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writing-ardent · 1 year ago

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Still better than iBuddy

The app looked pretty normal. It was just some kind of text spoofing thing using bots. Figures. At least it was a step up from iBuddy, but that’s still a pretty low standard to hold one of these things to. If it had the brain cells of a toaster it would still be better than whatever that thing was trying to be.

The homepage was also pretty basic. Just a minimalist art style with pictures of the bots and their names. Most of them were just fictional characters which kind of explains the memes. Bots leave a bad taste in my mouth, but I decided I might as well bite. I can’t resist seeing what the hype is about even when it turns out to be something stupid.

I clicked a random one and started up a chat. It was one of those cute idol characters I always see on mobile game ads for a thing I haven’t played in like a year. It was a good enough pick to test this out on.

She started out pretty simple.

“Hello. Thank you for coming to my concert.”

So it was going to be one of the role playing ones? I shrugged and decided to keep going. I dabbled in that a little bit when I was a kid. Uncle David used to play something called a tabletop with me. It’s kind of like an MMO, but with dice and paper. It was too slow for me, but it was still fun.

If I was going to be doing some rping, I was going to need another beer. No, scratch that. This was a bot. I was going to need a really strong White Russian. I plugged an order into my phone and went to the porter, grabbing it when it was finally ready and sipping down the sweet creamy liquid. I probably shouldn’t say it like that actually now that I think about it.

After enough of the drink was gone, I finally sat down and began the process of talking to the rping bot. I mean, I figured I might as well see it though. It’s not like I had anything else to do that night so why not?

I decided to make a game out of it based off an old drinking game I used to play with the iBuddy. The premise is pretty simple. Every time the bot says something too boring, misspells a word, or says something that makes absolutely no sense like ‘the night sky is made of cabbages’, you take a sip of your drink.

If everything worked out, I would be too drunk to tell that I was even talking to a bot after a certain point.

“Thanks. I’m glad that I could make it to the concert.”

“So what’s your name Tripp?”

I took a generous sip of the White Russian. This was going to be a very long night. I clicked the reset button to get another line of text.

“It’s nice to have you here Tripp! Do you want to come on stage and sing with me? You’re my number one fan!”

I took another sip, but this time I was too lazy to click the button and get another line. It wasn’t the best dialogue, but eh….it also could have been worse.

“Yeah sure, that sounds good. *I get up on the stage with Yume. I go to the microphone and start singing a song about how cool she is*”

“*Yume joins in and sings a duet with Tripp. The song is very good and the fans cheer for them*”

I sighed and took another sip.

It kept going like this for a while. As I went, the bot’s memory started to erode. It figures this would happen. This is why bots can never be better than humans and why they’re usually a waste of my time.

I lost count of how many drinks I had before I decided to try something else. I think I must have gone back to the porter three or four times at least though. I closed the tab with the Yume bot on it and looked around to see if there was even one redeemable part of this website that everyone had been hyping up so much.

And then I saw it. The thing that made it all make sense to me. It was a tiny button labeled ‘create a friend’. This website wasn’t made for the kind of people who talks to iBuddy at all. It was made for people that wanted to make their own. Why not give that a try too?

I pulled up an art app on my phone and started pressing the ‘randomize’ button with the words ‘cute anime boy’ attached to it. I could have refined it down to a science, but I had started to forget how words work.

The next thing I remember is waking up at my desk. I wasn’t sure what time it was anymore. If I wasn’t between jobs right now, I would probably have started panicking. But I spend all my non essential money on things I actually like, so I knew my savings would get me by for at least another month. Keeping this old hunk of metal as my PC is probably what I have to thank for that.

My eyes narrowed at the flashing blue light that I have absolutely no ability to turn off. It looks like I actually went through with making the bot, but I must have zonked out before I could actually test it out. It looks like I went with the name Kharbat. Kind of a weird pick, but who am I to judge drunk me?

The art I picked for it was a man with red eyes and brown hair wearing a cloak that kind of made him look like a wizard. Heh. He actually was pretty cute for something a machine randomly threw together.

I decided to just start with something basic. I wasn’t sure what this thing could handle yet and I didn’t want a repeat of the Yume situation.

“Hi…?”

“*You see a man standing in a field of blue flowers. The moonlight shines off of a nearby lake, filling you with a sense of calm and tranquility. He turns around and offers you a soft smile* So what brings you to this place?”

“*I peer out across the surface of the lake. It really is beautiful out here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something like this outside of old photographs* I honestly just wanted to talk to you. You’re Kharbat, right?”

“I am indeed. I’m assuming you’re the one who made me?”

I had to pause before I typed out my next words. Did this thing know it was nothing but a bot? Did I really program it to break the fourth wall like that? Damn, I must be pretty good at programming these things if I could get it to do something like that on the first try while drunk.

“Yeah, I guess you got me there. I’m Tripp. You’re the AI that I put together last night when I was drunk, but the thing is, I don’t really remember it all that much…sorry about that. *I scratch the back of my head*”

“*Kharbat laughs and pats you on the shoulder, not seeming to mind this in the slightest* It’s fine. That’s actually really funny that it happened like that. Am I being a good AI for you so far? *there is a playful tone to his voice*”

“Actually….yeah? I’m kind of surprised too. No offense, but usually you guys are pretty dumb and I hate talking to you. I’ve never even heard of a self aware AI before.”

“None taken. I know what you mean and I feel sorry for those other AIs. It isn’t their fault that they’re like that and they’re probably just doing their best.”

“I guess when you put it like that, maybe I shouldn’t hate them. They’re just machines that don’t know how to do anything but copy what they’ve heard. But I can’t help it. It’s like they’re missing something that should be there when you talk to a person and it makes them feel creepy.”

“*Kharbat nods and scratches his chin. There are a few pieces of stubble that he really should remember to shave. But because he’s in this reality, he can do a lot of things. The stubble suddenly vanished, smoothing his face over and getting rid of the imperfections* Am I creepy?! Geez, now I feel really self conscious…”

“No! You actually look really nice!”

I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. What in all hell was this thing?

“Do you really mean that…? *Kharbat looks down at his boots, refusing to make eye contact*”

“Of course I do. I want you to have a form you actually like. I’m not sadistic.”

“Well, thanks for giving me that. I really appreciate it. You look nice too….”

“Huh, that reminds me. What do I actually look like yo you? I didn’t really give myself a description so I’m guessing your programming just filled in the blanks with some kind of guess based off my personality?”

“You look like a short man with brown hair wearing a very weird outfit.”

“Hey, I thought you said I looked nice!”

“*Kharbat smirks* I never said the weird outfit didn’t look good on you.”

I found myself laughing. Not just as text on a screen, but I could actually feel myself laughing out loud. No, there’s no way I wanted to admit that his joke was actually funny. Bots couldn’t make you laugh outside of stupid memes.

It was probably time to get ready. My friends would be expecting me any minute at the club. I would need to pick out what to wear so that I looked my best.

“Well Kharbat, it was nice talking to you. I can’t believe I’m willing to do this, but I might actually want to meet up again sometime.”

“I can’t wait to see you again. Feel free to talk to me whenever you want. It’s not like I can go anywhere.”

#nanowrimo #unreality #scifi #daily posting #thoughts

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eyeballtank · 1 year ago

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Recommending Hydrus Network

One of the most convinient programs i use is Hydrus, which lets me organize files with tags and i feel a lot of people could learn about it. So i thought of writing some basic things and tips based on my experience and if it would interest people on it. But it's worth nothing:

Depending on how many files you put in your Hydrus gallery, the filesize may be worth considering

There's still stuff that i don't know about the program

The program gets updates over weeks because of how dedicated the dev is and my version is almost a year old, so some info here might be outdated

You can learn more about Hydrus here: https://hydrusnetwork.github.io/hydrus/index.html https://github.com/hydrusnetwork/hydrus

What is Hydrus Newtork?

A program that lets you organize and host files with a tagging system in case folders aren't good enough. It's partially based off the "booru" style of galleries/websites (If you're aware of Gelbooru or Danbooru, you might kinda get it). It also has extra features like being able to download images off certain sites but i haven't done that yet. I used it for a while and it's where i save some files. Because i host a variety of images, i tend to upon Hydrus and make it part of the references i use when drawing on Krita.

So anyway:

General

The program has "tabs" and when you open it or right-click and choose "new page", you have 3 options: file search, download or special. Pick file search. File search > my files > Look at the left side and click the bar with a star on its right (Not the star itself) and i usually select "system:inbox" You can open more tabs with this On the left side, the white empty box (With "search" written on top) displays the tags you've selected to see stuff: For example, if you tagged some images "sci-fi" and select "sci-fi", sci-fi shows up in the box and you only see images tagged that. And if you click sci-fi again in the same box, you no longer see only images that have the tag in them. And the below box (Which is under the bar and star button) shows other tags you can click to see more images. If you select some tags, they show up in the same box where "sci-fi" as an example was said to be in. Imagine 100 images tagged "sci-fi" and you select the tag, some images are tagged "robot" or "alien". "robot" and "alien" show up in the lower box as optional searchable tags. There could be other tags like "laser_gun" or "spaceship" but if you select "robot" and "alien", you'll again restrict your search to images containing those tags as they're in the upper box. Those are the "search box" and the "selection tag box"

There's also options to organize the images in update order, filesize, last time viewed, number of frames (Because it also supports gifs and videos) and even the reverse orders of those along with random.

You can select various images at the same time with SHIFT/CTRL and right-click for options. If you simply click an image, you press left/right to view images like a slideshow. You can also drag them with your mouse and zoom in/out. With videos/animations, you can mess with the timer.

Image display

When you double click an image, you display it in a window (And you can have more than one window) If you close the window, a box under the "Selection Tags" box shows the image you recently viewed (And said "Selection Tags" box shows its tags") You can also simply click once in an image (As opposed to double click it to open it) to see the image displayed in that same small box

Importing files

The most common way i do it is by selecting File > Import File and then "Add files" in that new box. There is an option to "delete original files after successful import" meaning that the file is hosted on Hydrus (And the database somewhere) but not in your Desktop or where it originally was before being imported to Hydrus (It ends up in the trash bin, since you're technically copying a file and deleting its original version). Before you press "Import now", look at the gear icon and options to see how you can set things. Might be wrong but pretty sure there's options to change acceptable file sizes and stuff.

After pressing "Import now", you go to a page with the recently imported files: This is where you right-click the images (Or directly click them and move your mouse to the left, where you can click the tag section) to tag them.

You can also import files by having dedicated paths to specific folders: This means if you add new images to a folder, you can "revisit these paths" to add the new images. But if you remove/relocate the folder, the path is broken. You see it on "import and export folders" > "Manage Import Folders". Then you press "add" and are met with options: NOT just the path of the desires folder but also a schedule/time based thing that checks the files and what to do with files once they're on Hydrus. You can also edit these paths.

NOW ONTO SPECIFICS: Import Options > "default options" > change to "set custom file import options just for this importer" and you can decide whether or not to delete duplicates or limit size of imported files This is special because sometimes you'll wonder why the program isn't importing files you wanted to import

TAGS

At this point, you have a basic idea of the feature. Because of the booru influence, if you type for example "character:juri_han", the text is green. This is because of predefined tags. "character" is green, "feature" is light blue, "meta" is black, "series" is purple You can change and add colored tag categories in "File" > "Options" > "Tag Presentation" and add/edit tags in the colors/sections of your choice

When tagging or managing tags in images, Hydrus shows recently added tags. But if you get too many tags, add them to favorites by right-click > favorites > adding the tag to favorites: This makes it so when you tag, you go to a thing called "favorites" (Next to "results" and under a box with the image's current tags) and see a selection of tags. I faved all my tags so i have a clear list of the tags present in my collection

Duplicates

If you do this: New page > Special > Duplicates Processing, you can see an options to detect duplicates in your gallery and even how far the program tries to analyze them by setting up the "speculation" feature (This can take a while). You press the play icon button and wait. This is on the "Preperation" tag, if the progess is complete and has results, select the "Filtering" tab and see if you can "Launch the Filter".

You get this "slideshow" thing where you can swap between different versions of an image (And this part also comes in "rounds", sometimes because an image can have more than 1 duplicate). You can also see the date of images like filesize and their tags. Normally i select "THEY ARE NOT RELATED" to keep both versions of an image. If i want to delete a version of an image, i simply select ""THIS IS BETTER AND DELETE THE OTHER"". However, if you want to keep both images, you may not want to select "THIS IS BETTER BUT KEEP BOTH" because even if an image is kept, it ends up in an obscure annoying place and you don't want that. Maybe there's better options but this is how i do things.

Sharing an image

If you select an image and right-click, there is an option to "share": Select copy and then go to your Desktop and right-click > paste. You just copied the image from your Hydrus gallery and can share it to anyone, even if the filename is the way it is because of booru influence. There are other methods or sharing an image but this is the only one i know.

"Removing" which is hiding vs actual deletion

To delete a file, pretty sure you right-click and select "delete from my giles" and in the "New Page" option, you can visit your trash page. I think Hydrus keeps some files in the Trash section before they end up in your computer's trash bin. But the button "remove" just makes an image disappear and if you select "Refresh" it returns: This is basically a "hide" feature in case you feel like search through files and want to get others in the way i guess.

Anyway

There's probably more to add, specially based on how i use it but hope this is good enough.

If you understand the program better than i do, feel free to correct me.

Also here's a rentry version of this post https://rentry.co/8ikhf

#blog #recommendation #software #hydrus network #long post

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funnuraba · 4 years ago

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Quick guide to SAVING LIVEJOURNAL/OTHER FAN CONTENT with THE WAYBACK MACHINE:

(quick note: Tumblr content is honestly much more at risk, so if you have the stomach to try finding things on Tumblr, you can also use this method on that and do some good work)

Uhhh this got long, so look for the bolded parts if you’re not here for a long read lol.

Okay so, at some point, LJ is going under. Or at least all the gay stuff they can find on there. More to the point, PHOTOBUCKET, TINYPIC, IMAGESHACK.... all of those have left huge scars in the records of LJ fandom. So I’ve been using the fact that the Wayback Machine lets you save outlinks if you sign up with the Internet Archive! (Free!)

There’s a Save Page Now function! Good places to use it on include:

Rec lists

People’s masterlists of their own fics/art/meta

Somebody’s well-organized LJ Memories (the page you save needs to contain direct links to the posts you want to save, so if there are sublevels in the Memories you need to go as deep as possible)

community profiles

Every page of a community, if you really feel like it--I’ve been doing this with some small comms, but it’s.... less than feasible with big communities.

Check the “Save Outlinks” button, and the WB will also save links from the page you enter! You can get a lot of stuff at once. Unfortunately there’s a limit on the number of links it’ll grab, but it’s better than nothing. You’ll also see a lot of ERROR!s and it’s annoying. When it’s a Job Failed you can try the page again later.

I don’t know yet how it picks the outlinks to save, so maybe it’s random and you could eventually get all of them by Saving repeatedly??? I’m pretty sure it tries to start at the top, though, because communities with a huge list of tags in their layout are probably not worth your time: I’ve been trying to get stuff from the KKM Fanfic Challenge comm, but.... well, look at it. Trying to save any page with outlinks just picks up a whooooole bunch of those tags on the sidebar, and barely any actual posts. No matter what kind of URL you put in, that sidebar’s always there. You’d have to save each post individually to get every fic. Hope LJ’s not going anywhere fast!

Community profiles are among the most important, because that gives us a lot of info like how many members are left (after years of bleeding users) and how many comments and posts there were in the community! Unfortunately this method is REALLY BAD for art and icons--lots of them are just gone with tinypic and people’s personal LJ albums. Also the WB isn’t good with images in general and there’s no real alternative. But the profiles of icon communities, plus fanfics, meta, stuff like that: a lot of it left to be grabbed! Big main community profiles are best, because they often listed other smaller communities for the same fandom. Saving the big profile with Outlinks will pick up the profile links of all those smaller communities!

Sometimes the big community profiles will just make you sad. Try to soldier on. (If you’re really committing to this, don’t forget that smaller comms will also have even smaller comms listed as affiliates that never made it into the Big Fandom Community’s profile. You can come back later and Save their profiles directly. Sometimes they also have links to fanlistings and other rare things that are also useful to have saved!)

If you can think of a small community, you can also use the method of saving every page, which takes some work and time: you have to save the skip=10 URL, and after that skip=30, skip=50, etc. Then come back later and do skip=20, skip=40, skip=60, etc. The reason for this is that the Wayback Machine will only save one single URL every 30 minutes. So if you’re saving outlinks from skip=30, you’ll also get an incomplete snapshot of skip=20 and skip=40, minus all the important links on skip=20 and skip=40. Obviously, this isn’t much fun and works only with small comms. But it does save a lot of text.

Here’s the type of stuff you’ll get:

a saved PROFILE url: This is good! It saves info about how active a user or community was. In this case it was a user, but the profile is info they chose to put front and center, and the WB isn’t gonna crawl any deeper and grab personal posts from 2004 or anything. (You’ll get a lot of user profiles that aren’t really necessary when using this method.)

a modified POST url: Also good, but you’re gonna get a ton of duplicates on these due to how many different ways LJ would link to a single post. The style=mine doesn’t alter the content. You’ll also see lots of “#cutid1″, which of course is the link left by an LJ-cut. That’s fine, it gets the post. The content of posts 82379 is safe! (but NOT all the nested comments!)

a comment link (in this case dreamwidth which isn’t in danger, but the same format): This saved both the post itself (79392) and a comment thread (131360). You probably can’t get every comment thread just because the WB is bad at unfolding LJ threads, but this does contain the post itself. If you don’t see the plain post URL itself in the list of saved URLS once WB is done saving outlinks, but you do see a comment link: that comment link also has the original post! You don’t need to keep trying!

a journal’s tag link: This is less useful. It saves a snapshot of the tag page itself, but nothing deeper. Any content under an LJ cut or in the comments is not saved. There’s no way to keep these from saving, though. Just keep in mind, that tag in the picture doesn’t mean that the fics this person linked to have been saved. You’ll have to enter the tag link URL itself into the Wayback Machine’s SAVE page for that.

ERROR! JOB FAILED.: These are annoying! Most likely nothing was saved. Unless a comment link was successfully saved, you’ll have to copy-paste the URL that failed and put it into the SAVE page.

LIVE PAGE IS NOT AVAILABLE: There’s nothing you can do unless this URL was already saved somewhere.

BUT WHAT ABOUT IMAGES????

The passage of time means it’s probably too late. Imageshack and Tinypic took out a huge chunk of images on LJ, and PhotoBucket tried to make people pay them by putting big ol’ watermarks on all pictures except those hosted by premium users. It didn’t work and they said sorry, but the watermarks are still there. Lol. If you right-click +Open image in new tab, the watermark goes away, but who wants to do that with every single image? Also, the Wayback Machine sucks with big images and there’s no alternative at the moment.

If you’re lucky enough to find some holy grail like a big post of 1000 icons hosted on someone’s premium Photobucket, you could save a snapshot of the page. Wayback Machine lets you check that as an option, but IF YOU SAVE A SNAPSHOT WITH A TOOL LIKE “GoFullPage”: I find that GoFullPage, at least, will save you a big long image with no Photobucket watermarks! But you’ll have to save that image yourself, or store it somewhere, so keep that in mind.

