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majasleeps · 1 year ago

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Ice Breaker

(first fanfic on here so idk how to format it but it'll be fine. also i'll be mainly making shit up so if anyone plays hockey... my apologies in advance lol)

Tim Lafleur x gn!reader

summary: you're a hockey player and a damn good one at that. You've loved being on the ice as long as you can remember and ever since discovering hockey it's been difficult to get you off the ice! You play in a local team for a college in Virginia and one day you encounter a particular boy on an opposing team.

1991

It's a few weeks before the high school tournaments start and your hockey team is in the rink practicing.

"FUCK!" the person you just slammed into the edge of the rink lets out a series of curses. You hear a whistle from your coach and you roll your eyes already knowing the reason. Yet he still yells it out for everyone to hear, "L/N! Excessive violence! Last warning or you're getting pulled."

You groan to yourself but nod at him in acknowledgement anyway and skate back to your post. Of course you help the person you technically assaulted since he was your teammate after all.

Yup, this was just practice but why shouldn't you give it your all here too? At least that's your reasoning. Especially seeing how you'll be up against actual other teams in just a few weeks. You had to be ready!

Well anyway you go on to train more, get a few warnings here and there, actually get put on the bench after causing one of your team player's nose to bleed. And the weeks pass by like it was nothing.

You're in the rink, getting ready in your position as you stare down some of the members of the opposing team, 'the enemies', as you dubbed them in your head.

And even though all of the players are 15 year olds, one stands out to you, mainly because he's quite a bit taller than the other kids, even compared to your team. But no time to think on that as the start signal is given. Everyone shoots in action and you're thriving in the competition. One person gets tackled, then another, someone shoots and misses and the other scores. It feels exhilarating especially looking at the board and seeing you're one point ahead.

Time's almost up and that tall kid from before seems to think he's gonna get a final puck in before the timer goes off. Well not on your watch. As he skates closer, evading the offensive lines on your team, he's getting ready to shoot. But just before he gets the chance you slam him to the ground with your own body, and a whistle and airhorn signal that 1) you got a warning (what a surprise) but 2) time's up. And your team won.

You celebrate inwardly for a quick second before getting up and stretching out your hand to the boy you tackled out of good sportsmanship. Although he doesn't seem to appreciate it, he smacks your hand away, gets up while ripping of his helmet, "What is your problem?!" he semi-yells.

You take off your own helmet so he can see your disgruntled expression. You shrug and say "Losing, losing is my problem so I won't lose."

He scoffs and skates away and you do the same to go celebrate with your team.

And even though this first impression was pretty sour, you can't tell if it bettered or not throughout the years. Neither of you ever knew each other that well, always different schools, always different districts yet somehow you two would always end up facing each other on the ice.

Years went by and you actually started to enjoy this rivalry between the two of you. Sometimes you won and he'd be pouty but sometimes you lost and he couldn't stop smirking. In the beginning that for sure bothered you but as this went on you didn't mind losing to him anymore. As you grew older of course you started learning things about him as well, like that his name is Tim Lafleur and a weird kid in general, at least according to every teammate he's ever had.

1998

Now he is in a university and you're in college and with busy life styles it doesn't leave much room for socializing. But you could always count on the ice to bring the two of you together. Over the years most of the original teams miraculously stayed pretty much the same. Here and there someone left and someone else took their place but amongst both your teams it had become a sort of unspoken rule that in the rink, no one gets to tackle you except Tim, and no one tackled Tim but you.

You're in the game playing against Tim's team and it's going great. The score is 2-2 and you're thrilled whenever you get closer to the goal because Tim would of course try to prevent you from getting even closer. And if you didn't know better, you'd think he was enjoying himself as much as you were.

Another goal scored by your team so you're now in the lead. Tim has the puck and is getting awfully close to a good position to score a goal. So you head straight for him, however you suppose the new fella in your team didn't get the memo about that unspoken rule. Because as you're almost there, the new guy slams Tim into the wall and a nauseating crack can be heard. Now usually when it's you, sure you're rough but Tim had always been smiling and gotten up within a few seconds.

But now... he lay there, silently groaning and not making a move to get up. A shock had not just overcome you but both teams and the entire crowd, everyone was silent. You were the first to snap out of it and rush to Tim.

"Jesus fuck! Are you alright Tim? Are you hurt?" you question him as you get down on your teams and turn him on his back. When you do he lets out a sharp gasp and you see that something is definitely wrong with his wrist...it's bend, and not in the right direction.

You turn to your teammate and yell out at him, "What is wrong with you?! You broke his fucking wrist, dickbag!!"

Another groan from Tim and your head immediately flies to him, speaking softly and reassuring him he'll be fine. By this time the coach has already come up to you two and informed the stand-by medics. People shot in action and in seemingly no time, Tim got carried away, and you were left to stand alone on the cracked ice.

After everything has calmed down, you go up to your coach.

"Hey coach? Is Tim gonna be alright?" He looks at you and lets out a slow breath.

"He'll be fine, Y/N. Going to take a while to recover from a broken wrist and some fractured fingers though so I doubt he'll be on the ice much"

You mull over his words for a bit before gathering up the courage to ask, "Is there any way I can visit him?" The tone in your voice almost makes you sound sheepish, as if this is taboo to ask, he IS your 'rival' after all.

He gives you a faint smile, "I'll talk to their coach to see if we can arrange anything yeah?" You smile back at that answer and nod your head.

Thanks to the coaches you're able to visit him at his apartment a few days later, though you're a bit self-conscious about it. Showing up at his apartment without him ever having told you the address might seem a bit weird.

But your worries melt away when you knock on the door and that white haired boy with all the piercings opens up. And when he notices it's you, he's smiling.

"Hey Y/N! Didn't expect you to visit me of all people", he laughs a bit.

You roll your eyes but nonetheless smile up at him, somehow he's gotten even taller over the years.

"How's the wrist doing? Heard it was a nasty surgery?" you asked him.

"Oh yeah blood and flesh everywhere" he's making exaggerated hand motions with his good hand causing you both to giggle. "Umm, anyway you wanna come in?" he offers looking at you expectantly.

"Yeah sure!" you didn't mean your face to light up when you accepted and you hope he didn't notice. He thinks it's cute you're happy to be around him.

He leads you to his bedroom, quickly introducing you to his roommate Darryl. He flops on the bed and hisses out as the motion was a tad too violent for his arm.

You hurry next to him on his bed, trying to make sure he's okay. "You good there?" you ask as you take his arm carefully.

He grimaces a bit at first but it soon turns into a playful smirk. "No it hurts so much Y/N!" he exclaims dramatically, "I think the only thing that could heal my wounds is a kiss" He looks at you as he says that, his smile never fading but now there's a slight anxiety in his eyes. You don't notice that and just roll your eyes. You decide to play along, "okay there big guy, but I don't think my kisses are magical enough to heal broken bones", and you kiss the cast around his wrist.

"There, feel better?" you laugh along with him. He seems to get a glint of confidence in his eye as he bites his lip hard around to draw a bit of blood.

"You think you could kiss this wound too?" as he point at his lower lip.

You're speechless for a moment and it's enough for him to backtrack. He starts rambling that you don't have to and it was a dumb idea, etc. Before he can go on, you lean in and give him a peck on the small puncture wound in his lip.

Now it's his turn to be stunned as you sit there equally flustered. A moment of silence before the two you start smiling like idiots in love, which frankly, you were.

"I think I need a bit more of those magic lips, love." He says and you silently agree as you lean in again, this time slower, for a proper kiss. Like two ice skaters in the rink, your lips graciously glide together to form an amazing symphony of fireworks in your head and heart. The both of you are still smiling in the kiss and you can still taste the bit of blood but neither of you mind it.

You're probably softly kissing each other for a few minutes before finally breaking away and taking the chance to get a proper breath.

You grin at him and say "I guess I'll be seeing you off the ice more often then right?"

He grins back "Oh absolutely"

#tim laflour #tim lafleur #tim laflour x reader #tim lafleur x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #senseless #senseless 1998 #matthew lillard

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jamiesfootball · 3 months ago

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Augusnippets Day 15

Alternate Prompt: whipping

cw: brief moment of implied violence, but actually zero violence and 100% nonsense

Summary:

Roy receives a text from Jamie that's either very concerning or very stupid.

Here on AO3

[Prick]: Hey coach, I’m not gonna make it to training this morning

[Prick]: My arm is completely dead. Can’t barely move it from the shoulder down to the wrist. My back got it bad too

[Prick]: I’d push thru but last time I did that you yelled a lot, so technically if you yell at me now you’re a hippocrit

[Prick]: and yes I already sent a message to the physios. I’ll check in later this morning

[Roy]: You’ll check in with me right now

[Roy]: Was it the weights?

[Prick]: what weights?

[Prick]: oh

[Prick]: no

[Prick]: It’s nothin

[Prick]: It’s nothin bad

[Prick]: I fucked up

[Roy]: Fucked up how?

[Prick]: didn’t think it looked that bad when I cleaned up last night, but this morning the bruising came in

[Roy]: Bruising from what?

[Prick]: Relax, grandad. I’m not like injured-injured

[Prick]: It was just a bit of whipping

Typing…

[Roy]: Don’t fucking move. I’ll be there in ten

Half of Roy’s mind knew this was probably a misunderstanding. Not only because the annoying little prick had cartwheels and roundoffs where normal people had straight-line logical thinking, but also because Roy was dead certain if there was something wrong with Jamie – something actionably, seriously wrong – Jamie would never just come out and tell Roy what it was.

He’d come to him, maybe. But he’d never say it.

Half of Roy knew this.

The other half had him driving too fast through stop signs on the way to Jamie’s house, his mind turned grimly towards what-ifs and contingency plans and late night wake up calls to his sister if there was a need for off-the-record medical attention. The other half was hardly awake, roused by the chime of his phone before his 3:30 alarm had a chance to sputter, the same way he’d been dreading for months. And if the other half demanded that he get eyes on Jamie and assess for himself that the idiot was in one piece, that that was his own fucking business.

He didn’t trust this rehab bullshit, he didn’t understand how Jamie’s father had wormed his way back into his son's life, and he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was always another shoe.

Of course then he arrived at Jamie’s house, and aside from dark raccoon circles under his eyes and an ice pack pressed to his shoulder, the muppet was fine.

The unneeded Roy-half packed up its contingency plans and took its leave. This left room for pure, incandescent annoyance – annoyance that was not relieved when Jamie showed him the reason for his injury.

“It’s a cake!” Jamie claimed, gesturing at the lopsided blob on his kitchen counter. It sure didn’t look like a cake. It looked furry – or rather like it’d started out furry before getting caught in the rain. The ‘whipped’ cream was practically liquid, dripping down the sides in streaks. It looked like someone had snuck into Jamie’s house in the night and left a sopping wet Yorkshire Terrier in a baking tray as a prank. Or an Ugg boot; it sort of looked like a Ugg boot. A flattened, sopping wet Ugg boot.

Jamie, who come to think of it was a bit like a Yorkie, continued yapping away in defence of his flat Ugg boot cake.

“I followed the recipe exactly like Simon said!” Jamie waved his iPad in Roy’s face. His finger slipped on the screen, and the screenshotted recipe swiped to photo of Isaac kissing a puppy. “I got through the cake part easy, but then the instructions said I needed whipped cream, and ‘e told me I couldn’t use the pre-whipped stuff from the store ‘cause that’d be cheating.”

Jamie snorted; as if asking for extra effort for a fucking gift was the height of unreasonable expectations. “Easy for him to say. Simon’s got one of those fancy stand mixers. Don’t see how that’s not cheating.”

Privately Roy agreed, but Jamie didn’t deserve words of affirmation for this level of stupidity.

