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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Different People (Different Arguments), 3/14 (Branjie/Jankie) - Ortega

a/n: ayo!! so sorry for the update gap fam, but chapter 3 is here! soooo hope u all enjoy. p.s. i promise I love Nicky, Gigi and Crystal…but every good story has a bad guy right???

fic summary: Brooke Lynn is a political advisor for a government department where she has to contend with an incompetent Minister, maintaining her stone-cold bitch image, working alongside a press team of slackers, and the Prime Minister’s ever-so-slightly terrifying enforcer breathing down her neck 24/7. So when a familiar face from her past arrives as her new boss, she’s not exactly thrilled to add another problem to her ever-growing pile.

And then she admits she’s got a crush on her coworker.

Last chapter: Jackie became a breakout political star after she spoke out against the homophobia and misogyny in the media, and Brooke finally acknowledged that her feelings for Vanessa maybe weren’t as platonic as she’d thought.

In this chapter: When Shadow Minister Nicky Doll and her advisors arrive at DoSac for an informal, pre-election briefing, Jan tries to cope with the stress of seeing her old colleagues again. There’s more at stake, though, when Jackie reveals a secret that cannot get out.

***

Casting her eyes over the meeting room, Brooke attempted to focus on what Jackie was actually saying. She was trying her hardest, she really was, but it was just that Vanessa was wearing the red jumper today, the really soft one that made her look more cuddly and adorable than normal.

Brooke had a crush on Vanessa. She’d accepted that now. The way to deal with it was just to never act upon it, talk about it, or to admit it to anyone outside of her own head. She’d spent so long cultivating the perfect stone-cold, heartless bitch image and she wasn’t exactly going to do anything to taint that now. The most important thing she had to remember was that she didn’t need anyone- she had no desire to be in a relationship, to be tied down and have to answer to someone else all the time. She had a perfectly good bullet to get her off and if she felt like it she could always go and pick up someone random from a bar. There was always that irritating aspect when the afterglow had faded, though, if whoever she’d used for the night wanted to stay over, or heaven forbid see her again. Things were just better as they were, Brooke concluded. She couldn’t get attached, or hurt, or fall in love this way. If there was one thing she wasn’t, it was vulnerable. Getting into a relationship with someone put you in the weakest position you could possibly get.

She would know, after all.

Still, she was allowed to dream about it; an ideal world in which love worked out the way it did in books and movies, one huge cliché where Brooke and Vanessa were happy together and lived in perfect domesticity, had the best sex of their lives and went on adorable dates. It was simplistic and shallow and completely unrealistic, but perhaps that was all it was meant to be.

Gazing at Vanessa again, she was surprised to see her eyes already on her. She was even more surprised when she looked around the room and saw that everyone else was staring at her as well.

“Brooke Lynn?” Jackie asked, staring at her expectantly. She stood in front of a huge whiteboard with marker pen scribbled all over it- generic buzzwords such as “connectivity”, “inclusivity” and “diversity” sprang out to her, but nothing really indicated what Jackie could have previously been talking about.

“Um. The fiscal year?” Brooke guessed blankly. Jan laughed from across the table, throwing her head back and letting her blonde hair cascade down the back of the chair. Jackie didn’t find it as funny.

“For God’s sake, Brooke, this policy is only going to work if everyone pays attention and has some form of input other than just staring at me with glassy eyes like they’ve been goddamn taxidermied!” she sighed, sitting her pen down on the table and sliding into an empty chair. Brooke felt a pang of guilt- Jackie had been doing well in the two weeks that had followed her Von’Du interview and had received heaps of public support and attention. The perfect time, Bianca had insisted, to get some new ideas out there and into parliament.

“Sorry. Remind me of the premise?”

Irritated, Jackie rolled her eyes before Vanessa cut in with a sweet smile. “Issa scheme to get the UK to house more refugees and get ‘em into work therefore boosting the economy, diversifyin’ the nation and basically makin’ us look like good guys to the rest of Europe.”

Brooke shot her a grateful smile across the table, trying her best not to blush.

“Thank God someone’s been listening,” Jackie smirked. “We’re basically just trying to come up with a name for it. Or a tagline or something.”

Brooke pressed her pen to her lips, thinking for a second. Nina suddenly piped up from beside her.

“What about…Don’t be bigoted. Be uninhibited,” she said, her suggestion met with utter silence from the rest of the group.

“Well that was nice, Nina, but how about something a bit less…” Jackie thought for a second, trying to find the correct word.

“Shit?” Brooke shrugged, Jan once again letting out a peal of laughter. Vanessa was clearly trying to conceal her giggles from the other side of the huge table, while both Nina and Jackie looked unimpressed.

“Do you have any better suggestions?”

“No, and I’m not going to pretend like I do! I’m not going to just yell out any old crap like I’ve got shit idea Tourette’s,” Brooke shrugged, Jan now bent over in her chair from laughter and Vanessa now audibly giggling. Brooke couldn’t tell, but she could have sworn Jackie let out the tiniest snort of a laugh before regaining composure.

“Ladies, please, this is important! This is a good damn idea, if I’m allowed to blow my own trumpet, and we’ve got to get it out there sooner rather than later,” she insisted. A loud, harsh vibration from Nina’s phone startled them all.

“Bianca’s here,” she announced, trying to keep her tone bright. Before the girls even had time to react to the news, Bianca had appeared in the room in a smart, tailored black and white suit.

“Good morning to you all, shit Spice Girls impersonation act,” she smiled cheerfully.

“Mornin’, Bianca,” Vanessa greeted her.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Jackie quipped dryly, lounging back in her seat.

“Two things from me,” Bianca began, ignoring the Minister’s sarcasm. “The shadow minister’s visit, today at 11. They’re going to be talking to Nina and the rest of those brain-dead, civil-service puppets out there about what’s going to happen if they take office. Nina, your job is to basically communicate to them that they’ll be taking it out of my cold, dead hands.”

“Fuck, that’s today?!” Vanessa exclaimed somewhat involuntarily, earning her a steely glare from Bianca which in turn made Vanessa look as if she was seconds away from death. Reaching into her pocket and retrieving her phone, Brooke fired off a quick text to Vanessa under the table.

B: It’s okay. Snakes only eat once every few weeks x

As Bianca briefed Nina, Brooke watched as Vanessa looked down into her lap and smiled, a light blush colouring her cheeks very slightly, although that could have just been the light of the room. Satisfied that she’d made Vanessa feel better, she tuned back in to what Bianca was saying.

“…you tell them nothing. Except where the toilets are, but you lie about that.”

“So who’s actually accompanying Nicky today? I’ve heard nothing and I want to make sure I’m relatively prepared for whoever enters my department,” Jackie folded her arms across her chest, already defensive.

“You already know about Nicky. Privately educated daddy’s girl and massively out of touch with the electorate. Probably a lizard wearing a human skin suit, I’ve never particularly wanted to get close enough to her to check if that theory’s true,” Bianca shrugged. “The other two coming with her are going to be her advisors, Gigi and Crystal.”

“Oh no,” Jan suddenly exclaimed from her chair. Her face had gone incredibly ashen, her eyes wide and fearful. Suddenly Brooke was acutely aware that she no longer had only Vanessa to worry about. If Jan’s old colleagues and ex-friends bumped into her it wouldn’t be particularly pleasant, and Jan would no doubt be incredibly shaken. Crossing the floor was like a betrayal, pledging loyalty to one party after being aligned with another was treacherous, and so it was likely that Gigi, Crystal and Nicky still wanted Jan’s head on a stick.

“Oh yes. Gigi Goode, bit of a newborn as far as politics is concerned but she’s got impressive credentials. Graduated from Oxford University with a first class degree and a PhD in Politics and Business. Won the World Universities Debating Championships five consecutive times. She’s confident, clever, and has zero scruples. Knows every loophole in the world of politics,” Bianca reeled off. Jackie raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed.

“She sounds interesting.”

“Don’t even make contact with her, she’ll probably have you telling her the fucking nuke codes and all the department’s discrepancies within the first 30 seconds of meeting her. Crystal Harness is a different story,” Bianca frowned. “Not too good when it comes to actual political knowledge. Nina, you and her would get along. She’s a baby too, really, not been in the game long. Graduated from Oxford Brookes. Second class degree in Psychology and Sociology. Don’t think for a second that this is a reason to underestimate her. She is cunning and has intellect and knows everything about everyone, don’t let her see you break a sweat.”

Jackie looked momentarily terrified. “I didn’t realise Nicky had some kind of metahuman task force working for her.”

“They’re not that bad,” Brooke sighed, tipping her head back in her chair. “If you talk to Nicky entirely in cockney rhyming slang, she’ll just combust. Gigi is fine if you give her a fake smile or two. Crystal is basically simple. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Jackie.”

Feeling the mood in the room change, Brooke turned around in her wheely chair and was met with Bianca’s icy stare.

“What part of ‘don’t underestimate these people’ do you not understand? What, you think they’re here for a jolly little chat with Nina about worker’s rights and office hours? They’re here to get intel, and I want you all to be more airtight than some middle-aged white woman’s Tupperware. And no, that’s not a euphemism.”

Brooke watched as Vanessa wrinkled up her nose in distaste. She had such a cute little nose, and Brooke found herself imagining how perfect it would be to just kiss it gently before they both drifted off to sleep together in a little house that they shared. Frowning involuntarily, Brooke chased those particular thoughts out of her head. They were way too intense, too weird and commitment-y for her friend she had a stupid crush on. Remembering what Bianca had said earlier, she turned and faced her.

“What was the other thing? You said you had two things to tell us.”

“I’m getting there! Right, Jackie, I’ve got you a good photo op this evening. Some new charging points for electric car owners, it’s going to be the biggest one in the UK and a big step for climate change, yadda yadda yadda. We’re going to get you driving in a fucking Prius or something, charging it up and then driving out again. Pretty simple, but effective- what? What is it?”

Every head in the room turned to face Jackie, who looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Her hands were gripping the edge of the table, her knuckles white. She’d turned pale, her face ashen, and she seemed worried.

“Driving? No, I can’t drive, there’s no way,” she babbled, her usually calm and composed exterior completely destroyed.

“Jackie?” Jan prompted quietly, clearly concerned. Brooke shared a brief look of confusion with Vanessa. It was clear nobody had the faintest idea what was going on.

“I mean, you can drive. We have your drivers’ license, you sent in a photocopy as proof of identification when you received Darienne’s job. I don’t really see the issue here?” Bianca curled her top lip, completely unfazed by Jackie’s behaviour.

“Bianca, you don’t understand…I’ve not driven in ages, I…do you not-”

“Do I not what?” Bianca cut in, her irritation mounting by the second. “Look, I don’t really have time to stand here and argue the toss. This is part of your job. You’re doing the goddamn photo op. Christ, this was the girl who two weeks ago was desperate to get on prime time television. Now you’re shitting yourself at the thought of driving a bloody battery operated car. Get it done. 6 o’clock tonight. See you all later.”

As Bianca click-clacked out of the department, the mood in the room was still very tense. Almost frozen, Brooke thought, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up from goosebumps. Jan was the first to speak.

“Jackie, are you okay?” she almost whispered, her voice both deafening and quiet in the silent room. There were a few seconds (minutes?) where there was no response at all, in fact Brooke was almost convinced that nobody even breathed. Finally, Jackie spoke.

“Yep. All good. So, um, if you ladies can continue thinking up some form of line or title we can use or something while you’re finishing off that immigration data, and Nina if you can just forward me the protocol for Nicky’s visit again so I can read over it, then that would be great,” she said, her body almost frozen in place and her face wearing a fake smile.

Deciding not to push it any further, Brooke simply nodded and walked back to her desk. It wasn’t long before Vanessa was following behind, rolling her own wheely chair along to sit beside her.

“What d’you think all that was about?” she whispered, leaning her elbows on Brooke’s desk expectantly. Brooke couldn’t help but stifle a laugh- Vanessa could be such a gossip and it was one of the things that was oddly endearing about her. Trying not to be too taken in by her perfume and parted lips, Brooke instead threw up her defences again and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, ‘Ness. To be honest, it’s not my place to ask. It’s not yours either,” she chastised softly, hitting Vanessa gently on the nose with her pen. Wrinkling her nose and pulling away, Vanessa shrugged.

“You’re right, I know. Still, she was kinda rattled. Hope she’s okay,” Vanessa frowned, nibbling on her bottom lip.

“She’ll be fine. Honestly. Just go and do your damn job.”

“Hmm. Winding you up’s more fun, baby, but I’ll do what I’m told,” Vanessa winked at her, shooting back off to her desk in her chair.

Feeling her heart speed up, Brooke fleetingly wondered if maybe the feelings she had for Vanessa weren’t entirely one-sided. That was flirting, right? Brooke wasn’t reading too much into it? Or maybe she was. Reality brought her back down to earth with a bump, telling her what a ridiculous thought that was. Vanessa saw Brooke as a friend and a co-worker, and that was where her feelings ended. Brooke couldn’t let herself get carried away or distracted with the idea that Vanessa would ever treat her as anything more than what they already were.

Letting out a huge exhale of breath, Brooke opened up the immigration spreadsheet and was about to start working when there was a thud of two elbows on the empty space to her left. Turning slowly in an attempt to conceal her flinching, she was met with Yvie; head in her hands, black dreads cascading over her shoulders and a huge, smug grin on her face.

“Don’t even say a word,” Brooke warned her, clearly too late as Yvie began sniggering a laugh behind her hands.

“I wasn’t actually here to gloat, but now you mention it…” Yvie joked, lolling lazily against Brooke’s desk. “So you’ve not admitted anything to anyone else. In fact, you’re probably maintaining the fact that there’s nothing to admit. But you’ve definitely admitted something to yourself, because I think your face is so red that you could go stand at a street corner and act as a traffic light.”

“If you keep talking, I’m going to staple your mouth shut,” Brooke glared, grabbing the stapler on her desk for emphasis. It didn’t seem to intimidate Yvie at all, who was still grinning maniacally and completely unfazed.

“Hey, like I said! Not here to gloat at all. I’m actually not here to talk about your deep feelings for your coworker in any way. Just thought you might like to know that Akeria texted me this a couple minutes ago.”

With that, Yvie produced her phone and held it out to Brooke so that she could read the screen.

A: ahahaha yeah. Big Silk with the fuckin bodyshots man!! Don’t actually know how she made it in today. Also, 100% confirmed Nicky’s looking for stuff to take Jackie down with bc she’s still pissed about that dig in the Von’Du interview. watch ur back xo

Attempting to ignore whatever conversation that had been going on before, Brooke focussed on the important information. She wished she could say she was surprised by the shadow minister’s plan but in all honesty, she’d highly expected it. Sighing, Brooke handed Yvie her phone back.

“I mean, I’m not too worried. What can she possibly dig up? Jackie will’ve been vetted by Bianca already,” she shrugged, clicking on a single cell of the spreadsheet half-heartedly.

“She got pizza delivered to the office last week?”

“That’s not even- Yvie. Come on,” Brooke raised one eyebrow in disbelief. “The papers would be hard pressed to conjure up a paragraph on that. Jackie will be fine.”

Appearing to be satisfied, Yvie pushed herself off the desk and made to return to her seat, but not before turning back to Brooke with the same smug look on her face as before.

“You know, I don’t think anyone in the office could’ve missed that wink Vanjie gave you just there. Whatever you’re feeling, I don’t think it’s as one-sided as you think,” she smirked, making sure to keep her voice low. Unsure of what to reply, Brooke simply narrowed her eyes, picked up her stapler and clicked it twice in warning. Chuckling, Yvie sauntered back to her desk.

Trying not to even entertain the thought that Vanessa could like her back, Brooke continued with her work. All of the numbers suddenly seemed scrambled and jumbled up, making no sense to her whatsoever. Feeling as if she was about to scream with frustration she made to ask Jan for advice until she noticed her desk was empty. Come to think of it, Jan hadn’t actually left the meeting room with her and Vanessa. Bullshit if she was getting away with doing nothing while Brooke worked on this entire set of figures by herself. Getting up and smoothing her skirt down she made her way to the meeting room only to find it empty. Puzzled, she began to walk slightly aimlessly down the corridor, her curiosity piqued at the disappearance of both Jan and Jackie. It was unlike Jan to just wander off without telling either Brooke or Vanessa where she was going.

Reaching the photocopier and a dead end with no Jan in sight, Brooke was about to give up and ask Nina for help instead when she heard two sets of muffled voices coming from the stationery cupboard.

“I’m just panicking, I know. But I feel like I have good reason to. I mean, it’s going to be absolute carnage if this gets out.”

“It won’t, don’t worry. I still can’t believe Bianca missed that when she vetted you. But please don’t panic, it’ll all be fine! I’ll speak to Nina and I’ll get her to quietly cancel it.”

Jackie and Jan. What the hell were they in the stationery cupboard for, and most importantly, what were they talking about? Whatever it was, it sounded serious. If it was serious business, Brooke deserved to know. Making to burst open the door in a show of outrage, she stopped herself when Jackie’s voice spoke again.

“I just feel like such a failure. I should’ve known it would get out, I should’ve said something-”

“Hey! You are not a failure,” Jan’s voice cut in urgently. There was an odd sort of pause in which Brooke wasn’t quite sure what was happening. “You’re a good person, Jackie, and a kick-ass politician. You’re the best thing to happen to this department since I arrived, even if I do say so myself.”

Soft laughter, then Jan’s voice again. “You’re incredible. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Another pause. Brooke couldn’t quite bring herself to move, somehow feeling as if she shouldn’t be hearing this at all. Composing herself, she rested her hand on the door handle.

“Jan I…this might seem inappropriate, but-”

“Okay, what the hell is going on in here?” Brooke demanded as she flung open the door and revealed herself. Both girls seemed to jump back a bit, Jackie looking to the floor awkwardly and rubbing the back of her neck, Jan’s mouth forming a perfect circle as her jaw dropped in shock. They had both gone bright red, which Brooke thought was odd for two colleagues having a professional conversation.

“Jesus, Brooke, you scared the crap out of me,” Jackie breathed out raggedly, her voice spooked but holding an underlying note of irritation.

“I don’t care, you haven’t answered my question. What were you talking about? What’s going to be carnage?” Brooke replied, keeping her glare cold. Jackie kept her eyes trained on the floor, not seeming to want to look up anytime soon. Jan still hadn’t spoken.

“Close the door,” Jackie said finally, sounding a little shaken. Feeling the wind slightly knocked out of her sails, Brooke did as she was told and watched as Jackie steadied herself on the shelf and sat on an unopened box.

“Um. Do you remember I kind of went off grid after uni? A lot of people were asking after me and couldn’t really find me.”

With a pang of guilt, Brooke’s first reaction was that she hadn’t really cared. She’d been glad to see the back of Jackie at the time, if she was honest. Times had changed, though, so Brooke simply nodded instead. Jackie wrung her hands together, her face completely racked with nerves.

“I wasn’t in a good place. My mental health spiralled out of control pretty dramatically once I graduated, I struggled to find a job for a while and when I did, I got way too into it. I would work myself into a frenzy, I’d do consecutive days on two hours of sleep…at one point I was averaging a panic attack per day. I didn’t really, um. I didn’t really have anyone to talk to about things. I tried going to therapy but it just didn’t help. I don’t know…it felt like I was making progress just being able to know that I was visiting someone, I guess, but I wasn’t really. Anyway, you don’t need to know my sob story,” Jackie frowned, shaking her head repeatedly. “To cut a long story short, I was driving into work one day, trying to do twenty things at once as usual. It was idiotic, but I was on the motorway and a text came through from my boss and wanting to seem like I was organised and in control, I tried to type and drive at the same time…the motorway was quiet, there was nobody around me…fuck, sorry-”

As Jackie’s voice broke slightly, Jan crossed over to where she sat and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I crashed into the barricade in the central reservation doing fifty miles an hour. God knows how I’m still alive. The police obviously came along with the ambulance and the fire brigade and of course they wanted to know how it was that I managed to crash on a clear stretch of road with no other drivers around me. I’ve never been able to lie to save myself, so I just told them. I’d only passed my test the year before that, so they took my license away. That’s why I can’t do the PR thing. It’s illegal for me to drive. I got a fake license purely so I could take this job.”

Leaning against the door, Brooke felt she wanted to sit down too. This was so much to deal with. She couldn’t style herself out as not caring about this, because she actually felt sick to her stomach with guilt. She couldn’t believe Jackie had coped- or not coped- completely on her own through all this horrible mess. Even though there was no way she could have known, Brooke just wished she could’ve done something differently. She desperately hoped Jackie was better now.