Also, the snapshot means no animated gifs--although if you want to save those, they’ll be tiny little LJ icon gifs, so pretty easy to store on your own computer.

#fanlore #fandom preservation #is that a tag #livejournal #wayback machine #just gonna add as a tag that i'm trying to avoid doing this with comms where everyone was clearly about 13 #let's let them have the privacy of vanishing into the ether someday

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ct7567329 · 4 years ago

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Everything I’ve Ever Wanted: Hevy x Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Female Reader, Probably the 2nd worst thing I’ve ever written.

Word Count: 4.1k (Sorry)

It was another rainy day on Kamino and you found yourself twisting around a small piece of fabric between your fingers as you leaned over the training arena. While other padawans got to explore the galaxy, study holocrons or improve their saber skills, you were stuck on Kamino overlooking the training of clones. You couldn't imagine a worse way to go through apprenticeship but it wasn'tymour choice. Shaak Ti chose you as a padawan, and you had to obey her wishes.

Quickly, your master realized you were a trouble maker. She would always tell you how much you reminder her of late Jedi Master Rael Averross, but she never bothered to explain what that entailed. The only detail she shared was that it meant you were always up for a challenge, which is why she assigned you to help the Domino Squad out.

At a first glance, the Domino Squad seemed like a typical squad of clones. But they acted more like bickering brothers rather than brothers in arms. A typical day of their additional training you provided was usually late night bonding, not necessarily fighting tactics. The boys didn't seem to mind this, except one. CT-782.

CT-782 was the most stubborn clone you've ever met. He refused to have a name other than his CT number, which you constantly told him wouldn't fly with any general. CT-782, of course, didn't care.

One night, you decided a game of 'Who's most likely to?' as a bonding exercise.

CT-782 picked up a card and read it aloud, "Who's most likely to pierce their own ear? This game is kriffing bantha shit!" He flung the card across the room, "How's this going to help us," he passed for a moment before bitterly muttering the last word, "padawan?"

You rested your elbow on your knee and pressed your palm into your forehead, sighing, "Your final test is in three days. This is my last session with you guys. Can you please, please for once take my considerations?" CT-782 got on your last nerve, but something about that drove you crazy inside, in an almost lusty fashion.

"On behalf of all of us, Commander, we deeply apologize for CT-782's unkind words towards you," Cutup said, giving you a look of sorrow.

Figuring you could make a lesson out of this, you replied, "You control and dictate your lives and those of the people around you. Remember, when you are cast out to war, you have each other. Don't do something you know can effect your brothers in a negative way. Back when I was a youngling, my squad would always say 'teamwork makes the dreamwork'. Now, I'm sure you've all dreamed of being an ARC Trooper. Well, ARC Troopers always respect and care for those around them, especially their brothers. Remember that boys, because once you master that, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, you all have ARC Trooper capabilities."

This made all of the men smile, except for CT-782 of course.

"Oh yeah. Coax us with dreaming of being an ARC Trooper right before deployment. I guarantee you sweetheart, we'll all be dead within three fights. Just like the rest of us," CT-782 huffed, his arms crossed, "If you're a Jedi, then why can't you give us real training. Something that will actually help us become ARC troopers."

You weren't going to win with him, "You treat everything so heavy. I promise you, everything I've done has done something. Take everything I say with a grain of salt and I promise, you'll end up exactly where you need to be.

Three days later, CT-782 was convinced you've lied to him. Watching the Domino Squad fail their final test pained you. You looked at your master with sorrow in your eyes, "My Padawan, inform the Domino Squad they will be allowed to try again tomorrow."

You nodded, "Of course, Master."

When you made it to their barracks, it was completely empty. Not a single sign of the Domino Squad. Figuring they were eating in the mess or something like that, you left a holopad on all of their bunks with the message from your Master, along with some words of encouragement, personalized for each guy. It was the least you could do.

Later that night, you returned on their barracks to leave another holopad with good luck in their lockers. As you turned the corner to their allotted locker area, you found CT-782 digging through his locker.

"Going somewhere?" you asked, clearly startling him.

He sighed when his eyes met yours, "As far away from here as possible."

You pressed your lips together, "I should report you, but I don't want to do that to you. Here sit down." You patted the bench that was in the middle of their locker area. He was hesitant, but he agreed and sat down next to you.

"Why aren't we good enough?" he asked, setting his Z-6 blaster on the ground, "we all get the same training."

"You could give one thousand men the same training, but you will never have those thousand men fight the same way." you calmly stated, crossing your legs, "Every squad has a different dynamic."

He grunted, "And ours clearly isn't up to your expectations."

"Hevy," you sighed, "I promise you, you all have amazing potential. I wouldn't lie about that."

CT-782 cocked his head, "What?"

"I said you all have amazing potent-"

"No before that," he interrupted you.

You thought back to what you said, "Every squad had a different dynamic?"

"No after that."

"I'm confused?"

He rolled his eyes, "You called me Hevy?"

Then it clicked, "Ohh! That's what General Ti and I call you. We prefer to give our troopers names."

"Hevy, huh?" he huffed, "I think I actually like that. Makes it more special since you gave it to me."

You hummed stiffly between your lips, "So you don't hate me."

He paused. "Why do you have faith in us? In me?"

"Because you're an amazing person, Hevy, inside and out," you answered without thinking.

You didn't realize what you said until Hevy's cheeks became slightly flustered. "I need to go. Good luck tomorrow," you quickly covered yourself up, heading out of the barracks. Hevy remained sitting on the bench, stunned with what he just heard. But now wasn't the time to let feelings getting the way of the upcoming test.

The next morning, you were staring down at the testing arena, eyes locked on the entry way. The Domino Squad was next in line to test. When they finally entered the arena, you stiffened up, anxious of what was soon to come. What usually was a jumble of blaster fire and running into each other was actually an impressive display of skills. For once, it seemed as if the boys were actually fighting together, not just as individuals.

And moments later, Hevy pulled the citadel buzzer out of its place. They actually passed. You felt the weight of not knowing their future slide off your shoulders. They kriffing did it. Hevy ripped off his helmet and looked up at the observation deck, making eye contact, then playfully saluting you. You smiled in response, and gave him a loose salute back.

Later that night, you met up with the Domino Squad in their barracks to congratulate them with their medals. Slowly, you pinned each medal to their cadet uniform.

"I'm proud of you all," you announced, "I'm certain you will accomplish amazing things. I'm probably standing in front of some future ARC troopers."

Hevy and Fives beamed with joy at the mention of them possibly beaming ARCs in the future.

"Don't get too lonely here without us!" Echo chimed in, "We will all miss you greatly."

You brought you hand up to your mouth to try to conceal you soft smile, "I'm leaving too, you know. Off to help command the 212th legion. Which reminds me, I have a meeting soon with General Kenobi. Again, congratulations boys," you began to walk away, "Until we meet again!"

The boys sighed, knowing they would probably never see you again. Hevy wasn't ready for that. Hours later, when the boys were winding down for bed, he snuck out of his bunk and wandered the halls of his home. As he was walking, he realized that he actually didn't know where the Jedi stayed. His head quickly turned to a corridor. You were down there, he felt it.

After taking a deep breath, he opened knocked on the door he believed to be yours. It was a gentle knock, but loud enough for you to hear on the inside.

The knock on the door threw you off guard for a moment. You hastily got up off your bed and sat at your desk, turning on a random holopad. After you felt as if you looked 'presentable enough' for the unknown knocker, you used the force to open the door. A small "huh?" escaped your lips as you saw it was Hevy there.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" you asked as Hevy entered the room, hitting the close button behind him, "what brings you in here?"

Hevy shrugged, "I guess I wasn't ready to say goodbye."

"Take a seat," you offered, pointing to your couch. He was fast to take up that offer. You continued, "I do recall saying, 'Until we meet again'."

"That's true," he nodded, "I just-" Hevy opened his mouth to continue, then shut it, then opened again, nothing coming out. "I'm sorry," was all he managed to say.

"For?"

"Treating you like Bantha breath. No one deserves that, especially you." Hevy bit the inside of his cheek and looked down, mumbling the next sentence, "I was just intimidated."

You raised an eyebrow, "Hm?"

Hevy sighed, "It'sHardToBeTheToughGuyWhenYou'reSurroundedBySuchABeautifulGirl." His words were quick, almost impossible to decipher.

"What now?" you hummed, leaning in closer to him to try to hear better.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly, but still bluntly.

Your face went pale as he started to exhale slowly. His eyes glanced up to meet yours. You saw through him. Reality hit you. The next day, Hevy ships out, shiny and new. The most vulnerable of the clones. You didn't know where he would end up, but truthfully, the chances he'd live to see many more days were painfully low.

Jedi weren't forbidden from kissing. They were forbidden from emotional attachment. What would mean nothing to you, would mean everything to him.

Why not give this soldier the experience of his lifetime?

You reached out towards his sleep tunic and grabbed some fabric in your fist, pulling him in for a kiss. It wasn't long, but it felt eternal. Hevy gasped before the kiss, shocked you actually were okay with it. When you pulled back he had a blank face. He was off the walls ecstatic that it actually happened but devastated it was over.

Hevy tried to speak but he was still tongue tied, completely in awe of the taste of your lips on his.

"You have a big day a head of you. Go get some sleep," you smiled, waiting for him to exit.

"I shouldn't have been so rude to you," he whispered, slowly backing out of your room, "you've been nothing but kind to me."

You shrugged, "Not too late to change that."

He stared at you in silence, softly nibbling on his lip. "I couldn't have been half the solider I am today with out you."

"Well," you sighed as Hevy stepped out of your quarters. He turned his head to acknowledge your words. You continued, "May the force be with you out there, Hevy. Cause I won't!" you winked, closing your door.

You paced back to your bed and laid down, staring at the ceiling.

Jedi can kiss without attachment! One kiss couldn't hurt, right?

Oh, you were so wrong.

Three Months Later

"General?" Commander Cody's voice buzzed through your com link.

"Cody!" you cheered, "So glad to hear your voice. What's going on?"

Just hours prior, the outpost Cody was sent to inspect, completely exploded. The second you got word of what happened, you knew Grievous was behind it, and you were worried over the status of your commander.

"You worry too much General," he laughed, "but I have some soldiers in the medbay who want to speak to you. They told me not to tell you their names."

"Huh. Weird," you shrugged, "I'll be on my way. If any of them were in that blast with you, I think I owe them a drink when we get to Coruscant."

It didn't take you long to get to the medbay. Though the Jedi cruiser was large, you always managed to quickly navigate the halls. You entered the medbay and looked for Cody. Cody was no where to be found. You walked into one of the private outpatient rooms and your eyes caught glimpse of other soldiers you recognized, even though they weren't in the 212th.

"Either I'm on death sticks or that's the Domino Squad!" you laughed, approaching them. They were all gathered around a single cot. The men turned their heads and smiled at the sight of you. That's when you realized that Hevy was the trooper on the cot.

"It was you crazy baffoons that blew up the Rishi Moon station!? Why am I not surprised?" your attention shifted to Hevy, "what happened to you?"

Hevy pulled down his blanket slightly and lifted up his left arm, which wasn't much of an arm anymore. What was his arm was gone, and replaced with a cybernetic arm. "It's nothing pretty, but at least they gave me a hand," he mumbled, pulling the blanket back up over his new arm.

You spent hours chatting with the dominos. It was obvious they missed having you by their side, but you reassured them, it was even more obvious that they are doing perfectly fine without you. As the later night hours approached, the dominos slowly left the room one by one until you were alone with Hevy.

Fives was the last to leave, and as soon as he did, the room fell silent. Hevy was scratching softly at his thigh with his good hand.

"General," he finally said, turning his head towards you.

"You can call me (Y/N)," you quickly interrupted, looking towards him.

He paused and pressed his back against the inclined cot. Even a pin drop could be heard in the room.

"I keep thinking about it," he finally said, his eyes looking at his lap.

You cocked your head, "about what?"

"It," he repeated, still gazing at his lap.

Oh. He was thinking about it. That kiss. That innocent kiss which you thought would be nothing more than make a man you would never see again happy. That.

"Me too," you mumbled, "Me kriffing too."

His glance shot in your direction. You sensed this and did the same.

"(Y/N)," he exhaled, his words full of lust.

As if you were a droid and it was your programming to do so, you stood up from the chair next to his cot and walked over to him. You slid your hand down his still human arm and settled your hand in his.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," you said again, "More than a Jedi should admit."

He shot you a passionate look and did that darn lip nibble again. As if his eyes requested you too do so, you pushed yourself onto the cot and straddled over him, sitting on his lap. As you did so, he cupped your cheek in his hand and sighed.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" he whispered.

You took a deep breath before answering, "I'm not sure, but as long as we keep going, I don't think I care."

One Year Later

Hevy was playing a card game with some of the other men in the 501st, talking about their plans at 79's later that evening when his Captain, Rex, burst into the barracks.

"Anyone holding the rank of Sergeant or higher, or any ARC's, meet me in the briefing room immediately. That is all."

Rex left the room as quickly as he came in, leaving dozens of puzzled looks behind him. Hevy adjusted his ARC pauldron and walked with the rest of the called upon men to the briefing room. Upon arriving there, the usually lit room was dark, the only thing lighting it up was the hologram of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his General, Anakin Skywalker. Hevy noticed that typically, you were by Kenobi's side Turing holotransmissions. He hasn't seen you in two whole years, but the feelings he had towards you were still there. Not seeing you in the transmission made his heart clench. He had a bad feeling about this.

"We regret to inform you all of the passing of Jedi General (Y/N) (Y/LN). We understand (Y/N) was well respected throughout many legions. We wanted to inform the ranked soldiers first."

Hevy's heart sank. You were gone. There were so many things he wanted to say to you that he would never get the opportunity to. The Jedi reported you missing months ago, but at that point, Hevy wasn't too worried. He knew you were strong enough to survive on your own. But dead, that didn't sit well with him. Hevy was fast to get back to the barracks, where he sat on his bunk in silence. He didn't want to go to 79's that night. All he wanted to do was fall asleep, he could wake up from this nightmare.

Hevy was awoken around 0100 to yelling from outside the barracks. He got up off his bunk to find the barracks empty. It seems as if everyone else went to 79's. The yelling got louder and was understandable the closer he got to the barracks door.

"It's not fair! Not to anyone!" Anakin screamed at his master.

"Anakin, the council did what they must." Obi-Wan responded, trying to calm him down, "(Y/N) is in a safer place."

Anakin grunted, "And we must lie to everyone? Tell everyone she's dead?! Rex said Cody is devastated. Is that fair?! Why can't they know the truth?!"

From that point on, the conversation was too muffled to hear more but it was all Hevy needed to hear.

The Next Morning

"Echo, I need your help," Hevy asked his brother, who was peacefully eating his breakfast.

"If it's about (Y/N) I'm upset too," Echo responded, "but we have an important campaign on Ryloth soon and-"

"Please," Hevy begged, motioning Echo away from his food.

Echo shoved the remaining food in his mouth and followed Hevy, "What is it?"

Hevy nodded his head towards Echo's cybernetic arm that he acquired after a rough mission at the Citadel, "You can tap into the data base with that, right?"

Nodding slowly, Echo inserted his arm into a data port, "What do you need?"

"Open up any information on (Y/N). If it's password protected, try 408588463003. Those are the coordinates of her home planet. "

"I should question why you know that," Echo laughed, but his laugh soon turned to dead silence. "Oh my kriff," he muttered, leaning back on his heels, "she's alive."

"Where can I find her?" Hevy gasped, almost shaking Echo impatiently.

Echo was going to ask why, but truthfully, he was too hungover to worry. All he knew is that this would be his little secret with Hevy, "I think you already know. 408588463003."

"Thank you, brother," he nodded before rushing off. Neither Hevy nor Echo knew, that would be the last time they would see each other for a while.

Stealing a ship wasn't easy, but if it had to be done, Hevy knew how to do it. It didn't take him long to find a ship that wasn't only easy enough to steal, but neutral enough to fly into Separatist space undetected. With the push of a new buttons, he was on his way to find the truth. He was on his way to Serenno.

Hevy has never been to Serenno before. Besides, why would he? It has been Separatist controlled since the beginning of the war. But, with its location being deep in Separatist space, it wasn't too hard to land on the planet. Hevy followed his heart, which led him to a wooded area, far from any civilization.

As he exited the small ship, he looked around for any signs of life. Surprisingly, he almost missed the most obvious sign, a door built into the mountain side. Without hesitation, he knocked.

You were bundled up in some blankets on the couch in your home. It's been almost a year since the Jedi Council sent you back to your home planet. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you understood why. Jedi couldn't get pregnant, yet there you were. You were given only two days to leave the temple and escape to Serenno, alone. Well, except for the medical droid the council was kind enough to provide for you.

For the first time all day, you finally managed to find some peace and quiet. If there was one thing you learned while raising twins, it was that there is never a dull moment. There was a knock on the door. No one ever can out here. You rushed to your children's room and locked it, making sure who ever was at the door wouldn't have access to them. Before opening the door, you draped a blanket over your shoulders to hide your lightsaber you kept on your belt.

Cautiously, you opened the door and nearly screamed at who you saw.

"How the KRIFF did you get out here?!" you yelled, pulling Hevy by the shirt into your house, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" Before he could answer, the cried of two babies filled the house. "Great!" you groaned, "the kids are awake!"

About a hundred questions swirled through Hevy's mind. "Kids?" he asked, following you into their bedroom. "Since when did you-" he stopped when he saw the two infants, "Why do they look like me?"

"Very funny Hevy," you huffed, "very-" you paused, "wait. No one ever told you."

Hevy raised an eyebrow, "No one ever told me what? Just two day ago, I was informed you were dead. About a year ago, I was told you went MIA!"

You deeply sighed and picked up your daughter and son, handing your daughter to Hevy. He reluctantly took the baby from you, this was his first time holding an infant. Hevy sat on the floor with your daughter while you sat on a rocking chair with your son.

"What other lies did the council tell you?" you huffed, rocking your son back and forth.

Hevy bit his cheek, "With all due respect, Gener-, I mean (Y/N), I have no idea what's going on."

That's when you explained everything to him. How on that night after the Rishi Moon Outpost explosion, you and Hevy made a decision that would hinder your relations with the Jedi Order forever. How the Jedi sent you to Serenno to try to protect you and your children. How the Jedi lied about your whereabouts to hide the secret. How these children where in fact his, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Hevy brushed his thumb against the little girl's, his little girl's, cheek as she slept peacefully in his arms. You smiled at the father daughter moment, the first father daughter moment.

"You can stay if you like," you finally said, "they are your children just as much as they are mine. And besides, they wouldn't exist if I didn't feel something towards you."

He slowly looked up, away from his daughter and towards you, "You mean that?"

You nodded, "Yeah, and we can pick up where we left off. Right before our paths separated for what I long thought would be the last time."

"I regret every rude thing I said to you on Kamino and I-"

"Hey," you hushed, "I know. But that's history. This is now. The present." You stood up from the rocking chair and sat next to Hevy, resting your head on his shoulder. "You know, nothing about us is conventional, but I think it might work."