“So you whisked it by hand?” Roy asked, side-eyeing the travesty. How had his life had come to this: rotating his star player’s arm to assess the blotched bruising bursting along the jointline because he’d attempted baking unsupervised.

Jamie grimaced in pain as Roy thumbed what he thought was a bruise; it was cocoa powder. “What? No, I used a spoon.”

“You-,” Roy cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel cocoa and flour rubbing off on his skin. “Why didn’t you just use a whisk? Big fancy pre-loaded fucking kitchen, and you’re telling me it didn’t come staged with a whisk?”

Jamie’s mouth opened, then closed. He had that guilty, prey animal look in his eyes that meant Roy was about to hear something truly, godforsakenly stupid.

“Um. You know.” Jamie mimed stirring something with his hand. “It’s upstairs.”

“What?”

“You know.” Jamie made that cursed stirring motion with his hand again. “Upstairs.”

“Stop that,” Roy pleaded. Jamie stopped that. He didn’t want to know, but like a train travelling at two hundred kilometres per hour towards five innocent nuns on the tracks, or however that maths problem went, his mouth ran on ahead of him and refused to pull the lever that would put the other person out of his misery. “What the fuck do you need a whisk upstairs for?”

“You know,” said Jamie. “For my bath bombs.”

“Your bath bombs,” repeated Roy.

Jamie nodded excitedly.

“You….whisk your bath bombs.”

“Um, yeah, obviously,” Jamie snorted condescendingly. “What do you do? Whisk them in by hand?”

The reality of the situation settled in. Roy was standing in Jamie’s kitchen, a little after four in the morning, still in his fucking house slippers because he hadn’t bothered to put shoes on when he was racing out of his house, fear in his heart and images of vengeance in his head because he thought that he was racing headfirst into learning yet another reason why James Tartt Sr was a living shitstain of the earth who didn’t so much as deserve to breathe oxygen, let alone be a part of his son’s life, court-mandated rehab be damned.

And instead he’d arrived to find out that the only danger to Jamie was the lad’s barely existent reading comprehension and his knack for innovating parts of the human experience that were better left untouched.

A whisk for a bath bomb. Jesus fucking Christ.

With more Schadenfreude in his heart than Ted would ever approve of, Roy watched Jamie try and fail to fill the kettle without moving his limp, deadened arm. A cup of tea was the least he could do

“Do you think I should buy a second whisk?”

“No,” answered Roy.

“But if I only had another whisk–”

“If you only had a fucking brain. No.”

Jamie sulked. He traded his tea for his ice pack, hissing as he pressed it against his shoulder. “What do you think I should do with the cake then? I was gonna give it to Sam as a taste test-”

“Don’t kill Sam.”

“-but it’s all-,” Jamie wrinkled his nose, “-Goopy. I don’t want to give Sam a goopy cake for his birthday. That’d be illegal or sommet.”

It was goopy. That would be illegal. He didn’t want Sam to die.

Roy sighed. “Give me a fork.”

That wattage on Jamie’s face should be illegal at 4am. Most things should. But maybe it was worth it. The training and the false alarms and the misuse of cooking utensils when normal people were asleep – maybe there were worse things to suffer for.

Jamie turned around with the plates and-

“Is that a carving knife?”

“This?” Jamie held up what was, in fact, a carving knife. “No? I’m pretty sure it’s for bread.”

Then again, maybe there weren’t. Didn’t matter.

Roy would have his boot-shoe cake and eat it too. For Sam.

As far as disasters went, it didn’t taste too bad.

#augusnippets day 15 #augusnippets #ted lasso fic #roy kent #jamie tartt #misuse of a whisk #this one's very silly. the next few are not #that's right I'm looping back to catch up on some of the stories I did not finish in time last week. what of it

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yandere-sins · 2 years ago

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Prisoner #003

a/n: Last post of the year! This is a good one and I hope to write a second part from Al’s pov if I’m honest! It’s very long again but I hope you guys will enjoy it ♥ Thank you for requesting!

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Prisoner!Alhaitham x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Implied Murder, Smashing a window in, Mention of Wounds, Blood Mention, Kidnapping (literally lol), Escaping, Self-doubts, Dread, Long Post (actually it’s exactly 5300 words which is pretty awesome)

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"Do you think you can do it?"

With cold sweat running down your back, you hovered over the keyboard in front of you. Countless numbers and letters passed by the monitors of the prison's security room, all of them running the programs you commanded on them like mindless zombies. They were once made to protect and secure.

But now they worked to destroy and release.

That, at least, was the plan.

Your eyes darting over to Alhaitham leaning on the table right next to you, his arm around the back of the chair he had put you in, you were equally as annoyed as you were scared. Biting the nail of your thumb anxiously, you directed your attention forward again, checking the lines of codes rattling down the screen.

"I think I can, but it's not something that can be rushed any more than I already am."

"I understand."

That was the most agreeable he had been ever since you met him. You didn't plan on trying to escape barely one week after being locked up in this prison. Still, when Alhaitham "took care" of that sleazy, violent roommate for yours, you had been roped into his plans unwillingly. Even now, glancing at his hands, you remembered the blood that had sullied these fingers. Even washed off and cleaned, they were still the hands of an insufferable mastermind who had more backup plans than your own built PC waiting for you at home had. Everything had to go his way, and though until now it had all worked out, you weren't so sure about the success of his escape if you were totally honest.

The plan was to cause havoc in the cafeteria, you and Alhaitham sneaking out to check the security room when the guards went to suppress the uproar and disabled the technical security measures of this prison. After that, you two and some other "friends" of his would walk right out while everyone was still busy. You had no idea where he got his access card for the doors and how he could remember all these hallways that led you here. Still, as he predicted, all guards were called to action, none remaining behind to check the cams. Seeing how many monitors had been worked on before you two came, there had been few guards anyway.

"But it's not enough," Alhaitham added after a peaceful moment of silence, followed by a sigh as he tapped the desk impatiently with his finer. Now he was getting on your nerves.

"Would like to see you code a monster from scratch," you mumbled into the nail you were biting when you felt his hand slither down your head before gripping the nape of your neck as if you were a baby animal. Fingertips drilling into your skin, his threat didn't have the urgency of strangulation, but rather, one where you feared for your head remaining located on top of your body.

"No need to get offended. Just don't disappoint me."

Letting out a whimper in response as he forced you to face his unreadable gaze, Alhaitham muttered a curt, "Good," before pulling away and leaving your side. Cowering into your chair, you let your breath out slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. With Alhaitham, you never knew if you were scared or attracted to him. For the dumpster fire this prison was, there was a very high percentage of hot prisoners and guards to tiptoe around, all of them clearly ruling this place as if it was their mansion in California. Alhaitham was one of them. Putting him in a suit and tie, he'd make people faint on sight, the orange overalls not doing him the justice he deserved.

But at the same time... he was ruthless. You had known him for only one week at this point. One week, which started with him waltzing into your cell and beating up the psycho who was trying to have a bite out of you. After that, you watched him beat up people for favors, knock out guards so he could conduct his research of the surroundings, and once he used a plastic knife to perform... something akin to surgery if surgery meant torture. You'd probably never get over that poked-out eyeball you had to look at.

The worst part? He just wouldn't let you out of his arm's reach, forcing you to witness everything. As if it was vital for you to see. As if he thought you were going to betray him unless he could instill fear in you. There was no way you could ever betray a man so foresighted and calculated—and much, much stronger than you—but even with him sleeping back to back with you in his cell, you couldn't possibly sleep with both your eyes closed and feeling safe. Yet, he never did anything to you. And besides the eyeball, he never showed you a side of him that you wouldn't be able to look at anymore. Alhaitham always cleaned up after himself and pulled you away from crime scenes after he made his point to the others and to you.

Shuddering, you focused back on your code, only hearing Alhaitham scanning the room—its door squeaking as he peered out to check the hallways—in the back of your mind. Even though he wasn't the most comforting person with words, he at least had a point with you having to hurry up if you guys wanted to actually do this somehow, even though the pending escape part of the escape plan made your anxiety shoot through the roof.

Your fingers reached out, tapping away on the keyboard like a pianist on the piano. These codes were your music, and you played them without help, creating a symphony of destruction. You had done worse before and gotten away with it until you made one little mistake that led to your imprisonment. But this time, it was about getting out, not getting in, and it would not be as hard as what you did to deserve being locked away.

It was the guards' fault for not breaking your fingers when they had the chance.

"Aaand done," you mumbled as you hit enter.

The screen halted, the lag induced by your program working the machines hard.

Then they sped up, numbers flying by, screens turning red as the security system tried to fight them helplessly. Then they turned green, and finally, everything was dunked into darkness. For a moment, the PCs heated up, loudly complaining, and then they shut themselves off with the alarms, door locks, and lights.

"Finally," Alhaitham huffed, sounding a little excited even. He was by your side in a few eager steps, grabbing your forearm as he urged, "Come on!"

With only the emergency lights illuminating the exits, Alhaitham pulled you through the countless hallways. You were stumbling and panting, completely lost if not for his firm grip on you as he dragged you after him. Alhaitham only halted to check around corners, not even stopping as you heard footsteps approach.

"Good job!" someone laughed mischievously from behind you, and you recognized it as Alhaitham's friend whose name you forgot. He, too, dragged someone after him, and before long, every person in the group plus their entourage was running with you. Even now, even when there were countless people around you two, and he had to play the role of leader, Alhaitham didn't let go of you. It only showed you that no matter how useful you proved yourself, he didn't trust you, which undeniably stung a little. You considered you two allies in this mission, but he didn't, as it seemed.

When he did finally let you go, it was only so he could help one of his "friends" up on a small ledge next to a window. Next you knew, Alhaitham wrapped his body over you, pinning you between his chest and the wall as you heard someone break the window above you. Closing your eyes, you hoped not to get glass splinters stuck somewhere, but when you felt Alhaitham's slightly roused breath bounce off your face, his chest pressing against yours, you realized the glass couldn't even harm you.

"Alhaitham--" you whispered, concerned for him, but a voice from above cut you off, and the next thing you knew, Alhaitham was gone again.

"It's open!" someone whistled, and you felt a cold breeze lick at your skin, the same place Alhaitham's breath had warmed. One by one, Alhaitham helped the people up on the ledge. Everyone felt the tension and urgency even though they helped lift their friends or lovers before themselves. You had no idea who these people were, but it was somehow heartwarming to see how they looked out for each other.

"Hey!" someone shouted from down the hall, your head snapping around only for you to be blinded by a beam of light shining from the back of the hallway. Everything you had worked so hard for shattered inside you in seconds. You couldn't even look away, knowing you were caught. Knowing this would be added to your sentence, and even though you got so many people out, all the work had still been in vain for you two.

“[Name]!” Alhaitham yelled, and you finally snapped out of your head as he yanked at your hand before sinking back into position. "Get up there! Now!"

"What about you?!" you yelled back, panicked.

"Go!"

With a bad feeling, you stepped on his palms, his push powerful enough to lift you even after all the people he had already helped. Sliding through the broken window, you didn't feel the pain of the glass shards as you heard him yell after you, "Run! Run, [Name]!" while his voice slowly faded.

Your breath hitched, but you scrambled to your feet, feeling the grass under your shoe soles as you ran. Tears prickled in your eyes as you blamed yourself for leaving Alhaitham, even though you knew of the risks beforehand. He had not been the nicest person you had ever met, but he deserved this escape more than anyone.

And now you were all alone.