“Jackie, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. This isn’t about me being…enormously god damn mental in the head, or whatever,” she snorted a derisive laugh. “I’m more worried about how we’re going to placate Bianca. Jan said she’d talk to Nina and get her to cancel the shoot but Bianca’s going to ask questions.”

“Well it’s not your fault she didn’t vet you properly,” Brooke shrugged, how Bianca would feel the absolute last thing on her mind right now. “So she can just deal with it. How Bianca feels doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re okay.”

Jackie looked up at her, her face grateful but slightly taken aback at this raw show of compassion. Truthfully, Brooke was also slightly shocked at how kind she was being towards her. She was grateful for the shout that came from the hall suddenly.

“Brooke? Guys? You in there?” Vanessa asked, as she opened the door and stepped inside the stationery cupboard that was ever-decreasing in space. Confused by the presence of her boss and the two other advisors, her perfect eyebrows became furrowed together. “There some meeting I didn’t know about?”

“Yeah, in the stationery cupboard. It was really important, girl, did you not get the memo?” Jan laughed affectionately. Laughing briefly at her own ridiculous assumption, Vanessa then tentatively looked at everyone else again.

“So…why we all here?”

Brooke briefly looked at Jackie, then sighed. “Jackie can’t do the PR stunt because legally, she’s not allowed to drive. She got done for texting while driving years ago and her license got revoked.”

Vanessa’s mouth dropped open a little as if she was about to ask how, then shut again as she clearly decided against it. “Does Bianca know?”

Giving her an affectionate smile, Brooke raised her eyebrows at her. “V. Come on. Use your brain.”

“Fuck, ‘course not. I’m so not with it today. So what’s happenin’?”

“Jan’s telling Nina to cancel it and when Bianca finds out, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. What’s important here is Jackie,” Brooke said decisively. Shocked again at the vulnerability she was showing, she smoothed down her black pencil skirt and sniffed once, trying to ignore just how close Vanessa was in the tiny space. “So that’s settled. Can we all get out of this cupboard and do some damn work? I feel like I’m suffocating.”

Without speaking, the four girls filed out of the cupboard as if the conversation had never happened. Brooke’s head was still slightly spinning as she slumped back in her chair, the excel spreadsheet now more confusing than ever. She was still attempting to take in everything that Jackie had just told her. It was so much to process, and Brooke couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that was settling in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that maybe there was something she could have done to help all those years ago. Sighing, she cast her eyes to Jackie’s glass-fronted office where the Minister was now typing into her phone, her face failing to betray anything about the heartfelt conversation that had just taken place. Why the hell did Jackie have to confide in her like that? Life would be so much less stressful if everybody just kept their guard up like Brooke did.

Still, she mused, everyone would probably be a whole lot more lonely.

Suddenly, Brooke’s phone screen lit up with three messages at once- two from Jan, one from Vanessa.

J: I would love to, that sounds amazing (: we could go for sushi?? Wardour Street has some really nice places! Xxx

J: whoops wasn’t meant for you lol sorry

Brooke would probably have been about ten times more intrigued and curious about Jan’s text if she didn’t have a text from Vanessa awaiting her.

V: I don’t care what kind of front you try to put up, you’re kind and caring and a total sweetheart x

Not even daring to look up and risk meeting Vanessa’s eyes, Brooke reached for a piece of paper on her desk and began to fan the blush that had just flooded her cheeks. Trying her best not to think about what Yvie had said earlier, she began to compose a reply.

B: You’re a cutie. Don’t tell anyone I was nice to you though, being a bitch is kind of my brand x

Risking a peek up over her monitor, Brooke watched as Vanessa picked up her phone and giggled, covering her mouth with one perfectly manicured hand.

God, it was going to be a long day.

***

They had arrived.

Brooke felt like a bird of prey as she stood beside Jan and watched from above as Nicky and her two advisors were greeted by Nina in the lobby. Even from six floors up Brooke could tell that Nina was hating the fact that she had to be at the very least civil to the three opposition members. Narrowing her eyes, Brooke watched closer.

Nicky was using the tactic she employed every time she had a television interview; gushing about how happy she was to be here, playing the humble, meek elected representative of the people. She was wearing an immaculate navy pencil dress with what appeared to be a Tiffany heart around her neck, and her sleek blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a bun. Following dutifully behind her were two others. The first girl Brooke heard before she saw- a cry of excitement at being in the building had been the very thing that proclaimed the arrival of the opposition. She was still making an obscene amount of excitable noise which travelled up the floors of the lobby as if it was riding the elevator. Squawker- or Crystal, Brooke supposed she should call her- was equally well turned out. She gave off a clear professional vibe in her button-down shirt, blue skirt and little heeled boots, and her curly red hair was swept over one shoulder.

“Gigi needs her roots done. See?” Brooke whispered to Jan, not taking her eyes off the three opposition members. Receiving no response, Brooke turned to look at her friend. Jan’s shoulders were tensed up as she trained her eyes on the member of the opposition in question. Her style was immaculate and she wore a pressed white shirt with huge sleeves and a pair of smart tailored black trousers with her high heels. Her long, blonde hair had been immaculately styled and blow-dried, and Brooke found herself wondering how or if she had the time to do that every day. Looking to Jan again she found her brow furrowed, biting at her long, painted nails.

“Jan, come on. Don’t ruin your nails, you’re better than that,” Brooke scolded, grabbing gently at Jan’s wrist and pulling it away from her face. Jan finally turned to meet her eyes before looking quickly back down at the floor again. “Hey. Talk to me.”

Sighing, Jan leant against the balcony, watching as the opposition were led away to the lift. “Sorry. I know I’m not myself today. It’s just this is really, really freaking me out. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve seen these girls since I crossed the floor, but to have them here where I work? It’s just a lot. It sounds dramatic but like…it kind of feels violating, if that makes any sense?”

Brooke nodded slowly. “I know you’re worried about it. But you’re being really brave about the whole thing. And hey, you kind of have an advantage, I guess! They’re on your territory, they’re not familiar or comfortable with anything here. Mainly because nothing’s engulfed by the flames of hell or costs over £10,000.”

Snorting a brief laugh, Jan’s face grew somewhat blank again. “I mean. Their tanks are on our lawn, though, they know we’re shook.”

Rolling her eyes, Brooke laughed derisively. “Jan. These private school bitches are not going to take power. You live in this country at the moment, do you really think the public are going to vote for people like Nicky?”

“Well, the public are idiots.”

Brooke gave a snort. “Jan, you can’t say the entire nation are idiots.”

“Yes I can, I’ve met them,” Jan deadpanned, signing off with a smile. Brooke relaxed against the balcony, comforted by the fact that Jan clearly felt a little better.

“Listen. One single day. One day of smiling and nodding like a puppet and just taking whatever crap or snide comments or shade they throw at you. You’ve handled so much worse,” Brooke smiled reassuringly, resting both hands on Jan’s shoulders. Comforted, Jan made to turn back to the department when suddenly she whipped her head back round.

“Brooke,” she murmured. “What if they find out about Jackie?”

“What, that she exists? I know it was a crushing disappointment to us all but they’ll get over it some day,” she deadpanned. Jan gave a colossal roll of her eyes.

“No, you bitch! The license thing,” Jan sighed in exasperation, raising her voice just a little.

Brooke paused for a moment. It was weird how protective Jan was of her boss. She was never like that with Darienne at all. Fair enough Jackie was far more competent but still, it wasn’t as if the two shared some deep personal connection or anything. Brooke thought about asking her about it, but instead decided that that probably wasn’t what Jan needed right at this very moment.

“Who’s going to tell them? Me? You? Vanessa? Jackie herself? We’re the only ones that know. Come on, Jan, think,” Brooke tapped the side of Jan’s head once, punctuating her point. “It’s not going to get out.”

Smiling slightly, Jan seemed to compose herself and took one deep breath. As if something had occurred to her, she let out a laugh.

“God, what’s happening to you, Brooke? First you’re nice to Jackie for once and then you listen to me vent for ages. Your cracks are showing,” Jan smiled. Brooke attempted to style it out by shrugging, secretly a little unnerved that her recent empathy was being noticed.

“Stop psychoanalysing me, psycho, and let’s get back to our desks.”

No sooner had both girls turned the corner towards their office when they came face to face with the three members of the opposition coming out of the lift, Nina leading them. Jan immediately froze in place, seemingly unable to move. Brooke wanted to do something, anything to reassure her but before she could even look at Jan, Gigi’s cold grey eyes met her own.

“Nicky,” she turned to her boss, her cheerful, light voice at odds with the stare she was giving Brooke. “You go on ahead with Nina. Crystal and I are just going to have a little catch-up with a couple of old friends we haven’t seen in a while.”

Brooke wasn’t easily intimidated and she swore that today would be no different. As Gigi and Crystal advanced towards them, she drew her shoulders back and tilted her head, not giving a single thing away on her face. She could feel Jan growing more and more timid beside her. Christ, if these girls were planning on giving her friend a hard time then they’d be leaving the department in an ambulance.

“Brooke Lynn. Jan! So good to see you both,” Gigi began, her smile smug as she rested one nonchalant hand on her hip. “God, how long has it been? When was the last time we saw these two, Crystal?”

“Gee, Gigi, I don’t know! Did they not serve us at McDonalds when we went to get nuggets a couple days ago?” Crystal chimed in, flashing a quick, amused smile at her friend. Brooke muffled a derisive laugh as she shook her head. She couldn’t quite believe the schoolyard bullshit that these adult women were trying to start in her department. Still, if this was the game they were playing, then Brooke would play accordingly.

“Clever, implying that we’re both in minimum wage retail sector jobs! Something which your party loves to shit on very often. I love it,” Brooke smiled sweetly, gently clapping her hands. Gigi gave a fake laugh.

“Ladies, relax! It’s just some classic cross-party fun, no harm meant by it. You know that, right, Jan?” she flashed her a false smile. Brooke watched as Jan, shoulders now so hunched she was practically concave, gave a meek nod in response.

“You know, we really miss you, Jan,” Crystal nodded somberly, her voice high and sweet and almost-but-not-quite masking the fake sincerity behind her words. “Nicky’s always saying how open she’d be to having you back if you’d ever want to cross the floor…again! Gigi and I miss you too. We miss our friend.”

With that, Crystal reached a hand out and touched Jan’s arm gently. Flinching a little, Jan finally met her former colleague’s eyes and gave a weak smile. Brooke felt a flame of anger sting her veins as she watched the whole interaction. It was the same every time Jan ran into these two- they would start with the bitchy high school bullshit and Jan would be unable to ignore it, growing more and more quiet and subdued with every passing comment. Fuelled by her anger and dislike of behaviour of the two girls in front of her, Brooke snorted sardonically.

“Friend? Spare me the bullshit, you’d stab yourself in the back if it meant you got ten more followers on Instagram. Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to work. You know, being in power? But this has been lovely,” Brooke flashed her bright white teeth in a smile, which Gigi returned equally as insincerely. “I haven’t had the conversational equivalent of hepatitis C in a long time.”

“As always, Brooke, you’re a very funny girl. Quite the comedian,” Gigi gave a tight-lipped smile as she stepped to one side and cleared a path down the corridor for the two girls. Hooking her arm through Jan’s, Brooke began to leave and had taken roughly three steps when she yelled her retort over her shoulder.

“I’ve got a lot of jokes, but none as good as your boss!”

Still fuelled from the frustration coursing through her veins, Brooke steered Jan the rest of the way down the hall and into the small kitchen like a demented steam train. It was only after she flicked the switch on the kettle so hard she thought she might have broken it when Jan spoke.

“I know they annoy you, babe, but don’t be too hard on them.”

“Don’t be too…Jan! They were standing there making you feel like a sack of shit, I wasn’t going to sit back and let them rip you to shreds! God, I can’t believe you’re defending them,” Brooke cried, grabbing two mugs and two teabags so hard she felt they might crumble apart in her hands. Silent for only a moment, Jan began playing with the edge of a tea towel, deep in thought.

“They were my friends once though. Who knows, maybe…maybe they were being serious. Maybe they do want to be friends again.”

As the kettle reached boiling point, Brooke took one deep, calming breath and began pouring them cups of tea. Part of her hated the way that she’d been conditioned into going straight to the kettle when something was angering or upsetting either her or her friends, as if a ridiculous hot drink was going to help make things any better. Vodka, now that would go some way to really help the situation. If Brooke and Jan shared a 75cl bottle, they’d be able to get so wasted that those idiots from the opposition wouldn’t bother them anymore. The bottle would also be ideal for smashing over Gigi’s smug face. Too bad it was too early for alcohol, Brooke mused, as she handed the smaller girl a steaming hot mug of tea. As Jan gave a grateful smile and began to sip, Brooke found herself wishing she could knock some sense into her. One of Jan’s biggest strengths was very feasibly also her biggest weakness; her determination to always focus on the good in people, to ignore their flaws and instead choose to look at their positives. It was something that made Jan such a horrendous judge of character. Christ, she’d worked for the opposition for a year, after all.

Casting another glance at her friend and deciding she’d visibly gained back a little of her confidence, Brooke grabbed her own mug off the countertop.

“Right, come on,” she said decisively. “We’re going to go back to our desks and drink these up and get on with our work, because these snakes that have slithered into the department don’t change a single thing about how capable you are as a professional. Okay?”

With a stifled smile Jan led the way back to the office, leaving Brooke wondering if she could still maintain the bitchy façade she always presented to the world if she was getting this good at cheering people up.

***

Sadly that wasn’t the only encounter they had to suffer with the opposition that day. Nicky soon appeared in the department’s offices with Nina, almost as a grand finale to the tour of Dosac she’d been given so far. She watched with narrowed eyes as Nicky made her way from desk to desk of the comms team, shaking hands and smiling in a sickeningly sweet manner that made Brooke want to hurl. Gigi and Crystal hovered behind Nicky’s shoulders like little cartoon devils and angels, except in Brooke’s opinion neither of them had many angelic qualities about them.

Attempting to ignore the gatecrashers in her office, Brooke turned back to her monitor. She supposed that maybe both Gigi and Crystal were pleasant people. Perhaps even Nicky at a push. They might still have been fun and friendly people to hang out with, after all, the politics they followed didn’t define them. Suddenly remembering a very obvious exception (Hitler), Brooke sent another withering glare the opposition’s way. Hit with another pang of doubt, she reasoned that comparing Nicky Doll to Hitler was perhaps an overreaction. Tuning out of the immigration stats that sat in front of her, Brooke instead found herself listening in to the conversation between Nicky and Nina.

“The space here is lovely. Very professional, very focused. There’s maybe about twenty-five percent that I’m not okay with, though. I think I’d prefer isolation booths for everybody to work in- it’ll keep everyone more on task,” Nicky asserted, Brooke noticing out the corner of her eye how Yvie and Scarlet both recoiled in horror at the thought of not being able to chat and keep each other going throughout the day.

“Okay, so you’d prefer isolation booths in addition to the longer working hours of 8.30am til 7pm, and only half an hour for lunch,” Nina confirmed. Her hair was twice as big and frizzy as it usually was, probably as a result of tearing half of it out in frustration after the amount of hours she’d spent with Nicky.

“Christ, does she want us chained to the phones as well?” Adore mumbled. Brooke immediately tensed up- if she had heard that comment, then Nicky definitely had too. Sure enough, Nicky whipped her head round and stared Adore straight in the eye.

“That’s very funny, but no. I would not be chaining people to phones, I would simply be employing popular and common tactics that are used by employers the world over. Something which you wouldn’t have to worry about, because I wouldn’t have you working for me,” she smiled fake-sweetly, her voice getting more and more clipped as she reached the end of her sentence.

Brooke found herself praying that the opposition would never reach any position of power whatsoever if they were going to have this tiny dictator running the department. Adore had slunk down into her wheely chair, as if trying to make herself invisible. Suddenly, Brooke heard Jackie’s office door open behind her.

“What the hell is going on out here?” she muttered as she reached Brooke’s desk, looking straight at the visitors to the department. Glad of an opportunity to relieve the tension, Nina once again plastered the fake smile on her face.

“Minister, may I introduce your opposite number, Shadow Minister Nicky Doll,” she smiled at Jackie, waving a hand at Nicky as if she was unveiling a booby prize on a game show.

It was interesting to watch how the two women regarded each other. Nicky immediately narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips together in a display of agitation at no longer being the highest authority in the room. She made no show of moving to shake Jackie’s hand, in fact she didn’t appear to want to speak to Jackie at all. Instead, Jackie herself made the first move and stepped forward once, twice, finally reaching a safe distance and holding out a hand for Nicky to shake. Her face was placid and gave nothing away. Almost Sleeping Beauty-esque, Brooke thought.

“Nicky, it’s so good to finally meet you properly,” she smiled calmly as Nicky gingerly took her hand to shake. “I hope you and your team have had a good day in the department?”

“Oh yes, it’s been lovely. Although obviously there are a number of things that will need changed once we get into power!” Nicky gave a fake little laugh, her eyes still hostile.

“Well. If,” Jackie wrinkled her nose in a smile, which Nicky returned sourly.

Brooke was suddenly distracted by a buzz from her phone. Yvie.

Y: Christ there’s more fake smiles in here than the outpatients’ at a fucking plastic surgery

If Brooke had been in the mood she probably would have been howling with laughter, but the tense, uncomfortable conversation was still taking place.

“I found it interesting that you chose to highlight my disagreement with Manila Luzon in your interview with Chad Michaels. I felt it slightly undermined your point about the need to raise other women in politics up when you yourself were clearly intent on taking me down,” Nicky continued to smile falsely, the bitter undertone to her words not going unnoticed by Brooke. Jackie kept calm, smiling lazily back and raising her eyes to the ceiling.

“Oh, I don’t know about undermining my point. In order to make a good argument, you have to present some evidence to back it up, and that’s all I was doing. I’m sure you understand it was nothing personal,” she said, giving a little nod.

Nicky flared her nostrils, her face now unimpressed as she swept a hand through her hair, rendering her bun a little messy. “Well. It was lovely to meet you anyway, Jackie, but I still have numerous issues to talk through with Nina. If you’ll excuse me.”

With that, Nicky turned on her heel, not even bothering to wait for a reply. On her way back to Nina, she stopped to murmur something in Gigi’s ear, which then resulted in Gigi marching round the corner. Brooke could have followed her up, but was too distracted by Jackie coming to hover at her desk.

“Numerous issues? I’ll bet she has numerous fucking issues, God. Let’s hope that lot never get into power, she’s more unhinged than a flat pack IKEA cupboard,” Jackie whispered, causing Brooke to splutter a laugh. Jackie smirked at her reaction, then her face grew suddenly serious. “Did you know if Nina managed to get that photo op cancelled?”

“She did it about half an hour after we spoke. Jan really got on her back about it, so it was pretty impossible for Nina to wriggle out of it,” Brooke explained offhandedly, trying in vain to focus on her work. Looking up, she noticed that Jackie seemed to have a faraway look on her face.

“She’s so good, isn’t she? Jan. She’s just incredible. So organised and on it,” Jackie said quietly to no-one in particular. Confused, Brooke simply nodded. Apparently remembering where she was, Jackie cleared her throat, smoothed her skirt down and returned to her office.

Around ten minutes later, Brooke thought she was making some real headway with the persisting immigration data. That was until she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand come crashing down on her shoulder. Spinning around rapidly in her wheely chair she was shocked to see Bianca looming above her, her face grave as her eyes met Brooke’s.

“Bianca, holy fuck. You scared the crap out of me,” Brooke sighed, Bianca not even cracking a smile as her grip on Brooke’s shoulder tightened and she escorted her out of the room. Brooke’s stomach churned as she was led out into the corridor. What the hell was happening, or what the hell had happened, or what the hell was about to happen?

The bright white light of the corridor contrasted violently with Bianca’s expression, which was the personification of the wrath of God itself. She was silent for a moment, which prompted Brooke to tentatively speak first.

“So, um. Why did you want to see-”

“I want to know why a certain Sasha Belle over at transport now has the very same PR stunt I very nearly passed a kidney stone to secure for Jackie,” Bianca snapped. Her voice was cold and low, and Brooke felt goosebumps prickle over her skin just hearing her speak. She felt conflicted. Half of her wanted to reveal Jackie’s personal reasons for having backed out; it was a legitimate excuse and might even make Bianca feel some form of remorse, God willing. On the other hand, it was a part of Jackie’s life which Brooke was sure she wanted to leave behind, and if more and more people knew about it, well. That would make it increasingly hard to forget. Biting her lip, she tried to tell a white lie.