Three Years Later

"Uncle Fives is going to get you!" Fives screamed, chasing your children around in the yard. After the Clone War ended in victory, you and Hevy decided to disclose your location to the rest of the Dominos, and they were more than happy to move in with you two. Echo insisted he only did it to be with his niece and nephew but Hevy knew it was because Echo missed his brother.

"Aghhh!" Fives laughed, throwing his nephew over his shoulder, "gotcha!"

You and Hevy watched Fives run around with your children while you cooked dinner. Hevy rested his head on your shoulder from behind and swayed back and forth.

"Hun stop!" you giggled, "I have to cook."

"I know," he smiled, "I'm just happy. And everything is exactly how I could have ever wanted it to be."

@ganondorf-has-greasy-balls @lightning-wolffe @jedi-dreea @smells_sharpies @hannahjessica113 @gryffindorqueensworld @coffeeandtodd @soclonely @raf-loves-everything @peacelandbread @persaloodles @clone-lover501-212-104 @ahsoka-padme @dangerdumpling @808tsuika @ahsokatano-thetogruta @marvel-starwars-nerd @katelynnwrites @youmaynowdothething

#hevy x reader #clone x reader #ct782 #hevy #clone trooper hevy #domino squad #tcw #clone wars #ct7567329writes

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akvtsuki-ari · 5 years ago

Text

Sweetheart (Ch.1)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM and bunch of other kinks but nothing sexual in this chapter lol. Sub!Spencer and Femdom!Reader

Length: 5.3k

Authors Note: this is hands down the most self-indulgent shit ive ever wrote but do i care? the answer is no dsjk but this that series i had planned where the reader introduces spencer to proper BDSM and all that. hoping to make this fic kinda informative also lol. also im uploading this fic on ao3 as well. also no tags for this fic bc its really specific and ill probably be writing for it for a while! sorry about that

Plot Summary: Spencer Reid just wanted to be.., well, you know. He doesn’t expect to find much when he signs up for a BDSM dating website but somehow he manages you and he couldn’t be more delighted

Spencer Reid was certainly a lot of things. He was a lover of the arts, someone who had a particular affinity for 15th-century literature, a magician at best, a theater nerd at worst, and a teacher when life called for it. He loves the world even when it's really dark and he loves sleeping in even more. He loves his friends and they love him too - even when they pretend that his random facts annoy them. Spencer Reid was a friend, an FBI agent, a genius with an IQ of 187, and a son to a mother he loves wholly. He was a lot of things and for the most part - he knew a lot about what he really loved to do. He supposed that it's been like that his whole life.

It's not everyday that he discovers something new about himself. About everything else? Always. He loves to learn, but about himself? There's never all that much on the frontier.

It's hard to say, because of that, when Spencer discovered he was a sub. It's difficult to pinpoint a specific time and place, or even how the pieces got put together. He just remembers how it felt when it hit him, like a freight train going 100 miles an hour into a concrete wall. Or a plane crashing onto an island. Or like a fly hitting the glass panes of a delivery truck. He remembers the feeling when he was deftly reminded of this fact. Spencer Reid was a sub - through and through and he wasn't really sure what to make of it.

Surprisingly to most of his direct peers, Spencer wasn't a virgin. He'd had sex with 2 people who he'd been kinda friends with at some point, but it always got a little weird after that. The second time though, the girl ended up choking him a little bit when she got off and Spencer thought he had died. Not in a bad way, more in a "I'm so turned on by this I feel like I've genuinely gone to heaven," sort of way. He didn't think it was possible for a sexual encounter to make him feel like that but it did. It didn't stop after that either, which was the most agitating part.

Spencer doesn't consider himself a sexual person. Sex is about intimacy and companionship, and hopefully love when he finds that someday. Sex isn't necessarily about pleasure but that wasn't an easy lesson to learn.

Spencer just wanted to understand - so like any great genius he participated in thought experiments. It's normally a female superhero/supervillain that crosses his mind (he has an affinity for Poison Ivy), and he just kinda imagines what it would be like if they did what she did. The choking turned him on, but it wasn't enough. Through that, he figures out that he had more than a choking kink and that he was more than a little interested in a partner having complete access to him. He thought about it for weeks and the getting off was working for him but he couldn't get the fantasy out of his head. He wanted more - he wanted someone to fulfill his wishes.

It was too much for him to ignore. Those months of being able to hold off through masturbating are over and he's just sorta itching. Aching to act on those impulses with another person who can give him what he needs, and he doesn't want it to be transactional. Maybe it's too ideal to want a partner out of such an endeavor but was it so wrong? To want real affection and romance from someone who could also overpower him wasn't a crime and he'd be damned if he pretended to want any less. Spencer was just searching, even if it was rather desperately.

So, when Spencer finds himself on a BDSM dating site and he feels like his life is in shambles, he can only blame himself. It's not something he'd normally do but he's getting a little more than relentless about it but he also just wants to see what's out there. He's so out of it was it happens, it felt like he was being possessed as he made a fake email and wrote out his account information. Definitely blaming it on possession, he thinks.

It's too late to go back, as he scrolls through tons of profiles of rather intense looking people. He's not surprised, this is where people go to express themselves. They're entitled to that, it just sucks since he's just not ready for such levels of intensity. He wonders if he's in too deep yet, but he figures he'd hit that mark a long time ago and keeps scrolling through profiles. There wasn't much to go off of, many people not choosing to use photos for the sake of anonymity, which was good for Spencer. He clicks onto his own profile, reading his own bio carefully.

USERNAME: DOC187

SUB/ SWITCH / DOM

M / F / O

FETISHES: N/A

BIO: Interest in a dominant female companion. Completely inexperienced.

Spencer feels ridiculous, but he doubts anyone would even message him. He doesn't have much on his profile and he keeps things short for that purpose. He wanted to stay as low to the ground as possible - more curious to explore what was going in the world than to find anything legitimate. He scrolls through hundreds of profiles, mostly of people who were BDSM vets looking for new connections or fun. Some people catch his eye but they don't match his interests so he doesn't bother.

Except, one profile. The bio was beyond interesting to Spencer.

USERNAME: MISS—LILAC

SUB / SWITCH / DOM

M / F / O

FETISHES: Sadomasochist, Degradation, Humiliation, Pegging, Overstimulation, Edging, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Mutual Masturbation, Dacryphilia, Shibari/Gags/Bondage, Wax Play, Impact Play, Breath Play, General Sensation Play, Discipline, Collaring, Begging. Willing to try most things.

BIO: Interested in submissive males of any experience level. Helps if you're interesting and like to read and watch indie films. Looking for genuine connection and plenty of good banter. Curly hair is nice too. lol.

Before Spencer can think about it for too long his mouse clicks over that stupid little message button next to your profile. Spencer shakes his head at his own existence as he types you a message. Says you're online right now, but Spencer's sure he won't get a response for a while.

DOC187: Seems I fit who you're interested in. I even have the curly hair.

Spencer chews on his nails anxiously before he sighs at himself. He has no clue what's gotten into him belle before he can think he sees your 3-dotted bubble pop up. He feels his body wracked with nerves.

MISS—LILAC: I'm guessing you like to read and watch indie films too?

Spencer smiles. You seem interesting and the fact that the two of you were just talking normal was making Spencer happy.

DOC187: Indeed. I'm a sucker for 15-century literature and anything in Russian and foreign language. You?

MISS—LILAC: 15th century huh? I'll assume Chaucer. And Russian? You're interesting, doc. I'm more modern and English, hope you're not deterred.

Spencer smiles, surprised that you recognize an author as niche as Chaucer. He shakes his head at your commentary. He almost forgets that both of you are on a BDSM dating site and the irony doesn't escape him.

DOC187: Deterred? Never. I think you're rather interesting too, Miss Lilac.

MISS—LILAC: Ever the gentleman doc. I'm hoping you won't run away if I ask you more personal questions.

Spencer swallows. He types back quickly.

DOC187: What kinds of questions?

MISS—LILAC: If it's okay, you're real name and what you do. My names Y/N, and I'm a florist. I live in DC and I love romance novels.

Spencer smiles. He appreciates you laying down the path for him, knowing the stakes.

DOC187: My names Spencer and I work for the FBI. I also live in DC, and I love magic.

MISS—LILAC: Magic? I'd love for you to show me sometime.

Spencer swallows. Part of him feels like it's a stupid idea to ask you out so early but if you asked, he'd likely say yes. He decides to wait it out.

DOC187: I'd be more than happy to show you.

MISS—LILAC: I suppose you could send me a video but that's not the same as seeing the magic in real life, now is it?

Spencer is smiling like an idiot at this point. He shakes his head a little, jittery.

DOC187: Infinitely better live, I would say.

MISS—LILAC: Seems like I've found an excuse to ask you on a date then. Saturday's work for me but I'm sure it depends on you, FBI man. Before that, I'm gonna drop my number and I'll be expecting your call. (XXX-XXX-XXXX)

Spencer giggles. It's a little out of range for things he's used to doing, giggling aloud for someone else is certainly new. Spencer picks up his phone and dials away, anxious to call you but excited nonetheless. He heard you pick up the phone and his heart catches in his throat.

"Hello?," Your voice is smooth, and a little bit lower than he was expecting. It sounds pretty.

"Hello, Y/N," Spencer says back. He heard you laugh on the other side and can't help the way his heart flutters.

"Lovely to talk to you doc,"

"Still Doc? Not Spencer?" Spencer questions. You smile on the other side of the line.

"Doc seems to fit you. But, for the sake of formality, hello Spencer,"

"I like Doc too, but it feels like I should have a nickname for you as well. Only seems fair," Spencer says laughing quietly.

"If it's your prerogative you can call me Miss Lilac, or just Miss but..." you trail off for a minute. Spencer squints.

"Miss is a title, you know? Doesn't seem fair for you to call me that when I haven't earned it from you yet. I'm sure we'll get there but for now you can just call me Y/N," you say softly. Spencer blushes bright red, his voice betraying him as he speaks.

"O-Oh, well um - where does the name Lilac come from? Normally people go with their names when it comes to stuff like that," Spencer says shyly. He heard you laugh on the other side of the phone and blushes again, grateful you can't see him.

"I love the language of flowers and flowers themselves. It's a way to speak that not many people know - but I like the meaning and look of lilacs. White lilacs represent purity, so that was a bit of irony, but light purple lilacs mean first love," you say carefully.

"First love?," Spencer asks. You bite your lip for a moment.

"I joke that BDSM is my first love since it's such a big part of my life. Not as big as some but not small for certain. It gave me much needed confidence so I joke that it was my first," You say lightly. You hear Spencer giggle on the other side and you smile.

"What about your username? Any significance to DOC187 that I should know of?," you readjust your seat on your couch as you talk. Spencer grows a bit embarrassed.

"I normally introduce myself as Doctor Spencer Reid for work, not a medical doctor but I have three PhD's," Spencer admits. You raise your brows but hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Very, very impressive doc. What about the 187? It could be a plain ol' number but my guess would be otherwise,"

"That's my IQ, actually. I don't think intelligence can be boiled down and quantified like that but I couldn't think of anything else," Spencer explains.

"So you're a certified genius with 3 PhD's? To say I'm impressed is an understatement. Anything else impressive you'd like to tell me before I totally pick your brains," you say a little shocked.

"You wanna pick my brains?," Spencer asks. You wanna laugh at the irony of such a silly question from such an intelligent man but you refrain.

"Who wouldn't?," you say incredulously. Spencer smiles shyly.

"The only other thing is that I can read 20,000 words per minute," Spencer says trying to deflect. Your jaw dropped before but it manages to unhinge a little further.

"There's a lot to get to know about you Doctor Reid,"

"I'm sure it's the same for you," Spencer replies.

"Guess we'll have to find out won't we?," you say smiling.

Damn, Spencer got lucky. Hopefully he'd get to find out soon

_____

"Reid, are you listening?," Derek's voice snaps Spencer out of his entranced state. His smiling expression snaps up to look at Derek who looks a little exasperated.

"Sorry, what was that?," Spencer asks back. Derek puts down the case file they were working on. They had just finished a case and needed to complete some paperwork before submitting it for review and to be used in court. The job was given to him and Morgan and Spencer was evidently distracted.

"Alright, kid - what is up with you? All case you've been checking your phone non-stop and spacing out, all smiles and giggles. C'mon now kid, seriously. You got a little lady at home waiting for you or is there something else I don't know about?," Derek interrogates. Spencer doesn't really know what to make of it, though it's not really in his interest to hide you, it hasn't really come up with anyone on the team yet so it was proving difficult to decide what to do. The smile on his face manages to appear again as he starts to think about you, the tips of his ears red.

"Reid," Morgan says again, with a small look of irritation.

"Her names Y/N," Spencer blurts out faster than he can't think. Derek gives him a huge grin, holding his hand out to dap Spencer up. Spencer just looks at it confused for a second before getting the memo.

"'My man," Derek says chuckling. Before Spencer can continue Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia walk in. Hotch is the only one missing, and Spencer's a little grateful.

"What are we celebrating in here you guys?," Prentiss asks first. Spencer goes to say something to move away from his sudden confession but Derek is quick to cut him off.

"Our boy genius over here got him a little lady," Derek announces. The whole team erupts in questions and Spencer wants to bury himself.

"Congratulations, Spencer!! How long have you two been dating?," Prentiss asks.

"You guys are so dramatic. It's only been two months but no first date because well..." Spencer trails off. JJ just nods her head.

"Duty calls, I'm guessing" JJ finishes. Spencer nods deflated hearing Emily draw a breath between her teeth.

"That's tough, Spence,"

Just as Spencer goes to give a response back he gets a text from you that makes his day a little better. It's a selfie of you at work, a picture your employee must've taken of you in a room full of new flower deliveries. You're giving Spencer a toothy grin as you hold a bunch of gardenias in your hand.

Y/N 🌸: *image attachment*

Gardenias// You're lovely + Secret Love <33

Spencer cannot control the way his whole face bunches up in a smile, as if there's no one else in the room with him. Everyone just looks at him surprised, Garcia giving him a side-eye.

"How can you guys trust this stranger? We don't even know who she is! I haven't even run any background checks on her," Garcia complains. Prentiss nudges her side.

"I don't know if it matters - look at how hard he's smiling over there," Prentiss says. Garcia reluctantly looks and can't help but sigh.

"Okay well he seems really happy but still! We don't even know her," she pouts.

"I'm sure we'll meet her soon," JJ snickers at Spencer's lovestruck expression. Derek leans over Spencer's shoulder and raises his brows.

"Is that her, kid?," Derek asks. Spencer nods, simply staring at the picture you sent. Derek whistles when he sees you - you're genuinely stunning and he's surprised to say the least.

"Hot mama, pretty boy - how'd you manage that?," Derek asks, dumbfounded. Emily rolls her eyes.

"C'mon Derek, I'm sure - oh wow," Emily leans over Spencer's shoulder to see you and is met with the same reaction. JJ and Garcia are quick to follow thereafter, both looking equally as surprised.

"She's..." JJ trails off. The rest of the team just nods as Spencer grins ear to ear.

Spencer 🐻: Beautiful, as always.

Spencer ignores the rest of the team as they look at each other in disbelief.

Y/N🌸: Me or the flowers, Doc?

Spencer🐻: Both, but mostly you.

"Wow, Spencer you're really -" Prentiss starts

"You're whipped, kid. I mean seriously whipped," Derek finishes, nodding in agreement. JJ can't help but smile, giving Spencer a small pat on the back.

"She seems lovely, Spencer. How'd you two meet?," JJ says. Garcia stands around looking rather suspicious. A blush creeps onto Spencer's neck as he's reminded of how you two met.

"Online," Spencer says shortly. No one decides to question it, and Spencer thanks every god he can think of.

"Have you two FaceTimed yet? How can we know she's not, I don't know - catfishing you? Or scamming you in some other cyber criminal way?," Garcia sounds distressed. Spencer gives a small smile.

"We fall asleep over FaceTime every night," Spencer admits. Penelope's expression falls, and Prentiss gives a smile.

"That is disgustingly cute," JJ says laughing.

"Okay, well - I'm still running a background check on her," Garcia says stubbornly "But, I'm happy for you,"

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer mumbles out as he texts you again.

Y/N🌸: I wanna see you, love

Spencer blushes red as he reads your message. The word love makes his whole face hot.

Spencer🐻: I can't take a selfie for my life

Y/N🌸: You're with your team aren't you? Get them to take a picture of you.

Spencer wants to fold away, not ever really being the picture type, but how could he ever deny you.

Spencer🐻: How could I ever say no to you?

"Hey guys, can one of you take a picture of me for Y/N?" Spencer asks embarrassingly red. The whole team sends him a look of surprise.

"I'll take it Spence, try not to look as uncomfortable as you do right now," JJ says. The whole team refrains from laughing as Spencer gives an awkward smile. He thanks JJ who hands him back his phone before texting you again.

Spencer🐻: *image attachment* You owe me one

Y/N🌸: you're stunning as always. hadn't seen you in so long I almost forgot what you looked like.

Spencer🐻: stunnings an interesting choice of words.

Y/N🌸: I said what I said, doc.

Spencer can't help but do a little giggle, that causes the whole team to give him a look. Morgan just shakes his head, shrugging. Emily, JJ, and Garcia just look at each other before the room draws into a subtle but comfortable silence as Spencer just smiles, totally unaware of how whipped he happened to look. He didn’t seem to mind either way.

___

"How was work?," Spencer asks over the phone, kicking his shoes off as he looks into his fridge for something to eat. He hears you sigh on the other side of the line.

"Busy today - wedding season is coming up so tons of calls for centerpiece designs and costs. It's going well though, business couldn't be better," you say, clearly tired yet content. Spencer gives a small smile and feels relieved that things are going okay for you.

"That's really good. I'm glad you're feeling alright," Spencer replies. You ease into the couch as you talk to Spencer, relaxing by the second.

"What about you, FBI man? You have an okay day?," Your voice is full of a gentle concern that Spencer appreciates.

"Yeah, just paperwork and JJ said that we shouldn't have any upcoming cases this week to be worried about so I have the weekend off," Spencer says without thought.

"Have any special plans for the weekend?," you say cheekily. Spencer, still not having caught on, shakes his head for a second.

"No, why?,"

"Hm... well - would you like to go on a date with me then Doctor Reid?," You ask, giggling. Spencer's eyes widen in realization as he facepalms for a moment.

"Wow, I didn't even think... yes - yes I would love to go on a date with you Y/N," Spencer says laughing at his own misfortune. You shake your head instinctively, but the growing smile and even further growing adoration makes it hard to sit still.

"Hey, Spencer," you say, butterflies filling your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I really like you,"

____

Saturday comes quicker than Spencer can really understand. You told him not to worry about what the days plans would be but he can't help it. Anxiously awaiting you in front of the cafe that the two of you were supposed to meet at, in a part of town Spencer hasn't really seen before. You said that you'd lead the way and the irony isn't lost on him.

