clothes and aiming for the fridge so she could grab her water bottle. She took a second glance at her fiancée, though, and changed her path.

Kelly stopped behind Alex and gently put her hands on her shoulders, soothing her hands down to her elbows and back up again. Alex sighed at the touch and raised her fingers to touch the back of one of Kelly’s hands, smiling gladly to herself when her skin alight with the simple touch. Kelly smiled too when she felt the older woman relaxing against the chair, then she kissed the top of Alex’s head and asked quietly: “Will you tell me about her?”

Alex threw her head back to look up at Kelly, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape in surprise, but she was only met with soft eyes and a soft smile. “What?”

“Her,” Kelly pointed at the envelope in Alex’s hand and the other woman followed her finger, reading the name written there for the hundredth time since she sat there to start sending their wedding invitations. Samantha Arias and family, written in the fancy cursive they had chosen. “You’ve been changing your mind about inviting her. I got curious, I’m not going to lie.” Alex bit her bottom lip, unsure how she was supposed to answer that, but Kelly kept touching her and then rested her chin on Alex’s head. “Our guest list was in a shared document, you know? I saw her name appear and disappear a couple of times,” she explained.

“I don’t think there’s much to say,” Alex ended up mumbling after thinking about it for a second. “I don’t know if I should invite her. I don’t even know if she would attend it.”

“Well, that’s why it’s called an invitation,” Kelly teased her lightly. “We sent them the invitation and they tell us if they can attend our wedding or not.”

“Wait, what? No way,” Alex joked along, pretending to be shocked at the revelation. “I kinda told everyone Viola Davis would attend our wedding.”

Kelly laughed and jokingly slapped the redhead's arm before taking a step back to pull the chair beside Alex to sit down. “Come on, tell me.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be somewhere else?” Alex arched one eyebrow at her fiancée, looking her outfit up and down to make her meaning clear.

The woman waved a hand to dismiss the comment, but replied anyway: “I said Nia I would meet her at the gym for a workout before the pilates class, but she won’t mind.”

“Is Lena attending the pilates class as well? She keeps saying she doesn’t do exercises, but I don’t believe that.”

“Hey,” Kelly pointed her index finger at Alex, “I won’t share any juice if you don’t do it first,” she teased.

Alex laughed lowly and shook her head in that lovingly way she did to her family. She put the envelope down and crossed her arms when she turned her chair a bit to face Kelly completely, taking some precious seconds to decide if she should tell the whole story or not. It was Kelly, though, her fiancée, future wife, the mother of her children, and she trusted Kelly without an ounce of doubt - and maybe she should apologize to Kara one day for being so exasperated every time her sister said they could trust Lena.

“Sam is an old friend,” she started, choosing the easiest path to start with. “She’s a friend of Lena, actually. She moved to National City a few years ago and she was working with Lena, so we all met her. I had just broken up with Maggie when we met and Sam had a lot on her plate at the time. She has a daughter that was a pre-teen then, and there were some other weird things also that I wish I could tell you more about, but it’s not actually my story to tell.”

Kelly nodded along her explanation, understanding more and more why Samantha Arias’ name kept coming up on her wedding guest list and disappearing again. She also understood why Alex didn’t want to tell her what the “weird things” were and respected her fiancée for her loyalty to her friends. It did make her a bit more sure that she was doing the right thing when she asked Alex to marry her.

“Okay, so you two were that couple that could’ve been if you two weren’t in a strange place?” She asked just to be sure, although she was pretty certain that she read it right. Especially when Alex’s face turned a deep shade of red that made her bit her lip to hold back a laugh.

“Maybe?” Alex replied, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. She noticed it and sighed. “I suppose. I mean, we never talked about it, but we were really close before she moved back to Metropolis, and I really liked her daughter.”

“Is that the girl that commented on one of our photos?” Kelly wondered, thinking back to a time when Alex posted a photo of both of them early when they started dating - and before her fiancée decided to disappear from social media. “Something about ‘you go, Alex’?”

The redhead groaned and hid her face behind her palms for a second, but she was smiling widely when she looked back at Kelly. “Yeah, that’s Ruby.”

Kelly laughed then. “Well, I like her already,” she declared simply. “So, why are you debating with yourself if you should or should not invite them to the wedding?”

Alex gulped, definitely avoiding her eyes when she spoke again. “I thought it might be a bit weird?”

“Weird?” The psychologist repeated the word, raising her brows.

“I thought so,” Alex said almost in a defensive tone. “I thought you might be upset.”

“And instead of asking me if it was okay, you debated it with yourself for weeks, basically making yourself miserable and anxious for nothing?”

“Hey,” Alex joked, pointing a finger at the woman, “don’t analyze me.”

Kelly rolled her eyes fondly as she got up from her chair. “If they’re important to you, they should be invited to the wedding. Of course, I wouldn’t mind.” She leaned down to give Alex a quick peck on the lips.

“We haven’t spoken in a while,” Alex clarified. “But I think I would like to see them there.”

“Then sent the invitation, silly,” Kelly gently spoke, then she gave Alex another quick kiss. “I have to go now or Nia will ditch me saying I took too long to show up.”

“Okay. I will start dinner while you’re out.” Her fiancée was already halfway through the door when Alex called her again. “So, does Lena attend the pilates class or not?”

Kelly laughed when she saw the mischievous look on Alex’s face. “Yes, she does.”

“Knew it.” The other woman snapped her fingers once in front of her face before turning back her attention to the envelopes she still needed to send.

“She says she needs to work on her flexibility and stamina to keep up with Kara,” Kelly added as an afterthought while walking through the door with a loud laugh when she heard Alex groaning.

“I didn’t need to know that!” The agent shouted to her back, but Kelly was walking away already and Alex was left alone shaking her head.

[...]

“Hey, kiddo!” Alex greeted when she saw Ruby approaching her.

The girl was wearing a beautiful dress and sneakers instead of heels, but the outfit suited her so well that Alex could only smile at that. When she got closer, Alex noticed that she was also taller than she remembered the girl being and it was easy to see she got her mother’s genetics on that. She also looked older, definitely a teenager now, but her dimpled smile was still the same and Alex felt her chest warmer with the sight of her.

“Wow, there, kiddo,” Alex said when she pulled the girl into a hug. “Who told you you could outgrow me?” She joked.

Ruby laughed, but it wasn’t her who answered. “I already forbid her to get any taller than that or she will officially be taller than me and we can’t have that.”

Alex pulled away from Ruby to see that Sam had walked over behind her daughter with one of her signature soft smiles. Ruby took a step to the side to give them some space to hug as well and Alex couldn’t help but feel she did the right choice by inviting them for her wedding. She had missed them, and having them there was helping her remember how much that small little family meant to her. Even if Sam and her never got any further than a thought, she still cared about them and she was glad they could both be present at the most important day of her life.

“Is she listening to you, though?” Alex asked when she pulled away.

Mother and daughter stood side by side after that and it was shocking to see that Sam didn’t have to look down at Ruby anymore. The teen actually laughed again when she shrugged and Sam glanced at Alex again. “Oh, you try to make a teenage girl listen to you,” she replied with humor.

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Alex groaned, jumping into the joke as if they had just seen each other a week ago. “I’m trying not to get worried about it already.”

“Told you to wait a few more years to start freaking out over this.”

Alex’s entire body lighted when she felt Kelly’s hand on her small back, joining their conversation with her bright smile that never failed to make Alex a bit weak on the knees. The redhead's response was to roll her eyes good-naturedly and wrap her arm around her wife’s waist. “Kelly, those are Sam and Ruby,” she introduced them, not shocked at all when Kelly’s smile widened. “This is Kelly, who turns out became my wife like half and hour ago,” the agent joked.

They all shared a laugh while Sam reached out her hand to shake Kelly’s, all politely as a good CEO always was. “It’s nice to meet you, Kelly.”

“Same goes to you. Alex said great things about you and your daughter.”

Ruby chose to only wave at Kelly’s direction, not wanting to be as formal as her mother but also not wanting to step over by hugging the woman. “Did she tell you I’m the most amazing soccer player she ever saw?”

Alex groaned while Kelly and Sam laughed. “Okay, kiddo, I see you don’t have that teenage low self-esteem going on.”