“She had personal reasons for backing out. We decided as her team of advisors that it would be best if she didn’t go through with it.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what deeply held personal fucking reasons she had against it, it is her JOB to go to photo ops, it is her JOB to give herself media coverage!”

“Well she couldn’t even if you wanted her to. Not legally anyway,” Brooke found herself saying, her voice too loud in the echoey hallway. Bianca raised her eyebrows a little, as if urging Brooke to go on. Slightly regretting having not simply kept her mouth shut, Brooke continued.

“Jackie had her driving license revoked. It was years ago- she was texting while driving and crashed on the motorway. So even if she wanted to do the damn publicity, she couldn’t,” she explained, sighing as Bianca’s face slowly took on a look of realisation. “I don’t know how you didn’t already know this, Bianca. Her license was fake, I don’t get how that slipped by you. I thought you did background checks on everyone that came within a five mile radius of the party.”

Bianca exhaled loudly, slowly running one hand down her face. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, then opened it again.

“When I asked you about Jackie, it wasn’t just a casual, out-of-interest enquiry. We were seriously fucking desperate. We had nothing on her, nothing on her at all apart from the fact that we knew she had a degree in politics and she’d been around the stock exchange for years. We were just desperate to get Darienne out of the party and stop the fucking spiral of madness she was driving us all down. Her position had become toxic, Brooke Lynn, nobody we approached about the job would touch it. So we needed somebody unknown, someone who wouldn’t know or understand who she was succeeding. That’s why we failed to do intensive background checks. I mean, we established that Jackie hadn’t murdered or stabbed anyone, for Christ’s sake. But everything else we had to skim over. We couldn’t have had Darienne in her job for any longer, it would have just…it would have just killed the party.”

Brooke could sort of understand where Bianca was coming from. Taking a calming breath, she suddenly felt the panic rise up in her throat again. “But Bianca, if this gets to the papers-”

Bianca cut her off, holding a single hand up in front of her face and looking down the corridor with suspicion. Wordlessly, she walked to the double doors at the end of the corridor and wrenched them open. Behind them stood Gigi, who jumped at the sudden movement.

“Oh. Hello Bianca. I was just, uh. Trying to find the toilets. This department is like a damn labyrinth, you know?” she laughed awkwardly, almost paralysed under Bianca’s glare.

“Do you want a massive cup to press against the door too, or are you good?” she quipped dryly.

Brooke’s heart began to palpitate nervously. Gigi had clearly been behind that door and listening for quite some time. How long, she didn’t know. But if she’d heard the reason why Jackie couldn’t drive, this was all different kinds, shades, textures and flavours of bad.

“Bianca, really. All I heard was that Jackie wasn’t exactly vetted properly. Which, you know, could be kind of a big story in itself, I think,” Gigi smiled cunningly. All at once, Brooke wanted to laugh. Attempting to get the upper hand on Bianca Del Rio was an interesting tactic, one which basically ensured you weren’t going to win. Deciding to step back, Brooke let Bianca take the reins.

“Oh, I see! You were looking for a story! Well here, here’s a great one for you,” Bianca smiled sinisterly, putting Brooke in mind of a predator about to pounce. “Did you know that Jaqueline Cox is sitting in that office there despite the fact her driving license got revoked? She crashed her car on the motorway because she tried to text and drive at the same time. Did you not know that?”

Brooke watched as Gigi’s face lit up at the revelation. She had to admit she didn’t really know where Bianca was going with this or what she had to gain from revealing the information to one of the Shadow Minister’s aides. As Brooke attempted to interject, Bianca simply turned and fixed her with a smile.

“You didn’t know that, no?” she asked Gigi again. She simply shook her head, delighted at what had just been revealed. “Oh, wait, of course…you wouldn’t know that! Because the only people who do know that are, um, Miss Cox…her three advisors…and me. If this information got to the press…I would know that it came from you.”

Brooke wanted to practically jump for joy as she saw Gigi’s face fall, growing very apprehensive as Bianca took two steps towards her. Her voice lowering, Bianca continued the onslaught.

“And I would rain down upon you so hard that your body would have to be re-assembled by crash team investigators-” she hissed. Gigi opened her mouth to defend herself and Bianca immediately stopped her. “- do not fucking interrupt me, girl. Now, you breathe a word of this to ANYONE, you fucking living toothpick, and I will-”

Already shaking with laughter, Brooke ducked her head out of the door and ran into the offices.

“Jan! ‘Ness! Come quick. Bianca’s going off on one at Gigi,” she stage-whispered, the two girls looking up, bemused but quickly following Brooke back to the corridor doors nonetheless. The double doors were fronted with a small pane of clear glass, which the three girls all peered through to see Bianca continuing to verbally grill Gigi, now far less composed than she was before.

“…I will eviscerate you, right? And I mean, I don’t have your education, I don’t know what that means. But I’ll start by plucking your eyes out and I’ll busk it from there. Okay? Glad we’re agreed. Have a great day.”

As Gigi stumbled back down the hall in a daze as if she’d just crawled out of an avalanche, the three girls on the other side of the door tried to compose themselves after their laughing fit.

“Bianca has such a way with words,” Jan mused, wiping tears from her eyes. “So why was she yelling at Gigi, what had she done? Looked at her?”

Brooke explained what had happened to the two girls, watching as their facial expressions shifted from confused, to fearful, then some semblance of reassured. There was still an aspect that was a little panicked, however, the knowledge that Gigi knew about Jackie’s past clearly worrying them both.

“Look, don’t give it too much thought. Bianca has it all under control. She always does,” Brooke reassured them, shrugging as she walked back to her desk.

“Guess I’m happy to trust Bianca,” Vanessa smiled, relaxing a little. “Hey, you ladies had lunch yet?”

“Not yet. Pret?” Brooke offered, Vanessa smiling beautifully and picking up her bag from her chair. Brooke didn’t miss how Jan simply nodded silently, her face still troubled, clearly not as trusting of Bianca as Vanessa was.

***

As the three girls sat huddled around Jan’s desk eating their lunch, Brooke watched as Vanessa scoffed down her messy meatball panini with marinara sauce and mozzarella cheese that oozed out the side and made long, inconvenient strings. She could have teased Vanessa for her shambles of a lunch but she decided against it, instead choosing to compliment her.

“‘Ness, how can you eat literally whatever you want and still look so good?” Brooke asked, attempting to look offhanded but still feeling like her guts were made of jelly as the words came out her mouth. It was hugely tiresome how much more nervous and self-aware she was around Vanessa now that she’d actually acknowledged her crush on her. It was much harder to pretend things were purely platonic if she gave her a compliment.

In response, Vanessa simply smiled bashfully and shrugged, her mouth full of food. “Hey, I always wonder the same thing about you, baby. I’d kill to look like you.”

“With these thighs? Girl, no you wouldn’t,” Brooke snorted, trying to keep herself from blushing.

“You got good thighs,” Vanessa insisted, making Brooke wonder just how much attention Vanessa paid to her legs. Snapping out of it, Brooke told herself that she was probably just being kind. After a beat of silence, Jan cut in.

“Well, I know both of you find me wildly attractive and are also madly jealous of my amazing figure, which is why neither of you have said anything,” she joked through a mouthful of salmon salad. Brooke gave her a playful shove, shocked when she heard a little cry.

“Jesus, Jan! It wasn’t that sore.”

“That wasn’t me. That came from Jackie’s office,” Jan said gravely, looking at the Minister’s office door where she could just see the blonde bun belonging to Nicky peering over the strip of frosted glass. Exchanging concerned looks, all three girls made their way over.

Brooke was the first to walk in and when her gaze met Jackie’s her heart sank. She was sitting behind her desk and had turned pale, her eyes frightened and huge in her face which had gone almost ghostly white. Turning her gaze to Nicky she noticed that the girl seemed smug in some way, as if she had the upper hand. In a moment, Brooke knew exactly what had happened.

Gigi had spilled.

“Miss Doll, you ain’t actually allowed in here. This is the Minister’s private office,” Vanessa began in a valiant effort to stick up for Jackie who was clearly past sticking up for herself.

“Oh, it’s quite alright. Jackie and I were just having a little chat. A little reminisce on the past, if you like. Well. Her past,” Nicky smiled, casting an amused gaze at Jackie whose face was ashen and defeated as she sat at her desk. Brooke suddenly felt herself overcome with fury.

“I hope you’re giving Gigi a big pay rise for that information. She won’t have much time to spend it though once Bianca finds out. I’d maybe give her two…three days left to live?” she hissed, her face contorted as she glared at the shadow minister.

“Brooke Lynn, is it?” Nicky addressed her, Brooke momentarily wondering how she knew her name. “Brooke Lynn. We all know what it’s like in politics. Unfortunately if someone has some information on someone else, it’s only natural that they’re going to exploit it. And that’s all that’s happening here! It’s not personal. Just professional.”

“Like hell are you exploiting anything,” Jan spat, her face dark. Come to think of it, Brooke had never really seen her so angry, but the tiny girl was like a spitfire as she narrowed her eyes at her old boss. “You know full well where to draw the line between personal and political information. If you leak this to the media then you’re more reprehensible than the party you represent.”

“I’m sorry ladies, but this is how you play the game, and I play to win. I’m not really prepared to discuss it any further,” Nicky rolled her eyes, picking up her bag from where it sat on Jackie’s desk.

Just as she made to leave, Nicky turned to see Bianca standing in the doorway of Jackie’s office, glancing with confusion at the scene in front of her.

“Bianca!” Vanessa cried, for once happy to see the Prime Minister’s enforcer. “We were just talkin’ about how Nicky maybe shouldn’t go to the papers about Jackie…? Telling them about her driving license? Tryin’ to think of a reason why this would reflect badly on her party in some way…?”

Brooke watched as Vanessa looked pleadingly at Bianca, willing her to do something, anything to spin them out of the situation. Bianca for her part seemed calm, upbeat even.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe she should! Good idea!” she shrugged, flashing a smile Nicky’s way as she turned and made to leave the room.

Vanessa’s face immediately dropped as if she’d been slapped. Jan’s expression was completely blank. Brooke didn’t know what to think. It seemed as if Jackie was holding her breath, and Nicky simply stood rooted to the spot, her eyes still on Bianca as if she knew there was more to come. Sure enough, Bianca reached the doorframe, stopped, and turned on her heel.

“Oh, shit, wait a minute! I know why she shouldn’t! Because you know, if she did that…she’d be dead,” Bianca said simply.

Brooke watched as Nicky blinked silently at her. Bianca continued to speak.

“To me. To her advisors. To her party. To the electorate. And the only job she’d get in power is for this government’s catering company sweeping up crumbs as a kitchen cleaner, because I’d call every journalist I know, which of course- that’s all of them! Isn’t it Nicole! And I’d tell them all that lovely little story I’ve had saved for a rainy day, about a certain Right Honourable Lord Doll- how is your Dad, by the way?- and how he enjoyed a lovely five years as a member of the Bullingdon Club at university, a club so fucking morally bankrupt they had a exposé film made about them! Of course, the homeless person your Dad had to burn money in the face of for his initiation- he didn’t enjoy it so much. Nor did the live pigeon he had to bite the head off of either. And I believe there’s also rumblings about…something about a pig, which I won’t go into. And so I’d quite happily email all these journalists any photos and soundbites and CCTV footage they wanted, because I’d say…I’d say that’s quite a big story. I’d say that would probably contest a Minister’s silly little eight-year-old car accident in the running order of the ten o’clock news. That’s what I’d tell her,” Bianca finally finished calmly, smiling a little at Nicky whose mouth was now hanging open like a goldfish. Turning to Vanessa, Bianca simply nodded on her way out of the door. “But maybe you should tell her!”

Catching Vanessa’s eye, Brooke couldn’t help but burst into a triumphant grin. Vanessa returned the smile, now completely relaxed knowing that Jackie had the upper hand. Nicky was still standing completely still and hadn’t moved since Bianca had left.

“I’ll, um. I’ll ask Nina to get your coat,” Jackie addressed Nicky pleasantly, sitting at her desk and pushing a single number on the phone as Nicky simply nodded wordlessly.

Brooke wanted to burst out laughing. Bianca had her enemies in Westminster, but she was also an absolute mastermind.

***

They had made it through the day. They always did, after all. They were a great team, Brooke thought, and God help them if they were ever disbanded in any way. Sitting in a quieter corner of the office with her head tipped against the head of the sofa, Brooke took a deep breath. It was often needed at the end of days like these. Jan sat to her right, curled up against the arm of the couch and simply staring into the distance. Thinking for a moment, Brooke turned her head and stared at Jan.

“Do you think Bianca really had all that stuff to back up what she said about Nicky’s Dad?”

Jan smirked and met Brooke’s eyes. “It’s Bianca. She’s a walking, talking database. She probably has shit on all of us. She probably knows stuff about us that we haven’t even done yet.”

Before Brooke could even try to get her head around Jan’s words, Vanessa joined them. She flung herself against the sofa dramatically, gently tilting her head so that it rested in the crook of Brooke’s shoulder. For a second she could barely breathe.

“I wonder what she’s going to do to Gigi when she next sees her. Can’t imagine I’d want to be in her six-inch heels right now,” Brooke continued, trying to talk through her breathlessness.

“We talkin’ about Bianca?” Vanessa murmured, nuzzling her head against Brooke’s shoulder to get comfortable. Christ, why the fuck did she have to do that?

“Yeah,” Jan smiled wistfully. “God, I’d be running for the hills if I was her. Alyssa’s charity ball is in three weeks, remember? I wouldn’t put it past Bianca to stage a live crucifixion as the night’s entertainment.”

Brooke felt Vanessa laugh softly against her side. She was such a warm, happy person, at least when she wasn’t stressing her head off at the latest party shambles. She was too good to be working here, but Brooke was so glad that she was.

“So you’re not going to be ditching us to run back to the opposition anytime soon then? Not going to be meeting up with Gigi and Crystal for a cute little catch-up coffee?” Brooke only half-joked, turning to address Jan again. She watched as Jan’s face grew a little dark, her brow furrowing as she let out a derisive laugh.

“I’m not fucking with anyone who attempts to sabotage Jackie’s career,” she said forebodingly.

There it was again, Brooke thought, this protective side to Jan which she’d never really seen before. She didn’t think she’d ever get over how strange it was.

Footsteps behind the sofa prompted all three of them to turn around. It was Jackie- she’d freshened up her makeup a little and had sprayed some deodorant or perfume or something that smelt nice. Reaching the sofa, she gave a warm smile to the three girls.

“Thanks for your support today, ladies,” she said sincerely, leaning on the back of the sofa. “It was a tough one, but we got there in the end.”

“Sorry that Nina couldn’t arrange an alternative bit of PR in time, Jackie,” Vanessa smiled apologetically. Jackie let out a small laugh.

“Are you kidding? That was a blessing in disguise. After the day I’ve had the last thing I want to do is go and feign interest in electric cars for an hour,” she shook her head. “Seriously though, thank you. You three are a total blessing.”

Brooke was surprised when she then turned to face Jan, her expression turning a little shy. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, two minutes. I need to pack up and I’ll be good,” Jan smiled timidly back at her, her cheeks going a little red.

“Okay. I’ll wait at the lifts. See you tomorrow, girls,” Jackie said finally, waving goodbye to Brooke and Vanessa before walking away.

Vanessa tipped her head off Brooke’s shoulder to lean forward and look at Jan, who was grabbing her coat. “Where are you two off to then, Miss Ma’am?”

Jan stopped in her tracks, as if she hadn’t really been expecting the question. “Oh! Um, Jackie’s just giving me a lift home.”

Brooke screwed up her face at her friend. “A lift home? In her car? That she drives? Is that meant to be a joke?”

Seemingly realising her mistake, Jan smiled and shook her head. “I meant her driver. Her driver’s going to drop me home on the way back to Jackie’s.”

Brooke sat blankly for a moment, turning to Vanessa and seeing her face hold the exact same expression. Vanessa laughed in disbelief. “Your flat’s five minutes away, you lazy shit!”

“Hey, give me a break! I’m exhausted, a five minute walk is still a walk I don’t want to do, and I’ll take what I can get,” Jan shrugged, grabbing her bag and making to leave. “Bye, girls. See you both tomorrow.”

Brooke gave a tired reply as Jan made her way out of the department. Sighing, Vanessa leant against the arm of the sofa, kicking her legs over Brooke’s lap and subsequently causing Brooke’s pulse to quicken by about 90%. They sat in silence for a moment, Brooke’s brain too full to even contemplate starting a conversation. Luckily, it was Vanessa that spoke first.

“Do you think something’s goin’ on there? Between Jackie and Jan?”

Brooke paused. If it were any other situation, she’d maybe have thought Vanessa was right. But this was work, and sometimes people got incredibly passionate about their party and the people that ran it. Jan had had to put up with Nicky, and then Darienne. It was only natural that now that she was finally working for someone competent of course she was going to want with every fibre of her being for that person to do well. Turning to face Vanessa, Brooke made a doubtful face.

“No, girl. Jan’s just loyal. She wants to see Jackie do well. That’s all I think it is anyway.”

Brooke watched as Vanessa knit her brows together, frowning momentarily then casting her gaze into her lap.

“You know-” she began, then cut herself off as she decided against saying whatever she had to say. Then, changing her mind, she began again. “I swear you’re so blind half the time, Brooke Lynn. I think you have your guard up so high you can’t even see when someone has feelings for someone else. It’s kinda…I don’t know. Anyway. It don’t matter.”

Brooke watched, astounded as Vanessa swung her legs off her lap and stood up. Her face was bright red, as if she was embarrassed in some way. Brooke felt she had to reply, but she had no idea what to say or how to respond. She simply blinked at Vanessa, as if her last ditch attempt at communication was morse code.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Vanessa continued, smoothing down her dress and smiling as if she hadn’t said a thing. Going along with the façade, Brooke nodded slowly. “Bye, Brooke.”

As Vanessa’s footsteps retreated down the office and into the lift, Brooke just stared straight ahead and tried to make sense of what Vanessa had said, or what it even meant, or what the implications were. It had felt like she was mad at her in some way, although Brooke couldn’t figure out what she’d done. What had she meant by it all? It made Brooke’s head hurt.

She was still there when the cleaners arrived half an hour later, and she still hadn’t managed to unscramble her brain. Giving up, Brooke grabbed her coat and bag and made her way to the lifts, stuck with the feeling that somehow she’d left something behind.

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leam1983 · 5 years ago

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Post-Quarantine Musings - Hardspace: Shipbreaker

I book car showroom appointments for a living.

There’s more to it, seeing as I’m the office’s resident IT drone, proofreader and occasional copywriter, but it boils down to this. My job in these parlous times is to get you to strap on that dodgy graphene-filter mask you bought off of Wish or Alibaba and drive to your local showroom so you can socially distance yourself from a guy who really, really wants you to disregard the fact that payment delays on a 20K$ vehicle just isn’t a worthwhile deal in times like these. Money’s tight for everyone, but Honda, Nissan and everyone else’s plant workers need to put food on the plate - and that means buyback offers. Lots and lots of buyback offers, most of them being shockingly cheap and poorly thought-out.

Over the last few days, though, I’ve been poking at Blackbird Entertainment’s Hardspace: Shipbreaker, of which the basic setup uneasily mirrors the decidedly crapsack world we find ourselves living in, lately. Work is scarce for some, so blue-collar postings suddenly start to have some allure. What happens, then, when said blue-collar work takes you out of Earth’s gravity well?

The year is 2355 or thereabouts, and inflation’s made it so that a lower-middle class bloke having over nine million dollars in debt is totally normal. You’re one such average Joe, the game opening with the anxiety-inducing din of your cramped mega-building apartment. Your financial imprint is in shambles, creditors are after your ass, and your inbox varies between impassioned pleas from your mother and curt title lines coming from repo agencies.

You’re deep in it, safe to say.

Luckily for you, you’ve also applied to the LYNX Corporation’s Shipbreaker program, wherein all debts are shouldered by the company as well as all living expenses, so long as you don’t mind leaving your family and loved ones behind to spend your hours between work shifts in a pressurized habitat that’s essentially left out in the open space of your new workspace’s offered ship berth. The profile setup is presented diegetically as the world’s mortiferous take on Capitalism, wherein LYNX reserves the right to clone you, if you happen to sever the right fuel line at the wrong time. The company expects total obedience and even dictates who you should vote for, in the coming global elections. You’ll make millions of bucks per shift, but most of it will go to fruitlessly attempting to sponge off a debt not even your children’s children will have any prayer of making a dent in.