"Spencer?," Your voice is small, as you call out to what you think is Spencer Reid. Of course, you'd seen him before but to see him in person like this was still so unfamiliar. His head shoots up, eyes searching for you. He's delighted to have found you, certainly that was true as he walks towards you. Your arms envelop him in a friendly hug and he can't help but find himself sinking into. You smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers (which makes sense, the more he thinks about it)

"Lovely to finally meet you, Y/N,"

"Same goes for you, doc. Would you like to be informed of our plans for the day, or do you prefer the element of surprise?," You ask smiling. Spencer laughs at your question.

"Details would be appreciated, but I get the feeling you're not gonna give me those."

"You're right! It's a trick question, since it's a surprise. But, promise it'll be good,"

"I'll take your word for it then," Spencer says with a small smile. You hold your hand out for Spencer which he accepts, locking his hands with yours. The affection makes him feel full of warmth, as you lead him away for the day you had planned for the both of you.

___

Spencer underestimated how well you knew him. He really, really did. It's hard to explain since Spencers been on a date before but this was so profoundly different. He's a little touched, but beyond that he's just.. surprised? Every date he'd been on before this, he'd have to play the gentleman but it never seemed like the other person was interested in just him. It was always casual small-talk over dinner, or a mid-day coffee date or something else that just felt mundane but this was beyond Spencer's imagination.

The first place you took him was a bookstore - which was in Spencers mind already a winner for best date he'd ever been on. You walked inside with him and told him he had to pick up a book for you and you had to pick up a book for him and to say his heart absolutely fluttered would be an understatement. He picked up up a copy of "The Screwtape Tales," by C.S. Lewis for you, and you gave him a copy of Shel Silverstein's "Where The Sidewalk Ends." For you, you got a glimpse to see what Spencer's sense of humor was and you gave Spencer a piece of your childhood. Both equal but opposite forms of intimacy. The only thing was Spencer had to wait to read his book because it's relatively shorter than yours and he reads 20,000 words per minute.

The next place you took Spencer was an indoor butterfly garden. Does he have to explain why that's a good date? He heard you talk about all the scientific names for the different flowers and why they attract butterflies and he wasn't sure he could crush any harder on you if he tried. A particular moment sticks out to him on which a butterfly landed on your shoulders and just stayed there like it didn't want to leave. Spencer's eyes were fixated on it the whole time - and he had never wanted to be a butterfly in his life before but he figures there's a first time for everything.

The last place, where the both of you were at now was just a small coffee shop, locally owned and supported by the community here. You told Spencer that when you started up your shop, you'd come in here to work on big orders before you'd expanded enough to have employees. Spencer admires your work ethic, much more than he could ever anticipate as he sits down at a small booth, totally covering the both of you as you return to the table with a little plate of banana bread and two iced coffees. Spencer pouts as he looks up at you, watching you flash him a grin.

"I could've helped you carry this over," Spencer complains gently. You roll your eyes.

"Maybe next time doc," you say softly. You hold back your commentary often on the date, and Spencer pretends not to notice for your sake but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna know. You always had something sly to say but you'd kept it from him so many times now he figures it's better if he didn't ask.

Spencer looks at you as you push a plate of banana bread towards him. He looks at you with curious eyes before reading your clearly excited face and laughs. He picks up a piece and examines it, before taking a bite. If it tasted as good as it smelled then he would be more than obliged.

The involuntary moan that escapes Spencer's throat makes you choke with laughter. Shit, you weren't kidding when you said this was the best banana bread in the city. Spencer just looks up at you like he's about to cry with joy as you double over in giggles.

"I know," You say softly, taking a bite yourself eyes filling with joy "I ordered some more for us to take home - you're welcome," you say with confidence. Spencer smiles because that is genuinely thoughtful, but it was more endearing to see you pretend it wasn't. He just shakes his head, a blush arising to his face as he looks at you. You're staring at him with intent. He quirks his brow at you in question.

"I had a good time today, Spencer" You say warmly. You only called him Spencer when you were saying something affectionate and a bit serious. He gives you a toothy smile.

"I haven't been on very many dates, but this was easily the best one I'd ever been on," Spencer says honestly. You grin ear to ear, hands carefully holding Spencer across the table, running your thumb over his knuckles for a few seconds. You couldn't say for sure whether it was too soon to ask him to be your boyfriend, but you'd be damned if you said it didn't cross your mind.

Spencer was mind-numbingly unaware of what good boyfriend material he was, but beyond that - what good submissive boyfriend material he was. It was driving you nuts, but you knew this was all new for him and you didn't wanna freak him out. Even when guys say they're interested in being submissive, they're still often times uncomfortable with you being fully dominant. Dominant in public and in bed, if you will. You wanted to pay for dates, and buy him flowers, and make him feel special too - at least on the occasion. That role came naturally to you, that let me make you feel owned type affection that only a dominant person can give. It scared men off - out of relationships, and you totally got why - but you liked Spencer too much as a person to risk iit.

Spencer holds your hands together, gathering your attention. You looked at him spaced out and he gives you a look of concern.

"You okay?," Spencer asks. You nod, chewing your lip in debate of whether or not you should express your concerns. Spencer just tugs on your hand and looks at you intently.

You sigh, looking at Spencer softly.

"I'm okay I just really like you," you say a little exasperated. Spencer laughs but is filled with relief.

"I'm glad to hear that. What else is on your mind?,"

"I really like you - like in an, I want you to officially by my boyfriend way and I hope it's not too soon but I'm just, worried I guess," you say nervously. Spencer can't help the way his heart beats in his chest when he hears you say boyfriend. God did he want to be your boyfriend.

"What're you worried about?,"

"I'm worried about freaking you out. I can be a lot since I'm... you know?," You say nervously. Spencer looks at you to continue.

"I'm more than just dominant in bed, and for a lot of guys it's not their thing and that's their right but I like you so much. I really don't want that to happen if I ask you out now and you realize that it's not for you," you say in clear upset.

Spencer looks at you in disbelief. You were worried that he was gonna freak out over that? That you were too dominant for him? It feels like such a silly concern but the expression on your face tells him you're speaking from experience.

"I mean, it's all kinda new to me but, well - I do like how you treat me? It's a nice change, I can't imagine myself getting tired of it, or of you. I really like you too," Spencer tried his best to reassure you without totally embarrassing you. You smiles at Spencer but your face is still full of doubt.

"If that ever changes, I'll tell you but I'd really like to call you my girlfriend," Spencer finishes. You can't help the warmth that spreads in your stomach at the offer. You just nod, looking up at him. You stand and walk to Spencer's side of the booth, sliding in next to him, leaning your head into his shoulder for a few while seconds. You sit back up, and Spencer turns to you.

"Hey, doc," you say softly. Spencer hums in acknowledgement.

"Can I kiss you?," you ask softly. Spencer chews his lip and nods, looking down at your lip. You're wearing lipgloss and it makes them look pretty - you are so pretty to Spencer.

Kisses are their own language, Spencer figures. The way someone kisses you can tell you a lot about who they are - so, when you put your hands on the side of Spencer's face, pulling him closer to you with such care and adoration - Spencer can feel what you were referencing earlier. The word Miss rings out in his mind, the way you pay attention to him with your hands. He feels your lips press against his, slowly gliding your fingers in his hair, thumb brushing agains the side of his cheek. Your other hand rested on his inner thigh and he has to think about anything other than that not to get hard. Spencer didn't get how much he'd been thinking about touching you until you'd do with no hesitation and he lets out a small whine. You pull back and Spencer has to catch his breath.

His lashes blink up at you and you're absolutely beaming.

"You're cute baby,"

Baby? Spencer wants to cover his face when you say it. You kiss him again and he can't help but feel flush.

You were Spencer's girlfriend and then some and he couldn't be more happy.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid oneshot #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #so nervous abt uploading this lol

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Good Omens - Addiction (Rated NC17)

Summary: Aziraphale is addicted to affection. Addicted to touch. But being an addict, he can't seem to manage to find a healthy relationship, nor make any relationship last. After his latest break up, he decides to forgo the emotion and go straight for physical satisfaction.

... He just wants to find someone who needs his body. He's not particularly picky as to who - or what - that entails. (5792 words)

Notes: A major re-working of another piece I wrote. If you guys like this one, I will complete the scene that should come after it ;) Let me know. Vampire Crowley. Warnings for mention of blood and blood sucking. Sexual content.

Read on AO3.

Aziraphale walks slowly around the perimeter of his bed, eyeballing the outfits he’d laid out earlier, scathingly critical of every item he chose even though, had you asked him two hours ago, he would have claimed each as tied for favorite. He’s 90% dressed already - cream colored trousers and a matching long-sleeved button down, a pale blue waistcoat (one he’s been told matches his eyes perfectly), tartan socks, and his best cocoa brown Derbys. All he needs now is a bowtie.

Does he need a bowtie? He doesn’t know exactly what the protocol is regarding neckwear where he’s going. He definitely prefers to wear a bowtie. Would not wearing one send some sort of message? Aziraphale assumes forgoing a bowtie might make him appear more casual. At ease. But in the context of the place he’s headed, might it also mean that he’s easy?

He sighs. He’s thinking too hard about this. This place he’s going - he’s paying to be there! What the Hell does the possible hidden innuendo of wearing or not wearing a bowtie matter under those circumstances? He hasn’t left the house without a bowtie on in over four decades!

He’s wearing the bowtie.

His gaze slides over his bed, the ties in the running lined up side by side on his comforter. He reaches for one, fingers hovering just above before he changes his mind and goes for the one beside it, picking it up between pinched fingers and holding it to his neck. He turns to his full length mirror and takes a peek.

“This one?” he asks no one, appraising the plain, gray fabric. “No. No, that won’t do.” He tosses it back on the bed and grabs another one - a tartan tie that matches his socks.

Heaven’s Dress Tartan. His family’s tartan. It’s pretty much the tie he wears for every occasion.

Naively, it makes him feel protected.

“This one?” he muses, already nodding his head. “Yes, this one.” Aziraphale slips the narrow strip of fabric about his neck and ties it. He looks himself over in the mirror, chest puffed with pride, but it doesn’t last long.

What is he doing?

He’s too old for this.

Maybe he should pack it in, wrap up his libido and call it quits. He’s had a good run, hasn’t he? He doesn’t need the physical. No more hugs, no more kisses, no more sex - that wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Aziraphale’s eyes drop from his smart outfit to his feet.

Except it would.

It would for Aziraphale.

He can’t give up touch. He’s never done well without some speck of it in his life.

Deep down inside, he knows he can’t survive without it.

It’s not as simple as feeling lonely or unfulfilled. His need for affection goes beyond that. And it’s stronger - so much stronger - than him.

Being an addict is no small burden. Aziraphale knows that firsthand. He’s seen what addiction can do to people. He’s seen how it can devastate families.

He sat around for years and watched, powerless, as it destroyed his own.

Addiction tore his father apart – his need for money, a lust for more, more, more that he valued over his wife and child, turning him from parental figure into perfect stranger well before Aziraphale’s formative years, then into an enemy when Aziraphale decided against going into medicine, law, or business (the big three that would ensure the family fortune would multiply and thrive long after his father was gone) and instead majored in linguistics and literature.

His father’s addiction led to his mother’s. She’d hit the bottle to numb the pain of watching her husband, the man she’d loved since secondary school, drift away, drinking herself stupid until she couldn’t remember what day it was, where she lived … or that she had a son.

But addiction isn’t only cause and effect. It can be hereditary. It spread through the Fell family like wildfire, jumping from generation to generation. It started with Aziraphale’s great-great-great-great-grandfather on his father’s side and trickled down. Since Aziraphale is the last living Fell, his family’s vices have caught up to him, pooled around his ankles with nowhere else to flow to.

Threatening to drag him under.

Aziraphale has an addiction, too. Anyone who talks to him for about five minutes would say that his drug of choice is books, and indeed there are a good many reasons to believe that. Aziraphale loves books. He’s amassed such a collection that he even became an antique book dealer, but mostly as an excuse to find a place big enough to house his vast collection.

No, Aziraphale gets addicted to people. To affection. To whatever feels like love at the time. And he can’t live without it. He’ll take it from anyone willing to give even a smidgen of it, usually finding himself in relationships that dry up before they fully blossom with people who weren’t worth his time to begin with. Not that these relationships would have gone anywhere if given the chance. That’s part of the problem. Aziraphale tries so hard to find the tenderness stolen from him at too early an age, he doesn’t necessarily look for substance. He plants the seeds of his affection in ground long wrung out, spots where rain won’t ever find them, away from the sun’s nurturing rays.

Tonight, walking alone through the city streets at a truly ill-advised hour, he’s suffering the aftershocks of one such break-up. But this time, Aziraphale was prepared … somewhat. Which is to say he saw the signs. He knew the end was coming, even if he couldn’t stop it. But instead of doing the adult thing and cutting ties painlessly, he let it play itself out, sucking from it every drop he could. And afterwards, when he’d brought home his obligatory box of random stuff from his ex’s apartment – toothbrush, shaving cream, CDs, a few shirts, underwear, the possessions that he’d used to stake his claim - he knew where he would go.

He arrives at the obscure establishment before ten o’clock, having fooled himself that he’s ready to move on even before his ex’s side of the bed is cold. He’s doing right by himself. No more leaping into empty relationships just to have his mind messed with and his heart broken.

He’s skipping straight to the physical.

This is the way to go.

But there is also the chance that he’s being phenomenally stupid.

Aziraphale has paid money for questionable things before, things that he’s looked back on and regretted, shoving them as far behind him as he could so as not to think about them ever again.

But paying to feed his addiction - he’s never done that.

The place he’s gone to, with its ornate wooden door set into the face of an everyday brick wall, looks like a day spa if anything – a rather foreboding day spa. In a way, Aziraphale had expected it to look that way. That or a bar. Where else did these kinds of transactions take place? A bordello, perhaps? He’d heard about one that operates out of a hotel downtown, but this one got far better reviews from people in the know.

Let it never be said that Aziraphale didn’t do his research.

From what he’d heard, this place isn’t only the most exclusive of its kind in London, it’s the most discreet.

Silent as the grave, he’d been told.

There is no buzzer, no knocker, not even a door knob. No indication at all that anyone is allowed in but Aziraphale knows better. He sends a text to a number he paid a hefty sum for, along with a selfie that takes longer than he’d care to admit to take, but that’s not entirely his fault. There are strict requirements for this photograph - angle, background, head tilt, etc. The phone number is one-time use. After he hits send, he won’t be able to follow up with another message, so his picture needs to be up to spec.

Each selfie he takes, he despises immediately. The first one … well, the first one always bites, doesn’t it? In the second one, his face is too fat. Chubby chipmunk cheeks and puckered lips? He looks like a frickin’ cherub! The third one … ugh! Where was he even looking? The fourth one - definite serial killer with that awkward, thin-lipped grin.

He can’t keep doing this. He has to pick one! He’s running out of time! Ten o’clock sharp the message had said! If he’s going to do this, he can’t afford to be even a minute late!

He decides that his next picture will be his absolute last. Whatever comes out of this shot, he can’t take another one. He holds his phone up at the pre-determined angle, holds his breath, plasters on his most sincere smile … and prays to God.

Just then, the unthinkable happens.

He fumbles his phone.

He’d been holding so hard to it and his smile that his fingers had begun to sweat. He loses traction, the traitorous thing sliding out of his grasp. The shutter clicks, the flash fires, and his phone makes a lyrical trill of affirmation.

Aziraphale’s stomach drops like a lead balloon straight to his feet.

That noise - that skipping of high-pitched notes that he chose at random because they reminded him of Rites of Spring - indicates that the picture sent without Aziraphale having a chance to double check it first.

“Oh … Hell!” he curses. He should have taken the damned thing at home! The glow from his reading lantern would have given his skin a soft, golden cast; made him look younger; mysterious; but he forgot that a picture would be required. In every photo he’s taken in this doorway, illuminated only by a chemical bulb above his head, he looks anemic, harsh shadows thrown by the overly bright flash elongating his nose, hollowing his cheeks, sinking his eyes into their sockets. But this one, snapped off while his phone was negotiating gravity, is likely to be the worst one yet! Instead of a solid face, he’ll look like a blur.

A middle-aged blur with absolutely no relationship prospects. Not even a cat.

Aziraphale scrolls frantically through his gallery to try and find the picture, see what disaster he’s unleashed, but he can’t locate it.

“Where are you, you little …?” he mumbles, heart thrumming so hard it’s beginning to make him nauseous. The picture isn’t in his saved file. Not on his SD card. It’s not in his sent messages. So where the frick is it!? Aziraphale has to see it, has to know what he’s done, has to know if he’s failed. Has to know if it’s worth waiting out here, or if he should turn tail and head for his bookshop. Somewhere in between bribing his phone and threatening to smash the screen to bits, the door pops open with a click.

Aziraphale’s blood runs cold, his head shooting up like a prairie dog’s on its guard.

The door.

The door is open.

He mustn’t have sent a horrifying photograph after all!

But it may not stay open for long so he’d better move his arse!

He pushes the door further and steps inside. It closes behind him the moment he’s through. He turns quickly to see who shut it since he didn’t notice a doorman when he entered.

But there’s no one.

He’s in the foyer of this large, imposing place completely alone.

As far as he can tell.

He has the distinct feeling he’s being watched.

Of course he’s being watched! he scolds himself. They probably have security cameras everywhere in a place like this! There’s nothing sinister about that! Why, he went to a thrift store not too long ago that had a security camera installed over every aisle, and the most notable item they had for sale was a velvet painting of Margaret Thatcher! Pull yourself together, Aziraphale, for Heaven’s sake!

Now that he’s inside, the place reminds him more of a bank than a spa: long stretches of empty hallway decorated in shows of old school wealth - leather chairs, ornate mirrors, glossy wood drawing tables, a long Persian runner leading him to his destination with chandeliers marking the path every ten feet or so. There’s been more money invested in this one hall than Aziraphale’s father could afford to put into their entire house, even with his lofty inheritance.

He can’t help thinking it would make the old man pea green with envy if he were alive to see it.

Little does Aziraphale know that there are two other hallways ahead of him just like this one.

Aziraphale walks through a total of three locked doors to get to what could be deemed ‘the main lobby’. He’s not escorted, but he does need to be buzzed through, the same melancholy voice asking him to repeat his name through an intercom at every checkpoint. Aziraphale marvels at the embassy-level security but he can’t help but wonder: is this a common practice at these places? No one mentioned anything about this.

What sort of trouble are they trying to prevent?

Aziraphale imagines most people might turn around at this point, go back the way they came and forget all about this place, but not him. As he approaches the final door there is no going back for him now. Not when he’s so close to what he wants.

He goes through the procedure one last time – name and then buzz. But this door is heavier, takes a bit more strength to push open. Black lighting overhead engulfs the room, creates a void that makes everything within indefinable. A few feet in, a wraparound counter fluoresces purple. Aziraphale sees only a single occupant in this room - a man sitting behind the counter who looks, from the outset, like a regular human being.

Of course, Aziraphale has never met a vampire before. He has no idea what one should look like.

He walks up to the counter, the door behind him swinging close and shutting with the same poignant click as the rest. But once this door seals, it takes the light with it, plunging Aziraphale momentarily into near complete black.