The other prisoners had already taken off, everyone spreading out in different directions, hoping for the best. You had no plan beyond the prison and no one to lead you anymore as you fought against the thickets while you crashed between trees and stumbled over roots. Where should you go? Where could you go into hiding until the search would be over? You were a hacker and not a survivalist criminal! Most of your time was spent on a chair, and you were now really regretting not investing in one of these fancy walking desks because your lower back was giving up even before you got far enough away to not hear the prisoners being rallied and the lights returning to the prison.

It was hopeless. You were hopeless!

If only Alhaitham was here, you thought, just as the beam of a flashlight emerged from the thicket ahead. You hadn't even realized policemen and officers arriving to search the close proximity to the prison. And even worse than them, you heard the yapping of dogs, the excitement of the hunt and the instincts to sink their teeth into your body to keep you where you were. Alhaitham would know what to do now.

The flashlight's beam swung left to right, and you were just about to be hit by it when something crashed into you, throwing you to the ground and into a nearby bush. The pain couldn't register as fast as the warmth of another body did. Arms hugging you close, a big hand shielding the back of your head as you two rolled down a hill. Next thing you knew, you were submerged in cold water, the temperature waking every instinct in you, but the person holding you was already paddling way before you started kicking your feet.

Somehow you made it back to shore, the other person pushing you into shallow waters, allowing your lungs to catch their breath by coughing and groaning. You wanted to turn around, see who tackled you, hoping it was not a cop or a dog, but before you could even clear your vision, light shone down on you, and someone yelled loudly,

"I've got two on the other side of the river! Backup!"

It was followed by dogs howling, and a cough rang out right next to you before you were grabbed by the arm. Hard. "Run!" a strained but familiar voice urged, and when you looked up, getting pulled to your feet, there he was. As if he had never been away, determination in his eyes and strength in his grip on you.

Alhaitham.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

Out of breath and near tears, you heaved into Alhaitham's chest, his lungs just as desperate for air as yours.

You had no idea how long, how far, or how fast you two ran. You didn't even know you could run this fast. But somehow, with Alhaitham's help, you two managed to outrun the dogs, even though their barking could still be heard in the distance. Just far, far away this time.

Perhaps too early, the adrenaline left only aching and pain behind, your body shivering as you bordered on a panic attack. Your brain knew there were many tiny and big cuts on your skin, bruises, and a hurt ankle. But instead of separating every pain, it was just one big, nauseating ball of hurt in your gut. Had you not been pressed tightly against Alhaitham, inhaling his grounding scent only faintly mixed with sweat, you might have thrown up. However, somehow, you managed to catch your breath, his arms holding your shivering body in a lukewarm and tight embrace, almost as if he was swaddling you, restraining you so you could rest up.

Around you, the wood of the old barn you two had broken into creaked. It wasn't a comfortable place, squeezed behind haybales with a man whose body could envelop you in his. Still, it felt safer than the forest. Realistically, you knew you two could be found here, still hearing the barking of the dogs when you concentrated on the sound. But for now, it was your best chance of getting out of sight and having your presence lost to the search group.

Alhaitham stayed alert regardless. Glancing into the gaps in the bales, he kept checking the surroundings until he took a deep breath, his chest squeezing against you as his lungs filled with air. However, his arms didn't relax. Rather, he pressed you against him tighter, gaining your attention after he noticed you dissociating.

"You did well," he mumbled, pressing his face to your hair, nuzzling you, and you felt his muscles relax beneath you as he took a deep breath. Burning tears shot into your eyes, hearing him say these words, the anxiety of losing him and having to escape on your own catching up now, hot wetness trailing down your cheeks and dripping on his arms.

"H-How did you find me?" you hiccuped, wiggling your arm out of his hold so you could wipe your face. Your hands were dirty, but this was neither the time nor place to lose all of your composure. Inside you was this massive relief that you weren't alone, even though, for a while, it looked like you would be.

"I know you well enough to find you everywhere."

You had doubts about that but decided to not argue and keep the peace, even if it was just for the reassurance his words gave you. Alhaitham was clever. More than clever even. But you doubted he had studied your brain inside-out and could determine every one of your spontaneous steps and the decisions you made. You, too, were smart, after all. Just differently than him. He had the street smarts, and you the computer smarts. Still, it felt like he wanted to say he had your back, and for that, you were grateful.

Pushing your hand into his chest, you backed away a little, having regained some of your senses as an autonomous person. Alhaitham's arms loosened, allowing you some space to act but never drawing away from you. You felt gross after diving into the river and sweating up a storm. Too gross to be bothering him with the embarrassment of needing to be held so you could catch a breather and calm down. "It's fine now. No need to hold me," you told him, and instantly, his arms tightened again, pulling you back into a hold for dear life.

"Alhaitham, what--"

"I planned this whole escape just so I could hold you like this."

Letting out a confused Huh? you had never heard this kind of gentle determination in his voice before. All this time, you thought he was merely tolerating your presence for the cause. From the beginning, he had been cut to the point and scarily determined at times, but he never flourished his words or tried to gain your support with kindness. Hearing him speak like this made you shiver, confused heat pouring into your face.

However, his body spoke differently than the memory of him did in your mind. Fingers flaring out so he could hold as much of you as possible, your head pressed into his chest and topped with his own, your legs being pulled between his while he cradled you protectively in his arms. This wasn't a be quiet! or careful! way of holding someone. This was treasuring something that meant a lot to him.

"Never doubt the lengths I'd go to for you," was his answer to the question you only asked in your mind. You'd have loved to go more in-depth on the meaning of it all when the sudden gentleness turned into tension as the door to the barn squeaked open loudly, both your breaths halting instantly.

"Hello?" a small voice rang out. Insecure and light, it sounded like a child. A little girl, to be exact. And yet, this tiny voice gathered all her courage and called you two out. "I know you are here! I watched you come in through my window! Mommy and daddy don't like strangers coming in here. You have to leave now, or I will go and tell them!"

With a shuddering breath, you craned your neck backwards, trying to communicate silently with Alhaitham. To your surprise, his eyes were pinned on you, a hand loosening from his hold on you to instead brush away some strands of hair on your face. As always, he looked calm and collected. Alhaitham seemed almost as if nothing and no one could ever faze him, especially not this little girl threatening you two with very real danger. You didn't know if her father had a gun or if they'd alert the police to this place. And if you two had to escape once more, where would you go?

"Wait here," he mouthed, barely audible to anyone but you. You felt your eyes widen, and you wanted to tell him not to do something rash, but the words were caught in your throat. It almost seemed to pain him as he pushed you away from him, opening the protective hold he had on you. Your hand snapped after his as he stood up, your brain suddenly realizing he was going to distract the kid, but you didn't want him to. You didn't want to be alone and have to manage on your own again, knowing how that went the last time. You couldn't do it. You absolutely couldn't!

However, his old self was back, cold and authoritarian. He pushed you down by the shoulders and reinforced his words purely by glaring at you reprimandingly. Wait here, echoed in your mind, even though the uncertainty pained you. And just like that, Alhaitham was gone.

The little voice gasped as he stepped out from behind the haybales alone, hands in the air as if she was holding him at gunpoint. You were frozen in place, too scared on your own to check what was happening, but you heard her yell a little louder now as Alhaitham approached her, "You shouldn't be here!"

"Where are your parents?" Alhaitham asked her calmly, and his voice finally gave you the strength to lurch forward to the gap in the bales, risking to watch what was happening. He had almost closed the distance by now, and the little girl took a few precarious steps back as he came closer and closer. "In the house..." she mumbled.

That was all he wanted to know.

Alhaitham pounced, pressing his hand over her mouth as she struggled in his hold, muffled screams could still be heard. You watched as he carried her effortlessly out of the barn, glancing back at where you were. A cold shudder ran down your spine as your eyes met, which should have been impossible. Then, he stepped out of the barn and closed the door behind him, leaving you completely alone.

You fell back on your butt, letting out the air you hadn't noticed you were holding all this time watching him. Realization hit that the worst case had returned—you were alone. Damned to wait and, in the worst case, be found, never knowing what would happen to Alhaitham, who had been the only reason you were still alive and free.

«──────── 🗡♡ ︎𓍝 ────────»

The silence was eerily as you were forced to listen to every little sound around you.

You no longer heard the dogs, hoping that was a good sign. But now you were facing the quiet scratching of mice or rats somewhere in the barn, the hay under you treacherously crinkling when you moved, and the occasional bangs or creaks coming from the outside or the walls.

But the sound you wanted to hear most didn't ring out. You couldn't hear Alhaitham's voice or even just his breath, no matter how hard you focused. And when you were forced to listen to the squeaking of the barn door being opened, all you could do was start praying.

The steps grew louder and louder the further inside the person came. Tears shot into your eyes as you covered your mouth even though your hands were shaking violently. Maybe if they didn't find you, they'd leave. If only you could be quiet and disappear into thin air. If only Alhaitham was here, everything would be fine--

"Hey."

A loud gasp escaped you as a hand laid down on your shoulder, gripping it tightly as someone called out to you. With unknown strength, you smacked the hand, scurrying away from the person until your back hit another wall. This was it. You were screwed. You were entirely convinced that this was the end of everything.

You must have looked like a deer in headlights, but the sight of you made a rare grin play on Alhaitham's lips as he chuckled briefly, reaching out his hand again. "It's okay now," he reassured you, and for a moment longer, you were too stunned to speak. But alas, your body reacted faster than you processed the moment in your mind, reaching for Alhaitham's hand and throwing yourself towards him.

He didn't complain as your body crushed into his. He merely pulled you into a stand with him while supporting your unsteady legs. Leading you out of the corner you had been hiding in, Alhaitham carefully navigated you so you wouldn't be skewered on a pitchfork or other tools standing and laying around. You were just so glad to have him back, you allowed him to take you anywhere.

When you finally snapped out of your trance, Alhaitham leaned you against the closed barn door, and you finally pulled away, checking for injuries on him, fearing he might have been shot or worse. But aside from the escape scratches and bruises, he looked completely fine, his posture too good for the case that he had been seriously beaten or stabbed.

"Take this," he mumbled, and you worked with him, moving your body around so he could wrap a jeans jacket with fur inside around your shoulders. "Let it warm you," he added as he pulled it close at the front, fiddling with the fabric for a moment as if he was considering buttoning you up. Only as you were encased in soft warmth did you realize how cold your body had become. Not a surprise after taking a dip into a freezing river and not wearing very warm clothes in the first place.

"T-Thank you..."

"Let's go inside."

Without hesitating, he took your hand again, the feeling of his palm wrapped around your wrist becoming way too familiar. "Won't the people harm us?" you asked cautiously as you scanned over the farmhouse coming into view.

Alhaitham didn't answer. That, in itself, was an answer, even though you didn't understand it. He simply pulled you into a side entrance, closing the door and drawing the blinds behind you. You were standing in a large and endearingly rustical kitchen as Alhaitham checked through all the windows before he finally turned back to you. "Go upstairs and wash up. Change your clothes too and take what you can find and might help us. I'll keep watch down here and call if I see something. Just don't go into the basement."

Urging you towards the staircase in the hallway, you passed an open door. Even in the semi-darkness, you could see the stairs, figuring this was the basement he was talking about. His plan sounded solid, but curiosity got the better of you.

Stepping onto the first step of the stairs, you turned back to him, moonlight shining down on him, accentuating his features beautifully as Alhaitham watched you with an intensity that went straight to your core as he made sure you'd make it to the upper floor unharmed.

"What's in the basement?" you asked. It didn't pass your eyes that there was a dark flash in his gaze, expression turning tense for a few spare milliseconds. Then he returned to normal, stepping upwards on the stairs until he stood right before you, chest to chest.

His hand reached up, cupping your head from behind as he pulled you closer to him. You could feel his breath on your skin, but his eyes kept yours in their spell. "I won't let anyone harm you. No one will take you away from me, no matter what I have to do, understood? We'll leave this shithole and start over somewhere far, far away. Just the two of us."