“But hey,” says Weaver, your supervisor, in his nonchalant Midwestern drawl, “work hard, and you too just might work off your debt, like Simmons did.”

In the beginning hours, it’s not hard to get the sense that Simmons might be a company-created chimera, a figment of corporate imagination - the Guy Who Made It.

In practice, your new job involves floating around in the zero-G confines of a spaceship berth, flanked by furnaces to smelt down what can be salvaged or repurpose what can be quickly reused. Everything else, from cots to pressurization units and loose personal O2 tanks, you have to fling down into the giant space barge that partially blots out your view of a brownish, detritus-covered Earth. Every work shift lasts fifteen minutes, and every shift comes with Work Orders, or tasks that need to be prioritized. Your tools of the trade include precision cutting lasers and beamsplitters, along with an energy-based grapple gun. The brunt of the work involves worming your way inside your Derelict of the Day, which another team’s already stripped down to the I-Beams and connecting points - and reducing all of the massive, yellow-marked solder points to slag. A little thruster work adds momentum to gigantic steel, aluminium or nanocarbon plates and walkways that you free from the ship’s armature, at which point you can slither out and guide all freed loose items and plates to either the Salvage, Furnace or Reclamation points.

Early on, it feels like you’re playing Operation inside the innards of some gigantic steel-borne beast - but the fifteen-minute timer soon starts to loom over you, as your Work Orders become increasingly complex. Soon enough, your safe and definitely OSHA-compliant procedures are set aside for hacky and mildly suicidal means of reaching your goals as quickly as possible.

Normally, creating a safe working environment involves depressurizing each wreck from within, using the provided consoles. Nevermind why, but LYNX supplies its wrecks with a remaining atmosphere and plenty of unsecured flotsam floating around. If you’re on the clock, you can also just hang onto the pilot’s cockpit with your magnetic gloves, aim your laser at the front windshield - and then hold on for dear life as all ninety-seven tons of atmosphere in the hauler you’re assigned to forces its way out into the void, through a space that has about the width of a finger. The resulting force rips through the front cockpit, turning the usually easy-to-handle ‘nano panels that line the ship’s outer plating into dozens of annoyingly small fragments you’ll later have to spent long minutes bundling together and flinging down the Reclamation chute.

The same goes for fuel lines, really. You only have a few minutes left and need the few million creds an intact thruster block sells for? Cut open a hole in the ship’s flank, near the stern, expose the fuel lines, line up your shot while going as far back as you can while still having a chance to make your target - and fire away. You’ll tear the entire back half open and even possibly kill yourself, but that’s what company-produced clones and mnemonic transfer jobs are for, right?

I mean, the ship’s half-ruined and LYNX’s just lost a few cool billions of expensive tech but, hey - the thruster block’s intact (miraculously) and that’s going to cover your equipment leases being commuted to a for-life permit! Woohoo, no more payments for my precision laser!

Of course, nothing says blue-collar tedium like Space Bluegrass, and that’s what you’ll be listening to for most of your run. Shipbreaker is still definitely barren on the audio spectrum, although a good chunk of it is by design: you’re in space, in a near-complete vaccuum, and the only clear sounds you’ll ever hear are broadcast out of your suit’s radio. Everything else is muffled and distant, with even your ship-rending occasional reactor failures only manifesting as a bright glare and a low whoosh.

The main draw quite obviously is the game’s zero-G physics engine. Fans of Space Sims like Elite: Dangerous will feel right at home, with the obviously small-scale setting being less focused on your pulling off Top Gun stunts in space and more with providing chunks of metal weighing a variable amount of tons with the ponderous floatyness to be expected - and small bits with the life-ending velocity to be expected when your non-compliant shenanigans result in your helmet cracking and your air reserves oozing out. The end result is surprising, seeing as what looks like a Homeworld-era cruiser bursting open like a beached whale barely taxes an i7 7700K, 16GB setup. The game is rather lightweight, technically speaking, which allows it to be impressively forgiving, based on the two machines I was able to fiddle with, one of them an entry-level gaming rig, and the other being more of an enthusiast setup, with an i9 and 32 GBs of memory.

If anything, you’re likely to notice that there’s a bit of a disconnect between your rough, dusty and used hand-crafted environments and the polygonal and simplistic construction of the vessels you’re tasked with decommissioning. That’s mostly a result of the game needing an efficient way to handle one interactive object splitting off into potentially dozens of physics-based objects. Keeping things sleek obviously makes sense, considering, and it also helps that Hardspace rests on the handiwork of a few ex-Relic Entertainment designers. Hiigara’s natives aren’t too far off if you look at the ship designs, with only the texture work suggesting that you’re a Blue Collar Joe or Jane working on an old tug that’s had just as rough a life as you.

The question is, however, if I’d recommend it. I would, but only if you’re the type of gamer who enjoys optimizing things. Shipbreaker is built from the ground-up to either be played like a reverse Bonzai tree simulator, or as a cool physics sandbox wherein cutting open fuel lines like a moron, rupturing power cells or letting the onboard nuke go critical all become cost-effective approaches. If you do, chances are you’ll find yourself strapping on your best or worst drawl and commenting on seat-of-your-pants escapes from technical disasters like they’re just the stuff of your average Tuesday.

You’ve got a debt to clear, after all, and enough clones to turn your grisly demise into an unfortunate bump in the road.

#game #review #hardspace:shipbreaker

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elisaphoenix13 · 5 years ago

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Just Another Day

It was calm in the tower. Well, as calm as it could get when Peter was home. The teen was currently sitting on the ceiling, flicking cat treats down to the floor, and confusing the hell out of Tibbs. The cat ate them as fast as they appeared, but he would always look around trying to figure out where they were coming from. He came up short when he pawwed at both Tony and Stephen in the kitchen, Cassie (who was watching tv in the living room) was a dead end too. He just wasn't used to humans being on the ceiling so he never looked up.

While all of this was taking place, amusing Peter's parents to no end, Carol had entered the penthouse, and Tony had never moved so fast in his life when he saw what she brought. He practically jumped across the island to use Stephen as a body shield when he saw Goose tucked under one of her arms, and Carol laughed as she set the Flerken down.

"Danvers! What is that thing doing here?!" Tony says as he points around Stephen at Goose.

"He wanted to come with me." Carol says simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

It was not.

Peter, in his precious ignorance, flicked a cat treat at Goose and literally scurried away when he opens his mouth and tentacles come out to snatch up the treats. "OH MY GOD! WHAT IS THAT THING?!" The teen shouts as he unconsciously flips down to the floor to step in front of Cassie.

Goose scared the crap out of him (and interested him at the same time) but he wasn't about to leave the other teen vulnerable. He vaguely catches an unreadable look on Tony's face when he glances toward his father but thinks nothing of it as he turns his attention back to the alien cat. The alien cat that Tibbs seemed to suddenly be completely fascinated with. Peter shouldn't really be surprised. Tibbs was the chillest cat he had ever met, so him not being bothered by some very uncatlike behavior from Goose was pretty normal for him.

Carol just grins as Cassie looks around Peter to look at Goose with some interest if her own. "He's a Flerken."

"A rather tame one at that." Stephen says as he approaches Goose and crouches down to scratch behind the cat's ears.

"Carol, if that thing eats my wife or my kid, I'm holding you responsible!" Tony says.

"Relax Stark. Just treat him like you treat your cat." The woman says as she waves a flippant hand in his direction.

Peter laughs half-heartedly. "Probably not a good idea. Tibbs is kind of special in his own way." As if to prove his point, Tibbs walks right up to Goose and sniffs his mouth curiously.

"Anyway, I was told this is where to go when I want a place to hang out for a bit." Carol says. "Clint was very specific about the 'family floor'."

Tony puffs out an affronted, but defeated sigh. "Stephanie, remind me to put Barton at the top of the cleaning list."

"Noted." Stephen replies dryly as he stands and takes a seat on one of the couches.

To everyone's relief, Goose seemed content to keep Tibbs company, and Tony joined Stephen on his couch after giving the two cats a wide berth. Although he wouldn't admit it out loud, Goose was one thing Tony was afraid of, but his earlier actions probably gave that away. Peter was taking it all in stride after his initial shock and relaxed out of his defensive position to take the empty spot next to Cassie, and Carol walks over to sit on his other side.

She asked to be caught up on what had happened while she was gone, and also what she had missed, and they all delivered. Tony told her most of the Avenger history such as Thanos's first invasion of Earth, SHIELD's fall, or anything related to the Avengers. Stephen caught her up on the more magical side of things, and the teens? Movies. Cassie recommended a few chick flicks and offered to have a movie night with Carol, who accepted whole-heartedly, but everyone groaned when Peter opened his mouth and starting making Star Wars references.

Of course it all went over Carol's head, so when she asked what he was talking about, Peter stopped nerding out and gave the woman a surprised look.

"What?"

"You keep talking about Star Wars. What is that?" Carol asks, not knowing about the nuke that was currently exploding in Peter's mind.

Cue the most offended gasp the teen had ever made. Even more offended when Bruce had asked all that time ago if Peter ever got tired of watching Disney movies and Star Wars. As if.

"You haven't seen Star Wars?!"

Tony sighs as he stands. "You've done it now Danvers. Don't expect to leave that couch anytime soon."

"Cassie, would you help me make dinner?" Stephen asks as he follows Tony's example.

"Sure." She replies and follows the couple into the kitchen, leaving behind Peter asking FRIDAY to start the first Star Wars movie. To her credit, Carol didn't look like she was regretting anything. That would probably change soon.

"To think you like him." Tony teases Cassie and she blushes bright red. "Okay, I had some doubts, but that right there?" He motions toward her face. "That just confirms my theory."

Stephen stops grabbing things out of the fridge and stares at Cassie. "Wait. You like--"

Cassie shushes them loudly and grabs the food from Stephen. "Shut up! He has enhanced hearing!"

Tony snorts. "Not when he's nerding out over Star Wars."

He reaches around Stephen and grabs the container of blueberries, ignoring the sorcerer's quip of 'You're going to turn into one of those one of these days', as he pops a handful into his mouth. The engineer was close to teasing her some more by asking Cassie when her crush started, but decided to leave it alone when Stephen distracted her with a few cooking tasks.

Her mom and step-father decided to travel after the events of the Snap, and Cassie moved into the tower permanently with Scott. She was usually only up in the penthouse with them whenever her father was at work or just because (meaning to ogle Peter, even if the boy was completely oblivious to it), or if everyone got together for some thing or another like movie night. This was definitely not a movie night though. If any of the Avengers stepped off the elevator from now on, they would immediately turn around and leave once they saw that Peter took over the living room with Star Wars movies. Again.

Of course there had been times when Cassie had been sick and didn't want to be alone when Scott had to go to work, so she would come up for Mama Bear cuddles. Stephen spoiled all of the kids and they all adored him because of his attentiveness as a parent figure and as a doctor. Clint once had to bring Lila up so Stephen could tell her that, yes, you do need to sleep when you're sick so you can get better faster, because she thought her father was trying to scam her into sleeping. Once Stephen had confirmed Clint's words, Lila went back to Barton's floor without a fuss and slept like she was supposed to.

Peter would always be the favorite though.

Tony pours himself a glass of water and looks toward Goose and Tibbs, and finds the cat's lying next to each other, purring contentedly. The engineer didn't even bat an eye at the scene. In fact, he expected Tibbs to befriend the alien cat. It was just a feline version of Peter and the Hulk, and that had been interesting. Of course, it gave both Tony and Stephen temporary heart attacks when Peter approached the Hulk after a battle, but then the teen just fist bumped the big guy and told him he did a good job. The Hulk gave Bruce control willingly after Peter did that, and after a couple more tests, they discovered that Hulk liked Peter because the boy treated him like a friend. He was even able to ask the big guy if they could have Bruce back so he could help Sam when he had gotten hurt, and again, the Hulk gave Banner control.

"Just when I think that this group can't get any weirder, someone has to go and prove me wrong." Tony says and looks over at the sorcerer as the man hands some vegetables over to Cassie to chop.

Stephen smirks. "Someone has to."

"Why do you think I married you?"

Cassie raises an eyebrow. "I swear your reasons for marrying each other changes all the time."

"It doesn't change. It's just a growing list. You'll understand when you and Underoos tie the knot." Tony moves away with a laugh when the teen points her knife at him, and then throws another handful of blueberries into his mouth with a wink. "Then again that will never happen at this rate because our kid is incredibly stupid when it comes to picking up signals from girls."

Cassie sighs heavily as she throws her chopped vegetables into the boiling water on the stove. "I noticed."

"When is your father supposed to get back?" Stephen asks her.

"Late."

"You might as well stay for dinner." Tony says and looks toward the living room when Peter and Carol start arguing about something that happened in the movie.

Today was just full of surprises. Carol actually looked to be enjoying the movie with Peter and the billionaire half-expected them to binge watch the entire collection. That meant Cassie would either have to endure the torture or they could direct her to the guest room where there was another tv. Peter's room was available but that was a can if worms he didn't want to open if Scott saw her in there. Knowing Peter, if he actually went to sleep tonight, he would change in his bathroom and just get into bed and go to sleep if Cassie was in there watching movies. He was used to friends taking over his tv and one half of his bed. Cassie was a whole new situation for obvious reasons though. Scott didn't seem to know about her crush on Peter but it wouldn't matter, she was a teenager now. It also didn't matter that Peter would never take advantage of her whether he knew about her feelings or not, and Tony couldn't fault Scott for worrying. If he and Stephen had a daughter, he would worry too.

"Can I make something for dessert?" Cassie asks, interrupting the engineer's thoughts.

"Depends on what you're thinking." Tony replies, ignoring Stephen's eye roll.

"Cheesecake?"

Tony blinks and motions at the counter in front of him with exaggeration. "Explain why it isn't in front of me at this very moment."

Cassie laughs and both Tony and Stephen share a look when it briefly pulls Peter's attention from the movie.This mutual pining thing was starting to amuse Tony. Especially the fact that Peter wasn't even aware he was pining.

#ironstrange #mama bear stephen strange #supremefamily #tony stark #peter parker #stephen strange #cassie lang #carol danvers #goose the flerken #tibbs the cat

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gascon-en-exil · 5 years ago

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FE16 Golden Deer Liveblogging

Chapters 16-18. Just like the Lions route, until it isn’t. There’s also some Dimidue content here, but not enough for its own post.

Chapters 16 and 17 are virtually identical to those chapters for the Lions apart from which army you’re controlling. Ferdinand still shows up to die on the Great Bridge, with a generic taking the place of Lorenz. (Oh, and I’d forgotten to say last time that Ashe appears in Ailell. I read somewhere that he can be recruited somehow here, but I didn’t see it.) The big battle at Gronder Field is a fair bit easier with the Deer; the Lions are less mobile and I believe fewer in number, with the only thing that surprised me being Sylvain and Ingrid coming from behind with reinforcements a few turns in.

Keeping Dedue alive is fairly simple in Chapter 17 since you only have to defeat Edelgard and Dimitri to end the chapter, but I’m not entirely certain I got anything special out of it? In any case, I did so by rushing Edelgard’s lines as fast as possible to get close to taking her out before the Lions start moving. Once they move it looks like Dimitri and his two boyfriends’ AI is specifically trained on Byleth (...why?) unless that’s only because mine was about 30 levels below the rest of my army and cowering in a bush because I’m not using him. It’s therefore not too hard to leave a few units behind to rush Dimitri on his way north as soon as Edelgard is down.

Chapter 18 at first looks like it’s going to be a retread of the Lions’ Chapter 20, the showdown vs. the Death Knight in Fort Merceus, but then the plot happens and you’ve got a bunch of Almyran NPCs led by Nader backing you up while everyone other than Claude assaults the fort from a different starting location. Then the DK surprises everyone by retreating, turning it until a rout map unless you can kill him before he leaves. On that plot point, see below.

Claude’s paralogue is technically the first new map I’ve seen on this route, although it’s really just the story map for the Sreng desert one used for skirmishes. It’s not completely awful to navigate once you realize that there’s a path of normal terrain circling the central structure, which was very helpful when trying to grab the loot from a bunch of thieves determined to commit suicide by dragon. The Wind Caller/Macuil wasn’t particularly worse than any other major monster boss I’ve yet encountered, and he was great for dropping little worldbuilding hints. It’s funny to me that the other house leaders’ paralogues target major military installations while Claude goes on a field trip to another country for information.

Character/Story observations

Let’s start with the Dimidue. The reason I say that I’m not sure that sparing Dedue accomplishes anything is that he retreats from battle and the post-chapter cutscenes play out as if this had happened anyway. Hilda describes Dimitri charging after Edelgard alone before collapsing and getting run through by Imperial soldiers. Claude then asks after Dimitri’s vassal whose fate was unknown - and then it cuts to Dedue alone, saying this: “Your Highness! Your ambitions are my own now! I...I will bring you Edelgard’s head... I swear it!” This is indeed the route where these two go full Quan/Finn, and although Dimitri’s offscreen end lacks the poignancy of Yied the results are no less tragic or less gay. And because Dimitri has no son to be fueled with righteous anger, Dedue has to carry within him not only Finn’s unbroken loyalty but Leif’s rage. I know he’ll be making a reappearance in a later chapter, too, so this isn’t the end for them. I wouldn’t be surprised if the anons I’ve gotten on the subject were really about the chapter where you kill Edelgard.

I made a point to defeat Dedue first before rewinding time to see what would come of it, and actually I think that adds even more to where their relationship is/was on this route. In this version of events it’s left ambiguous who’s leading the mysterious Faerghus army until Dimitri appears on the battlefield, and apart from the bit about Cornelia’s coup right after the timeskip no explanation is given for why Dimitri is his one-eyed feral self. Unless the game says otherwise, I’m going to assume that events played out as they did in the Lions, with Dedue rescuing him from prison but needing to sacrifice himself and inadvertently leaving Dimitri to wander alone as a vagrant for five years. This Dimitri is as such violent, contemptuous, and obsessed with revenge, and when his allies die in battle his “mourning” quotes are nothing but ellipses (Sylvain), dismissive grunts (Mercedes), or their names (Felix, Ingrid). For Dedue, though, who protests that he can keep fighting after being defeated, Dimitri says this: “Shut up and retreat. You must live, Dedue.” So I was right about how this storyline plays out; per his Gilbert support, Dedue has to have his prince command him to live for him to have not charged to his death alongside Dimitri. Also, way to have all that homoromantic co-dependence flow both ways to have even a feral, death-seeking Dimitri insist on Dedue’s survival while all his childhood friends (and Mercedes) are dying around him and he barely spares them a word.

Anyway...let’s talk about lighter things. Not many supports left for me to get; I finally finished off Catherine and Shamir’s line, and it is blatantly romantic down to marriage propositions. As a counterpoint Claude’s last support with Shamir is one of his more romantic and one of the few endings that sees him eventually abandon Almyra. Flayn/Manuela dances around prostitution - good thing Flayn is secretly hundreds of years old, right?

Monastery tidbits: an NPC soldier confirms that the Fódlan year begins with the Great Tree Moon - the April equivalent. This means that numbering the months to match up with the Gregorian calendar was solely so the player could give Byleth a real world birthday. So worth it. I’ve also noticed that there’s a line of minor quests for supplies and skirmishes in Part 2 that are the same across all routes, with the only difference coming from who’s handing them out. For Edelgard it’s Hubert and for Claude it’s Hilda, but for Dimitri it’s Gilbert as yet another thing Dedue misses out on by being dead by default.

In a rare bit of honesty that’s kind of hilarious, Claude admits that he’s using Byleth for their connection to the church, now as a means of smoothing over tensions within the Alliance.

I complained about how the Alliance’s presence and behavior at the Gronder Field rematch on the Lions route has little explanation, and unfortunately the way the Kingdom remnant is handled is only slightly better here. Claude’s forces don’t try allying with them first because their movements have been erratic, and then later because it’s foggy at Gronder...fog that doesn’t stick around for the map itself, thankfully. Dimitri may be feral and unable to be reasoned with, but what about Gilbert or Rodrigue? The rematch is a big marketing moment, but having the Kingdom and Alliance fight each other instead of unifying against the Empire feels like a contrivance either way.