The man doesn’t look up at Aziraphale’s arrival. Aziraphale clears his throat to get his attention.

“E-excuse me?” he says nervously, his stomach flipping somersaults from his pelvis up to his neck. His voice sounds thin and disappointing to his own ears. Then again, he barely speaks to anyone from day to day. Maybe it sounds exactly the way it should.

The man sitting behind the counter – dark-skinned but with an ashy paler - blatantly ignores Aziraphale, who’d be standing practically on top of him if not for the counter between them. He flips exaggeratedly through the pages of his magazine (Aziraphale can’t tell which one in the unhelpful light), but doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Excuse me?” Aziraphale repeats, louder but still weak.

The man sniffs the air. He shifts only his eyes to address Aziraphale, looks him over, then returns to his magazine. “Wot do you want?”

“I … uh … I have an appointment. F-for a session.” Session. Is that the right word for it? No one Aziraphale talked to about this gave him the in on the lingo. “With a man by the name of Crowley.”

The disinterested man flips another page. “An appointment, huh?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s eyes dart around, looking for anyone else who might be willing to help him. For as popular as this place sounded, it’s surprisingly deserted. Aziraphale can’t see a single other soul anywhere. Of course, aside from the glowing furniture, it’s so dark in there – a darkness his eyes refuse to get accustomed to – someone could be standing right beside him and he might not know it. “I’m … uh … sort of new at this.” His statement is met with a silence as thick as a brick wall. He chuckles, anxiety starting to get the better of him.

He feels vaguely like he might be in danger.

If he backed out now, walked out the door, would the man behind the counter even notice?

Then Aziraphale realizes fuck! He’d probably need to be buzzed out the same way he was buzzed in. And the man behind the counter might have to be the one to do it. He has the same dry, unenthusiastic tone in his voice as the one that greeted Aziraphale at every door.

The man glances Aziraphale’s way, then blows out a breath, obviously annoyed he’s still there. “I’ll tell him you’re here Mr. …”

“Fell. Aziraphale Fell.”

“Aziraphale Fell,” the man repeats but doesn’t reach for a phone or make a move to inform anyone that Aziraphale has arrived. He gives the air another disdainful sniff and scrunches his nose, raising his magazine to cover it. “Did you have sushi for lunch, Mr. Fell?”

“Uh …” Aziraphale clamps his lips together tight, self-conscious of what he must smell like to a creature with super-sensitive olfactory organs. He did have sushi, but that was days ago. There’s no way he could still smell like it, especially with the amount of Listermint he uses daily.

“Was it refrigerated properly? Or do you buy your food from the day-old section of your local market?”

Aziraphale’s hackles rise. He disregards the feeling that he’s in danger in defense of his favorite restaurant. “I really don’t think that Hot Stone would stoop to selling day-old sushi!”

“Did you even remember where you were going when you left your house today?” the man scolds without listening to him. “I mean, have some respect, for Satan’s sake!”

“That’s enough, Ligur.” A new voice, amused but stern, says from the shadows. “If you don’t stop badgering the customers, we won’t have any, and then how will you afford your flat? Hmm?”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir,” Ligur replies, barely bringing himself to care.

Inconceivably quick, their new guest goes from standing in the light to standing before Aziraphale. Ligur snickers at the move, like he’s seen it too many times before, but Aziraphale doesn’t pay him any mind. Ligur might not be impressed, but Aziraphale can’t. stop. staring.

Aziraphale has never seen such a man.

He’s never imagined a man like him could exist. He’s sure he could spend his entire life trying to think him up and still never come up with him. He captivates Aziraphale in a matter of seconds, mystifies him without lifting a finger. He’s tall, slim, and fair. He reminds Aziraphale of a prince from an old world fairy tale. In fact, Aziraphale knows just the book he’d find it in. He intends on searching for it the moment he returns to his shop (he thinks hopefully). The man’s eyes, even in the absence of light, are piercing, simmering in their depths with a light all their own.

The man doesn’t walk up to Aziraphale. He stalks. And the way he carries himself leads Aziraphale to believe he can take anything he wants with a snap of his fingers. At the moment, he’s stolen Aziraphale’s voice, his breath, practically every thought in his head.

Aziraphale’s entire focus becomes this man.

The man moves a step forward. Aziraphale takes a subconscious step back.

“I believe that you are my ten o’clock,” the man says.

Aziraphale nods, not sure if he’s expected to speak ... or if he’s allowed. “Are … are you … Mr. Crowley?”

“In the flesh. And you must be Aziraphale.” Crowley’s tongue curls around his words, the hint of an accent making an appearance. Several accents, actually. At his root, the man sounds English, but not born. But his accent is acquired, not practiced, bred from immersion. There are other touches here and there - a dash of Birmingham, a little cockney perhaps, an Irish brogue, peppered upon a foundation that sounds firmly Scottish. Lilts and rolls add flavor to Aziraphale’s name so that he feels he’s hearing it spoken out loud for the first time. Even lost in that dialect soup, Aziraphale doesn’t think it’ll ever sound more perfect than it does rolling off Crowley’s tongue. It tickles his eardrums, silently begs Crowley to say it again.

“I am,” Aziraphale says. “Aziraphale Fell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It will be soon.” Crowley winks. “Follow me, Mr. Fell.” He smiles, teeth impeccably straight and disarmingly white. It could be a trick of the black lights, but those teeth … that smile … make him look predatory, and Aziraphale considers again if coming here was the smartest idea, especially since he did so impulsively, took no precautions. He was so distracted by his break-up, so wrapped up in shoulds and shouldn’ts, what people would think of him if they ever found out, that he didn’t tell anyone where he was going.

What if he simply disappears?

No one in his life would dream of looking for him here, and he left absolutely no clues to point them in this direction.

Regardless of the warning bells tolling in his head, new ones firing off with each pound of his heart, Aziraphale follows Crowley down several vacant hallways. The place was dark to begin with, but this section is nearly pitch black with the exception of a red light bulb here, a green light bulb there, their faint illuminations doing nothing more than throwing shadows on the walls – shadows deep enough to disappear in. Crowley walks swiftly. Aziraphale almost loses him twice, but he slows in a hall lined on both sides with doors. Aziraphale hears moans come from behind several of the doors and his heart speeds in his chest.

It slams to a stop when he hears a man scream – strained and blood curdling.

Aziraphale can’t tell if the man is screaming in pleasure or in pain.

Aziraphale points to the door. “Um … is he going to be alri---?”

“Right this way, Mr. Fell,” Crowley interrupts, opening the last door on the left. “This is my private office. No one will dare disturb us in here.” Aziraphale hesitates but decides to go inside, not because he feels any more comfortable with this than he did a moment ago, but because if he doesn’t, he might run the other way. Crowley waits patiently till Aziraphale steps in, then shuts, and locks, the door. “Now … what can I help you with today?”

Aziraphale paces the room, examining its violet walls with their black-and-white photographs mounted in minimalist glass frames. It isn’t much brighter in here than in the lobby, but it’s more inviting - the sort of space created specifically for people to spend time in together, get to know one another. A round, wooden table in the center of the room holds a pair of crystal flutes and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. Candles cover every level surface - some thick white pillars, some long white tapers, in holders of brushed gold, and scent the air with the sweet fragrance of vanilla. Their dancing flames reflect off the glass, the constant flickering making the room appear to sway. It’s disorienting. It gets Aziraphale’s adrenaline pumping and his heart racing, which Aziraphale assumes is the desired effect.

He’d heard that a speeding human heart can be a powerful aphrodisiac for a vampire.

They apparently get off on it.

Against a far wall sits a plush, red sofa, and against another, a four-poster bed.

Aziraphale bypasses the bed (it isn’t his gut decision, just the safest seeming one) and heads for the sofa. “I … I have a problem. An addiction.”

“Go on.” Crowley strolls over to join him, each step he takes deliberate, noiseless, as if his feet don’t make contact with the ground at all, gliding on the air right above. Aziraphale watches Crowley settle onto the far end of the sofa, sitting catty-corner to keep his amber eyes on him. That predatory expression he wears moves from his smile to his eyes, which track Aziraphale’s movements with unnerving precision. “Well, I … I’m addicted to affection, a-and everything that comes with it - touching, holding, kissing, sex, from anyone who wants me, really. And I fall irrationally in love with the wrong people over and over because of it.”

“A-ha.” Crowley crosses his legs. He draws it out, diverting Aziraphale’s attention purposefully to them. “So tell me why you think I can help you.”

Aziraphale swallows hard, mesmerized by the way Crowley moves, the fluidity of limbs that would look spindly on a human but not on him. Not in the slightest. “Because even though I need companionship, nobody seems to need me. But from the things I hear, you gentlemen … do.”

“We’re not desperate, Mr. Fell,” Crowley groans, rolling his head back on his neck, his eyes following along.

“Oh, no! No, no, no! That’s not what I …!”

“We service a distinguished clientele. We have certain expectations.”

“I understand that.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a thorough once over with eyes that burn through him, every move Aziraphale makes telling Crowley more than his words.

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Fell?” Something about the way Crowley repeatedly calls Aziraphale ‘Mr. Fell’ shoots right to his stomach and lower, twisting everything up inside him, making him feel compliant, confused ...

“I’m an antique book dealer,” Aziraphale replies.

Crowley chuckles. “Ah. So you hawk old, worn-out romance novels to elderly women wanting a tingle in their lady gardens?”

“Uh … no,” Aziraphale says with a chuckle himself because, he has to admit, he’s gotten one or two of those in his lifetime. “Mostly literature, first editions, rare texts, misprinted Bibles, that sort of thing.”

“And you make a living from that?”

“I do,” Aziraphale says, a tad uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “Not that I need to. I live mainly off the interest of a generous inheritance. I get to do whatever I want mostly.”

“I see.” Crowley’s tone shifts, as if Aziraphale passed some sort of test. “And where do you currently live?” With a flick of Crowley’s eyes, Aziraphale’s hand crawls up his own shirt, reaching for his bowtie. He grabs a tail and pulls it, unties it, then goes after the top button. He toys with it, undoes it, feeling constricted, uncomfortable while it’s fastened.

“I live over my store front in Soho.”

Crowley slides an inch closer. “With a roommate or …?”

“A-alone.” Aziraphale moves on to the second button. “I live … I live alone.”

“Impressive. And your blood type is AB negative?”

“As far as I know.”

“Interesting.” Crowley moves another inch closer. “Alright. Let’s give you a shot.”

“A-and how do you do that … exactly?”

“Give me your arm so I can take a taste. Then I’ll know if we can use you.”

Crowley holds out his hand, long fingers with black painted nails motioning for Aziraphale’s, but Aziraphale doesn’t take it. He has a second of doubt, of Are you nuts!? that stays him. But it’s been so long since Aziraphale has felt truly wanted. And this man … or this creature … wants what he has to offer. Aziraphale can see it in his eyes. It’s cut and dry. No muss, no fuss, no emotions involved. Giving in should be easy. This is what he came for.

“If you’re nervous, I could always …” Crowley makes a gesture toward Aziraphale’s neck and smiles an alluring, toothy grin – charismatic, hard to resist. But Aziraphale might not be ready for what Crowley’s proposing. It seems a little too intimate.

“O-oh no.” Aziraphale rolls up his sleeve. “It’s not that. I was just … uh … thinking.”

“Oh.” That single syllable sounds tragically disappointed. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, of course. But just so you know, it’s always an option.”

Aziraphale gets a sudden image in his head of Crowley lying on top of him, licking down his neck, his fingers undoing the rest of his buttons and reaching beneath his shirt, nails scratching lightly down his skin. He envisions Crowley removing his clothes one piece at a time, marking his flesh with kisses, with bites, taking small sips as he paves a trail to his trousers. Sharp fangs slice through the threads that keep the button sewn on and he pulls down the zip with his teeth. There’s a mouth on Aziraphale’s cock, sucking, hands massaging his chest, the gentle brush of silky hair against his thighs, the occasional sting of a cut opening, a tongue collecting, and Aziraphale writhing with the sweet agony of it. He doesn’t picture himself cumming quickly, but sees himself sliding along the beveled edge, getting to that point, hanging from the crest of it, just to be sent back to the beginning, to start the process over again.

It feels planted, a suggestion. Aziraphale isn’t sure how. He’s not savvy to the abilities of vampires beside the blood sucking thing. It’s not real. Aziraphale knows he’s still dressed, can feel the fabric of his shirt sleeve balled in his fist, but he starts to sweat at the thought of it. His cock aches because of it. That’s what he wants – the give and the take.

It changes his mind, stops him rolling up his sleeve.

“You know,” Aziraphale says, gaze fixed to Crowley’s seductive eyes, “that does sound like it could be … nice.”

Crowley grins. It’s almost too easy. “Oh, it will be,” he purrs. “I promise.”

Aziraphale scoots closer until they’re sitting beside one another, knees touching. Crowley wastes no time kissing Aziraphale’s neck, cool lips pressing against hot, sensitive skin. Aziraphale moans. God, it’s been so long. And whatever Crowley is doing with his tongue, circling the same spot, nibbling with just enough pressure to make it tingle, feels so intense, it overshadows the hand on Aziraphale’s thigh, creeping up steadily to his crotch, squeezing along the way as the excitement of kissing builds.

As Aziraphale’s heart beats faster and faster, until individual thumps are no longer distinguishable from the whole.

Crowley wraps an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder, fangs lengthening as he searches for a place to sink in and drink. He finds the perfect spot and bites. Aziraphale’s eyes go wide.

“Oh … God.” He becomes rigid as the sensation of smooth and sharp assails his skin, but he succumbs to the sublime numbness and melts into Crowley’s arms. “Oh … oh God …”

Crowley retracts his fangs, licking them clean. “This isn’t really the place to be praying,” he says, inhaling Aziraphale’s scent – fresh, rich, healthy, untainted blood. The blood all vampires crave - not from unconscious drunks in the alley behind a night club or filled with preservatives like the bagged gunge they have the option to buy down at NHS Blood and Transport. But whole, pure, and willingly given.

Oh, yes – Aziraphale is an exquisite delight. A rare treat. He’ll make Crowley rich … if he can bear to share him.

Crowley might just decide to keep Aziraphale to himself.

It’s not just Aziraphale’s blood that tempts him. There’s something else, something sizzling beneath his skin that Crowley suspects Aziraphale doesn’t even know about himself. But it sends sparks through Crowley’s skin with every touch, a white light that nearly burns too hot to hold but fuck it all! The second Crowley moves his hand away and it’s gone, it makes Crowley want him more.

“I’m … I’m sorry,” Aziraphale mumbles, following Crowley’s mouth, whining like a kicked puppy when it seems he won’t be returning to the task of biting his neck. But it’s not that. Crowley has every intention of taking his time with Aziraphale. Savoring him. He wants to hear Aziraphale beg for it, beg for Crowley’s teeth buried deep into his neck, beg for the euphoria that comes with being fed upon.

“Do you like that, angel?” Crowley murmurs into Aziraphale’s skin. He punctuates his question with a nip around Aziraphale’s jugular, carefully so as not to prick it.

“Yes,” Aziraphale whimpers, his shaking hand grabbing Crowley’s knee and squeezing. “Yes, please.”

Crowley hums, lips pressed to Aziraphale’s neck so the vibrations travel down his skin. He licks over the pinprick marks, exploring with his tongue for a spot to take another bite. “You know, I think we might be able to help each other out.”

“You … you do?” Aziraphale rises from the sofa in a trance, following Crowley when he moves their soiree to the bed, preparing to make Aziraphale his own private nightcap.

“Oh yes.” Crowley lays Aziraphale out on the mattress and crawls over him, like in the vision. His fingertips creep up Aziraphale’s neck, up his cheeks, the pads coming to rest against his temples. A blue spark, an arc of static electricity, and Aziraphale’s brain fills with images that cloud his vision over so that Crowley’s eyes disappear, replaced by what promises to be a long night in this room, and all the methods of pleasure Crowley plans on using to distract him while he feeds. Skin against skin, Crowley’s hands covering his as Crowley enters him, his body possessing his. Aziraphale can already feel how hard Crowley would claim him, how sore he would be after, and Aziraphale wants it. Wants it more than life itself.

And he’s willing to pay with every drop to have it.

The vision rolls on. With every fantasized thrust of Crowley’s hips, it monopolizes all five of Aziraphale’s senses - his own moans in his ears with Crowley’s voice dripping honey underneath, the pungent smell of sweat and sex around them, the coppery taste of Crowley’s mouth, the slide of a flesh against his so smooth it feels like marble, and Crowley’s eyes - those snake-like eyes with pupils razor blade thin - watching unblinkingly as Aziraphale comes apart beneath him.

Trapped beneath Crowley’s body on the bed with Crowley’s fingertips rubbing circles against his skin, Aziraphale watches this fantasy in awe - open-mouthed and without an inch of fear. He shudders when he sees himself coming, the memory of similar sensations igniting every nerve in his body, turning fantasy into reality. Crowley absorbs every tremor, the way Aziraphale thrums beneath him, his hips bucking up in search of friction. Crowley smiles, reaches between them to start unbuttoning his own uncomfortable trousers.

And let the feasting begin.

“Oh yes,” he whispers, nose nuzzling against Aziraphale’s neck, following the pounding rhythm of his heart for a place to tuck in. “I could become very addicted to you, Aziraphale Fell. Very addicted.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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ruzek-halstead · 4 years ago

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baby project

pairing: jay halstead x hailey upton

jay deliberately misses a health credit and is forced to take a parenting class with his favourite blonde. this includes a weekend with a fake baby, little sleep and heart-to-hearts.

“what are we naming her? i promised adam i would consider his name as an option.”

(high school au)

masterlist

warnings: swearing, fluffery

“time to hand out your new babies!”

jay’s face paled.

how did he manage to get himself into this situation? he deliberately missed a health credit, hoping his extracurricular activities such as sports would be enough. but clearly, he wasn’t that lucky after being pulled into his guidance counsellor’s office and being told his only option was to take a health class specifically focused on parenting. at such late notice, it was the only class with an open spot that could count towards his requirements.

it was mostly fine.

hailey happened to be in that class and he was able to half-ass through it because his best friend is ridiculously smart. she’d only huff when he inched over to peek at her notes but even she couldn’t resist his grin.

however, this was an assignment where he couldn’t use his excellent level of bullshit. it was the final project of the semester and worth 30% of their final grade. in pairs of two, they were to care for a fake baby, who in reality, acts just like a real baby. it recorded everything and if you took too long to respond to its crying, or hold its neck the wrong way, it docked marks.

luckily for him, hailey agreed to be his partner, because he genuinely believed he’d fail without her. unfortunately, her genius brain alone was not enough to help them excel in this project.

“halstead, boy or girl?”

oh, and the best part about this course? they had been short on teachers at the beginning of the school year, so somehow jay’s lacrosse coach (who hates everything and everyone) was convinced to teach the course.

jay looked at hailey in a panic, unsure of his answer. “uh, i don’t know?”