His statement came out of the blue but wasn't as surprising as what followed. Hand sliding forward, Alhaitham cupped your cheek, gently brushing his thumb over your cheekbone as he leaned in for a kiss. Not just a peck on the lips, but a deep, tongue-invading kiss, accompanied by a low groan vibrating from his chest. You were wholly unprepared and taken by surprise, but when he kept on deepening the kiss, you simply let him, a lot of tension subsiding from you as if he was taking it off your shoulders through his affection.

Alhaitham had closed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the moment. So you followed his example, gently resting your hands against his chest and allowing him to get even closer to you, grabbing your hips to press your body into his fervently. You had no idea what came over you, but after the hell you two had been through, you had no strength to resist him—and at that moment, you didn't want to. He only pulled away when you were barely holding on to your conscience as you ran out of air.

"Go," he whispered, but his hands held on to you, reluctant to let go. His gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips as if he was hoping for another kiss, but the seriousness of the situation caught up to you two, and you took over from him, slowly backing away from him and up the staircase, his hand lingering on yours for as long as the distance allowed.

Skipping stairs, you went to the upper floor, looking left and right for the bathroom before opening the doors along the hallways carefully until you found the empty master bedroom with an ensuite. Closing the door behind you, you let out a long breath, this escape taking unknown directions. However, the exhaustion you felt told you that you had to hurry or else you might fall asleep while standing there, so you didn't get to slack off now. Stepping up to the bed, you searched the bedside tables for valuables, finding a watch and some pearl earrings. With those, you went to the large closet.

In the semi-darkness, it was hard to ideally create an outfit someone who didn't break out of prison would wear. You chose a plaid shirt and some jeans, fishing for underwear in one of the drawers before getting to the bathroom and closing the door behind you again. Inside, you finally allowed yourself to turn on the light, stepping up to the sink. You'd have loved to take a warm shower, but there wouldn't be enough time. Cold water it is, you decided, finally looking up in the mirror and halting.

Perplexed, you stared at the red stain resembling Alhaitham's hand on your cheek, then you looked down at your shoulder and wrist, seeing it was colored in the same shade as your cheek. Touching the back of your head, the fingers you used coming back with crumbles of dried red. When you finally inspected your lips, you noticed they seemed fuller and red as well after kissing the man you had run away with. You hadn't noticed it before, but there was a bitter, metallic taste in your mouth, and for some reason, Alhaitham's words echoed back into your mind.

No one will take you away from me, no matter what I have to do.

He didn't possibly mean...

It was a little too suspicious that you couldn't hear anyone in the house anymore. There should have been three people at least, but you couldn't even hear muffled screams or the house echoing any sounds but your own breathing.

Just don't go into the basement.

When Alhaitham said he'd do anything, he meant it. That you were suddenly completely sure of. The red stains on you were the evidence of how far he'd go. How willing he was to do whatever it may cost to fulfill his plan of getting you two away. Of the bodies, he was going to step on to reach his goal.

Why you?

You never wanted any of this. You had never planned to become this kind of monster, never wanted to harm others to get your way. You would have been okay with hiding in prison your whole life, but for some reason, Alhaitham decided you were the one to help him escape. You were the one he latched onto when there was no one more fitting for the position.

But now, with tears falling from your eyes as you gulped down the bile rising in your throat, there was an ugly realization settling into your mind. Even when you turned on the faucet to try and wash off the blood from your body—blood that wasn't yours!—you couldn't understand why he was doing this. Why Alhaitham was going so far for you when you felt like there, for once, was no logic behind his actions. But you knew, scrubbing your wrist and face, that there was no turning back for you anymore.

Now, you were just as guilty as he was.

But love—especially his—didn't need logic when it was already madness.

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@just-simping-over-genshin | @whatthefuckbabysalad

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liskantope · 3 months ago

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Do you think that a more successful version of 1/6/2021 (either via more violence or successfully pressuring the Vice President not to certify votes) would not be a threat to democracy? To me that seems like the most likely way for Trump's general antagonism to liberal democracy to manifest itself.

A fair question.

So first of all, I would say January 6th was the biggest embarrassment to MAGA people, and to Republicans in general, of the last seven years or so. You can see this just by listening to the political discourse surrounding Trump. Democrats love to bring it up as much as possible, while Republicans find every possible way to be on the defensive ("Yeah, it was bad, but its badness is exaggerated -- it doesn't technically fit the definition of coup or even insurrection -- nobody brought guns or was actually killing people -- you just want to make everything about January 6th -- what about the BLM riots around the country the previous summer?"). I once was confronting a previously staunchly liberal friend who started voting Republican and seeming to abandon most of her left-wing stances on a variety of issues following being pissed off at how Democrats in California dealt with school closures during the pandemic, and asking her whether her new convictions really outweighed the horrors of another Trump term; when I brought up January 6th, the best response she had was, "That was terrible and the truth is I think most Republicans feel terrible about January 6th."

My point being that January 6th, 2021 was a disaster for MAGAism and the Republican party in general (if Harris winds up winning narrowly in November, I'm going to say that if January 6th hadn't happened, she would have lost, and that is truly a silver lining), and most Republicans know it. Unfortunately, Trump himself and his most impassioned cult followers are among the only ones not wise enough to know it. So yes, I expect a worse version of January 6th could occur, which would be an even bigger disaster for the Republican party and likely spell the death of MAGAism altogether (as opposed to, say, turning us into a one-party state under Trump and the MAGAists) but be a very, very horrible event in and of itself. I guess my point is, what effects would this have beyond the immediate? I guess the worst-case scenario -- which is admittedly historically bad for our country -- would be that that the VP is willing not to certify votes this time, that a constitutional crisis is triggered which has to be decided by various courts now stacked explicitly in Trump's favor, and a Trumpist president (which could only be Trump himself if he managed to ram through an end to term limits and if his health is holding up at 82) and/or members of Congress wrongly get elected.

This would be a highly, highly undemocratic event in the history of our country, but not much more undemocratic than, say, Bush's election in 2000 was; meanwhile, I predict that Trump himself will be not much longer for this world, that a very solid majority of Americans will be awake to the dangers of MAGA and fight against it like nothing we've seen before, that an actual focused policy agenda would fail to come to fruition, and that the political backlash would be decisive (the basic form of our government and mechanisms for elections would still be in place, and could those in power really fix the results if they were losing by a true landslide rather than marginally? I tend to think not.)

Would this worst-case scenario be an absolutely appalling sequence of events? Yes, and plenty of reason to fear Trump's return to power (even though it still relies on a lot of "if"s). Would it unravel the structure of our government to turn it into something more like a dictatorship, or in other words, "destroy democracy"? It's hard for me to concretely imagine a way that it would.

I suppose I'd prefer that phrases like "insult to democracy", "degrade/undermine democracy", and "antidemocratic" be used over phrases like "destroy democracy" and "make himself a dictator". But, I don't know, if the latter are doing a better job of turning swing voters against Trump than they are at giving Trump supporters more ammunition for diagnosing half the country has having Trump Derangement Syndrome, then I guess I'm in favor of that rhetoric for the short term of the next three months.

#january 6th #our last president #magaism #democracy #indecision 2000

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reikunrei · 8 months ago

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I didn't talk about this at all in my last doctor who post because there was so much else going on that I wanted to touch on, but after @mikesbasementbeets mentioned one of the closing lines of the episode in the tags, I kinda wanted to just talk about it a bit.

So, this is one of the rare episodes of dw where everyone lives at the end, including all of the victims who outright or technically died. Throughout basically the whole show, but especially the early seasons, and especially s1 with the 9th Doctor, there's an incredible emphasis on "we cannot interfere or else everything will fall apart." The episode right before these ("Father's Day") actually tackles this very idea, which I hope to explore sometime in another post. In short, the Doctor doesn't save people. Doing so often results in more harm than good (unless it wasn't meant to happen, but we don't have time to get into that here lol).

However, at the end of this episode, he does something completely different.

He says everybody lives. He sends out a mass of nanogenes, now reprogrammed, toward the gas mask soldiers surrounding the bomb site and they rewrite and "fix" their DNA, making them all normal humans again without the injuries of dead little Jamie. As I showed in the initial post, even Jamie winds up coming back to life, despite the fact that he was already dead when the nanogenes found his body and used him as a blueprint. Realistically, Jamie should still be dead because he wasn't technically "changed" by the nanogenes, simply brought back to life, which the Doctor earlier says is easy.

It's an extremely profound ending to a dw episode, and it's one that sticks with a lot of people.

Now bear with me because I'm sick with a cold as I write this so it might not be very coherent, but in conjunction with all of the other connections/similarities/parallels between these episodes and Stranger Things, this feels startlingly fitting for (at least part of) the conclusion to st.

Throughout all of st, we've seen time and again that knocking things down with violence doesn't really work. It's especially evident in st4 when Nancy, Steve, and Robin flambée Vecna, blast away a few chunks of flesh, and knock him out of the third story of a house. You'd think that would turn him into a pile of smoldering mulch, but it doesn't! Frankly, he gets up and walks away very quickly. We're shown and told time and again that killing outright does not work.

In these dw episodes, they could have tried killing any of the victims to keep them at bay (at one point the Doctor even pick-pockets Jack's sonic blaster so he won't use it on the victims). However, with the nanogenes present, they simply would have been "fixed" again and brought back to life. Much like Vecna, they would've just kept coming back.

And what winds up saving the day in dw? Love and understanding. When Nancy finally admits to Jamie that she's his mother, not his sister, and apologizes for everything that's happened and comes into contact with the nanogenes, it makes them fix their misunderstanding.

A lot of people talk about how Will said "we have to kill him" irt Vecna/One at the end of 4.09. However, again, we've seen that it literally does not work. And along with everything else surrounding the weirdness with identities in st, specifically with the distinctions between Henry/Edward, Vecna, and One (and Brenner) (check out the original post I linked at the top for links to other folk's posts about this), it's not far-fetched at all to assume that untangling the uncertainty left here will be what brings them closer to "saving the day," much closer than anymore fighting ever would.

We spend a lot of these dw episodes being scared of Jamie. Even Nancy is constantly visibly fearful of him and won't go near him, but in the end, she takes him into her arms despite the risk of her becoming infected. They don't brute force the nanogenes into understanding, they don't try to reprogram them, and they don't physically fight them off. They constantly run away, use words, or even sing them to sleep. There is very little violence in these dw episodes, and most of it comes from the victims themselves and is very tame.

Stranger Things, at its core, is about love, and that extends to the (supposed) villains. The way things have been presented thus far are very unreliable, but we have enough information from the show itself (aided by things like TFS and even bits of the VR game) to prove that there's something else going on, and maybe, just like with little Jamie, someone just needs a little bit of helpful truth.

As Joyce Maldonado once said, "Can love defeat fear?"

#st dw #i say things

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year ago

Text

Recall - Part 1

A LONG F*CKING DAY

A/N: Howdy, friends! I am SO excited to kick this one off. This story has been in the works for a little over a year, and after spinning it around in my head like a rotisserie chicken, I am VERY pleased to say that it is finally Yee Haw Time. I have posted four short (the longest one is under 3k words) “teasers” leading up to this series, and they should probably be read along with it to get the full effect. They can be found on the series masterlist. This one is definitely going to be a bumpy ride, but I hope if you choose to read along you will find it worth the twists and drops. It is set during the events of Kingsman: Golden Circle, and that’s the last thing I’ll say about that.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: language, violence, gunshot wound, mild smuts, lots of angst, Jack Daniels himself.