One thing I think Three Houses does really well compared to earlier games is that there’s less of a sense of what I think of as arbitrary chorus characters: people aside from the leads who show up in most dialogue scenes for the protagonist(s) to play off, who get to be there because they have plot armor or are NPCs so they can’t die in battle and therefore don’t need to be written around. FE16 goes out of its way to include every character in your army at one point or another in story cutscenes, sometimes even in plot critical ways. For example, after Chapter 17 it’s Lysithea who provides the plot hook to bring Those Who Slither back into the story by sharing her traumatic past. Meanwhile in Chapter 18 it’s Hilda who comes up with the ruse of invading Fort Merceus disguised as Imperial soldiers...as well as a gag about dressing Claude in drag that’s mildly amusing but goes nowhere.

Oh, right...I need to talk about the DK, and Those Who Slither’s nukes. The DK retreats from Fort Merceus because his side has “javelins of light” that totally obliterate it in the same way that Arianrhod gets obliterated in Edelgard’s route. As this happens in a cutscene I assume the DK doesn’t die there if you defeat him, as he does in the Lions route. If it seems odd that I’m not dwelling on the fact that the enemy now has anachronistic nukes, it’s nothing compared to Claude, who takes the opportunity to have an extended discussion on racism. Lorenz takes him to task for allying with the Almyran general Nader, and Claude reveals his plan to solve racism with imperialism. As silly as that is, he’s still deft (and manipulative) enough not to do so by revealing his own heritage but rather by dragging Cyril into the spotlight as an example of an Almyran among their own forces. Cyril protests, but that’s just how Claude rolls.

Part of Claude’s big speech references the Officer’s Academy bringing together people from many different backgrounds, among them the princess of Brigid and a man of Duscur. You know, an Imperial hostage and the vassal/boyfriend of the mentally unstable crown prince of Faerghus, because those are completely normal circumstances for adding diversity to the student body. It’s also strange to me that he considers Duscur as outside Fódlan. Ethnically and culturally distinct from Faerghus, yes, but Fódlan is a continent with three independent political entities that also includes the peninsula on which Duscur rests. To use a real world comparison close to how I imagine the relations in question, this would be comparable to saying that the Basque people do not live in Europe because they are an ethnic group distinct from the people of France/Spain. I’m clearly putting more thought into this than the game does, but still.

#Fire Emblem #FE16 #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Spoilers

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katedoesfics · 5 years ago

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Shadows of the Yiga | Chapter 25

They stood on the high cliff, keeping in the shadows as they overlooked the desert. They had been traveling the desert for almost two days, carefully tracking the Yiga Clan in hopes of finding their hideout. Luck was apparently on their side, in the form of a seemingly stray Yiga soldier who made his way into a deep valley. They had been tracking him for several hours until he seemed to disappear in a clustering of rocks. Upon further inspection, however, they came to the realization that the rocks were an overhang, which was easy enough for them to miss from their high position along the cliff.

But it seemed the Yiga soldier was careless, standing outside of the hidden entrance to their base to smoke a cigarette. He appeared out in the open once more, then began to pace, slipping in and out of their site.

Paya tensed at Zelda’s side. Her eyes narrowed as they watched the figure, and her heart sank. “That’s Dorian.”

Zelda peered closely at the figure, quickly recognizing the Sheikah. After a moment, he stopped pacing. He let the butt of his cigarette drop to the ground, then smothered it with the toe of his boot. He put his hands in his pocket, then looked up in their direction.

Zelda pressed further back against the wall of the cliff, holding her breath. After a moment, Dorian pulled his gaze away and disappeared once more into the hideout.

“He saw us,” she breathed.

Paya shook her head. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“What if he did?” she sneered.

“He doesn’t know who we are.”

“He can easily guess. Who else would be here spying on them?”

“He would have attacked us,” Paya insisted.

“Unless he wanted us to follow him. Lead us right into a trap.”

“We’re not going in,” Paya said fiercely. “We only came to find their hideout.”

“The slate could be in there,” Zelda pushed.

“You said so yourself that it could be a trap.”

Zelda hesitated. “We can’t leave this desert with nothing.”

“We don’t have nothing,” Paya said, reassuring her. “We know where they’re located. We can come back prepared, now. We need to get back and talk to the others. It’s time to plan how we’re going to infiltrate their base.”

Still, Zelda was hesitant, but she nodded. “Have you gotten word from Teba?”

“Link is safe at the ranch, for now. But I will need to get over there and put up a ward. We can’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“Then let’s get back,” she said quickly. “Can you get us there?”

“Let’s get out of the valley,” Paya said. “I don’t want to chance them sensing my power.”

*****

“I’ve got two of my best men on it,” Purah said. She balanced the phone on her shoulder and inspected her nails. “Stop worrying, you old bat.”

“You’re older than me,” Impa muttered. Her brows furrowed as she spoke with her sister. “For the love of Hylia, Purah. I told you not to send anyone on a suicide mission without speaking with me.”

“Impa, darling,” Purah said, rolling her eyes. “I realize your best man is Dorian, and that’s very unfortunate for you. But my men are very capable -”

“Who did you send out?” Impa hissed.

Purah smiled. “Oh, no one you know,” she said cryptically. “Just a Sheikah who goes by Sheik.”

Impa’s breath caught in her throat, and she nearly choked. “Sheik?” Her voice hardened. “Purah! I gave you strict orders -”

“Can it, you hag,” Purah shouted at her sister. “I don’t take orders from you. Understand?”

“Purah,” Impa pleaded. “You’ve put them in danger.”

“They are more than capable,” Purah assured her. “I wouldn’t have done so if I didn’t trust in their abilities. You want Link to survive this, don’t you?” When her sister didn’t respond, she smiled. “You have such a soft spot for that kid! I have just got to meet him in person one of these days!”

“He’s a pain in my ass,” Impa sneered.

“Oh, Impa,” Purah started. “Your body is old, and your soul is ancient. You’ve seen far too many heroes come and go. What a task Hylia has put on you.”

Impa’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s weakening, Impa,” Purah continued. “This world does not have much longer. What will you do?”

Impa hesitated. She turned her gaze to the door as it opened without so much as a knock, and Roham entered.

“I’ve got other things to worry about right now,” she said. “I will be in touch.” She quickly ended the call and met Roham’s fierce gaze.

“Where are they?”

Impa folded her hands together as she regarded the king. “I don’t know,” she said simply.

“Link is a danger to this kingdom,” he barked. “He will destroy everything. He will put my daughter in danger.”

“I agree,” Impa said with a short nod. “But you should know that he will not be found unless he wants to be.”

“I want him arrested,” Roham sneered.

“He’s no longer in the city,” Impa stated. “Clearly he was tipped off. What can you expect? You have your men. He has his.”

Roham’s lips pulled into a snarl. “You are under oath, Impa. If there is something you know -”

Impa stood abruptly from behind her desk. “Silence,” she barked at him. “Do not judge my loyalty to the royal family. I am doing everything I can to fix this, dammit!”

Roham hesitated, holding his gaze on the old Sheikah. “My daughter is gone,” he said softly. “Hyrule’s queen is gone. The kingdom is already suspicious of her absence. I cannot keep this under wraps for much longer. She’s putting herself in danger.”

“I’m sure she’s with Link,” Impa said. “Heroes come in pairs, you know. They like to stick together.”

Roham’s gaze narrowed on her. “I stand by my orders. I want Link under twenty-four-seven watch. I want Zelda back in the safety of the city. And I want your men to destroy the Yiga Clan.”

Impa held her gaze, her expression blank. “As you wish, Your Highness.” When Roham was gone, she spoke again. “Your time is running out. Tell Zelda they are hunting him.”

Teba was pressed against the outer wall of the shrine. Through the open window, he could clearly hear Impa’s voice. He turned his head to briefly glance in the window. The Sheikah still stood behind her desk. When she turned to look out the window, he was gone.

*****

Never in a million years would Link have guessed Kit to be such a shady character, but as he stood in the dimly lit basement, he realized then how little he knew about the seemingly simple bartender.

Kit stood proudly over the display before them, his hands on his hips and a stupid grin on his face. He glanced over at Link as Link looked over the various items on the tables and in the hidden cases in the walls.

“What I tell ya?” Kit said. “Can I be part of the team now?”

“I guess I really can’t say no,” Link muttered.

“You can say no,” Jini said to him. He toyed with one of the knives, flipping it in his hand. “In fact, you would be wise to say no.”

“How the hell do you get your hands on this shit?”

“You’d be better off not knowing,” Jini said.

“Jini was in Roham’s army back in the day,” Kit said.

Jini narrowed his gaze on Kit. “Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Kit raised his hands. “Relax, dude. Link’s not gonna go running around blabbing your secrets.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Jini sneered. “You’re the one that brought him here.”

“Because he needs shit,” Kit said. “And you got shit he needs.”

“What could you possibly want this stuff for, anyway?”

“To blow the Yiga Clan to bits.”

Link elbowed Kit sharply.

Jini smirked and shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t trust him with anything, hm?” He inspected Link for a moment, then pointed the knife at him in gesture. “You know, I used to see your father around a lot. He was a pretty good guy. Still serving?”

“He’s dead,” Link said simply.

“Hm.” This fact didn’t seem to surprise Jini. “Guess I don’t have to worry about selling black market weapons to his son.”

“Black market?” Kit echoed. “You’ve got a big head.”

“You realize ninety percent of my stock is stolen, right?”

“We’re not paying for your stolen shit,” Kit said.

Jini shrugged. “Link can get whatever he wants. I’d rather not piss off the Hero of Hyrule. Especially right here when he has access to an entire arsenal.” He threw the knife forcefully into the wood table where it stuck and turned his back on them. “You know what you’re doing. Keep me out of it.” He turned to glance at Kit over his shoulder. “And keep your fucking hole shut or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Oh, I’m scared, Jini. The rogue ex marine is gonna come get me.”

Jini grabbed the knife and threw it past Kit where it hit the back wall. “Don’t test me,” he snarled.

“I won’t come to your defense,” Link said.

“Whatever,” Kit said, crossing his arms. “I don’t need you. Get your stupid c4 so we can get out of here.”

Link rubbed his chin. “What if we nuke those bastards?”

Kit laughed. “Right. Like we could get our hands on that.” He hesitated. “We’re not gonna try, right?”

*****

It was mid-morning by the time Link and Kit returned to the ranch, having driven through most of the night from Akkala where they met with Jini. Link didn’t exactly have a plan, but he knew he wanted to blow the Yiga Clan to bits, and he figured he got his hands on enough c4 to do just that. Kit, however, was not as concerned with the Yiga Clan as he was to Link’s confession on their drive home that he was, as he put it, turning to the dark side. He didn’t press further once Link admitted to what had happened to him, but he couldn’t help glance at him from time to time to make sure he wasn’t about to turn right there in the car and kick his ass.

He felt relieved when they finally got back to the ranch. Though he wanted to help Link, he knew he was useless in comparison to his friends. At first, he figured Link was just as useless, but now that he knew of his apparent dark powers, he was starting to think he was in way over his head. Still, he wasn’t backing out on Link now, but at the very least the other Champions could offer some protection should it come down to it. Not to mention the fact that the trunk of the car was full of enough c4 to take out, well, the entire Yiga Clan, and that was all thanks to Kit’s connections. So, maybe he wasn’t totally useless.

Except for Zelda, the rest of the Champions - plus Riju - were gathered at the ranch when they pulled up. Revali’s gaze narrowed on them as Link and Kit stepped out of the car.

“How was your field trip?” he asked.

“Aryll told us you were looking into a source,” Riju said excitedly, though she air quoted the last part. She approached Link, leaning in with her hands on her hips, and grinned. “What’s this source thing all about, anyway?”

Link pressed a finger to her nose and pushed her backwards. Riju frowned and scrunched her nose.

“None of your business,” he said simply.

“Actually,” Daruk started. “It kind of is.”

“It was a waste of time,” Kit said with a shrug. “He was just a guy I knew that I thought had intel on the Yiga Clan.”

Aryll frowned. “He didn’t?”

Kit shrugged. “If he does, we couldn’t get him to talk.”

“Did ya kill him?” Riju asked, her eyes wide. “Did ya torture him and kill him?”

“Maybe,” Link said.

“That’s not funny,” Aryll hissed at him.

“You realize your lives are on the line, right?” Kit asked her. “You can’t exactly play nice.”

“You can’t go around killing anyone you want, either,” Aryll snapped. “We’re not the Yiga. If you do that, you’re just like them.”

“So, I should let the Yiga Clan live?” Link asked.

Aryll blinked at him, hesitant. “Well… I mean… You’re not -”

“Get over it, Ary,” Link snapped. “I kill things. I kill people. And you know what? So did Dad. Get over it.”

“Well, this is nice,” Revali said with a heavy sigh as Aryll stormed away from them. “You have such a way with people, Link.”

Mipha frowned. “You didn’t really kill him, did you?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Link growled. “Who fucking cares? If I thought he was a threat, I would have eliminated him. That’s how it works.”

“He’ll live to see another day,” Kit said, putting a hand on Link’s shoulder. But the conversation was cut short as the air snapped nearby, and two figures appeared suddenly. Link immediately recognized Paya is she withdrew the cloth from over her face, but he did not know the man that stood beside her. His gaze narrowed on them.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Revali asked with a grin.

“Boyfriend?” A wave of realization washed over her face as she turned to Zelda. “What? No, Goddesses. No. That’s -”

“Sheik,” Zelda said, her gaze narrowing on her friends. “My name is Sheik.”

Paya hesitated, then nodded.

“Sheik?” Revali echoed.

“He’s a Sheikah,” Paya said quickly. “A spy for Purah. We’ve been tracking the Yiga Clan the last few days.”

Link’s brows raised. “And?”

“We found their hideout in the Gerudo Desert,” Zelda said simply. “A couple day’s hike through, in a valley south-east of the Gerudo Summit.”

Link held his gaze on Sheik. “And you trust him?”

“Yes,” Paya said simply. “He’s loyal to Purah and the royal family.”

“So was Dorian,” Link said simply.

Paya hesitated. She turned her gaze to Zelda.

“We saw Dorian at their hideout,” she said.

“I knew it,” Revali said. “Bastard.”

“Does Impa know?”

“I can’t be sure,” Paya said. “We came right here once we found them. I haven’t been back to the city. I wanted to make sure I could ward you here before I returned.”

“A ward?” Urbosa echoed.

“There’s been a ward over the city for the last twenty-six years,” Paya said. “Impa put it up to keep Link and Zelda off the Yiga radar. That’s how they’ve been able to get by undetected for so long. Outside of the city, however, there is no protection.” She hesitated. “I don’t have the same power my grandmother has, but I can at least ward the property here. Once you leave the ranch, however, you will be vulnerable to them.”

“Fine,” Link said. He didn’t care about the protection for himself, but Aryll needed to be somewhere safe. If the ranch could be warded, it would be one less thing for him to worry about.

Paya nodded. She turned to Zelda for a moment, then in a snap, she disappeared.

Zelda met Link’s suspicious gaze. “So, Hero, we meet at last.”

#loz #botw #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #fic #fanfic #soty #shadows of the yiga #soty25

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queenmorgawse · 6 years ago

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transmigration for dummies

mdzs scum villain au, chapter two. read chapter one on tumblr. fic on ao3. as always, credits for the og idea to @lee-luca.

Here’s a life lesson from yours truly : if you don’t give yourself time to think about it, you won’t worry about it.

Getting into Gusu Lan’s white robes is so much of a hassle that, as he struggles with the unholy number of layers and conventions, Jingyi has no time at all to mull over the OOC function or how to get rid of it as soon as possible. To think he used to complain when his mother wanted him to wear a dress shirt and a tie to family events — if she could see him now, she’d probably tear a muscle laughing.

Fortunately, Sizhui seems to take it all into stride. Or, more accurately, he thinks Jingyi’s still too out of it to properly function, and therefore sees nothing wrong with having to walk him through the process of putting his own clothes on step by step like he’s a toddler learning about shoelaces for the first time. He imagines the original would feel humiliated, but Jingyi himself is all too glad for a plausible excuse to ask for help to care. The System grants him this one favor, and stays mercifully silent as Sizhui secures his hair into a high ponytail and shows him the proper way to tie his forehead ribbon (I really can’t do it for you, he says, and Jingyi understands. There’s no helping the virginity ribbon.)

Speaking of hair, he’s got to figure out what to do with his. He hasn’t had a chance to look into a mirror yet, but he knows that this body’s hair reaches his waist. From the looks of it, it’s lustrous and well-cared for, but it’s still a huge change from Jingyi’s style, trimmed whenever it threatened to grow past a finger’s length. His head feels heavy.

Right as Sizhui pats a speck of dust off his shoulder and declares him ready to go, the chime of a bell echoes through the Cloud Recesses, which Jingyi guesses means breakfast is served. Oh, well. His hairstyle’s a problem for tomorrow-Jingyi.

Their dorm’s disciples make their way to the common hall in orderly fashion. In Jingyi’s opinion, they look like a row of ducklings toddling after Sizhui, to whom the younger boys cling to like he’s their father, mother and brother all wrapped into the same person. Truly worthy of being the protagonists’ son! Perhaps in someone else, he’d dislike the model student, can-do-no-wrong attitude. In Lan Sizhui, though, it’s endearing — admirable, even.

They reach the dining hall before Jingyi can elaborate on that train of thought. On the doorstep, he has to take a moment. The donghua’s version was gorgeous, but even it pales before the real thing. The hall is all dark wood, draped in blue and white and delicate silver, the cloud patterns of Gusu Lan running across the banners. There’s something engraved on top of the doors, which Jingyi assumes is the sect’s motto, Be righteous.

One of his fellow disciples squints at him and he realizes, belatedly, that the original has probably seen this place a million times before and wouldn’t bat an eye at the scenery, no matter how enchanting. He immediately puts on the most dazed look he can manage, letting his eyes go blank, until the other boy turns away with a shrug.

Damn right, I’m a weirdo! Leave me alone!

The most anyone here seems to open their mouths for is to exchange quiet greetings, and Jingyi’s not quite comfortable enough with his surroundings to attempt it. What if he accidentally offends someone important? That’ll be the end of him for sure. Instead, he busies himself with trying to identify characters among the gathered disciples.

As it turns out, the task isn’t much of a challenge at all. The main branch of the Lan clan sits at the same table, though it does not particularly stand out among the others save for the cloud-patterned banners hanging directly above it. The guy in the middle must be Lan Xichen, Jingyi guesses, if only because of the respect others address him with, obvious even though he can’t hear their voices from where he stands.

From what he can tell, the unsmiling man sitting to Lan Xichen’s right is Lan Wangji, the main love interest. The intuition is further confirmed when Sizhui excuses himself from their group and flits to his side. Father and son barely exchange a few words, their dark heads bent together, but Jingyi could swear he sees Lan Wangji’s eyes soften a little.

He really does look sad. It’s not like Jingyi didn’t know, having read an entire novel about it, but seeing it for himself still makes his heart tighten in his chest a little. Worry not, Hanguang-Jun! he wants to say. Your future husband is coming back real soon! But of course, the System would probably nuke him instantly if he tried to, so Lan Wangji will have to be miserable for a little while longer.

“Come sit with me,” Sizhui’s voice says, and for the second time in less than two hours, Jingyi snaps himself back into reality to come face to face with the other junior’s kindly face.

It’s pretty wild how much effort Sizhui puts into being nice to him. Is it because he was there when Lan Jingyi was hurt? Does he feel responsible for him now? It’s not like the original was exceptionally pleasant to be around. He really does have to do something about it ⎯ or at least, he’ll take care of it when the System’s no longer on his ass about remaining in-character.

When Sizhui doesn’t seem to come to his senses and retract the offer, he hesitantly settles into the seat on the other’s left. Hopefully, everyone will just chalk up the delay in each of his movements to typical post-traumatic event confusion. What even happened on that night-hunt?

The silence that reigns in the dining hall is eerie, only disturbed by the clink of chopsticks against ceramic bowls and the occasional whispered thanks when a dish is passed down the table. It reminds Jingyi of an exam session, which does nothing to help his nerves.

He’s in the middle of his second bowl when the alert chimes in his head.【OOC behavior detected : -10 points. Current balance : 90 points. 】

What the hell? I didn’t do anything!