Ruby shrugged all while smiling at them, but she suddenly turned her head and gasped when she saw something. “Mom, I see aunt Lena!”

“Go talk to her then,” Sam pointed in the direction she saw her old friend walking by talking with a girl she didn’t know. “Sorry, we got here this afternoon and didn’t have time to catch up with Lena before,” she explained as her daughter wandered off.

“That’s fine,” Alex assured her. “No one takes space in her heart like aunt Lena does.”

Sam nodded in agreement, looking back at them, but her eyes quickly glanced down when she saw a little girl running at them. She only stopped after hugging Alex’s leg and the woman’s hand immediately found its way to the girl’s golden locks as she smiled down at her.

“Esme, honey, say hi to Sam,” Kelly asked gently, earning a confused look from the girl before she understood who her mother was talking about.

“Hi,” she whispered when she noticed Sam for the first time, quickly hiding behind Alex’s legs after that, and Sam was suddenly reminded of a much younger Ruby doing the same thing with her.

Sam crouched down in front of her after picking up the body of her dress with one hand. “Hello there, sweetie. It’s nice to meet you.” Esme seemed less ashamed when the tall woman in front of her became more eyed level with her, although she still kept a safe distance that Sam respected without question. “She’s a sweet girl,” she commented while raising herself from the floor, a smile always in place.

“She is,” Alex agreed easily with that motherly smile that Sam had seen on herself many times before.

“Why don’t you two catch up a little bit while I take this little bean to dance, huh?” Kelly asked, already bending down to pick Esme up in her arms. “I will see you around,” Kelly said as a departure towards Sam before she walked away with Esme hugging her neck happily.

After she left, Alex still watched both of them for a while, until a small chuckle left her lips. “She makes it really impossible for me not to think I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

Sam noticed the loving smile, the glint in her eyes, the way the redhead seemed to shine brightly with happiness, and was instantly glad to see that Alex had achieved her dreams. She knew Alex, though, and she knew that the woman wouldn’t keep that romantic façade for long, even on her wedding day, because Alex wasn’t one to use her emotions on her sleeve. “Think I heard something similar from Lena a few weeks ago,” she joked then.

Alex scoffed and turned her head to look back at Samantha with a knowing look that made the taller woman laugh. “Seriously, I was about to lock them inside a room and throw the key away. Would have, if Kara wouldn’t easily open it.” She rolled her eyes. “Your friend took long enough to grow a pair and tell my sister how she feels.”

“I could advocate for Lena here and say that Kara could also have done that, but I’m not a lawyer, so who cares?” Sam joked with a shrug. “They’re together now, we should take that as a win.”

Alex laughed at the lame joke and shook her head. “Yeah, you say that because they didn’t kiss for the first time in front of you.”

“She doesn’t mean it,” Kara’s voice sounded right behind Alex before she stopped beside her sister with a large grin. “But I would like to argue that I had every right to do that after everything that happened.” Sam was still chuckling when the tall blonde pulled her for a hug. “Hi, Sam! Long time no see.”

“Yes, life has been keeping me busy down at Metropolis,” Sam agreed with a smile as she pulled away. “You survived the first weeks dating Lena, so I will assume you’re okay.”

Kara laughed happily at that. “More than okay, actually. But I did hear you confirmed a plus one on the invitation,” she prodded, earning an eye roll from her sister.

“Really, Kara? Be a little more subtle the next time.”

“What?” The blonde asked in an attempt to defend herself. “It was just a comment!”

Sam smiled at them both. “That’s okay. I did bring someone with me, but she saw the bar and I’m pretty sure I lost her for the night,” she laughed while looking around as if she was searching for someone.

“You have to introduce us later,” Kara said. “I’m going to find Lena, excuse me.”

“I should also try to find Lena, actually. It’s been a while since we last saw each other,” Sam declared gently. “And I don’t want to hold you here when you have so many guests to talk to.”

“I will find you and Ruby again later on,” Alex promised. “I missed the sweetest teenager I ever saw.”

Sam smiled proud of her own daughter and nodded. They parted ways shortly after, with Alex moving on to talk to another of her guests while Sam started looking into the crowd to find her daughter and friend. It didn’t take that long to do so as she saw Ruby first, then Lena standing in front of her with Kara by her side, an arm around her waist, and the same woman Sam had seen before. They were all close to the bar and she started approaching the small group with no hurry at all. She was just a few feet from them when she saw that there was someone basically hidden by Ruby’s height that she hadn’t seen before, but it made her smile widely.

“Whatever Lena tells you, do not believe what she says about the summer in junior year,” Sam made her presence known as she got close enough to be heard over the music playing in the background, making all heads turn towards her.

Her long-time friend rolled her eyes and huffed, pretending to fix her tie. “Samantha also lies about that, don’t rely on her narrative either.”

The teasing between the two made some laughs echo around the group and they shared a smile before pulling each other into a tight hug. It took them a few seconds to pull away from each other, but they did eventually and Sam found a spot beside Ruby to stand. She saw, with a knowing smirk, when Kara curled her arm around Lena again and the way her friend leaned against the blonde’s side without hesitating. She was happy Lena finally found her place.

“Sam, this is Nia,” her friend introduced the other brunette that Sam didn’t know. “Nia, this is Samantha Arias.”

“So formal,” Sam grumbled as she shook the girl’s hand. “Don’t mind her. Please, call me Sam.” After she let go of Nia’s hand, Sam placed her hand on the back of the shorter woman’s shoulders by her side. The gesture took the attention of everyone else, of course, but only Kara seemed surprised by that. “It didn’t take too long for me to introduce you two,” Sam said as she winked at Kara, who looked like a fish out of water for a moment.

“I, uh,” she stuttered as she blinked in surprise. “I know her. She’s… She’s my boss.”

Andrea scoffed from where she was sitting on the bar stool, quietly drinking her wine, and Sam looked down at her with a small smile that made her angry reply die on her lips. She rolled her eyes, mostly to herself, and looked down at her glass to keep herself from doing her usual jab, which made Sam chuckle softly at her. “Yes, I had a feeling that you two already knew each other. I mean, with CatCo and all.”

“Yeah,” Kara murmured. “And… all.”

Lena gently nudged the blonde’s side with her elbow, although she was the one that made a grimace since it felt like poking a brick wall. “I knew I was forgetting to tell you something.”

“You knew?” Kara asked.

Lena rolled her eyes lovingly at her, one of her hands raising to rest on Kara’s chest as she leaned on her side. “We can gossip later,” she teased, kissing the corner of Kara’s mouth and they all saw the hero’s entire body relax with the gesture.

“I wish that worked on you,” Sam commented in a light tone as she turned her head to look at Andrea, who just glared at her for long enough to make her laugh. She used both hands to run down the lapel of Andrea’s dark red suit and winked at her girlfriend. “But you bark and bite.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Sam,” Lena quickly joined the teasing against her longest-time friend. “She looked pretty tamed right now.”

“Shut up,” Andrea grumbled.

“She bought mom flowers once,” Ruby declared, earning a gasp from Andrea, that looked at her like she was just betrayed by the teen. “And she does travel to see mom, like, every week.”

“Okay, are you done putting your knife in my back?” Andrea scoffed.

Sam laughed at their antics and leaned down to kiss the side of Andrea’s head, before doing the same with Ruby. Andrea’s face turned a deep shade of red, which made Nia and Kara exchange a very, very, surprised look, but no one said a thing. After the initial shock, Nia cleared her throat.

“Well, Ruby, why don’t you come with me so these drunk ladies can drink alone? Alex and Kelly put a trampoline outside for Esme, but I know they were also thinking of me when they made that decision.”

Ruby giggled at the girl she met minutes ago and quickly looked at her mom to confirm it was fine to walk away. With Sam’s nod, Ruby let Nia grab her hand and easily followed her around the other guests.

“She did say we could drink now,” Lena commented with a smile before turning around to the bar to make their order.

“Drink?” They all turned in time to see Alex approaching them. “I got here at the right time, then.”

“So did I,” Kelly said as she walked over them just a second after her wife. “I need to keep an eye on you when you and Lena are drinking together, it’s a good thing Nia took Esme to the trampoline” she declared before hugging Alex’s side with a fake angry expression.