Summary: When Jack is shot on a mission with two Kingsman Agents, he’s treated with Alpha-Gel and rushed immediately back to the lab at Statesman HQ - where you, Ginger’s lead research assistant, wait to assess and reverse the damage. For Ginger and Champ and the other Agents, things like this are all just part of the job. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

It had been a long day.

No, that’s putting it too damn lightly. You pressed your thumb to the pad near the handle of your front door. The reader scanned your print, a thin blue line of light moving across it to identify the loops and whorls as your unique set. Letting out a sigh as the device beeped, you keyed in the code and heard the lock click as it opened. Today was batshit insane.

A welcome rush of cool air greeted you as you stepped inside, and you let your heavy eyelids fall shut as you exhaled. You were tired and stretched thin and still in shock from the day’s turn of events. But at least it’s not hot in here. You slipped the shoes from your feet, stepping first on the heel of your left and pulling it free of the ankle boots you wore. Repeating the action with your socked foot on your right heel, you kicked them aside. They tumbled to join the small collection of footwear near the front door of your apartment, the three-tiered rack full of sneakers and sandals and other styles you hardly ever wore.

Sighing heavily, you hung your keys and ID tag on the peg next to the light switch and flicked it on. The empty room came fully into view then and you gasped. Locking on to the mirror on the far wall, you nearly mistook your own reflection for an intruder. The skin under your exhausted eyes was puffy and swollen, the bottom lids rimmed red from rubbing at them. Your hair was a mess, the bun you’d had it secured in now loose and hanging low at the nape of your neck. Several pieces stuck out all over from the habit you’d formed of scratching your scalp with the end of your pen when the answer to a problem you were trying to solve continued to evade you. Wrinkled, untucked, and worn for going on 36 hours, your clothing only added to your general unkempt appearance, the look of utter deflation that was written all over you.

Fuck, I look...

Closing your eyes, you released a slow breath through your nose and swallowed the chunky block of emotion threatening to rise into your throat. No wonder Ginger said what she did. You looked like absolute shit, but you were the farthest thing from surprised about that fact given the events of the last day and a half and everything that had gone wrong. Oh, Jack. His face flashed behind your clamped lids then as though you needed the reminder of just how close of a call it had actually been, and you shuddered, glad that you still had a hand on the wall near the light switch to help steady yourself.

He almost… he could’ve…

You didn’t know how to finish that thought, though, because the truth was that technically he had died. There was no almost about it. Luckily, the younger of the two Kingsman Agents Jack had been out with was quick-thinking enough to locate and use Jack’s Alpha-Gel, despite not having received the training that Statesman Agents did on how to do so, and it had been applied rapidly enough to start reversing the damage immediately. But the fact of the matter was that he’d been shot. In the head. At point blank range. And even with the advanced healing technology available at Statesman, there were never any guarantees that an Agent would wake up.

He will this time, though. And that’s all that matters.

For now that had to be enough. You reminded yourself that he was out of the worst of it now - that he would live and that if all went well, he’d regain his memory and would be back to the man you knew in a shockingly short amount of time. Ginger had started running the Recall program - something she would only do if all of his vitals were stable - right before all but ordering you out of the lab and back to your apartment.

“I… I can’t leave him alone like this, Ginger.” There was no need to pretend that your desire to stay by his side had anything to do with research this time. Your study on the effects of the nanites and the way they knit brain cells back together had already been completed and submitted to Champ for review. But more than that, Ginger knew how you felt about Jack. “I’ll just-“ Your eyes scanned the room and landed on one of the empty bays, the cranial device lifted away so that it was essentially just a bed. “I can sleep here and-“

“No.” She shook her head, her short hair swaying above the collar of her white coat, her decision firm. The expression she wore was gentle and sympathetic though, as she reached for your shoulders with both hands. “Gonna put my foot down on this one. You’re running on fumes, Maraschino. Between the extra hours you put in when Tequila went down and all of this?” She gestured vaguely at the lab. “You’ve done all you can tonight.” But- She sighed, lightly squeezing your upper arms before dropping her hands to her sides. “I’m sorry. But you need to get some real sleep. And some food and maybe a shower.”

You nodded, your attention shifting from her eyes and falling behind her, where Jack lay motionless. The sight made your whole chest ache, made your breath shudder. It was bad enough knowing what had happened to him, what he’d suffered physically to put him there. But unlike the last time you observed him undergoing the Recall procedure, this time you knew what his trigger image was. This time you knew exactly what was waiting for him when he woke up - the soul shredding loss of his wife and the son he never got to meet.

And you knew not because you had gained access to his file through higher clearance. You knew because Jack had told you.

“He shouldn’t be alone.” Your voice - thin from exhaustion and tremulous with worry - was hardly audible when you spoke, and at first you weren’t sure if you had actually said the words aloud.

“He won’t be.” Ginger shook her head again, the motion smaller and slower this time. “I’ll stay. I haven’t been here for two straight days like you have. Besides, I have some files from Merlin to go over. I can do that here and keep an eye on Whiskey.”

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but as long as he wouldn’t be left alone in the cold, dark lab, nothing but his own worst memory to keep him company, you agreed. Not that you had any say in the matter. Ginger hardly ever pulled rank on you, but you knew she was only seconds away from doing it then if you made it necessary. Licking your lips, you swallowed and finally brought your eyes back up to meet hers.

“If I’m not back, will you call me before you wake him up? I… I want to be there.”

She gave you a nod and a soft smile. “Of course I will.”

Glancing down, you turned your wrist to check your watch, where you had set a countdown for the time left on Jack’s program. You had to blink the bleariness from your eyes to read it, the green-blue numbers seeming to shake against the dark screen before they sharpened enough for you to make them out.

6:38:23 REMAINING

You stared at the seconds, watching the digits change as you let out a breath, and then dropped your arm back to your side. Okay. Moving on autopilot, you bypassed the kitchen and headed straight for the bathroom. Though you hadn’t had a real meal in over twenty four hours, you had absolutely no appetite. I can grab a protein shake on my way back to the lab. It would be easier to stomach than something solid, or at least that’s what you told yourself. I just need a shower. And some sleep.

At the very least, you knew one of those things was possible.

Avoiding the bathroom mirror so you wouldn’t make eye contact with yourself again, you reached for the faucet and turned the hot water on. Wisps of steam billowed out over the top of the glass enclosure, the air in the room warming as you stripped your clothes off and left them in a heap on the floor. Reaching behind your neck, you undid the clasp on your necklace - the only piece of jewelry you ever wore to work aside from your comm watch - and coiled it in the little white dish on the counter. The shink of the chain and then the plunk of the pearls strung along it as they hit the ceramic were sounds that normally started to set your body at ease, especially when mixed with the rhythmic rainfall of the water. It was routine, something you did every night as you wound down and readied yourself for rest.

That night, though, you hardly heard them.

Regardless, you moved on with your process, stepping into the shower and pulling the door shut behind you. For several minutes you simply stood under the spray, eyes closed as the water soaked your scalp and skin, running down your spine and dripping from the ends of your hair to roll over your shoulders and chest. The steam in the air made it slightly easier to breathe than it had been for the past few hours, and you took a few full, deep breaths, bringing your hands up to your head and pushing your palms back over your hair. Fuck. A sob fell from your lips and you didn’t try to keep another from following it. You needed to cry, to let everything out that you’d been holding in since the call came into HQ that there was an Agent down. As a Statesman medical research tech you couldn’t let emotions get in the way of your work, no matter how you felt about the man currently convalescing in Recall bay two. But off the clock you were beholden only to your heart and the way it clenched painfully with worry and fear.

Oh, fuck, Jack, you have to be okay.

The thing between the two of you wasn’t exactly new, but it had been becoming more and more serious over the past few months. What had started as harmless - if not a bit shameless - flirting had given way to a mutual interest and attraction that sparked a flame from the very first time he cupped your cheek with his large palm and kissed you. It had grown since then, the two of you sharing your bodies and giving each other small pieces of your stories at a time.

It had grown enough for you to know that you loved him. But those words had yet to make it from your lips to his ear. In that moment, all you wanted was the chance to tell him, even if he wasn’t ready to hear it yet.

Finishing your shower, you toweled off and brushed your teeth before dragging yourself out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Changing into a set of sleep shorts and a loose tee, you finally climbed into your bed and peeled back the sheets to slip between them. The fabric was cool as it fell over your legs, and you let yourself sink into the mattress and pillows.

But as you lay there in the dark, desperate for a few hours of respite from the emotions and adrenaline, all you could think of was the last time he was there between those sheets with you - and how maybe he was ready to hear those words. You rolled to your side and stared at the empty space beside you, letting your memory take you back to that night.

Eyes still closed, he blew out a breath as your fingers traveled into his hair. “Hot damn, darlin’, that feels incredible.”

You couldn’t help the smirk that dragged its way across your lips at the change in his voice. Humming, you lowered yourself completely until your chest was pressed to his. “See what happens when you’re not rushing to put your boots back on, cowboy?”

The boots in question still lay where he’d kicked them off, discarded on the other side of the room along with his jacket and the belt with the hefty silver buckle that you’d relieved him of hours earlier. From there, a trail of leather, denim, corduroy and suede, his clothing and yours, led to the bed where the two of you were tangled. It was longer than he had ever stayed with you, typically needing to rush off to a meeting whether virtual or in person. Once or twice he’d even had to leave quickly on a classified mission. Today though it seemed neither were calling him, and while you tried not to think anything of it, it was hard with the way he was reacting to such an innocent, casual touch. Swiping the tips of your fingers over his temples again, your smirk became a full on grin as you watched the muscles of his throat work down his swallow.

It could be like this all the time, Jack.

His large, rough hands slid over your skin, following the contour of your spine. “Seems I’m gonna need to find a better way to juggle my demanding schedule so that we can find ourselves in this particular situation with more frequency.” He took one hand from your body to lift your chin, the other settling at the small of your back, and found your eyes with his. “What’dyou think?”

You felt your heart stop and laying that close you knew he felt it, too. Not fair. It was all you’d wanted for months now, ever since that one time had turned into many, many more. But you knew where he stood on taking things anywhere past sleeping together. “I fell in love once, darlin’, and I’m still deep down in it.” That’s what he’d told you when you’d first started this thing, and you knew better than to press him on it. You didn’t press yourself on it either, fooling yourself into believing that you wouldn’t love the way his boots looked on your bedroom floor. Or the way his scent clung to your sheets.

But I do.

Pushing that from your mind, you recovered and answered him. “I think it’s worth a shot, Whiskey.”

He had asked you not to call him Jack in bed, and though at first you flinched each time you were forced to use his code name in lieu of his real one, you’d quickly gotten used to the condition. But this time when you did, you saw his eyes narrow, a look you thought was close to disappointment flashing in them before they widened and brightened again. What? Why did- You cut your own thoughts short then as your fingers found a small divot just beyond his hairline, slightly above his ear. Huh? What’s that?

“Hey… D’you have a scar here?” You ran your fingers through his hair again, spreading the thick dark locks so you could get a closer look at what you’d found. Funny, I never felt that before… don’t think it’s in his chart, either. There was definitely a circular indentation there, though it looked old, completely healed over, and suddenly you were overcome with the notion that you were likely the only living person aside from Jack himself who knew it was there.

He chuckled through a lazy smile. “You tell me, gorgeous. By now I’ve lost track of ‘em all.” Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he tightened his hold on you and flipped you over so that you were under him. The gasp that the quick reversal made you draw slipped out in a sigh as he settled his weight down on you. “You wanna see if you can find another one?”

Yes. You wanted to know all that you could about him, because there was so much that he couldn’t share with you. You had worked within the Statesman organization for years before your path crossed his, so you understood the need for all of the closely guarded “company secrets”. As a senior Agent, Whiskey had access to information that would make most people’s heads spin and you knew that.