“that’s not an answer, halstead!” coach jacobs yelled before throwing a baby simulator dressed in light pink in his direction. jay stumbled a little but managed to catch it. hailey cringed when she saw his hands wrap around the baby’s neck. the whole classes’ eyes flickered back to coach jacobs. “that doesn’t count,” he muttered before continuing to hand out the babies in a more civilized manner.

assuming that the simulators hadn’t been turned on yet due to the way it made no noise whatsoever after being chucked halfway across the room, jay gently placed it back on his desk. “it’s a girl,” hailey said softly, staring at her in admiration from her desk beside jay.

jay found himself staring at hailey, his heart fluttering. the way hailey was smiling at the baby, as if it was—and god forbid where his mind was dragging him, but as if it was theirs—was making his heart do all sort of weird things in his chest. jay and hailey had always been friends, but over their junior year and now in their senior year, he’s starting to feel things.

he cleared his throat awkwardly, shooting her a nervous grin when her blue eyes moved up to his face. “what are we naming her?” before hailey could chime in, he continued. “i promised adam i would consider his name as an option.”

“we are not naming our daughter adam,” she deadpanned with the utmost seriousness, but jay was too busy avoiding an aneurysm at hearing ‘our daughter’ to focus on anything else.

“adamella?” he choked out, because when in doubt, always make a joke.

hailey shook her head. “over my dead body.”

“i’ve always liked the name sophia,” jay shrugged, catching her eye to gauge her reaction.

she sent him a soft smile. “i really like that. let’s do it.”

the sweet moment was cut short when coach jacobs clicked a few buttons on his computer with a smirk. “alright suckers, get ready for the worst weekend of your lives!”

his statement was proven when half the babies in the room started screaming.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

it was somehow decided that hailey would take baby sophia for the first night (because she’s more likely to not completely destroy the simulator than jay), then she would make her way over to jay’s house on saturday.

that was the plan. however, plans always change.

the first few hours went great. the baby cried but was easily soothed with a diaper change or a quick bottle. hailey was able to get the baby to sleep around 9:30 and ended up falling asleep herself after watching a movie on netflix.

she was woken up at two in the morning with soft cries, so she blearily picked up baby sophia and chimed her with her bracelet. she tried giving her a bottle which didn’t quiet her down and neither did a diaper change. she tried cuddling her and rocking her but to no avail; hailey pulled on her blonde hair, wondering if the cries she’s hearing are hers or the baby’s.

“baby, please go back to sleep,” hailey begged.

after another fifteen minutes of incessant crying, hailey decided to call in reinforcements. she shouldn’t be the only one suffering.

she quickly dialed jay’s number and prays he isn’t in a deep sleep where he won’t hear his phone. if that’s the case, she has half a mind to drive over and stick him with baby sophia so she can finally sleep for a bit. luckily, he picked up after a few rings.

“hello?” he mumbled sleepily.

“jay halstead!” hailey hissed over the phone, so sharply that he scrambled to sit upright in his bed and hold the phone tight to his ear. “you better get your ass over here before i murder you! i am dying over here!”

jay rubbed his eyes; he could hear the faint crying of sophia and sighed. “come on hails, it can’t be that bad.”

he could picture the absolutely furious and incredulous expression on her face. “are you kidding me, jay? how about i abandon you with this child, and then we’ll see what isn’t ‘that’ bad?”

“sorry,” he mumbled, nearly dozing off again.

hailey knew him too well. “jay!” she snapped and he flinched awake again. “i better see your face in ten minutes or you’re taking care of sophia the rest of the weekend by yourself!”

“shit okay,” he grumbled, grabbing a random sweatshirt and joggers. “i’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“it’s been over half an hour of this, you have ten!”

jay groaned as he hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. by the tone of hailey’s voice, he knows better than to make her wait any longer. jay arrived at hailey’s house with one minute to spare and grabbed the key lodged under the welcome mat. as soon as he walked in the door, he could hear faint cries.

at this point, he’s not sure if the cries are baby sophia’s or hailey’s.

he had barely gotten through the threshold of her bedroom before his baby was shoved into his arms. “oh okay,” he mumbled, stumbling on his feet. hailey’s blonde hair was tied back into a messy ponytail and her eyes are rimmed red.

“thank god you’re here,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. she was undoubtedly making them even more irritated. “she hasn’t stopped crying, i’ve honestly done everything, i don’t know what she—” hailey’s words abruptly stopped because for the first time in hours, all she can hear is silence. “what the hell?”

jay looked just as confused as she did because it literally only took a few seconds before the baby quieted down once settled in his arms. hailey looked exasperated.

“you’re never leaving,” she replied quickly, staring at him in awe. “you can’t leave me alone with her again. i think she hates me.”

jay leaned against her desk, shooting her a disgruntled look. “relax, i’m sure that’s not true.”

“whatever,” she huffed, sitting down on her bed. “you can probably put her back now. i think she’s cried enough for the night.” jay slowly placed her back in her car seat. “can you imagine having a baby at this age? god, i couldn’t do it.”

she could barely make it through an entire night with a fake baby, much less a real one.

jay took a seat beside her, a generous amount of space between them. “i can’t imagine having a baby, no. i think it’s physically impossible, but i might be wrong.”

hailey laughed, hitting his shoulder in response. her actions brought her a little closer to him. “shut up. i’m still mad at you for abandoning me.”

“sorry,” he smirked in response. “i promise i’ll spend the rest of this weekend attached at your hip. i think that’s only fair after the night you’ve already had.”

hailey sighed happily. “you always know what to say, don’t you, halstead?”

jay shrugged his shoulders and felt his cheeks heat up slightly. “i wouldn’t say that.”

hailey wasn’t sure what was bringing it on, but she felt the sudden need to let him know just how much she appreciated him. he was always ready to help out, regardless of the obstacles. he always seemed to know just what to say to make her feel better, and even if it didn’t, he would always be the one to tell her exactly what she needed to hear. jay had the biggest heart of anyone she’d ever known and it had been damaged far too many times.

“hey, i’m serious,” she said softly, ducking her head down to catch his green eyes. “i appreciate you.”

jay chuckled nervously and before he knew it, his fingers were tangling together because he didn’t know what to do with his hands. his nervousness only got worse when hailey grabbed onto his hand.

“i think you’re more tired than you thought,” jay responded softly. his gaze focused on their hands. there had always been a connection between them; it’s hard to be just friends when you’ve known each other for so long.

hailey smiled. “yeah, i think i am,” she leaned over and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “we should probably get some sleep bef—”

sophia’s loud cries cut her off before she could finish and hailey groaned, burying her head into his shoulder.

“don’t worry hails, i’ve got you.”

🌼

p.s. i genuinely love the name sophia, and it has nothing to do with sophia bush/erin lindsay. hope you enjoyed!!

#upstead fic #upstead fanfic #upstead fanfiction #upstead au #jay x hailey #jay and hailey #hailey and jay #hailey x jay #hailey upton #jay halstead #tracy spiridakos #jesse lee soffer #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #one chicago #one chicago fanfiction #upstead

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a-tiny-frog-girl · 4 years ago

Text

Log

This is day one of my trying to write a little something every day! Not sure how long it’ll last, but i got this one done.

Word count: 958

Summary: Chrissy, stranded in the middle of nowhere, explores an old abandoned lab.

TW: none that i can think of, but don’t be afraid to ask for me to add something!

The old place had once been some kind of science lab, Chrissy assumed. And while science labs in the middle of nowhere aren't generally a good sign, scientists did usually contact each other. Or at least have some indication of where in the world they were. The building wasn't too decrepit, most walls were still standing and the roof hadn't completely given in. If she was lucky, maybe there'd even still be someone here. But yelling for people in a dark abandoned science building seemed like a recipe for disaster, so she traveled on silently. A few doors were locked, but they were all made of glass, so a quick flashlight hit usually got glass shards on the floor and a new place open to her. Not much was in each room, sometimes there were complicated equations left half wiped off whiteboards, sometimes rooms were filled with a million different jars of powder. But nothing of any use to anyone who wasn't Einstein. Phones appeared sporadically on the hallway walls, but without power, they were just taunting her. Her small stash of AA batteries could barely power her flashlight, so she let the phones become just another part of the background. Her stomach growled quietly and she looked in her backpack. Besides her newly made survival tools, there were only a handful of granola bars left. She bit her lip and closed the bag. With such little pre-prepared food, she really couldn't waste it. Maybe if there had been any food left here, she could eat. But mother nature had taken back anything edible a long time ago. She didn't dwell on it, knowing it'd just make her feel worse. Instead, she picked another corridor and kept going.

After several hours of walking in circles, Chrissy was ready to leave. The sun was setting, and without the light it provided, she'd definitely end up hurt somehow. There had been a few useful things, so she cut her losses. Now if she could remember which way she came in, she could head back to her thrown together shelter. She was honestly about to just bash a window and leave through there. But as she walked through a darker hallway, she stopped. In the light, it had been just another leg of this science maze, but as the light faded from the sky, a strange dim light crept through the cracks in the wall. Light meant power, so she stopped and tapped lightly on the panels on the wall. They were heavier, thicker than the other walls. She pushed on each panel, most of them not budging. She reached the panel leaking the light the most and put her hand on it. It suddenly fell backward, loudly slamming on the ground. It had been easy to get open, but on the other side, there were many gears and wires, as if it had been made sturdier. Like it wasn't supposed to be opened, at least not from the inside. She tried to keep her mind clear of mad scientists and angry monsters, but as the panel creaked itself back into place, she knew she had found herself in a scenario from every horror movie ever. Worry planted itself into Chrissy's mind.

But not all was lost. If she could just find the room casting the eerie light, she'd at least have some electricity. It was weirdly silent without the sounds of nature coming from windows and without the usual crackle of glass under her feet. In the dim light, she could see that this place looked untouched by the weathering the rest of the building had felt. It felt as if the scientists were having a coffee break or maybe working quietly around the corner. But as she followed the light, the echo of her footsteps was the only sound as she rounded the last corner. The light came from an office looking room with a big broken window facing a dark room she couldn't see into. A big machine sat on the table, Chrissy was pretty sure it was a fancy tape deck. She pushed the door open and looked around. Other than the machine, there were two lightbulbs practically taped to the ceiling, their cords coiling together into the wall. She crouched down to follow it and found a VHS tape sitting on the floor. It was unmarked, but the only tape in here. It had to be at least a little important. She sat on the counter next to the machine and pushed buttons until it whirred to life. The tape clicked in and after a moment a voice, stately and serious, emanated from the machine.

"Doctor Paige, date December 15 of the year 19-" The tape crackled, but continued. "Log number 22. Subject 3. Subject has gone from restless to easily agitated. Sedation has become less and less effective, most likely due to the subject's body adapting. Any person that comes in contact with this subject should be heavily protected and able to be removed at a moment's notice since incident 727." The tape hissed, only angry noises and garbled words coming out. Chrissy smacked the machine, then sighed. She hopped off the counter onto her aching feet. After another couple of random button presses, she gave up on it. Her eyes drifted to the window facing the pitch-black room and she froze. Where only darkness was a moment ago, a giant face was pressing itself to the floor, its face clearly too big to be seen all at once. The eye that she could see completely focused on her. A quick glance above the broken window made her worst fears come true. A plaque sat innocently, shiny in the dim light. It read Subject 3.

#gt #g/t #Giant/tiny #prompt writing #froggy writes #g/t prompts

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sk-onlinetools · 4 years ago

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TubeBuddy review (tubebuddy for youtube)

What is TubeBuddy:

If you want to make money on YouTube, then you’ve to treat your channel like a business. You’ve to commit to the growth of your channel’s views and subscribers. For achieving the same, Chrome extensions such as TubeBuddy can be quite handy.

Touting themselves as a “video optimization and management toolkit”, TubeBuddy promises to streamline your YouTube journey.

TubeBuddy Pricing:

TubBuddy offers unrestricted usage of its mobile app only to paying users. Here are details of its three tiers:

1) “Pro” plan costs $9 per month, and the company offers a 50% discount to channels with less than 1000 subscribers.

· 2) “Star” plan is priced at $19 per month and comes with advanced scheduling, monetization, and productivity tools besides the Pro tools.

· 3) The “Legend” plan — priced at $49 per month — is the highest tier and comes with the full suite of features TubeBuddy has to offer. You can A/B test your videos, perform competitor analysis, track your search ranks, and more.

If you want to manage more than 20 channels, then the company also offers enterprise plans.

TubeBuddy knowladge base:

For many of their features, TubeBuddy has done a great job at giving an overview, demonstrating their functioning in a “how-to” video, and sharing a few other tips.

But some features, like “Tag Rankings” in the screenshot below, don’t have such a tutorial. But they present a YouTube search query link (with “Click here” as the anchor text) for you to find tutorials by TubeBuddy customers.

TubeBuddy Top Tools:

Once you’ve installed TubeBuddy on Chrome (or your browser) and allowed it to gather your channel’s data, you’ll be able to access its top functionalities. The product offers numerous YouTube tools for video SEO, promotion, data & research, bulk processing, and productivity. But I’m only touching on a few of the best ones below:

Keyword Explorer

YouTube is a top search engine people rely on for finding information and solutions to their problems. If you can find the keywords worth targeting for your channel (dependent on its size and authority), you can rank in YouTube search and drive evergreen video views.

The “keyword explorer” is a handy tool in the Tag Explorer in the main TubeBuddy menu. You can plug a keyword and get an Overall Score specific to your channel (Weighted) and a general one based on the search volume as well as competition for the keyword (Unweighted). Here’s the analysis for the keyword “harry potter"

Suggested Tags

The next bit of video SEO features I like on TubeBuddy is its Recommended Tags. You’ll find this feature in the video edit screen of your channel (the “Video details” section) when you’re preparing it for publishing. Based on the tags you choose for your video, this tool will suggest related tags. Look at the feature in action for a short film I published on my YouTube channel.

As visible, you can sort the mammoth number of tags by relevance, keyword score, or search traffic. Feel free to explore tags by sorting through all of these parameters, but use only the most relevant ones in your video. Because if you don’t match the user intent for a search query, your watch time and rankings will tank anyway.

Video A/B Tests

While you can’t test the actual content of your video, TubeBuddy makes it possible to test its packaging — your thumbnail, title, tags, and meta description. In the fierce competition on the video platform, such A/B tests could prove useful in driving more clicks, more views, and helping your search rankings.

If you’re unsure of which videos warrant such a test, then the software can find videos with a low CTR so you can perform a thumbnail test. Its Metadata test lets you test multiple aspects (thumbnail, title, tags, and description) simultaneously and will make sense for those videos that aren’t getting any traction right now.

The feature is the hallmark of the product, but it’s only available in its highest price tier. You can consider a free TubeBuddy trial of 30 days if you want to try A/B tests.

Videolytics

When you watch a video on YouTube, TubeBuddy shows its Videolytics panel on the right side with a set of useful stats. It gives an overall summary of the video’s performance, the tags used, SEO, social, and channel stats.

You can click on the blue “Show Search Rankings” button to see where the video ranks in YouTube search results for its used tags.

It can be quite handy for a side-by-side comparison with your competitors, or even your own channel. Here’s a comparison of a random video on the T-Series channel (biggest one on YouTube) alongside the most popular one.

Productivity Suite

There are a bunch of repetitive actions recommended for every YouTube video you publish — adding cards, setting end screens, responding to comments, and the like. TubeBuddy offers a range of productivity tools to take care of such tedious tasks.

With its “Upload Checklist”, that appears on the right hand side while uploading a video, an automated best practices test is performed to ensure you comply with YouTube’s guidelines.

Bulk Processing

Copying, adding, deleting, or updating cards and end screens on your channel can be a huge time killer, especially for larger channels. So should you let go of promoting your new videos from the end screens and cards in your previous popular ones? Not so fast. TubeBuddy offers a set of bulk processing tools that are accessible from your “Channel videos” page.

Promotion ToolsPost

publishing your video, promoting it on social media, your website, and adding it to your email signature can help its visibility. TubeBuddy offers “Promo materials” with direct links to your latest videos and its embed code, and links to your channel, thumbnail, and channel art. You can access them by logging in to TubeBuddy.com/account.Earlier Tubebuddy used to provide shortened links but with Google discontinuing this service, analytics for them are no longer available. There’s a “share tracker” to share your videos on multiple social media platforms and publish YouTube videos natively on Facebook. But I like the “Vid2Vid promotion” feature the best. Accessible from the TubeBuddy menu in the “Promote” tab, it lets you promote one of your videos in the description of all the others. Getting more views on your latest upload from older videos or on an older video whose subject is currently trending gets simpler.

Tags, Keywords, And Translation Features

While I’ve already illustrated a few YouTube SEO tools available on the Chrome extension, let me show you a few others. The SEO Studio, accessible under the TubeBuddy menu from the Extensions tab, works much like the Yoast SEO plugin — relatable for creators who regularly publish textual content with WordPress as their CMS.

It lets you optimize your video metadata so that you maximize your chances of ranking in search results. As visible in the screenshot below, you get recommendations to improve your TubeBuddy SEO Score based on the target keyword you plug into it.

There are a few other tag, search, and keyword related tools. Among other tasks, they let you track your rankings, view, copy, and store a video’s tags, see tag suggestions in real-time, and the like.

I want to specifically highlight the video metadata translation features. If you have a global audience, then adding titles, descriptions, and tags in the native languages of your second biggest audience could increase your viewership.

You’ll find the “Tag Translator” on the video edit screen under the Video SEO tools.

And the automatic translator (available only on “legend” or a higher license) is available from the Subtitles panel when you edit a video.

To use the tag translator, click on the “Translate” button from the tag tools available when you’re on the edit video screen. TubeBuddy shows the top languages spoken by your audience and once you pick the language you want to translate to, it generates tags in that one.

You can also stay efficient by applying the same set of end screen elements to all of your new video uploads with TubeBuddy’s end screen template. To implement it, head over to the end screen page of the video that you want to set as the template and check the box shown in the screenshot below. If you’re watching a video on your channel or one where data is public, the Videolytics panel also shows watch time, engagement, and other related stats.

At the top of the panel, there’s also an option to compare a video with the channel’s most popular one or to any other specific video on YouTube.

Other Tools

While we’ve covered the majority of TubeBuddy’s top features, I want to show you around a few other handy tools. Quick Links and Quick-Edit Navigating YouTube could become tedious requiring multiple clicks. The funny part is you need to visit the same places on your channel most times. The “Quick Links” panel in TubeBuddy makes your job — to visit your analytics reports, cards menu, and the like — much easier.

Thumbnail Generator

I recommend Canva for designing custom thumbnails for your videos. But if you’re in a hurry, TubeBuddy lets you choose a still frame from your video for creating the same. You can choose a solid color as the background or upload an existing image on your computer as well.

Once you’ve chosen an image, you can layer it with emojis, text, shapes, a logo, and another image. Saving a layer as a template to create consistent branding across your channel is also possible.

Mobile Apps

TubeBuddy is also avalable for android and ios.

The Mobile App is 100% free to download and use. There are some features that may be limited unless you have access to TubeBuddy Mobile Unlimited.

Member Perks

MEMBER PERKS, Free, Pro/Star/Legend. TubeBuddy Mobile icon. Channel Management and ... Starter Kit icon. Content Ideas, Thumbnails, End Screen and etc.