“So…” Lena called from the bar. “Wine, Kelly?”

“Of course,” the woman answered immediately, earning some laughs.

Soon the small group of women was toasting their drinks as the party around them kept going, clearly with every intention to celebrate Alex and Kelly’s love until the sun would rise again on the horizon.

#alex danvers #kelly olsen #alex x kelly #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #sam arias #andrea rojas #rojarias #fluff #agentreign #supergirl

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

Text

riddle means misery | part 2.

Summary: Y/N Riddle. Not much more has to be said. Everyone hates her. She’s evil... she has to be.

Warnings for the Series: 18+, this series is dark. Manipulation, dubcon verging on noncon, abuse of power, violence, ed mentions, death, blood

Pairing: unknown yet x black!reader

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N I: My old readers will know, if I have multiple parts finished. I will post them. Except nearly the whole series to be put up tonight— up until the romance part until I decide who.

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You didn’t move despite the charm being off until they were gone. Shakily, you pulled out your wand and muttered ‘Tergeo’-- you didn’t have enough magic to use ‘Scourgify’. You were happy no one was in the common room. Finnegan wasn’t in the room and you didn’t get a good night’s sleep because of it. Sirius wouldn’t hurt an animal just because they belonged to you, right?

Relief filled your body at Finnegan sleeping on the arm rest of the couch in the common room. You immediately took her upstairs for her breakfast before taking her outside to use the restroom— the cat areas of Hogwarts were really convenient because you would hate a litter box in your room. Remus was the one who caught you crouched in the outer corridor while watching Finnegan enjoy her outside time, skipping breakfast because you didn’t want to deal with anything. You would just get food from the kitchen in a little bit. The house elves were never horrible to you. They were mean but at least they let you get food.

“Please leave me alone.”

“I’m doing you a favor by warning you.”

“Warning me?”

“Marlene wants to duel you this afternoon but is willing to let your boyfriend take your place.”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Rosier kisses your ass, I’m sure he kisses other things.”

“I would never kiss him. He’s not my boyfriend and I’m not a whore.”

“What makes you think snogging means you’re a whore, your father tell you that?”

You grabbed your cat and left. Remus stood and jogged to catch up with you. “Bloody hell, that’s true?”

“What’s true, Moony?”

“Merlin’s Beard,” you whispered as the rest of the group showed up.

“Her father’s little letters told her you’re a whore if you snog someone.”

All the boys started laughing. James adjusted his glasses.

“You say you’re not a Death Eater but you listen to Daddy’s letters? That’s a bit heir to the evil throne, Princess.”

“Is there a reason?” Peter asked.

You knew walking would result in them following. You just adjusted Finnegan in your arms. “Snogging leads to dating.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

“No point in dating if they’re not the one you’re set up to marry,” you mumbled.

“That little marriage list wasn’t a joke? And here I was going to compliment You-Know-Who on having some humor in his murderous body… wait, my name was on it.”

Sirius blocked you in with his arms. “Nope, nope, you’re not leaving until I know why my name was on it.”

“You’re a pureblood,” you muttered.

“What?”

“You’re a pureblood from an old family.”

Sirius’ hand held your throat, not applying pressure but threatening to. “I’d never date you.”

“It’s not about what you want! It’s a marriage arrangement, you don’t choose it. It happens when my father takes over, you think he cares what we want?”

“When?” Sirius’ hand around your throat dropped.

“My father gets stronger by the day and no one is doing anything about it. It’s obvious what’s going to happen. Voldemort will take over and everyone will fall in line or get killed. Muggleborns will have to give up their wands or die and purebloods won’t marry anyone less than a pureblood until we’re all that’s left. That’s life when he wins. When.”

“How are you even allowed to be here?”

You turned at the random voice. The Great Hall had cleared out from dinner and you were faced with a bunch of your fellow students that only heard you say your father was going to win and kill them all.

“You should be in an Azkaban cell,” another student said as they all started to walk by.

“No, I’m not…”

Your words weren’t finished as you ducked under Sirius’ arm to leave. Finnegan scratched your arms as you were lifted into the air and she jumped to the ground. Your wand hit the ground and you watched James pocket it. Everyone was laughing as the shorts under your skirt were vanished to reveal tiny blue panties with stars on them.

Your face felt hot as your hands held up your skirt when you felt the panties disappear. You couldn’t cry. Crying would only make it worse, you were sure. No one had ever seen you cry at Hogwarts for that exact reason. Well that was a lie. Up until he graduated at the end of your third year, Lucius had seen a few tears. You hated that he had seen so much of you in a way you knew pleased him and your father.

“Drop her!”

You heard that and the shouts of various spells before you found yourself floating back to the ground. Evan Rosier was throwing spells at anyone he could see. Severus looked at you with mild disgust.

“Why didn’t you do anything?”

“James took my wand.”

His face softened and you were actually grateful to the Marauders for once. If the Death Eater posse knew how little magic you possessed, they would stop helping you. He cleaned up the scratches you got from your cat. Severus summoned your wand and some shorts. A blush covered his face.

“I thought the shorts were more appropriate for me to grab.”

You thanked him and pulled the shorts up with a vengeance. Evan stopped hexing people only when the Death Eater posse were the last in the hallway.

Bellatrix reached out to hand Finnegan back to you. “Those mudbloods will be the ones rotting in Azkaban cells if they don’t mind themselves. We can hex them some more.”

“No,” you said quickly before realizing you needed to say more. “School hexes are stupid. They’ll realize Hogwarts isn’t the real world.”

Evan nodded. “If you change your mind, we’ll be glad. I’ve been itching to drop someone from the third floor.”

The posse walked off, laughing about spells they’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Your life felt like hell. You knew it when you found yourself wishing the Marauders would choose to publicly mess with you that day so others wouldn’t. You would actually even take them shoving you into the Black Lake again like they did in third year. At least they wouldn’t throw rocks at you at first. Every meal was now eaten in the kitchen because the Great Hall was the biggest source of your humiliation. You went to the owlery to get another letter from your father. There was one from him and one with no markings or signatures. You opened the non marked one to find a single sentence:

If you go to Astronomy tonight, you might slip from the tower.

“Hey, Princess!”

You didn’t even look up at James, just shoved the letter in his arms so he could destroy it like he wanted and ran. You didn’t think they were joking. Taking a failing grade in Astronomy was worth it if it meant you were going to live. You had gotten many threats over the years but no one had been bold enough to threaten to kill you. A lot of letters saying you should die or be dead. But none saying they would kill you.

In the safety of your room, you cried and hyperventilated on the floor. The bullying was expected, the torment was often, but the moments you truly didn’t feel safe were far and few between. You listened to the letter and didn’t attend your Astronomy class. You skipped breakfast the next morning as well.

Instead of going to the Great Hall, you went straight to the library. Exams were coming up and you needed study materials. You looked over when you felt stares. A group of seventh years from different Houses were there. The girl in front rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing, Riddle?” she asked.

You didn’t answer. Maybe it would have been better to say nothing and move on. You just tried to get your books. One of the thick novels smacked you in the face repeatedly.

“You don’t know how to speak, brat?”

“What do you want?” you asked.

“Come to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m studying, O.W.L.s ar—”

“That wasn’t a question. You’re leaving with us now. Hogsmeade or your cat might go missing. It was a stray anyway, right?”

You dropped all of your books and left with them. They sandwiched you in so you couldn’t even think about running. You felt one of them grab your wand out the waistband of your skirt. The undeniable crunch of your wand snapping reached your ears only a few seconds later.

“We’re getting firewhiskey at the pub,” one of them said.

“I can’t drink till next school year.”

“Learn we aren’t asking questions, unless you want another hex.”

You followed them to the pub where they trapped you in the booth. You listened to them order— someone got you a butterbeer and multiple shots of firewhiskey. Three shots were placed in front of you.

“Drink.”

They laughed when you coughed as the alcohol burned your throat. The girl who spoke earlier grabbed your chin.

“When your father takes over, you think all little muggleborns are going to let you take our wands?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, you didn’t hear the fir—”

“Prove it. Prove you’re not a Death Eater then, that you like us mudbloods… I know what I do when I like someone.”

You hit at her wrist. “No, let go.”