【The original Lan Jingyi never manages to stay silent during meals, effectively breaking Gusu Lan Sect’s two hundred and fifty-third rule. Points were deducted accordingly. 】

Was this even mentioned? Now you’re just pulling canon out of your ass! When the System doesn’t answer, Jingyi adds, plus, he’s sick, he doesn’t feel up to talking. It’s weird to refer to someone who’s technically himself in third person, but he can’t help it. He and the other guy probably wouldn’t be friends if they met, nevermind body roommates!

【... 】For the first time since Jingyi arrived, the System sounds somewhat irritated.【Objection considered : +5 points. Current balance : 95 points.】

A wide smile worms his way onto his face. So he can negotiate, huh? Jingyi’s always been pretty good at debate ⎯ he verbally wiped the floor with Huan Hua High’s team last competition, okay? He can definitely duke it out with an omniscient AI!

...Put like that, it sounds a little more daunting than before. But if he doesn’t want to end up booted off into a potentially dead body, he doesn’t exactly have a choice either.

Out of sheer spite, Jingyi finishes the third and last bowl of his breakfast in stubborn silence.

He shouldn’t have underestimated the soporific effect of a never-ending lecture. God, and he thought two-hour classes were bad. It's been three, and his soul feels like it's going to throw itself out of the reincarnation cycle.

Jingyi steals a mournful glance towards the window. The sun is shining outside, dammit! This is no time to keep children indoors! Yet Lan Qiren drones on, pacing back and forth in front of them and reading from one of too many foot-long scrolls, seemingly oblivious to his students’ boredom.

Why does he even have to be here? He was born a Lan, he’s supposed to know these things already! Jingyi conveniently ignores the fair point his brain raises (how the original must have known, but Jingyi himself could only recite a handful if he tried) in favor of complaining that, if pointless, is at least relaxing.

One of the Jiang guest disciples is dozing, head strategically propped up and brush in hand to give the illusion of attention. Lan Qiren hasn’t noticed yet. God, I wish that were me.

As if to offer convenient narrative contrast, Lan Sizhui and perhaps a couple others are making a valiant effort to stay focused on Jingyi’s other side, dutifully taking notes. Even Sizhui’s eyes have started to glaze over, though, and when their gazes meet (the umpteenth time Jingyi lets his sweep over the room in an attempt to spot something of interest before he bores himself to death), the other boy actually slumps a little before sitting up ramrod-straight again, just in time to look pristine when Lan Qiren’s eyes sweep over him.

It’s kind of reassuring, to see that even the Lan clan’s resident golden boy is a little imperfect.

Just as Jingyi glances down at the dregs of his notes, wondering if it’s worth it to pick them up again, chaos erupts on his right. Random-Jiang-Extra’s steadfast elbow pose has finally failed him, sending him crashing onto the table. Ink spills everywhere, drenching his notes, the lapels of his robes and even the hem of his neighbours��. Jingyi saves his in extremis by scrambling back, almost knocking over his own desk in the process.

The guest disciple blinks, like he doesn’t realize yet the magnitude of Lan Qiren’s wrath about to descend upon him. There’s a rather large smudge of ink on his chin. From a distance, it could pass for Lan Qiren’s goatee.

Jingyi snorts before he can think that decision through.

Beginner’s mistake. Lan Qiren turns towards him, eyes narrowing, and his laughter dies in his throat. “Do not laugh at others’ plight,” their teacher fumes. “Three thousand and fourth rule, Lan Jingyi! I postponed the punishments for your previous offenses on the grounds that you needed time to recover, but since you’re obviously well enough to embarrass our sect again, you won’t need that delay after all!”

I don’t even know what the other guy did! Jingyi almost protests, but since that objection just sounds like it’ll get him hit with another rule about not telling lies or whatnot, he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he bows his head and says, “Sorry, Teacher. I’ll try my best not to do it again.” Screw his pride! Anything to escape copying rules! Especially not while doing handstands!

Not to the original’s credit, Lan Qiren looks, for a moment, genuinely surprised. Not for the first time, Jingyi feels a small stab of resentment towards Lan Jingyi. He’s been trying not to, given that he has no idea what happened to the guy’s soul and he may be in a worse situation than Jingyi is right now, but why couldn’t he have been a good, well-behaved student like Lan Sizhui?

...In retrospect, maybe it’s just as good that he wasn’t. Jingyi would have gotten way too many points deducted just because he couldn’t sit still in class.

【OOC behavior detected : -10 points. Current balance : 85 points. 】

Ouch. Must be for the apology. Well, if it saves him from the dreaded handstand copying, he can make up for the loss later.

Against all odds, it works. Lan Qiren rubs the bridge of his nose, stifling what Jingyi is fairly sure is meant to be a long-suffering sigh. “One copy of our sect rules, to be done in the Library Pavilion. Lan Sizhui will supervise you...after his guqin lesson, is that right?”

“Yes, Teacher.” If Sizhui’s annoyed to have to take time out of an assumedly free evening to watch him butcher calligraphy, he doesn’t show it. From the look in his eyes, though, it may not be the first time.

Jingyi tunes out of Lan Qiren’s next tirade, directed at the hapless Jiang boy, who’s still staring at his ruined notes as his martial brothers make sympathetic noises. Can’t say this day started out all that well, but it’s not that bad for a beginning. It definitely could have been worse.

Then Lan Sizhui gives him a tiny smile that carves a dimple into his right cheek, and maybe today really is going to be a pretty good day after all.

strolls in with starbucks almost a month later,,, hello, i haven’t abandoned this fic, mini exam period just punched me harder than expected. i hope this chapter wasn’t boring - i’m trying to set things up before the actual mdzs plot kicks in, but we’re in for some zhuiyi fluffTM. also, i made a twitter! feel free to follow me over there for random au ideas (but mostly crying). still taking questions + prompts, both here and there. and finally, would you guys read a more serious / plotty / angsty fic with ljy x jl as the main ship (though romance would probably take a backseat to the plot)? i wrote a small premise over here, but i crave feedback and validation.

#mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mdzs #lan jingyi #zhuiyi #kim's fics #transmigrator!ljy

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sketchs-trashcan · 6 years ago

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so, it seems like tumblr ate my original post...*sigh* at least this means I can do the same thing but with the entire game now.

Since I ended up with PQ2 early, I wrote down most of everything that happened and decided to put it all together in a guide of some sort. I have a less-spoilery section full of general info and a much more spoilery section that pertains to the labyrinths. The labyrinth parts will be mostly about where to unlock special screenings as well as weakness to some FOEs and the boss of the labyrinth. Keep in mind that this is NOT a full guide and I definitely left some things out and/or vague. This is more like the bare bones of the game. Kinda. idk what to call it.

if you want something a bit more specific and/or want to scream about the game, feel free to message me!

Less spoilery stuff

•don’t play based off of knowledge from PQ, literally almost every shadow has different weaknesses and resistances

•hitting a (fill in the blank)bane lexy with something it’s resistant to can cause it to use holy wrath on a row (heavy damage, all binds) (seems to only be specific ones, i have yet to find a pattern though. i don’t think it started to happen until farther along in the game, which was an aboslute bitch in some cases)

•golden shadows always move first, don’t bother with moves like line guard unless that character is in boost

•FOEs can’t be knocked down

•speaking of knocking things down, you need all enemies to be down before you can do an all-out attack. also, all enemies will go back up after one

•after getting back up, enemies might attack. it’s a bit inconsistent

•you know what else is inconsistent? some of the in-game descriptions and explanations. i’m pretty sure armor smasher or whatever only lasts one turn, not three. also, blue is the weakest color for an FOE, not white. i refuse to believe that a dinosaur is somehow less threatening than a dude in a chicken suit. there’s other problems, but those are the ones i can think of off the top of my head

-i lied. i thought of something else

•in the shop, the “have” section includes anything in storage, while inventory is what you actually have with you. it’s a bit dicier when withdrawing items, i think that counting system’s just fucked

•the huge churros are a bit of a ripoff by the time you can get them unless you want to restore only 30 HP to a row in battle. otherwise, just use normal popcorn (as a side note, i was playing on hard, so my team had to be hella buff to take on the first boss, this could be why i view the churros with distain)

•the hotdogs and large dual dogs, on the other hand, are good. especially the dual dogs, stick to those once you unlock them

•selling FOE bits doesn’t really seem to unlock new items in the shop until later. very disappointing gosh darn it yosuke, stop messing with the game mechanics

•read item descriptions. i went into the first boss battle thinking gutsy fries were the same as revival beads. they are not.

•sacrificing personas doesn’t seem to create special materials anymore

•unison attacks can happen so long as at least one participating member is in the battling party. example: the unison attack with P3P and the other (human) 2nd years can occur even if fuuka is the only one present (she’ll need to be navigating the battle though)

•unison attacks occur at random from what i can tell. they’re very strong, but don’t count on one always popping up when you need one

•follow-up attacks are also random, but much weaker. they at least knock down the shadow that’s still up and gives you the opportunity for an all-out attack, so there’s that

•always take the opportunity for all-out attacks. enemies might recover before the rest of your team can attack and get into boost mode

•some special screenings seem to be unlocked only if you check the shop/box office at specific points in the game. i don’t know if they’re only at specific points or if they can happen after that, too

•wildcards do not all need to be at a specific level to unlock ultimate personas, so don’t feel completely obligated to keep them up to speed with joker (you should still train them a bit though). everyone else needs to be at least level 55 to unlock theirs afterwards

•if two FOEs end up running into you at different times during a battle, the most recent one will kick out the older one (aka you don’t fight both of them at once). which means if you win, the newer one dies, but the older one will still be lurking next to you (this is based off of one special screening where i got cocky and nearly paid the price for it)

-i am currently unconvinced that homonculi or however it’s spelled exist outside of chests. i beat the entire game, beat every FOE, and they still haven’t shown up in the shop

That was long. Oops? Well, next up is the labyrinths, so if you want to find out this stuff on your own, best not go any farther.

More spoilery stuff

Kamoshidaman

•i’m 90% certain that the goba-k more is in a golden chest somewhere in this labyrinth. if not, it was in junessic land

•Noir and Queen do not join until after boss

•P3P does not join until second floor (if I’m remembering correctly, otherwise it’s third)

•when rescuing P3P, take out the original shadow, then beat the shit out of tank with everything you have

•just try to stay alive during inital Kamoshidaman encounter, don’t bother too much with attacking (i don’t know if attacking is required for the battle to end, i tried to attack and quickly got pummeled)

•there’s a shortcut that leads to the stairs between the 2nd and 3rd floor, but you have to fight a battle before you can activate it. the battle is not nice

•Boss: Left is weak to fire, right is weak to electricity, middle is weak to fire once left and right are gone

also, the scene where the thieves make their move is fantastic, make sure to watch it. volume on also makes it better

Junessic Land

-lots of the enemies here have a weakness to psi, some of them have weakness to nuke. change your team accordingly

•you can’t sneak up on the pterodactyl FOEs. even if you sneak up on them. they “sneak up” on you and gain advantage (they’re weak to ice, resistant to curse, and can confuse you, btw) ::edit:: they don’t gain advantage so long as you approach them from the front

-t-rex FOEs only chase you if you walk into their line of sight (they’re weak to nuke and resistant to basically everything else, btw. highly recommend avoiding battle when possible)

•IT minus Yosuke does not join until the second floor

•Yosuke does not join until you rescue one of the herbivores

•dead end in area 1, D4: regain HP and SP

•for a certain special screening, ammonite is located in D3. don’t be a fool like me. avoid the pond until you find all the chests

•electric gates are essentially mean walls. you can walk right up to them, just don’t try to walk through them

•dead end in area 3, B6: unlocks new special screening

•can begin unlocking unison attacks after rescuing Yosuke

•dead end in area 3, E4: allowing Fox and Teddie to eat the fruit causes them to lose HP and gain SP (probably only matters if one of them is in your party, idk)

•dead end in area 4, F6: unlocks new special screening

•Boss: weak to electric, resistant (and eventually null) to wind

-Left back: Weak to psi. Resistant to ice, nuke

-Middle back: Weak to nuke. Resistant to ice, psi

-Right back: Weak to ice. Resistant to psi, nuke

-Based on context clues (those being the boss going from mostly chilling to beating the shit out of me), I’m 99% certain you do NOT want to actually knock out the “boss”, focus on the back line

A.I.G.I.S.

-for the most part, anything robotic has the exact weakness you’d expect it to have

•SEES minus P3 and Aigis join on the first floor

•the stationary FOEs are stupidly easy to defeat if you have electric attacks

•the other FOEs, on the other hand, are not. they will hurt you and some of them chase you through security gates. do not engage, do not pass go, do not collect $200 (unless they’re either blue or white on your map, in which case, go nuts)

•there are three possible tasks you can choose from to open the lab. don’t know about the other two, but power doesn’t involve battling

•Aigis and P3 join on first floor of lab

•dead end in zone 1, C4: unlocks new special screening

•dead end in zone 2, C6: unlocks new special screening

•dead end in zone 2, B5: unlocks new special screening

•southwest corner of small room in lab 1F (corner is in A4): unlocks new special screening

•dead end in lab 2F, B6: unlocks new special screening

•boss: no weakness initially, but weak to everything once hacked first time (it’s still on and can attack though, and the hack is temporary), weak to curse second (haven’t checked everything)

-has an attack that brings everyone to the same amount of hp, using all/line guard is probably a bad idea when it happens depending on everyone’s hp, recommend fuuka as battle nav for healing tide and bringing along someone with mediarama

-seals one attack from each person at random

-uses multiple magic attacks (have found electric, ice, fire, and wind)

-has attacks that can bind magic, strength, or speed

-make sure ALL elements are covered, preferably by more than one skill/person

???

•be very wary if you come across an actual set of stairs, there will be a battle in the next open space/beyond the next door

•some stage lifts have FOEs on them

•gnomes turn every three steps

•mr. bear can potentially change its path when you flip a switch

-in case you were wondering. they are weak to curse. and they hit really fucking hard (as in, over 200 damage while under the influence of debilitate to a roughly lv 50 aigis in the back row, and she’s resistant to physical attacks. big yikes). but. if you use the combination of debilitate/masukunda/masukukaja/orb of haste. they hit you once in a blue moon. so basically never

•there is a goho-m more in the golden chest in the first act

•dead end in act 1, 4C: new screening

•(just assume the rest of these are dead ends) act 2, 3E: new screening

•act 5, 5E: new screening

•act 6, 7B: new screening

•act 6: 6F: i’m 99% certain this unlocked a special screening but for some reason i wasn’t given a notification

•boss: first off. can i just say. WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK IS THAT??? WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?? DISGUSTING!!! EUUURGHHHH!!!!!

-looks like a variety of attacks, including almighty. it depends on where the eye is

-eye is the only part that can actually take damage, the rest seems to be just for boost

-knows mamudo

-eye: immune to everything except physical/almighty

-left arm: weak to wind

-right arm: ?

-head: ? (never figured out these two bc i beat it before i could bother figuring it out)

-real weak point: weak to electric and ice

-later on, if you use any support skill other than your new one (you’ll know which one), the real weak point will bind you again. also happens once everyone is unbound

-side note, normal unbinding items don’t work, unless that was a very unfortunate glitch i had

[REDACTED]

-you have to actually step on switches to use them. that’s really all i’ve got

-wait. there’s a dead end somewhere that unlocks one of the last unison skills. i forgot to write down where though.

-there is also a “treasure spot” somewhere on the last labyrinth floor :) that has :) a special surprise :) have fun :):):):) *screams into the void*

-defeating the FOE that chases you is required to unlock the ultimate weapons. the FOE that mimics you is required to unlock ultimate armor. both things require parts from other FOEs, so go nuts, i guess

-rain leg musha is weak to fire and curse, resistant to nuke. wicked turret is weak to psi, resistant to fire

-there are “reruns” of the bosses you have to beat. they’re easy so long as you exploit their weaknesses. they’re basically the easy version of when you first fought them, no extra gimmicks. i found kamoshidaman in the lower left, dino boy in the bottom right, computer in the upper right, and big ol’ blob in the upper left

ENLIL

-weak to psi and nuke, resistant to electric

MAELSTROM INCARNATE

-ok, this battle was both fun an an absolute bitch (my entire team was level 72 and i was on hard mode, if that give you any context)

-first and foremost, this boss can change its affinity. you can tell what it is based on what attack it’s using. in all cases, it’s null to wind. not sure why

-weak to ice, resistant to fire (and vice versa)

-weak to light, resistant to dark (and vice versa)

-the boss can nullify buffs to your party and debuffs to itself. this makes those skills useless overall, but they can at least distract her for a move, which could give you the breather you need

-the boss can bind and afflict ailments

-retake undoes everything that happened in the previous turn (it’s like the turn never happened in the first place), so if the boss is “charging up” and there’s no sword in front, just have everyone guard

-if the sword is in front and it starts glowing in waves? fucking. block.

-the attack seems to alternate which row it hits, but i beat the boss before i could actually think to look for a pattern

-there will come a point where the boss does an action you haven’t seen previously. see things through to the end (aka don’t turn of the game in a panic)

There’s another battle post-game, but it’s. uh. really. really. REALLY fucking hard. my team was all level 72, i switched to safety mode, and I still died before i could really do anything. the only tip i can give you is that when a new character joins the battle, for the love of all that is good, G U A R D, dammit

#sketch plays persona q2 #persona q2 #persona q2 spoilers

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officialleehadan · 7 years ago

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99 Shiny New Bugs in the Code

Y’all have been asking for a sequel to this one, and here it is!

+++

“How did you do that?”

Rick looked up when Marina spoke. She was real pretty. Big green eyes and red hair. Rick hadn’t worked up the courage to really talk to her yet.

The narrow-eyed expression of suspicion wasn’t really a good sign. Rick had sisters. He knew that look meant trouble.

“I told you; it’s called code,” he said and focused on the line he was trying to get work.

So far, it wasn’t working.

Well, he managed to get some spectacular sparks, and lit the curtains on fire, but Marina was decidedly calm about that. Maybe student mages did that kind of thing a lot? Rick didn’t have any way to know and Marina didn’t seem likely to tell him.

“Yes, but how did you do it?” she persisted, and finally set her book down so she could get a better look at the code he was tryingot write out on the floor in chalk.

God he missed his computer. Less than a week, and he would never take it for granted again.

Seriously. The backspace button. He would sell his soul for a backspace button that worked on chalk.

“I’m trying to figure out how to go home,” he said, and rubbed out one character to replace it with another. Days of trying and it still wasn’t working. He was starting to think it was wasted effort. “Open!”

Nothing.

“Portal magic is something only the Masters can use,” Marina told him shyly. She was still unsure what exactly she was supposed to be doing as Rick scribbled on the floor. For that matter, he really wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing. Until he could work the bugs out of his code, nothing was going ot happen. “It can be very difficult, and very dangerous.”

“Well, I got here one way or another,” Rickk pointed out. The code on the floor didn’t do anything, even after he rubbed out one clause and changed it by a few characters. “Crap. I was doing this in Haskell, but it’s not working. Myabe if I run it through Python…”

“What is that?” Marina asked, leaning forward to examine his code. “We use runes for some spells, especially in student magic, but this is something entirely different.”

“Python and Haskell are programming languages,” Rick sat back on his heels and sighed. At least on a computer he could try his code and maybe see what the problem was. This was nothing but ‘it works’ or ‘nope’ and it was driving him crazy. “Some languages are better than others, depending on the task you’re doing. I know a couple different ones, but this is… not exactly my wheelhouse. The magic, I mean.”

Real magic. That was trippy beyond measure and he really didn’t know what to make of it. Still, if code worked on magic, he could figure it out.

Probably.

Maybe.

He hoped, anyway.

Something occurred to him.

“Hey,” he looked up at Marina. “You know magic, right? What makes magic work?”

The question took her by surprise, but she thought for a while before relyping.

“It is energy,” she decided at last, and held out a hand. A little glittle or light ran across her fingertips. “In our world, there are rivers, unseen but present, called leylines. They are invisible, and usually under the earth. That energy is mutable, and shaped by will as guided by word, item, gesture, and rune.”

“Huh,” Rick muttered as he started to translate his line of code from one language to another. “Items?”

“Components, mostly,” Marina produced a vial fo glittering dust out of her belt pouch. Rick paused to examine it. “That is powdered mirror. I use it for communication spells. Another of my spells calls for rose petals, dried before midsummer. Often, the component speaks to the spell.”

“I didn’t write down CatDem,” Rick pointed out as he wrote, but he had a sneaking feeling that it wasn’t going to work any better in Python than it had in Haskell. “It just went off when the code flashed across my mind. But that was different. I mean, I know CatDem so well I could probably write it in my sleep.”