Hell half of what I know would make people’s heads spin.

The point was, you knew enough to know that what you didn’t know about his work- the details of his missions, the meetings- was for the best. It was safer that way, for you, for him, the other Agents, everyone. Your job was to assist Ginger in the lab, helping to ensure that Agents were always receiving the most cutting edge, top of the line treatments and care. Your clearance level was only as high as it needed to be, and you were fine with that.

What you wanted to know about Jack had nothing to do with what made him a great Agent, and everything to do with the things you knew he could share with you but chose not to.

I just want to…

You knew about the woman he’d loved and lost, that she’d been carrying his child when she was taken from him. You knew that the cluster of three aster flowers tattooed over his left pectoral were in memory of the family they never got to be. Your heart shattered when he’d shared that part of his past with you, and ever since he had you could see it in his eyes; a deep sadness that swirled just beneath the surface. He never told you anything more about her, never gave you anything else about the incident and you respected him enough not to ask. You looked up at the man, his face hovering inches from your own, and threaded the fingers that were still buried in his hair around to the back of his head, flexing them to tighten your grasp. He groaned, like you knew he would, and his eyes darkened, erasing the sadness.

I just want to make it easier for you, Jack.

“No,” you finally answered him regarding a hunt for more scars on his body, even though you were fairly sure you’d just located another divot at the base of his skull with your pointer finger. “I can think of better ways to spend our time, J-“

Fuck.

He cut you off then, kissing you before you could either finish his name or correct yourself. His hips dropped over yours as his tongue parted your lips, and the sound you made was one of complete shock at how intense his kiss was. You knew he had heard you almost slip. But instead of making him pull away like it had once or twice in the beginning, it seemed to spur him on.

Interesting…Are you changing the rules on me, Daniels?

Your thoughts were broken up as he brought his left hand to the side of your face, simultaneously tilting your head for a better angle and dragging the pad of his thumb over the rounded top of your cheek. His right hand traveled slowly up from your waist to your ribs. You responded to his touch by rolling your hips up into his while you pressed his bare back down on top of you. Still kissing him, you smiled against his lips at the tickle of his mustache near the corners of your mouth. Using that as his invitation, he slipped his tongue through your grin and licked a breathy moan out of you.

God, I could kiss him forever.

He continued to kiss you for a few seconds longer, the movements of his lips slow and intentional, but Jack was the one to pull away first. He didn’t put any distance between your bodies, though, shifting only enough so that he could look at you - and at what he was doing. The hand that was on your ribs moved to where the chain of your necklace lay pooled against the center of your chest. Rolling one of the pearls between his rope-roughened fingers, he pulled away from your lips and gazed down at you with nothing but mischief in his eyes.

“Wanna see somethin’.” He mumbled, maneuvering the small white orb in his grasp. “Hold still.”

Pinching the pearl, he brought it over to your left breast, the chain uncoiling over your skin. Carefully, he set the gem on the peak of your nipple, pressing only enough to keep it in place with his pointer finger. “What are you-” Your question never made it out of your mouth though, and your eyes snapped down to your own chest to watch.

Your breaths became more ragged as he dragged and rolled the pearl over your pebbled flesh, the delicate links in the chain brushing over the sensitive bud to make you suck in a gasp. He used the pearl to draw a series of circles both tight and close to your nipple as well as looser ones that extended out to the soft swell of your breast, and then let it go, the chain going slack against your body. “I’ve been thinkin’ about what that would look like for too long.” He brought his eyes up to yours again, that devilish curiosity still present in them. “Better than my wildest dreams.”

You hummed. “Felt amazing, Whisk-” Throwing your head back suddenly, eyes shut, you sucked in a breath that instantly came back out in a moan as he brought his hand down between your bodies to slide two fingers into you.

Oh, fuck.

Curling his fingers, he leaned down and kissed you again. Hard. “Use my name.” But his growl was whisper soft against your lips as he unfurled his thick fingers inside of you, pushing deeper. “Please, darlin’. Wanna hear you say it.”

You whimpered at the need in his voice as he said the word please, twisting his wrist so that his thumb could plead at your body, too. “Feels good, Jack.” You sighed, heat blooming simultaneously in your chest and lower belly at the moan he let out when he heard you say his name.

You had been crying without realizing it, salty tracks running down your freshly cleaned cheeks to dampen your pillowcase. Eventually the tears stopped and you felt yourself finally give over to sleep, body feeling heavy and thick as you were pulled under. Stretching your hand out over the sheets beside you, you closed your eyes and let one final thought echo through your mind.

I love you, Jack.

– – –

The sound that woke you wasn’t the alarm that you had synchronized with the Recall program - it was a message alert.

What? Did I miss the alarm? Is he-

Blinking rapidly as you inhaled deeply through your nose, you sat up and looked down at your comm watch. Your heart pounded and your head felt fuzzy and it took you more than a few blinks to focus your vision, eyes blurry after crying yourself to sleep. When you did, you saw that the countdown was still ticking away, and while it was close to done, you hadn’t missed anything.

1:18:03 REMAINING

Just below it on the display screen, though, another text box popped up just as your phone chimed on your nightstand, signaling a new message.

GINGER ALE: MARASCHINO - GET BACK TO THE LAB ASAP - SOMETHING IS WRONG.

No. You felt your throat tighten, trapping your heart inside of it as you read the words. No, no, no. Scrambling to free your legs from the sheets, you swung them down and over the side of the bed. No, Jack. You stood, your shaking hand flying out to turn on the light and blast your room with brightness that your eyes weren’t ready for. You were glad you hadn’t eaten anything when you got home, because the wave of nausea you felt then surely would have made you sick.

No. He has to be alright.

Licking your lips, you read Ginger’s message again, trying to calm your panic enough so that you could get yourself dressed and back to the lab as quickly as possible. What does it actually say? There were no codes used - Code White for when a reset didn’t take, Code Blue for when it did but only partially, Code Red for when an Agent was in critical distress. She didn’t… she didn’t use a code though, so… You took a steadying breath and let it out slowly. So it’s… whatever’s wrong, it’s not…

He wasn’t dying. His reset hadn’t failed. If your countdown was correct - which it was - he wasn’t even awake yet. You allowed yourself to take what relief you could from those facts. But it was fleeting comfort when you realized what Ginger’s lack of code usage actually meant. Whatever the problem was, it was one that had never been encountered before. You would be completely in the dark.

You reached for your phone, responding to Ginger’s message to say that you were getting dressed and would be back down to the lab as quickly as possible. Crossing the room in three brisk strides, you opened your closet and threw on the first pair of pants - a dark chocolate brown pair - and top - a light beige button up blouse - before heading for the bathroom. Fingers already gathering your hair at the nape of your neck as you moved, you used one hand to twist it into a bun, the other grabbing for the elastic on the counter that you’d taken out of your hair earlier, securing it again.

Arms coming down to your sides, you looked yourself over in the mirror. Good enough. You were about to turn away and make your way out to the front hall, but your eyes, wide and alert despite only getting about four hours of sleep, caught on the gold chain that was coiled in the dish next to the faucet. The memory that had played out before came back in flashes - the way the delicate piece of jewelry looked and felt in Jack’s hands, the way that since that night, whenever he saw you wearing it, he always made it a point to touch one of the pearls. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed the chain and clasped it around your neck, tucking the length of it beneath the lapels of your shirt. Alright. Time to go.

As you leaned against the wall to shove your feet back into your boots and take your ID badge down from the peg, you blew out a breath. It had been a long fucking day. And it still wasn’t over. But all you cared about was the man laying in bay two, and getting back to him in time to help Ginger figure out what the fuck was wrong before the problem got worse. You could sleep later, when he was back on his feet and calling you darlin’ again. When he was healthy and safe and out of the woods. The panel next to your door beeped and the lock engaged with a click as you shut it behind yourself.

I’m coming, Jack. Hold on, I’m coming.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.

tags: @something-tofightfor @paracosmenthusiast @cannedsoupsucks @dihra-vesa @disgruntledspacedad @littlemisspascal @hellovanessax @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @swtaura @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @writeforfandoms @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito

#agent jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x you #pedrostories #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels kingsman golden circle #jack daniels fic #agent whiskey fic #series: recall #part 1: a long f*cking day #pedro pascal character

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weissaddams · 2 years ago

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Date with Death

Chapter 4

“Willa?”

“Yes?”

“I'm really, really glad you're here. I would have understood if you didn't attend, but you're more like family to me than my actual pack. The fact that you chose to attend makes me feel like I have your blessing or something.”

Wednesday is torn between reassuring Enid and insulting her pack. It was ridiculous enough that they only started caring about the girl like an actual member of the pack when she transformed. Now they had the audacity to prance around like they were the reasons Ajax fell in love and proposed to the werewolf? Imbeciles, not even realizing the only good and arguably best part of them was being taken away, and for what? Connections? Assets? Were they so shortsighted that they were willing to let their best pup go for material possessions?

"I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Enid.” Wednesday settled for reassuring the blonde. She would let fate teach the Sinclair pack the value of the girl they so willingly gave up. Though, after today, Wednesday realizes she might just be worse than the imbeciles she hated so much.

“That's really sweet, you know that?” Enid's face softens into a smile at Wednesday's words. She moves to lean her head on the raven's shoulder, right hand still playing random keys on the piano.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I have only ever been bitter my whole life.”

There's a hint of bashfulness in the raven's voice and it only makes the blonde smile more as she sits up to properly look at the raven.

“Nope. The jig’s up. I can’t wait to see how whipped you’ll be when you’re the one who’s about to get married. I will so make it up to you when it’s your turn!”

Enid’s bright and infectious smile was like an arrow to Wednesday's shoulder all over again. Maybe through the heart this time, to ensure optimum loss of life.

“After seeing your wedding, I don’t think I’ll be able to go through with mine.”

Again, not a lie. Not technically. She never liked lying to Enid and some days she never could. Today was certainly a fine line in between.

“Oh, come on! I bet your bride would be so pretty you’d drop dead when she walks down the aisle.”

“That... may just be the case.”

Enid continued to giggle when she saw the flush that colored the raven’s cheeks. Flustered Wednesday Addams was adorable. Sure, she looked like she could kill you, and she definitely could, but once you get past all murder and violence, there was this wonderfully loyal teddy bear of a human being inside. Armed with daggers, spells and unmatched wit.

Wednesday had to stop herself from sighing. Enid was too close to the actual truth. The werewolf would be furious with her when she remembers this conversation after today.

They’d opted to spend time with their friends in the preparation room when Yoko very conveniently interrupted and called them over. Watching Enid and Yoko argue about the most mundane topics was not how she thought she’d be spending the next few hours of her life, but if she was being horribly honest, she wouldn't have changed a thing. Even if the pastel dresses and unending camera flashes hurt her eyes.

Once the prep team finished with the bridesmaids, it was finally Enid’s turn with the make-up artist and Wednesday took it as her chance to talk to Yoko.

“Tanaka, could we have a word in private?”

“You know Ajax is the one you need to give the shovel talk to, right?”

Bianca, Divina and Enid start giggling at her expense, but that was... a welcome sight. She supposes she could do worse than make her friends laugh during her last day on earth.

“He is marrying a werewolf. I hardly think shovels would scare him.”

Yoko joins in on the laughter before walking away to somewhere supposedly private. Ah, the upper terrace. The wind should be loud enough to mask what they had to talk about from a werewolf's enhanced auditory processing. Just to be sure, she turned up the volume of the music in the room before she followed Yoko out.

“What’s up, Addams? Need a getaway driver when you elope with Enid?”

Wednesday gave Yoko a deadpan. She was starting to regret not using the garlic bread earlier or maybe even the matches.