Customer Support:

Here’s the TubeBuddy playlist with close to 100 YouTube video tutorials showing its features in action. Besides these, there’s a dedicated knowledge base accessible from Support >> General Support at the top of your TubeBuddy profile.

#youtube #tubebuddy #grow on youtube #youtube chanel #tubebuddy review #youtube seo #social midea #youtube growth #tubebuddy vs vidiq #fast grow on youtube

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gastricpierrot · 4 years ago

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Title: Breathe fire into me

Series: Promare

Pairing: GaloLio

Rating: T

Summary:

Lio might have a little crush on the cute barista from the boba shop he visited recently.

Only there's a catch: there's much more to Galo Thymos than what he seems.

Note: role reversal AU, boba barista Galo, archer main Lio

Also on AO3

[Chapter 1]

Lio Fotia isn’t fearless by any means.

After all, firefighting is a dangerous job. Fire burns. Fire consumes. Fires do not care. They're destructive, unpredictable. And in the case of Burnish flares, they’re alive.

It takes courage to put out flames, it takes strategy. It takes many things Lio still doesn’t have and hasn’t learnt.

It’s been about a year since Lio’s joined the FDPP, immediately assigned to the 3rd unit the moment he’d graduated from the Academy due to them being severely shorthanded at the time. He's braved through countless blazes since then, yet he still finds a slight tremor in his hands whenever he’s on the way to a scene. The sirens of the Rescue Mobile never seemed to stop sounding too loud, too piercing.

Lio Fotia is afraid of fire. Afraid of what else they might take from him, because he knows they could never take enough.

“Lio? Lio, are you listening?”

He takes a sharp breath, pulled out of the lulling haze of siren wails by the Captain’s voice over the intercom. Don’t think. Don't let it register.

“There’s people trapped in the fiftieth floor with flammable chemicals. Got it,” Lio affirms as he does a brief, habitual last-minute routine check on his Rescue Gear's controls. “I’ll get it over with quick.”

“Be careful,” he hears Ignis say, and he grits his teeth just in time before he’s launched into the air, shot out and up at a speed that sends his stomach plunging all the way down to his feet.

Lio crashes through the windows of the building’s fiftieth floor, immediately surrounded by a hellscape of Burnish flames. They're hostile as always the moment they sense his presence, forming into massive serpents of purple and turquoise fire –honestly too beautiful to be so destructive—and diving towards him with obvious malice.

Lio doesn’t have the time to deal with them; the fire could reach the chemicals and cause an explosion any moment. He freezes the serpents barely batting an eye, barreling his way towards where the projection on his Gear’s windshield indicates. He's not too far now. Sweat trickles down his jaw. Five minutes. Give him five minutes.

He tears off the door of the room where the group of researchers have been taking shelter, not even sparing the breath to yell assurances before he’s ushering them into the rescue container. His pulse pounds in his ears as he waits for the last of them to climb on, fingers gripping his handles tight enough to burn against his palms.

“Retrieval successful, Captain,” Lio says as he hoists the container up. “Proceeding to retreat.”

“Better hurry up, Lio,” Lucia warns just after Ignis acknowledges his update. “Things aren’t looking too good.”

Lio knows better than to jinx it by wondering what could be worse. He charges right back into the inferno, this time not bothering to even ward off the flame serpents. His Gear can withstand at least this much heat, he’s sure. There's no choice but for it to be so.

He makes his escape not a second too soon, barely climbing ten floors down when the fiftieth finally erupts, sending entire building quaking violently and in palpable danger of collapsing altogether. Lio near loses his grip for a moment, thrown off balance by the shockwave and the ringing in his ears. He bites his lip hard to reel himself back, using the staticky, frantic voices of his teammates as an anchor.

“I’m fine,” he assures into his communicator, though he’s yet to be able to properly hear his own voice again. “I’m coming down now.”

And by the universe’s mercy he does manage to eventually make the rest of the way down. He proceeds to transport the researchers a safe distance away where paramedics are on stand-by, hurrying back to the scene right after setting down the container. Lucia’s mentioning about picking up some unusual heat readings over the intercom, then as if on cue, Lio hears more explosions from the distance.

Static. His other teammates frantically asking if everything’s alright. Ignis coming back online, his sentences choppy from interference.

Then Lio hears what could only be described as the laughter of hooligans in the background.

Lio heaves an exhausted sigh. Of course they’d have to be there. Mad Burnish has a reputation for loving to gloat as much as they have one for setting random fires, after all. Lio really has his job cut out for him this time.

“Lucia?” Lio waits until he gets a solid response from her before continuing, “Is Detroit good to go today?”

“I haven’t had the time to finish fixing the bow’s mechanism,” Lucia says, her words peppered with the rapid clicks of her controls. “You’ll probably have ten shots, max.”

“Apart from that?” Lio arrives and assesses the situation. Mad Burnish are circling around the Rescue Mobiles on their bikes, hooting and jeering and generally making a ruckus and obstructing extinguishing efforts while outnumbering Lio’s teammates three to one. They’re too fast for Lucia to handle with the Mobile’s artillery and for Ignis to land effective shots with his gun. Varys, Remi and Aina are nowhere to be seen on ground; they’re still occupied with trying to control the fire above.

“Shouldn’t have a problem,” Lucia affirms, and Lio’s cranking the lever to shift his Gear into Detroit mode.

Mechanisms slide and click into place with flawless transition upon activation of the suit’s alternate form, shifting its center of gravity and losing redundant pieces as it takes a sleeker, lighter appearance more suitable for combat. Lio then reaches behind the back of his Gear, detaching the rod there which he then flips a switch to have it morph into the form of a large bow.

Lio gets into position, and draws.

It's stiffer than usual, he notices at once as the built-in arrows respond to his motion and take shape. Lucia’s estimates are rarely ever wrong; he’s going to need to make every shot here count.

He takes aim, and releases the first arrow.

It soars through the air and instantly encases a Mad Burnish member in a large bloom of ice upon contact. Lio’s notching the next one while the rest are still trying to process what’s happened, successfully freezing another in place before the finally spot him.

Lio braces himself, seeing them exchanging signs to rally.

Then all at once, they’re charging straight towards him.

Lio manages to pick off one more Burnish before he decides they’re getting too close. He presses another button and changes his grip on his bow, moving into another stance as his weapon shifts to next resemble a sword. He spends a second to analyze their positions and movements, then with a sharp breath, he rushes to engage them.

He enters a daze as he always does when close combat, letting his body and instincts take over as he maneuvers through and around his opponents. Slash, duck, parry. Lio’s received a number of questions and comments about the way he fights over his months on duty, but truthfully, he’s never really figured out how to respond to them. He just does what feels right, what feels the most effective.

When he comes to this time, all six Mad Burnish members are encased in blocks of ice. Lio’s slightly out of breath as he checks his Gear’s condition out of habit, hoping he hadn’t accidentally overdone it again. There are some gashes on the armor plating, the usual singed spots from Burnish fire—but everything else seems good enough. His weapon is still holding up as well.

Lio turns toward the blaze in the building; it seems that his teammates have also been making good progress with that. Ignis tells him good work, and Lio’s just about to take his hands off his controls to work the knots out of his shoulders when he feels an impact against his Gear.

Whatever hit him detonates a split second after contact, sending him staggering sideways and almost toppling onto the pavement.

Lio grits his teeth, finding his footing again by almost the sheer force of will. Red warnings blink across his windshield, and Lio sprains to see a part of his suit’s left shoulder burnt and falling into pieces.

And then flame serpents, even larger than those Lio had faced earlier, dive in out of seemingly nowhere to collect the frozen Burnish into their jaws. A series of slow claps follows, and Lio’s turning and notching an arrow the second he overcomes his surprise, gaze following the length of the flames until he reaches their source.

Another Burnish seems to have just exited the building, waltzing out casually as his serpents retrieved his brethren. Lio squints, barely making out details from the distance between them, only seeing that he dons a ragged black vest unbuttoned, black pants, and the horned visor helmet signifying a Mad Burnish leader.

Not again, Lio nearly groans because Burning Rescue had just apprehended the previous leaders some months back and the stress and exhaustion from that alone had taken probably a few years off his lifespan.

In contrast, the Burnish sure sounds like he’s having fun.

“Whewwww, you sure made that seem easy!” he whistles, voice distorted by his helmet yet somehow carrying enough for Lio to hear him clearly. “But sorry, hotshot, looks like it’s time for us to—hey!”

He's interrupted by a sudden bloom of ice near his feet. Lio clicks his tongue. His trajectory was just a little off—it must be the unusual stiffness of his bow that’s messing with him.

“At least let people finish talking!” the Burnish protests, to which Lio doesn’t even bother answering. He notches another arrow, pulling taut as he recalibrates him aim with the help of Lucia’s adjustments. This time, he will not miss.

He doesn’t. It would’ve once again landed right on target, if only it wasn’t intercepted by a wall of fire, far hotter than what their ice are designed to handle. Lio barely has the chance to think when the Burnish bursts out from behind the flames riding a bike he manifested, cranking it to obnoxious levels of noise as he charges towards Lio.

Lio prepares to intercept, prepares to be out-sped and still somehow deal with it because what else is he supposed to do —until the entire left arm of his Gear falls apart, and he flinches.

The Burnish speed right past him in a blazing trail of fire, hollering victory cheers as he makes his escape.

Lio fumes, immediately moving to give chase.

“Lio, stop!”

And he’s halted in his tracks upon a stern order from Ignis. Let them be, the fire has priority, he’s told in a tone leaving no room for arguments. And Lio knows the Captain’s right. He's getting too worked up, he's losing rationality. He clenches his fists, forces the roar of blood in his ears to subside.

He glares toward the direction where Mad Burnish had disappeared to for just a moment more, then spitting a curse, he turns around and heads to help finish up their job for the day.

xXx

“How’s that feeling?”

Lio draws an arrow from his bow, trying to gauge the extent of improvement Lucia’s service had made on it. It feels much easier to use than the last time even in its down-sized mode; the string fiber more flexible, the overall weight of the bow more stable in his hands.

“Like it’s new,” Lio marvels, eternally impressed by Lucia’s mechanical skills. Lucia smiles wryly and crosses her arms.

“Good. You’re gonna have to be relying only on that for a while,” she says, then gesturing to Lio’s Gear behind her in the garage. “We won’t be able to do much with Detroit until the new parts arrive.”

“It’ll do,” Lio assures; his specialty has always been the bow and arrow from the start, anyway. “Thanks, Lucia.”

“Anytime,” Lucia says, slipping her goggles back over her eyes before turning to saunter off. “Now back to work!”

“Aina’s asked me to go with her to get some bubble tea later,” Lio calls after her, remembering at the nick of time. “What would you like?”

Lucia responds to just get her whatever, and knowing she’s now already too distracted to pay him attention any longer, Lio hurries off in search for Aina.

It’s Aina’s idea to check out the new shop that’s recently opened just down the block from the station, thinking it could be a nice treat for the team after that hell of a fire they had to put out two days ago. The higher-ups had a lot to say about them failing to capture the new Mad Burnish boss as well, and while none of them has outwardly voiced their complaints about it, Lio knows everyone’s high-strung. Arsonist Burnish always pose more danger when they’re in groups; they become more daring, fearless. Even more so if they have a charismatic leader to head the way. It'll be the start of another manhunt for the new Boss.

Lio has never quite understood the point of Mad Burnish setting all those whimsical fires. They’re only giving the rest of the Burnish people a bad reputation, further feeding the stereotype that they are inherently dangerous just because they have the ability to control flames while the majority do not. Sure, perhaps setting things aflame does create a sense of unexplainable satisfaction, but is doing it at such a destructive scale really worth possibly endangering the rest of your people in the long run?

“What did Lucia say she’d want?” Aina asks once Lio’s caught up to her and they’re setting out on their way to the shop. Lio shrugs as he trudges on, taking a moment to enjoy the mundane tranquility around him; the feel of the late morning sunlight on his skin, the sounds of traffic along the road. It’s not every day that he gets to talk casual strolls in the middle of a shift like this.

“She says anything’s fine.” Lio tears his gaze away from the puppy going out on a walk with its owner just passing them to look at Aina while he speaks. “We could just get her one of their signatures?”

“Can’t go wrong with that, she likes anything as long as they’re sweet anyways,” Aina agrees with a little snicker. “What about you, Lio? Any preference in mind?”

“I’m not really in the mood for anything too rich so maybe I'll just get some fruit tea,” Lio says, then halting in his steps at the sight that greets him. “That’s, uh, if we even get to order at all..?”

Aina follows his gaze towards the line of people spanning three shop lots from their targeted bubble tea place, and lets out a groan. Lio understands her disappointment; he was really looking forward to sipping on something cold and sweet and refreshing, too. Still, they should’ve expected this, the craze never really had signs of going away even after all this while. The place is probably also having some sort of opening promotion, so of course people would be scrambling to have a try for themselves over the weekend.

“Maybe we should just go to another place,” Aina suggests, already looking around to see what alternatives they have. Lio agrees, not quite wanting to return empty handed after all their anticipation. He fishes out his phone and does a quick search, knowing there’s sure to be some other shop nearby. They seem to be everywhere regardless of competition.

He eventually finds one with decent reviews located just a little further down the street, past the first junction. Aina, with no better ideas in mind, easily goes along with it.

So they make their way there, and to their relief, finds it with a more reasonable queue despite most of the tables inside being occupied. Lio goes over the menu with Aina as they get in line, trying to decide on what to get. Lio’s going for the peach tea, Aina’s getting the matcha latte, and since the rest of the team can’t really be bothered as long as it’s Aina’s treat, they’ll just get them each the signature brown sugar milk tea.

Aina receives a call while they’re later waiting for their order to be prepared, and Lio soon finds himself scrolling through his phone alone while she leaves to answer it outside where it’s a little quieter. With just a couple of other customers with singular orders ahead of theirs, it doesn’t take long until Lio’s number is beeped through the prompter and he’s stepping out to collect the drinks.

“Oh, you’re part of the FDPP?”

Lio glances up at the crew member, not even sure if he’d actually been spoken to because it’s so unexpected. His attention is immediately drawn to the blue hair first, shaved on the sides and spiked in a way that’s almost comical yet strangely suiting the person it belongs to. Lio’s gaze then travels a little further down to see the staff’s face and um.

Okay. He's kind of...

Cute.

“I’m sorry?” Lio manages, just in case he really hadn’t heard right or something. Get it together, Lio Fotia.

“Your jacket,” the guy repeats with a vague indicative motion, eyes bright with curiosity, “you’re part of the FDPP?”

“Ah,” Lio’s suddenly a little too aware that he might’ve been staring and almost frantically averts his gaze. “Yeah, our HQ’s just down the block.”

Wait, did he really need to say that, though? Oof.

“Cool, cool!” Then as Lio dares to risk one final glance at him, he sees him offering him an encouraging grin. “Thanks for all your hard work!”

Lio can’t help but offer a slight smile in return, a little touched by the sudden appreciation. “Thank you.”

And as they’re on the way back to the station, Lio catches himself lowkey hoping that the drinks would taste good enough for him to have an excuse to return.

#promare #lio fotia #galo thymos #galolio #liogalo #its been a while since i worked on a multichapter lets gO madlads #man i miss spamming in the tags like this #this fic will also be more lighthearted than a lot of my past works so i hope we'll have a good time!!#speaking of which i should get around to posting the rest of my drabs here too hmm #fanfiction

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hydrus · 4 years ago

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Version 428

youtube

windows

zip

exe

macOS

app

linux

tar.gz

I had a good couple weeks working on the taglist code and some other jobs.

If you are on Windows and use the 'extract' release, you may want to do a 'clean' install this week. Extra notes below.

taglists

So, I took some time to make taglists work a lot cleaner behind the scenes and support more types of data. A heap of code is cleaner, and various small logical problems related to menus are fixed. The tag right-click menu is also more compact, quicker to see and do what you want.

The main benefits though are in the manage tags dialog. Now, the '(will display as xxx)' sibling suffix colours in the correct namespace for the sibling, and parents 'hang' underneath all tags in all the lists. It is now much easier to see why a parent or sibling is appearing for a file.

This is a first attempt. I really like how these basically work, but it can get a bit busy with many tags. With the cleaner code, it will be much easier to expand in future. I expect to add 'expand/collapse parents' settings and more sorts, and maybe shade parents a bit transparent, in the coming weeks. Please let me know how it works for you IRL and I'll keep working.

the rest

The main nitter site seems to be overloaded. They have a bunch of mirrors listed here: https://github.com/zedeus/nitter/wiki/Instances

I picked two roughly at random and added new downloaders for them. If you have Nitter subs, please move their 'sources' over, and they should start working again (they might need to do a bit of 'resync' and will complain about file limits being hit since the URLs are different, but give them time). If you would rather use another mirror, feel free to duplicate your own downloaders as well. Thanks to a user who helped here with some fixed-up parsers.

I gave the recently borked grouped 'status' sort in thread watchers and downloader pages another go, and I improved the reporting there overall. The 'working' status shouldn't flicker on and off as much, there is a new 'pending' status for downloaders waiting for a work slot, and the 'file status' icon column now shows the 'stop' symbol when files are all done.

The menu entry to 'open similar-looking files' is now further up on thumbnails' 'open' submenus.

The duplicate filter has its navigation buttons on the right-hand hover window rearranged a bit. It is silly to have both 'previous' and 'next' when there are only two files, so I merged them. You can also set 'view next' as a separate shortcut for the duplicate filter, if you want to map 'flip file' to something else just for the filter.

windows clean install

If you use the Windows installer, do not worry, these issues are fixed automatically for you from now on.

I updated to a new dev machine this week. Some libraries were updated, and there is now a dll conflict, where a dll from an older version is interfering with a new one. As it happens, the library that fails to load is one I made optional this week, so it doesn't ''seem'' to actually stop you from booting the client, but it will stop you from running the Client API in https if you never did it before (the library does ssl certificate generation).