“What is CatDem?” Marina asked, bewildered.

“Huh? Oh, Catastrophic Demise. That spell that… kinda blew a hole in your castle.”

Blew a hole was downplaying it. Catistrophic Demise was an end-game spell that players could only get by doing a long series of complicated side quests. It was supposed to be a game-changer.

It was overkill for the whatever-it-was he nuked with it, but probably better than dying, which seemed pretty likely at the time.

He still felt kind of bad about the giant hole in the castle.

Marina was looking at his code again, and slid off her bench to get closer. “So this is a different language? Why did the first language not work?”

“Python is more object-oriented,” he told her, and held his hand over the line. “Open!”

Nothing. Not even sparks. Not even a waver in the air to suggest what had gone wrong.

God he missed his computer.

“Try with this,” Marina dug in her pocket for a minute and came up with a bottle of black liquid. When she shook it, it shimmered with powdered gold. “It’s made with powdered charcoal of holy basil, and gold.”

Rik examined it and shook the bottle to see the gold flakes float around in the thick liquid. “Does the type of ash matter?”

“Holy Basil is for moving forward, in the literal, and for seeking truth, in the metaphorical,” she told him with a shrug like it was common knowledge. “And gold conducts magic. Light magic, particularly, which I think is what you’re using.”

It was worth a shot. He eyed the floor, but was happier when she offered a slip of rag paper and a glass pen. He wasn’t accustomed to the antique tools, but they were better than chalk.

When he had the code transcribed, he handed the ink back, and looked down at his paper.

“Open!”

The paper lit on fire, and the air shimmered, before spitting out something that looked like a kitten.

Except, of course, kittens usually didn’t have feather wings to match a grey-spotted body.

“Ah,” Marina blinked, and offered her fingers for the little creature to smell. “Well, Ch’reet aren’t from this world…”

The kitten meeped and bumped its’ nose against her fingers politely, before leaping onto Rick’s shoulder, purring loudly.

Rick petted it helplessly and sighed.

“99 shiny new bugs in the code,” he sang glumly as the kitten made itself comfortable on his shoulders. “99 shiny new bugs. Take one down. Pass it around. 200 shiny new bugs in the code.”

+++

Counter-Code

Code for Magic

99 Shiny New Bugs

+++

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imjustthemechanic · 7 years ago

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The French Mistake

Part 1/? - A Visitor Part 2/? - The Kulturhistorisk Museum Heist Part 3/? - Cutscene Part 4/? - The Marvel Cinematic Universe Part 5/? - Breathless Part 6/? - Escape at Last Part 7/? - Fox in Socks Part 8/? - Things Go Wrong Part 9/? - Downey and Out Part 10/? - Road Trip Part 11/? - Temptation Part 12/? - An Awful Reunion Part 13/? - Unreality Intrudes Part 14/? - A Call for Help Part 15/? - Loki’s Guests Part 16/? - Stan Lee Cameo Part 17/? - Reassessment Part 18/? - Midnight Invasion Part 19/? - Elevator Fight Part 20/? - Courage Part 21/? - Unwelcome Back Part 22/? - Darkest Hour Part 23/? - They Are Here Part 24/? - The Jet Propulsion Laboratory Part 25/? - Word of God

When you need to know the secrets of the Marvel universe, there’s only one person to ask.

“Sixteen hours?” asked Kevin. “Jesus.”

Steve wanted to tell her not to take the Lord’s name in vain, but he still remembered the weeks of ribbing he’d gotten the last time he’d asked somebody to mind their language.

“In sixteen hours,” she said carefully. “I might be able to draw a decent picture of it.”

“What if you skip all the testing stuff and just go for it?” Bob asked.

Donny cleared his throat. “I was in this movie a while back. The Martian. Did you see it?”

“You gotta understand,” Kevin added, “I’m just one person and I’ve got other stuff to do. I’m also trajectory on Europa Clipper, and there’s Mars 2020, and the Ice Giant mission we’re still trying to hammer out… Mike was very clear that it’s all gotta stay in the pipeline just in case we survive this.”

“Right, right,” said Steve. His brain was starting to recover from the shock six months had given it, and he was now trying to figure a way around it. “So instead of snatching the wormhole machine out from under their noses and running, we’re actually going to have to permanently neutralize the Chi’Tauri. Then we’ll have to be on guard for a while in case the ones back in our universe get tired of waiting and send another group.” The promise of a quick victory had slipped away into the looming dread of a long siege, but they would just have to deal with it. “So we need to figure out how to capture or kill them.”

“I am not flying any nukes anywhere,” said Bob. “Just to get that out of the way.”

“You killed quite a few of them during the Battle of New York, didn’t you?” Hayley asked. “How did you do it then?”

“By hitting them really, really hard,” said Natasha.

That didn’t work here, as their attempt to fight in the convention centre had already proved – without the serum, Thor’s Asgardian strength, or Natasha’s enhancements, they just couldn’t hit hard enough. “They all collapsed when the nuke went off,” said Steve. “Fury said the scientists figured some kind of connection with the mother ship had been broken.” If they couldn’t get a bomb into space, doing that again was going to be difficult.

“They must have some kind of weakness,” Hayley said. “Aliens in comic books always do.”

Steve’s brain, which had been roiling a moment ago as he tried to think, came to a dead halt. Comic books.

“What?” Hayley asked, seeing his expression change. “Do you know what it is?”

“No,” said Steve, “but we know who does!” He reached into one pocket, then the other, and then realized they’d all left their phones back at the hotel in Canada during their hurried escape. “We need a phone. And we need… does anybody have Stan Lee’s number?”

Hayley brought her hands together, a delighted smile on her face. “Of course!” she said.

“I’ve got it!” Bob pulled a phone out of his jacket and scrolled through it.

“Use this one.” Kevin grabbed a yellowed 90’s cordless handset off another table. “It’s got a speaker.”

Steve picked up the receiver. “Isn’t that a new phone?” he asked Bob. “I mean, we left the hotel with nothing.”

“I saved my contacts in the cloud,” Bob said. “Our world might not have all that fancy hologram stuff, but we’re not barbarians!” He found the contact and showed the number to Steve, who started punching it in on the JPL phone. “Although Stan Lee didn’t create the Chi’Tauri,” he added. “I think that might have been Mark Miller…”

“Well, if Stan Lee doesn’t know, then he can probably give us the number of somebody who does,” said Steve. He turned on the speakerphone and set the handset in the middle of the table so everybody could hear and talk. It rang once, twice, then three times.

“He never answers right away,” said Bob, trying to sound encouraging. “And he doesn’t have voicemail. He says there’s no point because he’s not gonna listen to it anyway.”

A fifth ring, then a sixth… and then finally, on the tenth, there was the soft sound of a pickup.

“Stan Lee,” said the old man’s voice. “Marvel Allfather.”

“Hello!” said Steve. “This is Steve Rogers!”

“Oh, yes!” said Lee cheerfully. “I told you I’d run into you again. What can I do you for, Cap? No, wait, you gave up Captain America after Civil War, didn’t you? I’m still trying to convince the Russos to get you into the Nomad costume.”

Steve refused to let himself be distracted. “Stan,” he said, “we need to know what the Chi’Tauri’s weakness is.”

There was a pause. “What, you want me to just tell it to you?” Stan asked. “That’s cheating!”

“No, it’s not!” Steve protested. “We’re trying to save the world here!”

“No, no, no,” Stan insisted. “When the narrator pulls something out of nowhere to tie up the plot, that’s a deus ex machina and it’s been lazy writing ever since the time of the ancient Greeks! How would you feel if you woke up and found out this had all been a dream? You’d be disappointed, right? It’s the same thing.”

“Actually, I’d be okay with that,” said Steve. Waking up in his apartment in Wakanda and learning none of this had ever happened? He’d take it.

“Well, I’m not,” said Stan. “I’ve never approved of it, and I’m not going to start now.”

“This isn’t a story, Stan!” said Bob. “There are actual aliens in Houston and they’re gonna kill people.”

“It’s a story to somebody,” Stan insisted. “If the people in our stories actually exist in other universes, which they demonstrably do, then obviously we’re a story in somebody else’s, and I’d hate to give them a letdown ending.”

“Ah!” Hayley leaned forward. “But a deus ex machina is something that hasn’t already been established in the story’s world, right? Right? So you were pre-established! We met you in the hotel room and you gave us pointers there! It’s properly a part of the narrative universe, and you can do it again without cheating!”

There was no immediate reply. Steve waited, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“Stan?” asked Bob.

“I’m still here,” said Stan. “You know what? She’s right. Well done, Miss Atwell! Very well, then,” he decided. “The Chi’Tauri who are after you lot are drones. Remember when the wormhole closed in New York and they all just fell down?”

“Yeah, we were talking about that,” said Steve.

“They’re a hive-mind,” Stan explained, “and the center of their thought and initiative lies in the queen. If they haven’t got a queen within range, all they can do is lie there and drool.”

“So there are actually five of them here, then,” said Nat. “We haven’t seen the queen because they’re keeping her hidden.”

“Exactly,” Stan agreed. “Find the queen, and you can bring them all down at once and cart them off to Area 51 for dissection! Does that help?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “That helps a lot.”

“Wonderful!” Stan said. “I’ll look forward to hearing about it later – bye now!” There was a click as he hung up.

Hayley reached out to turn off the handset. “I… I don’t think he really believes us,” she observed. “I think he considers this some big game.”

“No, he believes it,” said Bob. “Stan’s been waiting for something like this his entire life.”

“I don’t care if he believes it,” Steve decided. “As long as his advice is good.” He sat back and tried to make a list of tasks. “So… distract the Chi’Tauri, kill or incapacitate the queen, steal the wormhole machine and bring it back here so Kevin can figure out how to direct it, and then… deal with maybe six months more of Chi’Tauri incursions as they come after Loki again and again?”

“Optimistically six months,” Kevin reminded him. “I have honestly no idea.”

“When you put it that way, it sounds impossible,” said Hayley, discouraged.

“Nothing is impossible,” Thor assured her. “Some things are merely very difficult.”

“We’re used to impossible tasks,” said Nat. She rubbed her hands together. “Okay, where will they be hiding the queen? Loki, when you were working for the Chi’Tauri, did you ever…”

“I wasn’t working for them,” Loki interrupted her. “They were working for me. And I was never on board one of their frightful vessels. Those are for the rabble. I had better ways to get around. But,” he added, “they kept their queens on the mother ships that housed the Leviathans, far away from Earth where no threat could be present.”

“Okay, I can tell you categorically that there is no Chi’Tauri mothership in orbit of earth,” said Kevin. “We monitor earth orbit because it’s full of crap that can crash into satellites and make trouble. Besides, anything big enough to be considered a mothership, if it were between us and the moon you’d be able to see it from your backyard.”

“And we’re already pretty sure that one Leviathan’s all they’ve got,” Nat said, “because if they had more they’d send them. If they’ve got the queen with them, then she’s on board that.”

Loki sighed, and then took his glasses off with a scowl – but one that seemed to be directed at the glasses themselves rather than at anything else – and leaned forward. He obviously didn’t like talking about his time with the Chi’Tauri, but he recognized the need. “Considering the esteem in which the queens are held,” he said, “they would have had to alter the troop transport to let her live on board. They would not squeeze her into a little sleep pod like a common soldier.”

“Perhaps that is why there are a mere four of them,” Thor said. “Those we fought in New Yrok seemed to house dozens. We need to know what’s inside the vessel.” He looked at Bob.

Bob shook his head. “The whole thing was special effects, remember?” he asked. “A bunch of tech people put it all together in a computer while I was busy knocking up Susan. I don’t even remember what it was supposed to look like from the outside.”

“There were some people back down the hall who had blueprints or something,” Steve said, remembering the rooms they’d passed on the way in.

A quick search found the room in question – JPL employees ranging in age from twenty to seventy had a set of plans and concept art spread out on a table, and were poring over it while a nervous Marvel Studios executive hovered behind them, trying to discourage them from drawing on the original artwork with sharpies. Steve waited in the hall, leaning on the crutch the policewoman had given him, while Natasha marched in.

“Good afternoon, folks,” she said, and reached for the blueprint mockup they were examining.

They stared at her – especially the representative of the studio, a woman in a pea-green skirt suit, with gray streaks in her shoulder-length brown hair.

“Scarlett?” the woman asked.

“Natasha.” She held out her hands.

The employees started picking up the drawings and diagrams, loathe to part with them. Nat put her hands on her hips.

“Do you want us to beat up your aliens for you?” she asked. “Or should we just let them blow up Houston?”

“Give them to her,” the woman in green ordered. “I trust her with them better than I trust you guys.”

Word spread quickly, and soon it seemed like half the people at JPL had crowded into one of the big conference rooms, where three Avengers, three actors, and a specialist in orbital mechanics were trying to come up with a slightly more coherent plan. The woman in green, whose name seemed to be Iris, had loaded a 3D model of the Leviathan on a laptop, and Natasha was examining it.

“The single-person craft dock here.” She ran a finger down the side of the Leviathan as it rotated past. “So that’s where we’ll be going in, rather than at the mouth like Stark did.”

“The internal structure is relatively weak,” Bob noted. He’d found a packet of ‘astronaut ice cream’ somewhere, and was munching on the chalky-looking pink and white contents. “There’s been big arguments about that online – how Tony couldn’t scratch it from the outside but blew it up from the inside, and how it crumpled up when the Hulk punched it.”

“The vessels are not designed to operate under gravity, only within their own anti-gravity fields,” said Loki. “If your weapons or the monster’s fist damaged the anti-gravity generator, the whole machine could collapse under its own weight.”

“Like a sea serpent suffocating on a beach,” Thor agreed.

“So if we can lay some charges inside, we ought to be able to bring it down,” said Nat. “Especially if we can find the generator… that’s gotta be in the head,” she pointed, “if the Hulk managed to punch it.”

“Sounds good,” said Steve. They were starting to have a plan again, but there was still the matter of time. When he checked his watch again, they were now down to fourteen hours and twenty-six minutes.

#fanfic #steve rogers #natasha romanov

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allyxmethstuff-blog · 7 years ago

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Avengers: Infinity War and it’s Relevance to 45′s Regime (Some Spoilers)

So, did you see the latest Avengers movie? If you haven’t you may want to not read part of this review but I want you to; because while you may ignore the film’s message for the fun the movie absolutely is - the statement it makes is necessary. I can understand how you don’t want to think about the outside world in a summer blockbuster. However, this is the most important piece of pop culture that relates to our world.

Thanos as we all know from the trailers is looking for the Infinity Stones to end all life on Earth. We’ve heard it before. We’ve seen the heroes in these stories time and time again defeat these foes. To many Americans - this is the story we were told through Joseph Campbell’s “The Heroes Journey” and some never questioned it. We were taught that we were heroes but many other Americans know this isn’t true at all. To those that this country committed genocide against, to those that this country enslaved, to those that have been lynched, to those that have been killed by cops for doing nothing wrong, to those that have been destroyed through nuclear bombs we dropped, to those that lost their leaders so this country could obtain their resources without giving anything back, to those that cops would never help because we are not white; cis; and affluent, to those that would be put in jail because of bigotry, to civilians of foreign countries killed by our own army, to our own journalists that have been killed by our own army, to those that lost their country because this one stole the borders only to then kill - we know that the good guys do not always win.

And in this movie the good guys do not win. And it’s important to take note that the consequences are the destruction of half of life across the universe. So what does that mean? Is this the beginning of a broken cycle in the Joseph Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey”? Not exactly as this is the first film of a two-part movie. Despite knowing that let’s consider what this means. It’s a weapon of war. A weapon of mass destruction. And the man that wants to do this is not infamous in the Milky Way Galaxy - but so well known and feared that people only wish they never come across him and he would leave them alone. Who can blame these people when Thanos’s title is “The Mad Titan” along with his massively powerful army. Does this sound like anyone we know? You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know who this sounds like.

Its 45. C’mon the title says it. 45 has been itching to use nukes since the moment he won the general election in 2016. He has killed more civilians in the Middle East than President Obama did his entire presidency just within a few months. There is no way that many Middle Eastern civilians died unless it was deliberate. The man became a war criminal in his first few days. His racism, xenophobia, anti-semitism, sexism, and anti-lgbtq+ personality has made him worse than even Andrew Jackson. And Andrew Jackson killed so many First Nation citizens that 45 has worked hard to surpass him. He has left Puerto Rico a death island with no help which has left fellow citizens drinking contaminated water and almost no power during a gigantic economic depression there. He allowed the Dakota Access Pipeline to continue after President Obama told them they must suspend work on the pipeline. The protests were started by the First Nation people because it mostly went through the river in their reservation and they knew the oil pipeline would contaminate it. And it did. He has called black football players and countries with higher populations of black people derogatory words. He hired Nazis to work in the White House. He himself has a book of Hitler’s speeches on his bedside table and this man is not an avid reader. This comes straight from Ivanna (45′s first wife).

I could go on about all of the discriminatory things he has done and that is unfortunately as American as apple pie. After all 45 did not make slavery legal but this country did make it legal. This country also made slavery illegal with the 13th amendment but during the Reconstruction Era we still had to work hard to stop slavery. It’s still not over though. That same 13th amendment allows the country’s incarcerated to be paid slave wages for their work by getting paid pennies. Not even a full dollar sometimes but literal pennies. These are human beings that hopefully reform and get out some day but when you pay them nothing for work they do for years with hopeful reform in mind how can they live off of their earnings? The food their given is so unhealthy and the water to clean them is so disgusting you might as well wonder how someone leaving our justice system could see the good in doing what’s right after?

And then there are those paid a minimum wage. Even if you’re paid what the Los Angeles minimum wage is at the time I wrote this you’d be making $12/hr. The average rent as of writing this is $1450/month for a 1-bedroom/1 bath. How much would it take for us to make for that to be a quarter of our monthly salary? $36.25/hr. Minimum wage is $12/hr in a good area and $7.75/hr. That means in a good area you’d need to work 120 straight hours or 5 days without breaks to get enough for your rent to be a quarter of your wages. No job would give you that many hours so you’d be working 3 jobs without a break for 8 hours straight. Do you know what happens in three days if you don’t get enough rest? You die. Now do you see what this is? Now do you see how this is unconstitutional? And how our country has only grown to be incrementally less atrocious? And the person in charge doesn’t want to pay people. He’s done it before by not paying contractors after working for him.

But that’s not the most important part not unless you count those among the actions he’s taken that are something to fear. He has begun to strip away freedom of the press by allowing the DoJ to strip the rights journalists have from their handbook. Leading a way for them to shut down dissenting public opinion. It has already begun through multiple journalists attacking Michelle Wolf when they have agreed with what she has said on their own stations. What of his unwillingness to invoke the sanctions against Russia? What of his willingness to fire those investigating him (a Nixonian precedent albeit)? What of the Nazis that he gave safe harbor to in his statement that there are good people on both sides? What of his assault on the environment in which we cannot live if we do not protect it from turning deadly? What of that moment when he found out the President of China was able to turn his appointment in office into a life term and wished for it to be done here? What of those moments he praises dictators and eschews democratic leaders? What of his desire to ban a group of people from entering the country based on inalienable qualities? What of his actions to hold immigrants both undocumented and legal from being given due process? What of his acts to keep these immigrants indefinitely and not allowing pregnant girls who do not want these babies access to abortion? And what of this man who has no humanitarian bone in his body who wishes to hold immigrants indefinitely?

The important part is do you see the abuses our own country has committed and do you see how he has gone further? Now consider what I said earlier. He keeps a book of Hitler’s speeches on his bedside table and he doesn’t read. He called for the murder of the innocent Central Park 5. He kills his citizens of multiple countries and not just his own. He tells his supporters to assault people and that he’d pay for their legal fees (but then never doing so). He says he wants to use nukes! I could go on but let’s get to where him and Thanos align.

Nukes, are a weapon of mass destruction. He wants to do exactly what Thanos has done in Infinity War. Kill as much of the world as he possibly can. He would be safe. He has an entire army that would protect him because they don’t see the issue at hand. But where would the rest of us be? Where would you be if he accomplishes this task? Would millions of people die or just a few hundred thousand? What about the radiation fallout? What about the 2 degrees Celsius temperature increase that would ensure climate change would get worse than we’ve seen already within just a few years? What of the Reichstag Fire he would create to hold power forever?