“No. I simply wish to inquire about your whereabouts after the wedding ceremony ends."

"My whereabouts?"

"Yes, the length of your stay once all is said and done."

"Not long. Why?"

"There is a family matter that I must attend to in person. I only wish for you to look after Enid if my absence stretches to an unforeseen length."

“I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself."

The vampire was right. Enid could definitely take care of herself just fine. She'd proven it to Wednesday and her own pack time and time again. However, the raven is more concerned about any long-lasting emotional distress she may cause. Would it be selfish of her to hope her absence would cause even just an ounce of sadness in the Enid's heart? Of course. She was nothing if not selfish, after all.

"You are insurance if ever I'm not able to."

“Your Wednesday Addams. Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

Because I am Wednesday Addams is what Wednesday wanted to say, but she knew Yoko won’t hesitate to tattle to Enid if she had even an inkling of the wretched curse and the raven really didn't want to lock Yoko in a closet with a horde of garlic bread until the wedding was over. Enid and Divina would most likely kill her before the curse could even lift its metaphoric fingers if she did. Tempting as it was.

“As I explained earlier, I maybe be indisposed for an indefinite amount of time. I am tasking you to look after her in my stead.”

“Uh-huh. You don’t sound suspicious at all. Actually, I need to ask.”

Wednesday nodded at the vampire to continue. Talking to Yoko always had a way of igniting headaches. Hopefully whatever came out of the vampire's mouth next won't cause another mind-splitting migraine.

“You’re not planning on yelling I object or anything when they ask later right?”

Ah. She supposed that was a fair question. Yoko was, after all (mostly according to herself), wise beyond her years.

“Would you be disappointed if I didn’t?”

“I’m not sure." The vampire crossed her arms and assumed a thinking stance. "It’d be a pretty boring wedding if you didn’t. If you did, I’d have to tackle you to the ground and we’d have to fight to the death because it’s my sworn duty as the bride’s maid of honor to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow at the logic.

“And tackling me to the ground would be the best way to keep everything running smoothly?"

Yoko shrugged but nodded. Wednesday was confused but trying to make sense of Yoko Tanaka was not on her to-do list for the day. Her last day, no less.

“I will not be disrupting the wedding.”

“Great! Can you help me take out anyone else who does?”

Ah. This conversation she could follow. Happily, even.

“Am I allowed to kill them?”

“Could you settle for maiming?”

“That seems acceptable.”

“Perfect!” Yoko’s fangs were on full display as she grinned at Wednesday before quickly walking back down to the suite, seemingly happy with at the raven's acquiescence before turning back to look at her. “And you never have to ask, Wednesday. I’ll always look out for Enid. With or without you.”

Wednesday knew that. Yoko was the only other person who came close to loving the werewolf as much as she did. Still, getting verbal confirmation gave her an odd sense of relief.

“You have my gratitude, Yoko.”

“Awesome. Now, let’s go before I turn into BBQ in the sun.”

And so they went.

Down the stairs.

Where Enid was putting on her wedding gown.

Date With Death master post

I had time so I thought I’d write down a chapter. It probably has mistakes so I might go back and change it a bit when I have time again.

I edited Chapter 3 quite a bit so maybe read it again if you have time. I think it flows more smoothly with the edits.

Let me know what you think!

Do you guys know how I can notify the readers of the first two post that Chapter 4 is up? Send help.

#wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sincalir #wednesday x enid #enid x wednesday #wenclair fanfiction #wenclair angst #addams #addams family curse #yoko tanaka #bianca barclay #divina

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eradicatetehnormal · 5 months ago

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youtube

I'm also hoping for a G1 adaptation, but I don't think it's the end of the world if G3 gets adapted. It's interesting in its own way and is technically more inclusive, even if the inclusivity isn't perfect. I also hope that they lean more into the horror and we can get some creepy imagery like Clawdeen turning into a wolf in the style of American Werewolf in London. Also, powers. I'd love to see them use more monster powers, like Draculaura turning into a bat or Cleo using hypnosis. Last a little bit of hope for this movie, and a rather random one, wouldn't it cool if they got Kim Petras to do a song in the style of Turn Off the Light for this movie? Just a fun thought, I don't think they will.

What I'm worried about is how the success of Barbie is going to influence this film and what angle they're going to take the narrative in. Much of the commentary you could do is already part of the text like the stuff on discrimination and systemic violence. They could do a meta angle and do a commentary on how MH is seen as this edgy and controversial doll line when for the longest time, it didn't have any canon queer characters, diverse body types, and had a lot of stereotypical-looking characters. That could get very messy, though. Not every writer and director has the elegance to tackle topics like that well and nuancedly.

It also might not hit as hard as Barbie's commentary on feminism. While it's not perfect, it adequately points out the hypocrisy of a line that supposedly celebrates all women and feminity actually props up women's insecurities through its shallowness. MH, on the other hand, while being shallow does actually engage with its themes of acceptance and the brand has a history of actually responding to criticism in a meaningful way, unlike Barbie, where despite the diversity of races, disabilities, and body types she's come to have, the thin, white, blonde woman with a 1000+ page resume is still the main one getting marketed.

#monster high #universal #universal studios #Youtube

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year ago

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Brothers in Arms: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: You try one more time to get your dad to see how great of a man Spencer is but like before, it doesn’t go as well as you hope. Phoenix Arizona is dealing with a serial killer that is masquerading as gang members, but your team sees through the facade.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"We are all brothers under the skin, and I, for one, would be willing to skin humanity to prove it." - Ayn Rand

Summer is almost over which means the cooler temperatures are right around the corner. Virginia is cooling down in the month of September, but you get to go to Phoenix, Arizona for the case you're on. It's going to be a nice change of weather, and it's close enough to your parents that maybe you can visit them. They don't get along with Spencer, but maybe if you push him onto them, they will give up being stubborn and start to see him as someone you love.

Right now, you have to focus on the case at hand. Two officers were killed in action, and the news is on the Phoenix Police Department regarding the issue. Earlier in the evening, the Phoenix Police Force lost two of their own. Sergeant Manuel Rodriguez and Officer Thomas Kayser were killed in the line of duty.

"That's three officers in the past four days," Jordan addresses everyone. "After the first shooting, the Phoenix Police Department assumed gang involvement."

"That's a pretty reasonable assumption."

"True. Almost thirty percent of all officer slayings are gang-related."

"Technically it's closer to forty percent," Spencer corrects. "If a cop isn't killed during the commission of a crime, gang involvement is highly likely."

"Actually, their precinct commander believes it may be a serial and has asked for our help."

"What makes him doubt the gang theory?" Rossi asks.

"A couple of things. Last night's victims were killed exactly the same as the first, shot in the neck. That's something the press didn't release."

"Well, now, wait. There could still be a gang behind this. Killers working together could establish the same MO," Emily states.

"Commander Marks hasn't ruled it out, but there's another detail. The killer took their badges, which I'm guessing is some kind of trophy?"

Jordan is picking up a lot of things while at her time here, but you don't think she will last long by herself.

"Gang members don't usually take trophies. They don't need to. This is an unsub with something to prove, and he's got the entire city on edge. If they kill those who protect and serve, then no one feels safe."

The briefing is cut short so that you can get to Phoenix faster, and you're one of the first ones out of the room. Phoenix is only four and a half hours away from Las Vegas, and you might not be able to leave to go to them, but if they want to come down to you, then you'll give them that option.

After leaving them a detailed message, you gather your go bag and head to the plane where only Spencer is. The others still have twenty minutes to get to you, so you'll enjoy the alone time you both have.

"Hey, I let my parents know that we're going to Phoenix. If they come down, will you go to lunch or dinner with me? This is my last chance to make them like you."

"I don't know," Spencer says with uncertainty.

"Please? It would mean a lot to me."

Spencer has a light bulb go off in his head. If he agrees to lunch, then he can look more into the foster business your parents have. It's not snooping if it's casual conversation.

"Sure. I think we can make that work."

"Thank you."

The rest of the team comes aboard shortly, and before you know it, you're in the air. Hotch has Penelope on video chat so she can be part of this discussion without actually being here.

"Go ahead, Garcia."

"Okay, while you birds have been in the air, I got the 4-1-1 on the first shooting. Every Saturday night, Phoenix PD sets up a DUI checkpoint. Everyone knows it happens. Public awareness is part of the deterrent, so our unsub blows past said checkpoint at ninety miles per hour and is pursued by Officer Jason Kessinger. Kessinger pulls the car over and approaches the driver's side window where he is shot in the throat. He was a single parent with two daughters."

"So, the unsub planned ahead, used the DUI stop to set his trap and then lured the officer to his death. It could have been personal. The unsub might have had a problem with these particular officers or with law enforcement in general. He's sending a message."

"Criminals, gang members, academy washouts, security, and teenagers? The list of people who have a problem with police officers is a long one," Spencer says.

"The victims were shot in the neck so the unsub knew they'd be wearing body armor, and he used a DUI checkpoint. I mean, both incidents show an active understanding of police procedure which narrows it down to anybody who watches television."

"We need to cover victimology. Garcia, find out everything you can about the officers killed and see what they had in common besides their uniforms."

"Will do, but I should warn you, it will not be cake because I have been on the phone with these guys all morning, and pulling files from them has been like pulling molars."

"Is there a problem?"

"You know, aside from the obvious grief for their fallen comrades and their fear of being used as target practice, I get the distinct impression from their crabby behavior, they are none too pleased their boss is outsourcing this investigation to the FBI. Be prepared to hit a blue wall of resistance."

A blue wall of resistance is exactly what you got when you arrived at the police department. There are news reporters outside waiting for comments about what happened, but you bypass them to get inside. Commander Jason Marks is ready to greet you as soon as you walk in.

"Commander Marks, I'm SSA Hotchner. This is agent Todd, agents Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, Y/N, and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"I thank you all for coming. Although, I'd like to have a word if you don't mind." Hotch steps off to the side to talk to him, and the Commander turns to one of his men who is talking to a distraught woman. "Lieutenant Peter Evans will answer any questions the rest of you may have."

The Commander walks with Hotch to his office and Evans excuses himself to greet your team.

"Sorry, that was Officer Kayser's wife. They'd only been married a couple of months. She seems to think that the FBI is here to save the day. Is that what you're going to do, Agents?"

You raise your eyebrows at his attitude. He's cocky and skeptical. He doesn't want you here at all since he thinks he can handle it on his own. After all, these are his people and you're strangers. They're all so sure this is gang-related, but you have a job to do. He's ordered to help you in every way he can, so Emily and Derek head to the newest crime scene.

According to Evans, this side of town is Twelve's territory which is the gang that is prominent in this area. Evans thinks they're behind all of the shootings, but he acts like it doesn't matter because the gang is the easy way out.

The Twelves gang has a Captain who goes by the name of Playboy. One of the officers broke up a drug ring and shot his brother who was DOA. They thought Playboy would kill them all. It's a strong motivation, for sure, but the dashcam only showed one attacker. Usually, gang bangers bring more than one person as a backup in case something were to happen.

The only problem with that is the dash cam only showed one attacker, but the attacker showed his face on camera. The running theory is that he wanted to take both of the cops out at the house, but they broke protocol. One of the officers approached the house by himself, forcing the unsub to take them out separately. The officer could have waited inside the car and gained the element of surprise, but he wanted to take matters into his own hands.

The choice of neighborhoods was deliberate since the neighbors are used to hearing gunfire. Everyone will blame it on the gangs and so will the police. The worst thing about this is that everyone with force knows he's out there, and even with the extra backup, Phoenix PD is still going to have to do their jobs.