The group laughed.

“She’s not into girls, I bet,” someone else said. “Sweetheart, we’ve got plenty of mudblood boys too.”

You panicked and hit at her wrist again. You didn’t like this game. Snogging was supposed to be something special according to your books. You didn’t want to be kissed by any of them. You didn’t like any of them. The guy behind the girl raised a brow.

“I thought you wanted everyone to know you weren’t your father.”

“No kissing, you already broke my wand.”

“That was just part one.”

“Let go, let go!”

She hissed when you hit her particularly hard. Before the girl could get out another word, a wand was pointed at her throat.

“She told you to let go. I don’t think she’s friends with any of you.” Lucius sneered.

They all scampered away. Lucius gave you a hand out of the booth. Just like when you were eleven, you immediately clung to him. He led you out the pub and apparated you both to Diagon Alley when you mentioned that your wand was broken. Ollivander wasn’t even surprised to see you. He was one of the few adults you liked. You knew he didn’t like you— you had caught him talking to one of the other customers when he thought you had left. But, he always treated you like a normal customer to your face. At least he knew how to put on a facade.

“Let’s try a different wand this time, Miss Riddle. I’ve been giving you the same replacement for years. Try this, beech wood with a dragon heartstring core. Ten inches, unyielding.”

You cleaned the dust off the counter. Ollivander nodded. You reached into your bag but Lucius paid before you could even fish out the coins and count them. He took you back to Hogsmeade and began the walk to Hogwarts.

“They’re still messing with you? I told you to tell your father after I graduated.”

“He’d kill everyone, even the purebloods.”

Lucius chuckled. “That’s what happens when you’re a Daddy’s girl. Well, you’re almost done and then you can join him. I think they should all be scared when you join us… You’re wearing the bracelet?”

You nodded. “It’s nice. Thank you for the jewelry.”

“It looks pretty on you.” Lucius took your hand and kissed it. “I’ll see you around.”

He turned to leave. He had to know about the marriage list. You sighed because Lucius definitely thought he was the number one prospect and was going to do anything to stay that way. You’d quicker marry Sirius than him and that said a lot because you wanted the arrogant boy to drown himself in the lake every other day. You felt light walking into the castle, though.

Lucius had kept you out long enough that everyone already had gone to bed. The castle seemed empty. You couldn’t wait until it was actually void of students. Summer was your liveliest time even if it was short. The Great Hall was always playing music on the record player when you were cleaning with the house-elves. You were surprised they still didn’t like you all that much despite the fact that you cleaned with them.

The first thing you did one your first day of freedom was go to the pier to paint your nails. You weren’t really a make-up girl, partially because it was so expensive. But you were a complete nail polish girl. If you didn’t replace your nail polish every other Sunday then the world was coming to an end.

Your second favorite thing about summer was quidditch. The quidditch pitch was free for you to ride your broom and scream at the top of your lungs. You just knew that you would have been an amazing Chaser. Having the castle all to yourself was always a dream. It was the real you that no one— not even your father— had a glimpse of.

All the shine was dulled when September came back. You skipped the opening feast and ate in your room. You just wanted another day before all the crap started again. And like you predicted, the moment you stepped outside was the moment it started. Your prefect dropped your schedule in your cup of orange juice and then you slipped on a mysterious patch of ice when leaving the Great Hall. The ice patch broke some teeth. Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t help you, acting like you always had a tooth problem.

You sat at your desk in your dorm room and brewed your own Skele-Gro. You didn’t take the potion until late at night because you knew that the process would be a bit painful for the teeth completely missing and you wanted to be passed out for most of it. Changing into pajamas, you got ready for the potion. You threw it back and dragged yourself to bed, closing the curtains around it.

Your roommates noticed a cauldron that your foot had hit as you got into bed. It rocked back and forth before tipping all the way— the purple liquid spilling out of it. The cauldron knocked over other bottles and broke the herb and salt lines around your bed.

It was getting hard to breathe. Your eyes flew open to see nothing but black. Arms hit at whatever was on top of you. The giggling of your roommates was making you panic even more. Spots started to dart across your vision. Your hand tried to reach for your wand but it wasn’t where you left it. The pillow finally seemed to let you pull it away from your face. You sat up, panting heavily. All your roommates made eye-contact with you before going to sleep. Falling asleep again wasn’t an option. You grabbed your wand from one of the roommates’ nightstand and moved to change into day clothes.

McGonagall looked extremely annoyed when you knocked on her door. “Miss Riddle, you’re out past curfew.”

“The girls in my room tried to kill me,” you said between breaths.

“That is a very serious accusation.”

“They put a p—”

“Miss Riddle, did you not hear me? That is a very serious accusation and we don’t take kindly to students throwing it around like nothing. Go back to your room before I give you detention for breaking curfew.”

Your mouth dropped open. She wasn’t taking you seriously. You turned around to head back to the common room before deciding to take one more chance and go to Dumbledore’s office. Dumbledore gave you the same look as McGonagall when the door was opened. You already knew he would say the same things as her but you tried anyway. You ended up grabbing your bags, your journals, and your cat from your room before camping out in a broom closet in the common room. Hopefully none of the quidditch players wanted to practice early in the morning.

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t sleep in your room anymore. What if you accidentally knocked over a cauldron and it happened again? They actually tried to smother you with a pillow. The worst part was they almost succeeded. You decided to walk through Hogsmeade to try and come up with a solution. Also to comfort yourself by buying new nail polish or something. You wanted another research journal. You were old enough now to take your research seriously. Exploring the Dark Arts so you could figure out how to defend them was important to you. Especially because your father’s letters revealed more and more to you. You thought that it would be nice to sit at the bar in Three Broomsticks and drink some wine on the weekends while talking about a spell your father taught you when you were six that was three times worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Maybe The Ministry, particularly The Aurors, would find it very useful.

You stumbled as a hex hit you, causing you to fall and get a cut on your chin. Ignoring the blood, you looked at your coins in your hand— there was some money to spare. A butterbeer before going back to the castle seemed like a great start to working on the journals. Besides, you needed to be out of the castle a little longer. You paused when you reached the window of Three Broomsticks. Four faces were talking animatedly to each other and a terrible solution appeared in your mind. You might make yourself a target but it was worth a shot.

“Are we actually gonna do it?” Remus asked. “We never even figured out who to ask over summer.”

Sirius took the salad that the waitress brought. “Not my fault two of you are straight as a damn whistle. A boy sub is so much easier to find, I know so many. Shit, I’d even ask Archie again. He’s a switch but wouldn’t mind and the breakup wasn’t bad. We would’ve had someone by now.”

“That’s comfortable with four doms?”

Peter swallowed his bite of food. “If they’re comfortable with fucking Padfoot, they’re comfortable with four doms.”

That made the others chuckle. The boys had been seriously considering actually going through with the throwaway suggestion one of them had made the summer before when they broke into the Potters’ alcohol cabinet to finally try some because they couldn’t wait one more year to be legal. An alcohol induced night and the fact that they were already way too comfortable with each other led to finding out they’re all doms— which shocked James who thought Sirius was a sub the entire time, vice versa with his friend.

They began to think more and more about it but never really figured out who they would even approach to ask. They might have been known around school but there were still some things they wanted under wraps which was why they were so hesitant on Sirius’ suggestions even though he knew the most people out of all them— the problem was they loved to kiss and tell which was why he slowly stopped kissing and just went on dates.

James only could think of people on the quidditch team and didn’t want that messy dynamic of being team captain and sleeping with one of your teammates. He wasn’t about to be accused of benching someone or being harsh during practice because of sex. So they were back to square one of brilliant idea with no possible execution.

You walked into the pub with determination. The Marauders blinked when you stood in front of their table. You poked at your thighs and James had to bite back a laugh because you were dressed just like his grandpa— he was positive that he had seen that exact pair of corduroy pants and pink t-shirt in the closet. Even your little tote bag looked old.

“Ring Leader?” Remus acknowledged you.

“I need friends,” you said.

“Go find the posse. Aren’t you already friends with th—”

“No. I need good friends… so everyone else will leave me alone.”

James set down his butterbeer. “What do we have to do with it?”