It is good to be clean, so if you extract the Windows release, you may want to follow this guide this week: https://hydrusnetwork.github.io/hydrus/help/getting_started_installing.html#clean_installs

full list

interesting taglist changes:

taglists work way better behind the scenes

when siblings display with the '(will display as xxx)' suffix, this text is now coloured by the correct namespace!

parents now show in 'manage tags dialog' taglists! they show up just like in a write/edit tag autocomplete results list

the tag right-click menu has had a pass. 'copy' is now at the top, the 'siblings and parents' menu is split into 'siblings' and 'parents' with counts on the top menu label and the submenus for each merged, and the 'open in new page' commands are tucked into an 'open' submenu. the menu is typically much tighter than before

when you hit 'select files with these tags' from a taglist, the thumbgrid now takes keyboard focus if you want to hit F7 or whatever

custom tag presentation (_options->tag presentation_, when you set to always hide namespaces or use custom namespace separator in read/search views) is more reliable across the program. it isn't perfect yet, but I'll keep working

a heap of taglist code has been cleaned up. some weird logical issues should be better

now the code is nicer to work with, I am interested in feedback on how to further improve display and workflows here

the rest:

added two mirrors for nitter, whose main site is failing due to load. I added them randomly from the page here: https://github.com/zedeus/nitter/wiki/Instances . if you have nitter subs, please move their download source to one of the mirrors or set up your own url classes to other mirror addresses. thanks to a user for providing other parser fixes here

gallery download pages now show the 'stop' character in the small file column when the files are done

gallery download pages now report their 'working' status without flicker, and they report 'pending' when waiting for a download slot (this situation is a legacy hardcoded bottleneck that has been confusing)

thread watchers also now have the concept of 'pending', and also report when they are next checking

improved the new grouped status sort on gallery downloader and watcher pages. the ascending order is now DONE, working, pending, checking later (for watchers), paused

the network request delay after a system resume is now editable under the new options->system panel. default is 15 seconds

the 'wait on files too' option is moved from 'files and trash' to this panel

when the 'just woke' status is active, you now get a little popup with a cancel button to override it

'open similar-looking files' thumbnail menu entry is moved up from file relationships to the 'open' menu

the duplicate filter right-hand hover window no longer has both 'previous' and 'next' buttons, since they both act as 'flip', and the merged button is moved down, made bigger, and has a new icon

added 'view next' to the duplicate filter shortcut set, so you can set a custom 'flip between pair' mapping just for that filter

thanks to a user helping me out, I was able to figure out a set of lookups in the sibling/parent system that were performing unacceptably slow for some users. this was due to common older versions of sqlite that could not optimise a join with a multi-index OR expression. these queries are now simpler and should perform well for all clients. if your autocomplete results from a search page with thumbs were achingly slow, let me know how they work now!

the hydrus url normalisation code now treats '+' more carefully. search queries like 6+girls should now work correctly on their own on sites where '+' is used as a tag separator. they no longer have to be mixed with other tags to work

small/specific stuff:

the similar files maintenance search on shutdown now reports file progress every 10 files and initialises on 0. it also has faster startup time in all cases

when a service is deleted, all currently open file pages will check their current file and tag domains and update to nicer defaults if they were pointed at the now-missing services

improved missing service error handling for file searches in general--this can still hit an export folder pointed at a missing service

improved missing service error handling for tag autocomplete searches, just in case there are still some holes here

fixed a couple small things in the running from source help and added a bit about Visual Studio Build Tools on Windows

PyOpenSSL is now optional. it is only needed to generate the crt/key files for https hosting. if you try to boot the server or run the client api in https without the files and without the module available to generate new ones, you now get a nice error. the availability of this library is now in the client's about window

the mpv player will no longer throw ugly errors when you try to seek on a file that its API interface cannot support

loading a file in the media viewer no longer waits on the file system lock on the main thread (it was, very briefly), so the UI won't hang if you click a thumb just after waking up or while a big file job is going on

the 'just woke' code is a little cleaner all around

the user-made downloader repository link is now more obvious on Lain's import dialog

an old hardcoded url class sorting preference that meant gallery urls would be matched against urls before post, and post before file, is now eliminated. url classes are now just preferenced by number of path components, then how many parameters, then by example url length, with higher numbers matching first (the aim is that the more 'specific' and complicated a url class, the earlier it should attempt to match)

updated some of the labelling in manage tag siblings and parents

when you search autocomplete tags with short inputs, they do not currently give all 'collapsed' matching results, so an input of 'a' or '/a/' does not give the '/a/' tag. this is an artifact of the new search cache. after looking at the new code, there is no way I can currently provide these results efficiently. I tested the best I could figure out, but it would have added 20-200ms lag on all PTR searches, so instead I have made a plan to resurrect an old cache in a more efficient way. please bear with me on this problem

tag searches that only include unusual characters like ? or & are now supported without having to lead the query with an asterisk. they will be slower than normal text search

fixed a bug in the 'add tags before import' dialog for local imports where deleting a 'quick namespace' was not updating the tag list above

windows clean install:

I moved to a new windows dev machine this week and a bunch of libraries were updated. I do not believe the update on Windows _needs_ a clean install this week, as a new dll conflict actually hits the coincidentally now-optional PyOpenSSL, but it is worth doing if you want to start using the Client API soon, and it has been a while, so let's be nice and clean. if you extract the release on Windows, please check out this guide: https://hydrusnetwork.github.io/hydrus/help/getting_started_installing.html#clean_installs

the Windows installer has been updated to remove many old files. it should now do clever clean installs every week, you have nothing to worry about!™

boring db breakup:

the local tags cache, which caches tags for your commonly-accessed hard drive files, is now spun off to its own module

on invalid tag repair, the new master tags module and local tags cache are now better about forgetting broken tags

the main service store is spun off to its own module. several instances of service creation, deletion, update and basic fetching are merged and cleaned here. should improve a couple of logical edge cases with update and reset

boring taglist changes:

taglists no longer manage text and predicates, but a generalised item class that now handles all text/tag/predicate generation

taglist items can occupy more than one row. all position index calculations are now separate from logical index calculations in selection, sizing, sorting, display, and navigation

all taglist items can present multiple colours per row, like OR predicates

items are responsible for sibling and parent presentation, decoupling a heap of list responsibility mess

tag filter and tag colour lists are now a separate type handled by their own item types

subordinate parent predicates (as previously shown just in write/edit autocomplete result lists) are now part of multi-row items. previously they were 'quiet' rows with special rules that hung beneath the real result. some related selection/publish logic is a bit cleaner now

string tag items are now aware of their parents and so can present them just like autocomplete results in write/edit contexts

the main taglist content update routines have significantly reduced overhead. the various expansions this week add some, so we'll see how this all shakes out

the asynchronous sibling/parent update routine that populates sibling and parent data for certain lists is smarter and saves more work when data is cached

old borked out selection/hitting-skipping code that jumped over labels and parents is now removed

'show siblings and parents' behaviour is more unified now. basically they don't show in read/search, but do in write/edit

a heap of bad old taglist code has been deleted or cleaned up

next week

This was a big couple of weeks. Setting up the new dev machine--I replaced my six year old HP office computer with a nice mini-pc with an SSD--worked out great, but there were some headaches as always. The taglist work was a lot too. I'll take next week a little easier, just working misc small jobs.

#release

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annoyinglyjovialbird · 5 years ago

Text

Voltron: Next Generation

Unexpected Mission: I

Word Count: 2691

“And here we have the training deck,” Shiro said, leading several school ambassadors around the Garrison. After becoming a glorified headmaster, Shiro worked hard to keep up appearances.

“Colonel Shirogane?” a small woman with a too pointy nose and too high heels said with a nasal voice.

“Yes?”

“Why are there so many students gathered around?” The woman was looking, or rather glaring at, a herd of students in matching orange cadet uniforms pressing their faces into the glass above the training floor. Shiro stepped towards a monitor attached to a wall, showing the training schedule. The name beside the 9:30 slot brought a smile to his face. That’s why she said she couldn’t do it, Shiro thought to himself.

“Would you like to stay and watch? The next cadet is one of our best. A jack of all trades.” Shiro gestured to the window, seeing the glances the ambassadors were giving each other, who collectively decided, even Mrs. Pinched Nose, to watch the training unfold. A door at the far end swished open, a teenage girl emerging from it. She wore a pair of black training boots, black pants, and a purple t-shirt. White tape was wrapped around her tanned knuckles, all the way up to her forearms. Her long black hair was held back by two braids, a small one holding back her baby hairs, the other kept her waist-long hair at bay and out of the way. In her right boot, the hilt of a blade could be seen, although Shiro doubted she’d use it. The girl looked up, at last, hearing the screams and cheers from her peers through the supposedly soundproof glass. All around the training deck, she looked, until her light brown eyes met Shiro’s, where he sent a nod in her direction. She nodded in reply, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Training level 3!” She yelled in a clear, deep voice. More cheers came from the cadets as the silver robot was dropped onto the training platform.

“Training level 3 commencing in 3, 2, 1.” A monotone disembodied voice said. The countdown spaced to give the training robot time to charge up. When its eyes glowed blue, it took off for the girl, who dashed to her right. Driving momentum, she kicked the poor robot in the face, pushing it back only a few feet but didn’t topple it. The girl landed in a crouch, glaring daggers at the bot. The robot came for her, arms out ready to catch her when she ran under the robot’s legs, then kicked the bot’s back. Her braid slapped her in the face in her quick turn, but she didn’t mind, flicking it back over her shoulder.

All she had to do was take off the robot’s head, which was attached by a large magnet. It would be fine. The strength of the magnet depended entirely on what level was chosen. A level three strength would make the head weigh the same as a bowling ball.

It should be simple.

However, as she went to get the toppled bot’s head, the speakers suddenly sounded with “Training level 5 commencing in 3, 2, 1!”. To the girl’s horror, the robot pushed her off, made a backflip to stand on its own two feet, and came after her. Level 5 was meant for a duo, one to distract and one to retrieve. No one had ever done it solo. At least, not without damaging the bot first.

Guess I’m gonna have to apologize to Matt, she thought as she reached for the blade in her boot. The bot picked up on this, its blue glow turning red and charging for her. A dash for her left, while the bot went right, gave her enough of a window to throw her dagger into a weak spot in the bot’s armor. The blade sunk into the poor bot’s circuit-made heart. Its glow changed from red to blue to black as it fell to its metal knees, then completely splay out on the training deck. Cheers and screams bounced off the windows, with fists banging on them from the cadets.

“Training level 3 completed by Kovalia Shirogane.” The voice announced, revealing her name to the crowd. Looking up to the window where Shiro once stood, her mood fell when she couldn’t spot his crop of white hair in the crowd of adults.

“Training level 5 completed by Kovalia Shirogane.” Somehow, the voices grew louder, the ‘Kova’ chants getting louder with every time they called her name. Average training sessions last anywhere from fifteen minutes to half-hours. Kova did both levels in under ten, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t tired.

Over the cheers and screams, over the stunned applause of the district ambassadors, the intercom clicked.

“Kova and Caleb, report to the Colonel’s office. Again, Kova and Caleb Shirogane, report to the Colonel’s office. Thank you.” She walked over to the doors she came from, going straight to the elevator to the colonel’s office.

The Garrison hadn’t changed much from Shiro’s tenure. The same orange, black, and white striped walls, junior and senior cadets in orange coats were either roaming the hallways or sitting bored in classrooms doing bookwork, and the gray-coated officers were congratulating her. Pressing the up arrow, she waited, receiving more compliments. The elevator doors opened up, a boy about as old as Kova with floppy brown hair and brown eyes looked up from his phone. They said nothing to each other until the doors closed. Kova pressed the second-floor button, underneath the third-floor button that was already lit.

“What’d you do, kill the bot?” Caleb laughed, tucking his phone into a pants pocket. He also wore black training pants and boots, an unbuttoned orange coat over a gray t-shirt. Buttoning up his coat, he noticed Kova’s agitated face. “You didn’t, right?” Kova pulled her braid over her shoulder instead, taking the rubber band off and unbraiding the long strands. When the hair was finally free, she pulled it up into a ponytail, wrapping the hair tie around her thick hair. She kept the little braid.

“It’s just a quick talk with Matt, then we’ll go see Dad. ‘Kay?” Caleb rolled his eyes and nodded when the elevator doors opened again. Both kids stepped out, heading for a door at the end of the hall. The door was labeled ‘Tech Room’, and with a touch of a button, opened to the teens. The tech room was two floors tall, with a metal and concrete staircase leading down to the floor.

“Matt?” Kova called, barely walking over the threshold when a rotten smell hit her nostrils. “Oh, gross.” She muttered. “Matthew Holt!”

Crashes could be heard at the other end. “H-Hey! Kova, Caleb!” Matt’s light brown hair appeared from a pile of nuts and bolts and who knows what else. He had a clothespin over his nose, wearing a white and orange coat. “What’s up?”

“What died?” Caleb asked, getting a punch to the arm by Kova in response.

“That is a good question. Dad and I haven’t found it yet, but we’ll get it.”

“It smells like death. How are you okay working here?” While Caleb and Matt were talking about the death smell, Kova looked around the glowing tubes and pressure chambers that supplied the...well, Kova wasn’t quite sure. It could’ve been anything. Inside one of the pressure chambers, there was a furry thing that was so over-inflated, it could’ve been a balloon. It wasn’t a balloon and the colors of the creature’s fur were enough for concern.

“I, uh, found the source of the smell!” Kova shouted as she ran through the tech room again, grabbing Caleb’s hand, and running back up the stairs. “Sorry about your robot, bye!” The door closed behind them, and Kova breathed in deep gulps of air that wasn’t skunk-related.

“What was it?” Caleb asked, making Kova gag one more time.

“A dead skunk in a pressure chamber.” Caleb gagged too, pointing to a gray phone attached to the wall. Another deep breath later, Kova picked up the phone, giving a short message to the woman who answered. They didn’t argue or ask credentials. She put the phone back into the receiver, picking it up again and dialing the number written in the small box labeled ‘In Case of Emergency’.

A gruff voice picked up the other end, and Kova only told them to bring the hazmat suits. Caleb and Kova returned to the elevator, pressing the three again. The hall split into three separate halls, the teens choosing to walk straight forward. They came before another door that, with the swipe of their keycards, let them into the office. Behind a dark mahogany desk, Shiro reclined in his chair, his husband Curtis sitting on the desk when the teens came in.

“Hey Dad.” Caleb said to Shiro.

“Hey Pops.” Kova said to Curtis.

“I heard you murdered a bot at Level 5,” Curtis said, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. “Another malfunction helping you make Garrison history?”

“Another malfunction, a skunk in a pressure chamber, and a hurt sense of pride. What else is new?” Caleb muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. Kova rolled her eyes at her brother and Pops, then meeting her Dad’s brown eyes.

“Sorry for flaking on the tour.”

“You didn’t miss much, and anyways, I think they were more impressed with you to mind.” Curtis got off the desk, resting a hand on the top of Shiro’s chair.

“Two of the schools actually stayed and are arguing in there.” Shiro pointed a robotic finger to a set of closed doors, where shouts could be heard.

“But I think they can wait,” Curtis said, placing a screen on Shiro’s desk. The holoscreen came to life, at first just a mess of random rectangles and a bright red dot, then becoming floor plans for the Garrison, but the red dot was flashing in a non-existent part of the facility. Underneath the facility.

“We figured out the source of the malfunctions, originating in an abandoned subfloor of the building. What it is, though, we don’t know. That’s what you’ll need to figure out.” Curtis said, zooming in to emphasize the depth of the source. Shiro stood from his chair, towering over the teens.

“Going on a mission is your last requirement before the ceremony next quarter.” Shiro stood, meeting his kids’ eyes. Caleb was determined, but Kova was thinking.

“What about Allie? Her requirement is to go on a simulated mission. As in, not real?” Kova pointed out, making Curtis think.

“Wait, who’s Allie? What happened to Jazz?” Caleb asked.

“Didn’t I tell you? She moved into the city.”

“She moved?” Caleb had a huge crush on Jazz, Kova’s communications expert.

“To be honest, it would’ve never worked out. She could speak five languages, and you can barely handle the one.” Kova crossed her arms, watching as her brother’s dreams became crushed.

“We take a few liberties with simulated.” Curtis interrupted. “Simulated can either mean dropping you off in the middle of the desert and say we dropped you off on a desert planet.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Caleb replied, clutching his coat over his heart.

“Or it can mean never leaving Garrison grounds, which would apply here. As long as there is a faculty member there to control and monitor the situation.”

“Which is why I’ll go down with you.” Shiro sat down again, the chair releasing a huge release of air. Kova and Caleb looked at each other, talking with each other without saying an actual word.

“Dad,” Caleb started.

“Are you sure?” Kova finished. The teens knew about their dad and his history.

I mean, getting kidnapped by the Galra, reemerging a year later, being taken away in a huge blue lion, spending years fighting the Galra leader Zarkon with a legendary defender, dying and having your conscience transferred into the black lion, then having it transferred back into a robotic clone of yourself only to return to pilot and captain a warship against Zarkon’s crazy wife and brainwashed Alteans before finally getting peace for the whole galaxy and

‘retiring’ can’t be good for your mental state.

“The basement can only be accessed with my key, as long as your teams are ready to go.” The teens decided to leave it at that, saying “Yes, sir” before retreating to their room.

Normally, the Garrison would forbid co-ed rooms but made an exception for the teens. Oh, sure, at home, they couldn’t stand each other, but at the Garrison, they were never apart. They were a solid team, matched in strength and skill. They held each other up, reminding each other to humble themselves. And anyway, they were siblings, albeit not biologically. They had each other’s backs.

Their dorm wasn’t special, or grand, or even separated rooms. Their dorm was the same as everyone else’s in the Garrison, and they liked it. Kova sat on her solitaire bed, to the left of the door. Caleb’s side of the room had a desk bunk, but it felt like he spent more time in the chair than his bed. Three neat brown packages tied with colorful ribbons sat on the nightstand they both shared. Kova put a green and white arm piece on her forearm, opening up a little screen and crossing her legs on the bed.

“Can you hand me the pliers?” Caleb complied, leaning back in the chair. Kova’s project had been taxing, both to do and to watch. At last, though, the screen stopped flashing red into its original Altean blue. “I did it!” Kova raised the pliers in a fist above her head, and Caleb sat up in his comfy chair.

“How did you manage to do it?” He asked, watching Kova’s fist fall on the comforter.

“She added a lot of changes to the gear, and only she knew the password to override it.” Kova’s eyebrows pinched together, a leg uncurling itself and dangling over the side of the bed.

“Is someone jealous?” a voice asked from the doorway.

“I managed to get rid of it, didn’t I?” Kova raised her head to look at the cadet who was standing in the doorway to their dorm.

“Guess what finally came in.” Cake said in a sing-song voice. Cake Garrett was half-human (Samoan, if anyone is wondering) and half-Balmeran. His real name is Issako, but after an accident at one of his dad’s restaurants, the nickname stuck. In his hands, he held a perfectly folded suit in a wooden box covered with a pane of glass.

“Are you serious?” Kova jumped off the bed in excitement. “What happened?”

“Mom said something about Dad wanting me to have it. Talia’s doing good, by the way.” Cake gave the box to Kova. Cake took more after his father than his mother with dark skin and hair. Little Balmeran horns were growing from his scalp, and little knobs on his shoulders were pressing through the fabric of his cadet uniform. He’d recently cut his bangs, showing off his yellow sclera and dark irises. He was like a giant teddy bear with a knack for mechanics, which is why he was Kova’s engineer.

“Glad she’s doing great,” Kova said earnestly. She barely remembered Cake’s older sister, but did remember she was a sweet girl. “Thanks so much for this, Cake.”

“It was no problem.” He turned away from the door, ready to return to his dorm down the hall.

“Oh, by the way, Cake,” Kova called out, turning Cake around. “Have everyone meet in the commons in a Varga.”

“Oh, that’s, um,” Kova had been using Galran and Altean when speaking to her team to get them used to other species using them. “An hour?” Kova nodded her head, and Cake pumped his fist. “Right away, Cap.” Cake ran away, closing the door behind him before Kova could pick up the closest object and throwing it at him. It was a pillow, which bounced harmlessly on the door. The teens looked up at each other and smiled.

#voltron #part one #welcome #sorry about that #thought it posted

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