They could walk into an ambush every time they take a call, and that's the scary part. Penelope and the Phoenix PD techs have gone over the dashcam of the recent murder frame by frame, but there is no way to identify the shooter. The only thing you're getting is approximate height and weight. The unsub's face isn't the only way to identify him, though. You have to look at specific behavioral traits."

"These are the reasons you don't believe it's a gang?" Commander Marks asks when you explain this to him.

"The shooter established what we call a signature, something he did during the murders that wasn't actually necessary. Not part of his MO but identical in every attack."

"In this case, the unsub took the officer's badges. He's symbolically stripping them of their power and authority. This act is indicative of someone who is looking to gain self-esteem."

"Gang members and other assailants who work together kill for different reasons, but usually it's not to gain confidence because they already have it."

In the video, the unsub lingers by the body when taking the badges off the officer. Usually, it would take a few seconds to take that, but the unsub lingers longer than usual.

"Hotch, did you see that? Can we pause this?" Spencer asks the tech who is controlling the video. "Okay, now zoom in and press play. Taking the badge would have taken a few seconds. He's lingering."

"Doing what?" Marks asks.

"That's a good question."

Your phone rings when your dad sends you a message. He and your mom are available for lunch, and you have some time to step away from the job for an hour, at least. This might be the only time you can step away from the job.

"Hotch? My parents want to go to lunch with me. Can Spencer and I go for an hour?"

"Yes. Be ready to come back if we call you."

"Of course."

Spencer isn't too excited to go to lunch with your parents, but you're going to make sure they behave. Your mom isn't as bad as your dad is, but you can tell that she isn't too fond of you having a long-term boyfriend. All throughout your life, whenever you told them you were in a relationship, they either ran them off or became too involved to the point where they left.

"Please be nice to him," you whisper to your dad when you greet him.

Spencer shakes your dad's hand, but your dad isn't too friendly toward him. You four take a seat just as the waitress comes over with some bread. She takes the drinks orders and leaves, and you turn to your parents with a smile.

"Thank you for inviting us."

"I invited you," your dad says.

If this is how lunch is going to go, then you're going to leave right now. Spencer doesn't deserve the shit he's putting him through.

"Can we please be civilized here? We're all adults. I'm not a child anymore. Spencer isn't like my high school boyfriends."

"I know."

"So, are you in town for business?" your mother asks.

"Yes. We're on a case here"

"What do you do, Spencer? I mean, for the FBI. Aren't all agents supposed to be strong when they're in the field?"

Spencer is taken aback by the question, but before he has a chance to answer, you stick up for him.

"First of all, he is strong. He's one of the strongest people I know. Secondly, he does so much in the field for the team. He's also very smart, and I'm very proud of him because of it."

"Tell me something. While you're so busy reading books and studying, how do you expect to protect my baby girl?"

This was such a bad idea. You shouldn't have brought him here. In some twisted way, you thought you could get him to like Spencer, but it's clearly never going to happen. Your dad bullies him whenever they meet, and you can't subject Spencer to this anymore.

"Mom?" you sigh.

"I mean, he has a point," she shrugs.

"I can protect her," Spencer answers.

"Are you the kind of person to run into a burning fire for her? Or are you the one to stay on the sidelines and watch it happen?"

"Dad, please stop," you whisper to him.

"Do you know about her past?"

It's like he's not even listening to you.

"Can we not do this here, please?" you groan uncomfortably.

"I do, but I'd never hurt her like that."

"What if someone comes up and just grabs her off the streets? Would your tiny arms be able to protect her? What if you don't make it in time?"

"Okay, that's enough," you say a little too loudly. "If you don't stop right now, I'm taking Spencer and leaving. You will never see me again. Do you understand me?"

Your dad finally looks at you, and it's like the film has been lifted from his eyes. His eyes don't soften, but he hears the threat in your words.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Alright," your mom chuckles to try and break the tension. "How are you doing in Virginia?"

"I'm fine. Virginia is beautiful. You should really come to visit when you get a chance."

"You should really move back home," your dad comments. "We always need help on the farm."

"You have enough help with the kids you're fostering."

"They don't stay long enough to know what to do. They're only staying for a few weeks."

"I actually wanted to know more about that, sir," Spencer says. "I've been curious about your business since Y/N told me about it. If you don't mind me asking, how are they getting adopted so quickly?"

"What do you mean?"

"The average time it takes for a child to get adopted is six to eighteen months. That's mostly because of paperwork and legal aspects. You said they are gone in a few weeks, so how is that possible?"

"A lot of people want to adopt," your dad narrows his eyes at Spencer.

"Can we please move on to a different subject? I never intended for this lunch to be an interrogation." You turn to Spencer. "Those kids should be lucky they're going into a loving home."

Your dad's eye twitches at the word "loving", but you and Spencer miss it. For the rest of the lunch, the tension stayed an unwelcome guest. Right before dessert, Hotch called you to come back because there is a new crime scene. He gave you the address to go to instead of going back to the police department.

"I don't know why you're being so hard on him. Why are you being like this?" you ask as you and Spencer stand to leave.

"I'm sorry, baby."

You hug your mom first before going over to your dad. He squeezes a bit too tightly, so you pull away sooner than he'd like. He grabs your wrist and you gasp from how tight he's holding it.

"Ow, you're hurting me."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry."

As soon as he lets go, you see the outline of his fingers forms. He smooths your hair back and kisses your forehead. They both pay for you and Spencer and as you're leaving, you rub your wrist absentmindedly.

"He left a bruise on your wrist?" Spencer asks when he opens the car door for you.

"It was an accident. It's fine."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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kobeniliker · 2 years ago

Text

HI HELLO HOLY HECK THE. NEW CHAINSAW MAN CHAPTER!!! (122)

I wrote a lot of stuff (long post) and there are major spoilers for the new chapters! The actual analysis/commentary/screaming abt the new chapter is under the cutoff.

Aside from the confirmation of Yoshida knowing more things that he probably shouldn’t, there’s a LOT of other stuff to go through. I am increasingly surprised by the biblical symbolism in csm! here's where my years of being forced to attend catholic school and bible study can really shine, lmao.

Let’s start with this:

Nostradamus was a real dude! (Wikipedia page for more info)

He lived in France around the 16th century, and he did write predictions of future events.

The prediction referenced in the new chapter IS one of his predictions, but it is not the full prediction!!!

The full prophecy is this:

“ The year one thousand nine ninety-nine seven month

From the sky shall come a great King of terror,

[Shall be] revived the great King of Angoulmois.

Before and after, Mars [shall] reign as chance will have it.

(Century X, No. 72) “

I don’t know about the fourth line, but the last line. “Mars shall reign”. Mars in Roman mythology is associated with war, literally being the god of war, and Mars generally has a connection to war in western culture.

And Asa Mitaka just so happens to meet/be the host of the War Devil.

It’s unclear exactly why Yoru wants to revive nuclear weapons devil. Likely because their revival would make Yoru more powerful, but Yoru seems very childish and immature, so I think it’s also possible that she and Nuclear Weapons were possibly friends? Since devils do seem to tolerate/desire relationships, as seen with Angel Devil and his village, and Quanxi’s fiend girlfriends. A lot of fiends seem to want and seek out relationships with others, platonic/familial/romantic, whatever (Power, Violence, Beam). There are also some that don’t, as in they just do not care (Prinzi) or are only interested in murder and crime (Also Power and Beam, but only before their character arcs). There are also those that want relationships but cannot have them, as seen with Makima and Pochita. Interesting! Could be a reach on my part, but there is definitely something odd about the timing of the prophecy and Yoru deciding to come to Earth and reveal herself to Asa.

Yoru does not seem like a very capable ruler, which is also somewhat weird if this prophecy is to be fulfilled. She will rule “before and after”, but while right now is presumably ‘before’, Yoru has basically been stuck to a depressed high school girl. Yoru does have power and we have seen her fight before, she seems to love fighting. But in this chapter she runs away.

Not very leader-like in my opinion! However. She also literally has a giant ruler sword at the moment.

I mean. Technically I guess you could say she is ruling?? The whole prophecy is really weird, and could have a lot of meaning in the context of chainsaw man. But I’m going to move on from that for now!

Yoshida Hirofumi, my beloved! Knowing things he shouldn’t and being in places he has no business being! He knew about Famine Devil, but it also seems that Fami didn’t really keep her identity a secret anyways. He knows she’s a powerful horseman devil, and he’s taking her out to eat at a cafe, once again paying for everything she orders.

How does he have so much money? How did he know she was the Famine Devil? It’s possible he is just a weird dude. Love that for him!

But how did he know about the prophecy? About the experiment with the prisoners and the Future Devil? He seems to be working with public safety now, but why tell Denji he has a private organization? In any case, the prophecy seems to have some merit, and Fami does know some things about it. He asked, and Fami told him. He did threaten her, but why would a powerful horseman devil be afraid of some highschooler with an octopus devil contract?

We can’t see her face, but we know she isn’t lying. We know because Asa is there at the apartments, and there is a powerful devil that just appeared there, so powerful that Yoru refused to fight it.

As for this devil, we know it is a primal fear, but not its name. Did the chainsaw devil eat her and her name is forgotten? Or is it just a purposeful omission? In any case, I think there are a few likely possibilities for the name this devil has.

This devil is presumably the first of the “The other seven” who will die this week. In the bible, there are a lot of apocalyptic sevens! We have:

The 7 bowls

The 7 seals

The 7 trumpets

I don’t think it’s the trumpets or bowls, but a case can be made for the seals. The breaking of one seal causes the appearance of the next. Interestingly, the first four seals represent the four horsemen. The first seal releases the horseman of conquest. (Sound familiar?)

Next is war, then famine, then death. This could be the death devil? She does have the power to make people kill themselves, so it would make sense and explain why Yoru was afraid of her. It could also be sacrifice or apocalypse, but personally I think Death makes the most sense.

The fifth and sixth seals cause various people to die and natural disasters. The seventh seal triggers silence, in preparation for the sounding of the 7 trumpets. In summary, the first three trumpets cause bad stuff to fall to earth and poison 1/3rd of all seawater and freshwater, as well as burning up 1/3rd of trees and all green grass. The fourth trumpet causes complete darkness, by getting rid of the sun, moon, and stars.

The next three trumpets are also known as the three woes.

The fifth trumpet causes a star to fall and opens a bottomless pit with a key it has been given, which releases these weird bug lion monsters instructed to torment (but not kill) all who do not follow God.

The sixth trumpet causes four angels to descend, leading a large battalion of soldiers whose lion-snake-horse steeds carry plagues that kill 1/3rd of humanity.

The seventh trumpet causes loud voices in the heavens to praise God.

I think the “King of Terror” the prophecy refers to will be Chainsaw Man, or maybe just Pochita/The Chainsaw Devil in his full form. I also think that his presence will somehow result in the devils being released from Hell, and Chainsaw Man becomes God or something. I do not know! It certainly seems ominous though!

This is all I can piece together for now, a lot of this stuff could be wrong, but the parallels are certainly interesting!

My thoughts in summary:

The prophecy mentioned is real and will happen (in chainsaw man)

Yoru/The War devil will gain a lot of power

Alternatively she will become some sort of leader, or maybe her role will have something to do with literal rulers…?

Yoshida is WEIRD!!!!!!!!! (nothing new there)

Fami gave him the information he wanted despite having (seemingly) no reason to do so other than being threatened by Yoshida

Fami didn’t even TRY to mess with Yoshida, but she was perfectly fine manipulating Asa and Yoru/The War Devil

The devil in the apartments is (probably) the Death Devil

Apocalypse time!

#chainsaw man #longpost #csm #csm spoilers #csm theory #chainsawman part 2 #yoshida hirofumi #asa mitaka #yoru chainsawman #csm part 2 #csm manga #csm chapter 122 #cube reads: csm

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