“People will stop if I’m friends with you. No one messes with me if you four are in charge of humiliating me. It can’t be much different if we’re friends. I want that every day. I want it all to stop. I’ll pay you. Whatever you w—”

“I think my money alone is enough for the four of us.”

“Please! M-my roommates t-t-tried to kill me. I can’t be alone and I don’t think I can go back to my room… I need h— I’ll do whatever you want. Give you money, do your homework, review you—”

“Sleep with us,” Sirius said jokingly before shoving his forkful of salad into his mouth.

“O-okay.”

He looked up with wide eyes, nearly choking on his food. “Moony, get up… Princess, sit. Fuckin’ pathetic. You know that, right?”

You slid into the booth, acutely aware of how little space there was with both Remus and Sirius in the booth. You were stiff as Sirius brazenly squeezed your breast. That never happened to you before. A gasp left your mouth when his hand started going for your belt buckle. His hand slid into your pants, moving past your underwear. His fingers spread you open but his face read disinterest.

“You agree and this is what it is, understand that? Those tits? Ours. Your mouth, ours. Ass, ours. This pussy…”

Your mouth dropped open as he plunged his fingers into you.

“Ours.” His fingers left as quickly as they entered you. “We get you whenever we want. All four of us. We’re doing you a favor acting like your friends. You owe us. You’re not our sub.”

“What’s that?”

“How sheltered does You-Know-Who keep you?” Remus asked.

Sirius continued his first point. “You’re not our sub. Don’t act like it either, understand you’re a plaything. A toy. Do you understand that?”

“Repeat what he said, Princess,” James said.

“I’m a toy.”

“Good girl. Whose?”

“Marauders,” you whispered.

Sirius zipped your pants back up and went back to eating. “You learn quick. Waiter! Can we get… what do you want?”

“Porridge breakfast and a butterbeer.”

“Side of fruit or potatoes?”

“Fruit, please.”

The Marauders talked around you as everyone ate. They were mainly pissed that you were staying in their room because you were scared of your roommates. You couldn’t exactly say you were excited. You had never kissed a boy let alone slept with one. Not to mention this wasn’t just one but four. Worth it wasn’t quite the word you would use but it was the only option that you had. The only option you could visibly see. You finished down your butterbeer when James, Peter, and Remus stood up.

Without delay, you stood up so Sirius could exit the booth. James stretched before slapping your ass. You walked with them wherever they wanted to go. You figured for a couple weeks you would have to be seen everywhere with them before you could ditch them to be alone when they didn’t want you.

They spent almost the entire rest of the day in Hogsmeade. Peter squeezed your ass as you all entered the common room. No one else was there but you guys so he had no qualms about changing into a rat. You squeaked in surprise at the Animagus form but picked the rat up and carried him up the stairs. Peter leaned against the doorway as you packed up all your stuff. He snorted at seeing the cat your roommates stole for them that one time. His eyes roamed over everything. You had a lot of weird shit.

“They actually try to kill you?”

He chuckled a bit when you nodded and pointed to the pillow that you were leaving behind. The Marauders rolled their eyes when you and Peter returned with all your stuff. They moved all their trunks to the front of their beds so they could move the desks around and create the tiniest space for you. You stacked your two trunks against the wall to create a makeshift headboard.

Remus duplicated his mattress for you. Finnegan’s cat bed was put on top of the third trunk at the foot of the mattress that was going to act like your desk. It was lucky that the others only owned owls. Finnegan didn’t have to adjust to new pets. You barely finished putting up your stuff when you felt yourself get grabbed and put on a bed. Without making a fuss, Peter murmured the vanishing spell and you found yourself completely naked. On instinct, you covered yourself as the boys just stared. Remus clicked his tongue.

“Not bad, less tits than I thought. Alright, Riddle, turn around.”

Shaking a bit, you started to move. Apparently too slow for their liking, you felt yourself get turned over. Peter grabbed his wand, muttered a birth control spell, and then pulled you up by the hips. You inhaled sharply as he entered you. He didn’t even wait for any adjustment, just kept pushing himself until he was fully in. His hand snaked around to start rubbing your clit as he rocked you back and forth on him, needing you more wet so it would be enjoyable for him.

On some principle, you knew that first times were merely a concept. But that wasn’t what you were taught. And after reading so many romance books, you didn’t care how others talked about it, you wanted it to be the special times like the books. You were hoping to at least face them, get a kiss… maybe even someone say you looked pretty. Peter started going faster to chase his high. The pain and discomfort started to turn into weird pleasure.

“Tummy feels funny,” you tried to warn someone.

They all laughed. Peter slapped your ass before grabbing your hair and pulling you up.

“It’s called cumming.”

Your romance books were wrong in the descriptions, then. It felt a lot different from what you had read. Peter jerked your head back slightly.

“You need to ask us permission.”

“Please,” you whispered. “Can I cum, please?”

“No.” He pushed you back down.

You felt the warmth of his release and soon Peter pulled away. You were pulled by your ankles to the edge of the bed so your bottom half was hanging slightly off it— your feet would’ve been touching the ground if it wasn’t for the rough pace that James set. He groaned and Peter chuckled.

“She’s tight isn’t she?”

“Her pussy’s got a fuckin’ grip.”

“That good?” Remus asked, sitting on the bed.

“Riddle’s good for one thing.” He pulled all the way out to slam back in. “Made to take a cock.”

They started talking about you like you weren’t there. You listened as they started naming all the things that they wanted to do to you. Taking you all at once made you nervous. This already felt like too much with one of them at a time. You heard a lot of things that you were unsure about. Getting tied up, edging, choking, messing with you in class. But not a single soft thing was mentioned. Of course not. They made it clear that you were a plaything and not their sub. You buried your face in the mattress when one of them threw out the word whore and it stuck. Remus’ face was suddenly next to you as Sirius replaced James.

“Snogging doesn’t make you a whore, Princess, but this does. This is what you’re gonna be, right, a good little whore for us?”

Peter, who cleaned himself up and was now dressed, smacked your ass. “Letting four guys fuck you all ‘cause you can’t take a few jinxes. Pathetic.”

Sirius groaned. “Call her that again.”

“Did she clench up, did you mean to, sweetheart? Getting worked up at being called our pathetic slut?”

You were just trying to hold back on the funny feeling and your stomach knotting up. Taking a chance, you looked at Peter.

“Can I cum? Please. Can I?”

“No.”

You nodded and dropped your head back against the mattress, hoping that Sirius would be done sooner rather than later. Remus grabbed your hips and sunk into you. The other three were either cleaning themselves up. Your bottom was sore as Remus pounded in and out of you. They said they wouldn’t always take you like this but you felt that more often than not you would have to deal with all four of them. You winced when Remus pulled out.

“Go pee before you get an STI,” he said, more clinical than caring.

They watched you wobble over to their bathroom. Your eyes squeezed shut as you went to the bathroom. No one said that it would hurt a little bit. You flushed the toilet and looked at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t even give yourself a pep talk. So you just washed your hands and went back into the room. They didn’t bother you as you dug through your trunk for some pajamas.

(part 3)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107

#marauders x reader #poly!marauders #marauders fic #Harry Potter fic #dark!marauders #marauders smut #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #peter pettigrew x reader #sirius black x reader

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ros3ybabe · 1 year

Text

Daily Check-in September 11th and 12th, 2023 🎀

Did not have the time to make one yesterday as I didn't get home til almost 11 pm and was so tired that i immediately passed out. I had a really good day today(Tuesday), tho! I ordered a bunch of stationery off of Stationery Pal and Kawaii pen shop, and ahhhh, I love all of it, and they BOTH came in less than a week after I placed my order. The quality of everything is *chefs kiss* and I am so excited to start using all this stuff in my university academics as well as my self study goals! I might even switch back to paper notes because of all the stuff I bought, who knows.

Will not include What I Ate as I honestly don't remember, I am very tired at the moment(Tuesday night), having run most of today with 3 hours of sleep. This check in is going to be a bit more on the self care self compassion side as I had a rough two days honestly.

🩷 Personal Achievements -

Washed my hair

Made it to both classes on time

Organized my new stationery in my desk

Cooked steak *actually* good in my food fundamentals class

🩷 Academic Achievements -

Completed a PSYC writing assignment

Completed NUTR assignment

Completed pre lab quiz for my Anatomy Lab

Completed Osmosis lab report

Earned my Human Subjects Research Training certificate for my PSYC class

(I’m certified to use human subjects in research studies at my university for the next 3 years now, how cool!?)

Should I make a post about the stationery I got? Like a haul/review post? Let me know what you think! It’s all pretty aesthetic so I would love to share my opinions on the quality of the stuff I bought….and I bought a lot of stuff without realizing it!

🩷 As of today, Wednesday September 13th, here’s a little academic todo list for today:

Weekly Writing for my Food Fundamentals class

Take my Exam 1 for my NUTR class

Read Chapter 11 for my Personal Finance class + take notes on IPad

Complete my Nutrition Log for my Fitness for Health and Sport class

Study Japanese for 20+ minutes

🩷 And here’s a little personal to do list for today:

Change current fitted bed sheet to new one I just bought and washed, throw away old one

Take my bedroom trash out, throw out package box

Clean bathroom completely

Sweep bedroom

Organize desk more efficiently

Wash my current dirty laundry

Put away previous clean laundry

Change clear shower liner to my new one

Throw out old carpets and replace with new ones

Follow my skincare routine (my face is begging to be taken care of again)

Possibly hang up my string lights with clips behind my desk and attach BTS photos to clips 💜

Budget for paycheck tomorrow

This check in was definitely a little different than the others, especially cause I started it last night but had to save it as a draft cause I nearly fell asleep while typing it up. I will definitely post an update tonight to see how much of my to do lists I accomplished! Looking forward to having today to myself, as I didn’t go to class due to the extreme rain we’re having (I walk to my campus as I do not drive…at all) and I’m completely home alone today! Let the productivity begin!

Til next time, lovelies 🩷🤍

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snugglesquiggle · 12 days

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I have a question, how do you structure your stories? like Hostile Takeover for example. What is your technique on plotting?

there are two answers to this question. “do as i say”, and “do as i actually do”

here’s the most direct and unhelpful to this question: to plot stories i think really hard about what would be cool to happen in the next chapter. then i write five chapters and now journey and destination are both unrecognizable and my crops are dying

for all that it doesn’t much matter, Hostile Takeover actually has the unique distinction of being the first story i’ve both outlined and polished. while i have a lot of stories that are written like stories rather than summaries, and while i also have a lot of outlines, usually i end up with one or the other

on 2023-10-31, not long after reading Tessaract, i had a thought about how to structure a J/Uzi dynamic. (it was your classic ‘what if Uzi reminded J of Tessa?’ idea, but back in 2023, i didn’t see anyone else thinking of that yet)

i noodled on the thought some, ended up crossbreeding this idea with an old V/Uzi idea that didn’t pan out, and the pieces started clicking together

now, to be clear, at this point i still had no plans to write this. i wasn’t a fanfiction writer. instead, i pulled open up a brainstorming channel on discord and starting typing. i didn’t stop typing till long after it had grown far, far too long to post on discord

i wrote 10k words that day, in fact. if you’ve been following me for a while, you’ll know this is a pretty common pattern. i think of a story idea, lock into hyperfocus, and yap a whole novella trying to explain why the story idea is so cool

if you dig around on my site, you can find a few example of outlines written in this fashion. the fact that i went on to flesh out that outline with actual prose is what seems most miraculous about hostile takeover — without exception, this is the step that has killed every other outline

but i’m really getting off track here. you asked about how to structure stories, so circling back to talk about my outline process rather than my fleshing-out process seems prudent. (but put a pin here, we’ll come back to this later because there’s a big caveat to mention)

also i should probably put a read more thingy here for the people scrolling past this

there’s a difficulty in me talking honestly about outlining, because i barely structure my stories, at least consciously. i first notice an idea is really cool, and i think about who in my friends list i’m going to subject to my bullshit explain it to, and it naturally adopts an “okay, but before i can get to that, you first need to hear about this so that everything hits just right” and on and on until i’m starting off ten pages away from the actual point.

but i guess there is a structure even in that, because i’m not consciously thinking about these sentences i’m writing either, yet that’s not because i don’t know how to structure nouns and verbs, it’s that i’ve spent so long thinking about them that i don’t need to anymore.

there’s something deceptively, lede-buryingly coy about me acting like i have any difficulty talking about outlining. i think my tumblr audience largely doesn’t know, but i’ve been writing essays about how to write for years. outlining might be the thing i’ve written about the most!

the three most relevant are, “Ur-Development”, “Outlines as Temporarily Embarrassed Drafts”, and to a lesser extent, “Pacing is Madness”

Embarrassed Drafts is the one i’d suggest you read, if you’re going to read one, because it’s specifically my response to a friend asking me a very similar question (i.e. “how does one start plotting a story”)

Ur-Dev is an old essay, written two years ago a this point, and i’m not linking it because it’s a bad essay. mediocrely written, and i don’t fully agree with its prescriptions as much as i once did, but it was still a major turning point in how i thought about stories. it’s essentially my take on the hero’s journey (part of why i dislike it)

but the outlining essay was written before i wrote hostile takeover, so i have about a year’s more experience now. so here’s how i would boil it down in 2024

telling a story is just raising then answering a question using drama and detail. now, drama comes down to how you write characters, detail comes down to how you write prose (or render images) — but the questions themselves? that’s what plot is

vaguest of all, this is questions like “what happens next” or “how does it end?”

but these questions suck because they ask you to draw the rest of the owl. the really good questions are ones like “how does this happen” or “why is she like that” — they’re directly prompts for you to explain

now, i don’t think think in terms of questions. like i said, i think of cool stuff first

if you read or watch videos about how to write, you’ll quickly run into the idea of “plotters” and “pantsers”, and i think the essence of this distinction is whether the answers or the questions come first

and how best to answer this ask depends on which you are — do you have a premise that you want to explore and find a story in, or do you have a payoff that you want to lead the reader to appreciate?

i’m ambidextrous myself, i’ve gotten good results from either approach, but i identify as a planner just because i can never feel comfortable starting paragraph unless i already know what the last word is.

but both kinds of writers are producing the same thing in different orders. the structure that arises when you raise and answer questions has three steps: presentation, transition, and conclusion. (or if you prefer, beginning, middle and end)

to make this all less abstract, let’s sketch out an example. i have a whole vault of juzi fic ideas i dont have time to write but one of them is based on a simple idea: what if Uzi pointed her gun a little lower when she fires the first shot in the pilot, taking out N’s core?

and since i’m the one writing it, this will lead back to juzi somehow. that already gives us two tentpoles to structure a story around

my first piece of advice for the presentating the beginning is that stories should start in a state of ambiguity or falsehood. what every the story is about, whatever the big question might be, in the beginningwe must not know the final answer.

to see what it looks like if you don’t do this, imagine we wrote the fic like this. Uzi kills N. she goes “holy hell” and does a fistbump, and walks back to the outpost high on her accomplishment. she tells her dad and her classmates about how she killed a murder drone, and they’re all impressed. she goes to bed feeling super cool. the end.

now in fairness, it’s all about the execution. this could very well be a good fic! (i think there’s a nice oneshot to be written in the sheer novelty of uzi actually doing what she planned to in the pilot and winning her dad’s respect and stuff). but i think a good fic would only be good by virtue of adding stuff that’s not there in this short summary.

this summary isn’t a good story (arguably not a story at all), and there can exist one-paragraph ideas that are good and story-shaped

the problem is that all those scenes of uzi walking back and talking to other drones don’t add or explore anything that wasn’t presented at the start with her killing N. it doesn’t inform the audience of anything or transform the ideas, it’s just a repetition of the “Uzi killed N” core idea

here’s an improvement. it goes mostly the same — Uzi’s thrilled, the whole colony is proud of her, everything seems great, but then that night when she goes to sleep, there’s a tremor of unease. she’s remembering the battle without the thrill of digital adrenaline, and did she see that yellow cross flicker to fear a frame before the end? that night, she has nightmares, witnessing silver hair and yellow eyes torn apart as she watches.

this is would be a pretty cliche story, but i do think it’s a story, and it illustrates what i’m talking about. here, we’ve decided the core question is “how does Uzi feel about killing N?” and the this fic starts with a false answer to that question (“she’d think it’s awesome”), and builds to the real answer (“she’d actually feel a bit guilty about it”)

but here’s another angle. uzi killed N the same way she canonically killed J at the end of the pilot — this implies that after Uzi leaves, we’ll wind up with eldritch N worming it up. we know that material collection starts off pretty stealthy, so we might imagine that when J and V return, N’s corpse has already skittered off.

J could be thrilled to be rid of a synergistic liability (or maybe she knows he has backups), but V would be shattered. her whole reason for playing along with killing workers was to protect N. maybe she spends night after night searching for sign of him, or sinking into a depression, but either way J immediately grow frustrated with her tanking productivity.

meanwhile in the outpost, there’s celebrations at Uzi’s accomplishments — but one drone is giving her a very significant look. for once, Lizzy and Doll aren’t laughing at Uzi. Lizzy’s smiling with all the rest of them, of course, but Doll has a calculating stare. that night, when Uzi goes to her room, Doll’s waiting for her, red eyes shining the dark, a cheerleader jumpscare.

Doll has a question. she watched her parents be killed by murder drones. but her father managed to snap a picture of it. she shows that to Uzi, asking if the goth killed that drone. she hadn’t. Uzi expected disappointment, but Doll smiles. excellent, she says. i’m going to kill this one — you may assist me. Uzi’s indignant — assist her? excuse me? she’s the hero here! Doll doesn’t respond, simply stating to meet in the locker room after cheer practice if she’s interesting.

i’m getting carried away here, so let me stop before i outline a whole fic. the point here was to illustrate the other way to draw a proper story out of a premise.

more complex than correcting a false answer to the question, you can extrapolate a chain of answers. characters react and make plans and new scenarios arise as a consequence of what happened before.

what happens when j & v arrive to an empty nest? what happens when Doll and Uzi work together to take down V? in order to answer these questions, you have to go step by step

now, there’s hidden magic even in this tutorial. i could have written this scenario any number of ways — i chose to have Uzi make it home, instead of encountering V and J in the spire, or along the way back. i chose to have J and V react in a way that pit them against each other. i chose to have Doll want to recruit Uzi rather than be jealous, and i specifically chose to have her appear all creepy-like in Uzi’s room.

part of plotting stories is coming up with these ideas and making these choices as to how events progress. some of these choices make for better stories, but it’s hard to give much specific advice for learning how to generate and evaluate these idea-seeds — “keep reading and writing stories” will get you there, though

i do want to highlight how i already i can see neat beats to steer this nascent story towards. for instance, what does Doll and Uzi’s partnership look like on the every day level? wouldn’t it be interesting if, riding on the wave of fame and appreciate Uzi gains from her heroics, Lizzy and Doll tried to integrate the goth into their clique — genuinely preparing her to be popular?

but ideas are honestly cheap. the beginning of the story is all about presenting interesting questions to the reader. the middle of the story is all about exploring, developing, and working out the answers to that question.

the word i used earlier is transition, but transition to what? you can’t really understand middles or what their purpose is until you understand endings.

many centuries ago, the greek philosopher aristotle said something i love to repeat. the conclusion to a story should be surprising, yet inevitable. (i think there’s a single word that captures this spirit: ingenious. or perhaps even just creative)

this is why i insisted that a story should start in a state of ambiguity or outright falsehood regarding its core question. the final answer can’t be any surprise if it’s something we already knew, so we should be uncertain or falsely sure until the very end.

that can’t be all of it. after all, “Uzi kills N. will she go home or stay in the spire?” is a question we start off unsure about. but this can’t be a core question, because there’s nothing surprising nor inevitable her choice either way. it’s filler worth eliding over, as i did in my summaries above.

except we can make it a more interesting question. what if Uzi wanted to scavenge more than the railgun macguffin from the murder drones lair — what if the murder drones had tons of useful supplies that she could bring back to the outpost. …but her railgun is in cooldown and as she looks around the base, she sees clear signs there are other murder drones.

so, is Uzi the type to risk it, or play it safe? posed that way, suddenly it not only seems like she would stick around in the spire, but it also feels like it’s satisfying writing to resolve the dilemma this way.

…except, remember that she nearly died in her fight with N. remember that he stuck her hand with his nanite acid, and this time he’s not around to kiss it better. uzi can barely hold her railgun, let alone scavenge for supplies.

(her return to the outpost will play out differently, won’t it? instead of celebrations the next morning, she’d probably stagger in, exhausted from pain and oil loss, wake up in the repair bay with her concerned father giving her a stern talking to.)

but i digress again. you might notice that i’ve incidentally been demonstrating what it takes to craft a middle here. story transitions are all about drawing out the reasons why a plot point ought to go one way or the other, pitting them against each other and crowning the victor.

payoff needs to be earned; transitions are about building toward the conclusion. if stories about about answering a core question, why not just write out the question and the answer? “what happens if Uzi kills N? she’d feel guilty about it. the end.” that’s lame as fuck. you need the triumph and celebration, to see Uzi getting the recognition she always craved, so that when she lays down and feels that one atom of guilted unease tug at her, it lands like a poignant gutpunch in miniture.

middles are so hard because they serve two contradictory purposes. you have to convince the audience that this is all building toward the final conclusion, and you have the convince the audience that it’s not gonna turn out that way at all ;]

surprising, yet inevitable. too inevitable, and the audience loses interest in the predictable slog. too suprising, and the audience starts to think you’ve lost the plot and forgotten what the story is supposed to be about.

there’s another stumbling block for endings. remember worm N? what was i cooking with that? there’s a very similar version of this post where i never mentioned or thought of material collection at all, and just said Uzi kills N like she killed J in the pilot and continued plotting out the rest.

i can already tell you, i have ideas for where that story goes from there, and right now worm N doesn’t factor into any of them.

it’s a loose plot thread. sometimes, in the process of trying to answer one question, you raise another that you have no interest in answering. but the audience has no way of reading your intent, so they could be following along expecting a synthesized "Giggle." and never getting it.

really, there’s a whole host of missteps i probably should have brought up before now. sometimes, you try to raise a question and the readers dont catch it, or they don’t care for it. it’s not enough to ask “what if Uzi kills N?” (though fanfiction has the definite advantage that, because we’re murder drones superfans, we already care enough about these characters to be piqued by that alone). you have to convince the audience that this is a really interesting question, and they need to see where you’re going with this.

but i dont know how much of that is a question of plot stucture vs writing well generally.

so let’s start wrapping up this essay

you can explain a lot of otherwise finnicky writer-speak through this lens.

what is a hook? it’s the core question the story aims to resolve. it’s the protagonist’s goal, it’s the mystery, it’s the crazy what if scenario.

what are stakes? it’s the possible answers to the question presented early on, especially ones that that would be bad for the characters we’re invested in.

what is setup? it’s plot points and exposition that give the reader the pieces that’ll eventually click together into the final answer.

what is tension? it’s pieces that don’t fit; it’s setup for one of the bad ends specified by the stakes.

what is payoff? it’s when all the build up finally arrives, in spite of all the tension, at the answer promised by the hook.

so, what is my technique for plotting a story? start with the hook or the payoff. whichever one comes first, i know that the other has to be different, inverted via a surprising twist. then figure out what faultline of conflict runs between those two points. what interacting plotlines must collide to transform one to the other?

after that comes the detailed work of crafting lines of logic that follows that flow.

and this, finally is where i pull out the pin in that big caveat i mentioned thousands of words ago — this is where i finally start talking about Hostile Takeover.

i mentioned that i outlined Hostile Takeover from start to finish in one day, producing a 10k word first draft. but in a meaningful sense, that outline was not hostile takeover (on my computer, i now have it saved as “Lethal Acquisition”)

Hostile Takeover is 186k words, and barely covers the first thousand words of the outline. here’s what that looks like

Chapter 1

j&v are out hunting drones. v’s making a mess as usual, and j’s a bit annoyed at her splashing oil all over her. then, on the visor of one dead drone, the absolv glyph flashes. v gets super spooked and it leaves her off balance for the rest of the hunt and j ends up calling it early

back at the spire, j’s trying to do a debrief or postmortem of their last hunt but v is all of out of sorts, unresponsive. (she’s having flashbacks to cyn). this keeps going until j’s about to do something invasive — reboot her? mess with her configuration? — but n steps in to protect her, saying he’ll talk to her and get her back to normal without hacking her. j rolls her eyes, but leaves them to it.

j’s mad, and copes in a private room while straightening her hair. she rants to herself about their quota and how at this rate they’ll never make best team. n’ll fail, he usually does, and when he does then j can reformat v, but till then she’s stuck with two synergistic liabilities. fuck it, j will just go on a hunt on her own. she’s better than them anyway. she’ll fill their quota singlehandedly if she has to.

Chapter 2

j is interviewing the new disassembly drone. at first, she’s relieved at her team getting an extra hand, but it quickly becomes clear this drone is even more defective than v or n. in fact… a lot of this isn’t adding up. she’s missing the last few hours of her memory, one of her sensors is offline — this isn’t a disassembly drone, is it? j requests some data transfer so she can confirm the drone’s identity. uzi of course refuses, starts to run — but j easily overpowers her. with her sensors offline she cant be sure she didn’t just attack one of the company’s drones for no reason, so she checks uzi’s memory.

it’s becomes obvious this isn’t a murder drone, but she plays back her fight with the drone from another pov. she sees uzi’s shock at seeeing a murder drone. but her first thought was: pigtails? why does it have hair? why does it look so… immaculate? j’s laughs. because she’s just that great. but then her eye is caught by something else: the sick as hell—, excuse me, highly effective magnetically amplified blah blah

j steps out of uzi’s memories and sighs. with uzi pinned, she sighs and starts monologuing. uzi struggles to get up, but it’s ultimately in vain, so she has to suffer through it. uzi says, “i can’t believe i lost to the one murder drone on copper-9 who monologues. j’s like, you should feel honored, toaster. do you think i monologue for anyone? i’ve killed thirteen drones today. do you know how they died? she presses a claw to uzi’s throat.”snip, sip. i’m not v. i don’t make messes." “so why?” she holds up the railgun. “this. it’s a remarkably effective weapon. shoddy, unreliable, but the concept? if it were manufactured to jcjenson’s standard of quality… well. do you think your colony’s walls could withstand this?” uzi’s eyes hollow, then she’s like, “ha, outpost three has the finest doors in all of copper-9. my dad made them. do you think i’d create something that could destroy them?” “oh well, it doesn’t matter anyway. all of this is tragic preamble. it never mattered. because you’re a worker drone, and my orders are clear. you would have made a good disassembler.” “is that a compliment? just fucking bite me. i’m nothing like you.” “are we really so different? ha, what am i saying, of course we are.” j stabs uzi and it’s over.

Chapter 3

j’s dragging uzi’s body back to the corpse spire, so she notices when the absolv glyph flashes on her screen. “oh uzi, even in death you’re interesting.” instead of placing uzi with the other corpses, she stows her away in her room.

the next day, j’s flipping through the schematics she stole from uzi’s memories, trying to reproduce them and failing, growing increasingly frustrated. that worker drone wasn’t better than me. n stumbles across her like this, and he smiles. oh j, have you taken in interest in human technology? she snaps at him, then regrets it a moment later. say n… she contemplates giving him to specs to puzzle it out, then stops. nevermind. she doesn’t want to share uzi’s schematics. why?

v hasn’t had her fill of oil in a while now, and is getting hungry. she checks the spire’s corpses for dregs, most of them cold and congealed, or empty, but there’s one fresh, warm one, brimming with oil. did someone forget to drain this one? v doesn’t question her luck, tears off a limp and eagerly feed.

j walks in on this.

Chapter 4

seeing v feed on uzi, j attacks v. (in the course of the battle, she bites v and feels that familiar sour taste of another disassembler) j says “that was mine.” “ugh, someone’s stingy. aren’t we teammates?” “aren’t we disassembly drones? you wouldn’t be so hungry if you were doing your job. did n talk sense into you yet?” “you have no idea what you’re talking about. you think you’re in charge, but you don’t understand anything.” “i understand that i’ve given you an order. this drone is mine, and you are not to feed on it. am I clear? by disciplinary code 31c, insubordination will result in—” “i get it. i’m sure overheating is just what i need to get back to hunting. your drone tastes like shit anyway.” j glares at her, and v glares back. then she leaves.

j watches uzi’s corpse. the absolv symbol is faint, flickering. despite being dead, claw right through the motherboard, there’s still electricity humming through her. her oil is still warm. even in death. “oh uzi, uzi, uzi.”

n is bouncing a ball towards v while v occasionally, carelessly, knocks it back. despite her apparent disinterest, n is consistently able to catch it, and he whoops in joy. v sticks a knife through the ball when j shows up. “j”. “that’s captain j to you, serial designation v.” she rolls her eyes. “am i going to get flagged insubordinate for reminding you of something?” “why, it is foundational to jcjenson’s philosophy to maintain and open and receptive relationship between employ—” “that’s corporatespeak for no, right? i was thinking about what you said, j. we’re disassembly drones. so it seems odd to me that you haven’t disassembled that drone you keep in your room. you know that’s the whole point, right?” j lunges at v. (n watches on with concern.) “while we strive to remain open and receptive, I can’t but feel your reminder isn’t more than a dressed up personal attack on my intelligence and capability. and that—” “—is insubordination, yeah yeah. whatever j, that’s not the point and you know it. disassemble it. you know what happens if we don’t.” “what happens, v?” she asks sweetly. “you don’t know. neither of you know. neither of you remember. ugh. can you trust me, j?” “i trust results, v. there was a time, not too long ago, when i thought i could trust you. maybe we’ll go back to that.” “i’m not playing games, j. if you take too long it might be too late.” j grins. “that sounds like a lot of employee incentive, doesn’t it? get back to work, v.”

back in her room, j is calming her nerves by fixing her hair. she glances at uzi. she fixes uzi’s hair too. then, she connects to her system, and checks to see how her abberent processes are handling the lack of motherboard. she pings and gets a response. she’s excited (why? shouldn’t she disassemble uzi?), and queries the system for a log of activity and errors. and that’s when she finds op codes that are very familiar from diagnosing herself and her teammates, and never any worker drones. it’s repairing itself. it’s draining its oil reserves. just like us. “we really aren’t so different, are we? maybe jcjenson did send me a new teammate”. J feeds uzi some of her spare oil, piles on the parts of discarded drones hope it’s enough mass for repairs to commence.

what you’ll notice about this outline is that it’s mid as hell. all of the most interesting parts of HT aren’t here. now, some of the drafting process involved repurposing later beats earlier than expected (the first tessa flashback was at the start of chapter 6, acting as a sort of bridge between “act one” and “act two”; and N and V’s hunt together repurposes some ideas i planned to introduce in battle among a field of windmills) but that can’t explain all that bloat and sprawl.

it would be a understatement to say HT grew in the telling. it’s not so much outlined as loosely inspired by the outline.

i say that in the tone of a joke, but this represents my new outlook on what outlines are for. it’s not like guidelines in a sketch layer, where subsequent inking and rendering might refine bits of anatomy and tweak the pose while being defined traced over what came before. it’s a musician improvising new melodies and chords while playing an old standard.

the outline is the prototype, the test run. it’s a route from A (the hook) to B (the payoff), but it’s just one route through the landscape. it lets you get familiar with the terrain, spot some of the landmarks and hazards, but it’s a birds eye view; when you’re traveling on foot, you’re going to have to diverge, and you’re going to stop and smell the flowers.

the embellishments that define what HT really is are nonetheless the result of applying these principles at the lower level, though.

the outline called for an AS glyph to flash on a random drone’s screen just because. wouldn’t it be more of a payoff if it’s hidden in the catacombs beneath a church the squad has to battle to penetrate? and if there’s a whole spooky solver cult, that definitely suggests other plot developments, and this is how things compound and snarl

this post has gotten long. maybe, just maybe, i managed to convey a thing or two about how i plot stories.

thank you for the ask and for sitting through all that; i hope it wasn’t too long and rambling.

#🐍#my answers #my thoughts #hostile takeover #creative writing #writing #writing advice #writeblr #on writing #writing community #how to write #fanfiction #murder drones

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