Thanos says he wanted to erase half of the universe so life could continue. All villains see themselves as the good guy. I’m not saying 45 is that smart. In fact quite the contrary. He isn’t doing anything for anyone else other than perhaps his daughter Ivanka and to an extent there is another similarity here. Yet, I would say his idol Adolf Hitler fits more in line with Thanos for just their intelligence. Hitler wanted to create a world without anyone not Aryan. In the movie you see some of the genocide Thanos enacts. The soldiers carried out the dirty work in both worlds. Hitler attempted to get a nuclear bomb but was thwarted. He had death camps. Thanos wasn’t looking to have those but where Hitler and Thanos don’t coalesce whereas Thanos and 45 do is a weapon of mass destruction. The difference is Thanos had no one to keep him in check. 45 does but those people are growing smaller in number. Those that would try to stop him from doing so get smaller day by day.

Imagine an unchecked 45. I’ve outlined his past and I’ve outlined his idol. I’ve outlined small amounts of spoilers for Infinity War’s antagonist and his goal. You’re going to see the movie if you already haven’t because it is a cultural flashpoint. And when you see the deaths of people through this weapon of mass destruction it is harrowing. Now you have an idea for what he could do just with a nuclear weapon. Imagine what he could do with a Reichstag Fire and becoming a dictator. And imagine what you wish you could’ve done before then.

#45 #donald trump #avengers #avengers infinity war #thanos #fascism #resistence

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Makes Me Wonder (Biadore)- Ortega

a/n: hey hey! happy holidays. i thought i’d write a lil somethin to get me back into the swing of writing since i’ve had a couple months off. it’s an idea i’ve had running around my head for a good good while, at least a year, and now it’s finally down so pls let me know what you think! this is set within the Just the Game We’re In universe but can absolutely be read standalone. title from the song of the same name by Ella Mai which really sums up what this fic is all about (issa vibe). is it too early for a new years’ eve fic? have it anyway, ya filthy animals xo

summary: Adore is a civil service comms girl in a government department who’s meant to be out with her friends. Bianca is the director of communications for the entire country’s government about twenty ranks above her who has no plans for the night other than getting the Prime Minister out of trouble. Tonight, they’re two women sharing a bottle of prosecco in an office high above the city on the last night of the year.

***

It’s eleven at night, and the glass frontage of the offices makes all the darkness flood in. Too high for the reach of the streetlamps, Bianca can see the tiny twinkly lights of the city below in the distance. From the position of the building most of London’s landmarks are hidden from view: the Eye, St Paul’s Cathedral, she knows that the Houses of Parliament are on the other side of the building, not that she’d want to see them. Bianca doesn’t mind. She became disillusioned with London in 2008, when she was presented with her third Prime Minister that didn’t have a clue what he was doing and it slowly dawned on her that maybe all you needed to get ahead in politics was a dick and a Ted Baker suit. Or to be a dick in a Ted Baker suit.

And now here she is running after yet another enormous man-child, pre-emptively doing a mop-up job that she knows she will be tasked with when government returns in the New Year. She knows that a supposedly off-the-record journalist ambushed him at a New Years’ Eve party about an hour ago, asked him something about immigration figures that if he didn’t know sober he’d know even less after six sherries, so Bianca knows that all the papers will be primed to really go in on that subject next time they have a chance. She needs a file, she knows exactly the one- a huge blue lever arch with all the figures needed to sound like the government expert on immigration. It would’ve helped if the actual government expert on immigration was in the country, but the Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship (or DoSac, as those in Westminster called it) Sharon Needles is still in Spain with her family and her wife, coincidentally the second government expert on immigration by proxy. Bianca shakes her head derisively as she makes her way to the lightswitch. What the hell is Sharon thinking, swanning off on holiday at a time like this? Alaska’s no better, she knows there’s going to be an election in Scotland in six months’ time and whether they give a shit or not they still have to make the party seem likeable down in London and that’s her job as an MP. Bianca had heard it all from Sharon, “it’s Christmas for Christ’s sake Bianca, I’m not asking for a week in Amsterdam during a reshuffle”, and she likes the fucking woman so she’d let her, but one of her parting comments still stings, “I don’t think you got enough cuddles as a child”. Bianca had wanted to snap at her that her childhood had been fine, it was her adulthood she needed to worry about. She brings her thumb up to her palm and touches the bottom of the fourth finger on her left hand self-consciously. It’s been…God, twelve years now. There can’t still be a dent. Perhaps Bianca is imagining it.

Bianca imagines a lot of things.

Blinking as if to hit refresh on her mind, she flicks the lightswitch and is surprised when she hears a thud and an “owch” come from underneath one of the desks in the department. Narrowing her eyes, she casts a glance over the huge room. There are Willam and Courtney’s desks, both with photos of them at Sharon and Alaska’s wedding on each. Blair’s is chaotically tidy, piles and piles of documents that Bianca knows all have their place. Violet’s and Jinkx’s, both neat and orderly, and then Bianca’s gaze sweeps quickly over Trixie and Katya’s desks to come to rest on a huge pair of hazel eyes blinking at her with wide-eyed surprise. Bianca is disarmed, only able to blink back at her in a way she hopes is intimidating and not intimidated.

“Bianca!” Adore gasps, sounding shocked as she rises from behind her desk. This reveals a black sparkly lace and velvet dress with beads and sequins threaded all over it, so much so that it looks as if Adore is dressed in the night sky. Bianca elects not to speak, scared in case she tries and nothing comes out. She maintains her stare instead. Adore’s red lips, set in an O of surprise, start to move. “Fuck, I’m sorry…I was out in my heels and never had flats with me and I knew I had my work boots under my desk so I just got an uber here and the place was still open and, uh…yeah. Sorry for saying fuck.”

Bianca cracks a small smile as Adore scrunches her straight dark hair in her hands at the scalp, an embarrassed smile on her own face which turns into an awkward bite of her lip. She’s beautiful. Bianca’s always thought so, in the same way she can admire a bouquet of flowers or a sunset or a member of the opposition getting absolutely annihilated in a debate. Adore is beautiful, and that’s just a fact. Nothing more. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

Bianca sometimes wonders, though.

“Uh, how come you’re here? Busiest woman in Westminster, you don’t have, like…some sort of New Years’ Eve party with the Prime Minister and all the cabinet and…stuff?” Adore concludes sheepishly, scuffing her foot across the floor in a way Bianca wishes she didn’t find so charming. For her part, Bianca narrows her eyes.

“For your information, I’m trying to find a file,” she rolls her eyes, walking past the comms girl and trying not to inhale too much of the perfume she’s wearing that smells all too much of candyfloss and jellybeans. It shouldn’t smell as nice as it does.

“Government secrets. You’re gonna kill someone,” Adore nodded, following Bianca over to the filing cabinet, crossing her arms and resting them on the top.

“You, if I’m lucky,” Bianca keeps up pretences and pretends that Adore is too young, too silly and idiotic to be worthy of her time. It’s a dance they’ve been doing since Adore started as an intern for Darienne Lake back in the day, back when the whole thing had some integrity and Bianca genuinely held more contempt for Adore than a smear of shit on her shoe and Adore presumably thought Bianca’s entire personality was modelled on Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. It’s more than that now though. Bianca knows it, Adore knows it. It’s been more than that for a while. Years, definitely. How many, Bianca doesn’t know. Certainly since Adore had been dating that journalist Laila McQueen who ended up breaking her heart and very nearly brought the department down with all the secrets Adore had inadvertently leaked to her. Since Adore had found love in a new relationship with a girl from the hospital coffee shop, when Adore had been telling the rest of the civil service girls about her and had stopped when she caught sight of Bianca walking in, her excited face faltering only a little. It’s definitely been since Bianca, exhausted and caught off guard by a stressful day that happened to fall on an all too painful date (Bianca touches her ring finger again) allowed her shoulders to slump and a tear to fall from her face in an empty room in the DoSac offices. Adore had entered the glass-fronted office, uttered Bianca’s name gently, crossed the room to face her. She’d wordlessly caught the tear with an impossibly gentle acrylic-nailed finger and it had disappeared from her face as if Adore was a magician. Then she’d left, returning with a cup of hot coffee and a touch of Bianca’s hand and vanishing from the empty office as if she’d never been there.

Bianca wonders if it would’ve been easier if she hadn’t been.

“What’s your plan for tonight, anyway? Westminster’s number one Amy Winehouse tribute act,” Bianca continues, frowning as the lever arch file isn’t in the place it should be. She slams shut one drawer and tries the next one down.

“Number one! Fuck, that’s high praise from you. I’m sure you said Courtney was, like, the number fifteen Kylie Minogue tribute,” Bianca hears the smile in Adore’s voice, internally yells at herself as loud as her mind will allow that this is not, not, not flirting.

“Only because I’m hoping you decide to really commit to the gig and overdose over the holidays and I won’t have to see you eating all the croissants meant for Sharon day after day next year,” Bianca raises her eyebrows at her. Completely nukes any hint of anything playful. But of course Adore bulldozes that idea immediately with a huge snort of laughter and a smile that exposes her beautiful teeth, impossibly white given all the smoking she does.

“Huh. So you do notice me,” she ponders, her voice small and tinged with a dangerous hint of curiosity.

“Hard not to with that hideous vocal fry. Helluhhhh, you’re through to Dosac commmmmms?” Bianca mocks, drawing her voice out and allowing herself a grin at the way Adore’s face lights up in a self-deprecating laugh. Bianca, for a moment, truly believes the whole room gets brighter.

“I’m out with the girls,” Adore explains on the tail end of a laugh, finally answering her question. “You’re not having much luck with that file.”

“Listen, Wednesday fucking Addams! Enough sass from you, alright? I can still sack you, holidays or no holidays,” Bianca snaps, not meaning a single word of it. She can practically hear the smug smile of disbelief on Adore’s face. She looks up and sure enough, there it is. “What the fuck’s that look for? You look like the cat that got the cream then ate the shit.”

Adore shrugs lightly. “I just don’t think you’d ever sack me, that’s all. You’re too nice.”

Bianca is knocked for six by the compliment. For a moment, forgets how to react. She straightens up and tries the shelves for the file. “You’ve seen me fire about ten people since you started working here, you’re clearly an idiot with a horrendous judge of character or you’ve got early-onset dementia.”

Adore laughs. “I think I’m both. Although you’re in the dementia pit with me, sister.”

“How fucking dare you, I’m forty two. I’m reporting you for ageism,” Bianca snarls at her, but they both know she doesn’t mean it. Adore shrugs, stretching out against the wall.

“All I’m saying is, I think you’re forgetting I’m one of the only people in the country who’s ever got a Bianca Del Rio apology.”

Bianca shakes her head, tries to ignore how good her name sounds in Adore’s mouth. She remembers that day, remembers it well- absolutely ripping through Adore because she made a mistake and watching her tear up, spending the day being eaten up with regret and then sheepishly going to say sorry at the end of it all, watching her bashful expression become mirrored on Adore’s face as the girl had told her not to worry about it and that these things happen. Bianca looks again at Adore, the playful and lighthearted expression on her face now one of trepidation. Bianca knows what she’s thinking, and she’s wondering if she’s taken the whole thing too far. So Bianca does the only thing she can do at this point in the conversation and turns danger to derision.

“How’s being out with the girls working out for you?”

Adore puffs out a load of air, twirls an end of her long hair around her finger. “Not too well because there’s an old woman with alzheimer’s that I have to look after who’s wandering around the office muttering obscenities at me and searching for a piece of very important government information.”

Adore notes Bianca’s unamused expression and hollers out a laugh, Bianca unable to hold hers in any longer either. Smiling, Adore continues. “At least, that’s what I’ll tell the girls when they ask me why I’m late.”

Bianca sighs, shakes her head in disbelief. “Adore, I’m not going to shout at you if you want to leave. You got what you came here for, so-”

“Oh, I mean, yeah, of course. But winding up my boss’ boss is just as fun, actually is more fun, than sitting in a crowded pub with my friends yelling in my ear because the twelve men out on their Christmas piss-up are singing Fairytale of New York loud enough that their lungs are gonna pop, so…” Adore trailed off, punctuating her sentence with a shrug. She pauses a second. “Hey, what does that file look like?”

“It’s lever arch…blue, really full, probably has bits of paper sticking out of it…Christ, this is the most boring conversation I’ve ever had,” Bianca rubs her face with her hands and forgets there’s makeup on it. Adore laughs, scans the room, then immediately marches over to Courtney’s desk, moves some paper aside and returns with exactly what Bianca had described. Bianca, for her part, is stunned.

“How in the hell did you-”

“Sometimes sitting doing fuck all all day has its uses. Court took the file to update online Census data before she went off for her holidays, tried to get ahead on her work for coming back. I remember ‘cuz she asked me for a cup of tea to get her through it,” Adore smiles, her brazen confidence hidden under a shy smile. Bianca takes it from her and thanks her, regret tingeing her voice as she realises this leaves neither of them with an excuse to be in each others’ company any more.

“You know,” Adore drops into conversation nonchalantly, just as Bianca is about to cut her losses and say goodbye. “If I leave now I probably won’t get an Uber in time for the countdown, and if I do the girls’ll have probably moved on, and, like, the city’s gonna be mobbed…and, uh, there’s a bottle of prosecco that Trixie won in the raffle that she put in the fridge and never took home. So, like, if you want, we could just, uh…have, like, a…”

Bianca tries so, so hard to ignore the way her heart is soaring like a helium balloon. “See in the New Year with a bottle of fizz and a better view of London than half the city’s going to get?” Don’t sound too enthusiastic. “Well, looks like I’ve not got much better to do.”

Bianca doesn’t miss the triumphant smile Adore shoots her way as she dashes off to the tiny office kitchen to grab the promised alcohol. Left to awkwardly shuffle her feet, Bianca decides to cross the office and open the door to the meeting room. The city lights immediately flood her vision as she perches gingerly on the desk in the middle of the room, foregoing the uncomfortable office chairs. As she sits and waits, her mind races in time with her heart. It’s not a big deal, stop reading too much into it. It’s a New Years’ Eve drink with a coworker, people do that all the time at this time of year. Except Bianca knows it’s different, because Adore is not her coworker. She’s her inferior in every way- wage, status, power, everything probably except kindness of heart and beauty. Don’t think about Adore’s beauty.

All of a sudden the office goes dark, as dark as it can with the bright lights and the big city underneath it, and Adore softly pads into the room a few seconds later with two mugs, a bottle, and an excitable grin on her face. “Okay, now it’s actually like we’re in a London Eye pod. Don’t you think?”

“I think the London Eye has proper champagne flutes,” Bianca quips witheringly, hoping it disguises the fact that her heart is beating nearly out of her chest because it’s dark, and it’s New Year’s Eve, and it’s magical, and for now they’re two women drinking prosecco together with no prior agenda or obstacles.

Adore holds out one mug to Bianca. It says “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my second morning coffee!” and for a moment Bianca wants to burst into hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. She doesn’t. Instead she smiles slightly as Adore pours the fizz into the mug with all the skill of a toddler, watches as the bubbles climb up to the rim of the porcelain until Bianca has to jump in and inhale them away.

“Wish!” Adore beams excitedly, and Bianca, hunched over the mug, launches her a quizzical look. Adore is patient with her. “You caught the bubbles. Now you make a wish.”

Bianca briefly rolls her eyes, but obediently she squeezes her eyes shut. Wishes for something wildly illogical and fanciful because it wouldn’t be a wish if it wasn’t. Bianca can set goals and achieve them, she’s been doing it all her life. Wishing for something she could easily make come true on her own is a waste of a wish. When she opens her eyes she finds Adore grinning at her moronically.

“What did you wish for?”

Bianca sips a bit more of the bubbles, as if to strengthen the wish. “If I told you that it wouldn’t come true, would it? Is that not how wishes work? Or did they change the contract?”

Adore raises her eyebrows at the woman long-sufferingly, pouring enough prosecco into her own glass that the bubbles spill over and land on her sparkly dress, a splash more constellations added to the night sky. She sips at the popping and fizzing froth on the top of the mug, locks her eyes with Bianca. “I guess we’ll need to wait before we get an answer to that, won’t we?”

Bianca coughs, fixes her eyes on a particularly glittery set of buildings in the distance. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from them as she speaks again. “Where’s, uh. Are you not meant to be with your girlfriend tonight or something?”

“You’re pretty fuckin’ out of the loop. Me ‘n Aja’ve been done since before Christmas,” Adore replies, her voice light but her tone dead, and Bianca wants to leap from the building.

“Fuck, sorry. I never knew.”

She hears a snort from beside her. Adore’s looking at the table and smiling. “Shit. Now I got two sorrys from Bianca Del Rio, fuck knows what I’ll do with all of those. Open a shop?”

Bianca humours her and laughs back in lieu of making a silly quip, she’s loath to make things worse than she already has. Adore looks back out of the window and Bianca looks at her, the view better than anything behind that pane of glass.

“We didn’t know what the hell we were doing. Either of us,” Adore continues. The city lights are reflected in her eyes, dark and beautiful and capable of making Bianca say things she might regret. “Suddenly it got to two years and we both, like…died laughing at the thought of being ready to settle down any time soon. She’d kissed other girls. I’d slept with somebody else. Just to…fuck, I don’t know. Like, I wondered if I was actually in love, wondered what it was all meant to feel like. Wondered if I’d feel anything before, during, after.”

Bianca is taking this all in her stride despite the fact her mind is moving about the same rate as Adore’s lips and with each new revelation there is something new to get her head around. She somehow coughs up a question. “And did you?”

Adore laughs completely humourlessly. It doesn’t suit her. “Good question, girl. I’ll come back to you when I have an answer that makes any fuckin’ sense to you. Right now I don’t even have one that makes sense to me.”

Bianca crosses her legs and is deep in thought. She doesn’t know if she ever had Adore pinned as the type to cheat on a girlfriend, then immediately thinks she is silly to consider such an action as being attributed to a type of person. You can never really ever know a human, and with each new day someone can surprise you with the mundane or underwhelm with a revelation. Still, she reminds herself, she thought she’d known…

Never mind.

Point is, nothing shocks or fazes her any more. She considers herself an expert in human nature simply by following one simple rule; never assume.

“You probably think I’m an awful fuckin’ person now.”

Bianca turns and looks at Adore as if the eye contact will answer her question without having to say anything. This already doesn’t seem sufficient to either her or Adore, so Bianca follows it up anyway. “You honestly might as well do whatever the fuck you want in life, Adore. Half the world’s out there doing that already and not giving a single shit about the consequences.”

Adore narrows her eyes at her, quirks a smile that doesn’t quite meet her lips. “That’s a very…world weary answer.”

“I’m a very world weary woman,” Bianca sips her prosecco. It tastes absolutely fucking horrible out of a mug. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her, as Adore seems to shift closer to her until she is right bang next to her sitting on top of the table. There is no space between them- no hands, no cups, no air, and the sheer possibility and risk of it all makes Bianca shiver.

“I think you’re a very complex woman,” Adore murmurs delicately. Bianca doesn’t dare meet her eyes, instead electing to look down at where the hem of Adore’s dress meets her black tights with a small ladder. “I would kill to read some form of, like…autobiography.”

Bianca laughs, reaches out and starts fiddling with a small sequin on Adore’s dress in spite of herself. “It would be a very fucking short autobiography. I was born, I grew up, I got this job, I died. The end. Four pages at most. Five including a contents page.”

“There’s more to you than that.”

“No there isn’t.”

Bianca feels Adore tense up beside her, is frightened into dropping the hem of her dress and to stop picking at the stitching. She’s an idiot who went too far and got caught up in the night and has probably ruined the poor girl’s dress. Adore speaks. “People’ve told me that you used to wear a wedding ring, and now you don’t.”

Now it’s Bianca’s turn to tense up, and she does her best to give Adore a run for her money. Freezes in place so quick it puts her in mind of a childhood game of musical statues. Adore recoils quickly as if she’s been burned; Bianca is a sparkler she’s let linger in her hands for too long. It becomes a game of who will break the silence first. Adore wins. Or loses. Bianca supposes there are no winners in this conversation.

“Bianca, I’m sorry,” she whispers, closes the gap again and touches her hand. She seems to have second thoughts and removes it again, and Bianca wants to curl her fingers around Adore’s and not let go. “Shit, fuck, this was so above my station…I’m so sorry, Bianca, honestly-”

Bianca can feel the woman getting stressed out next to her. She never thought she’d be referring to Adore as a woman, but there’s a first for everything. She looks grown up and confident and self-assured with her dark hair (she got rid of the blonde and Bianca thinks it suits her), her perfect red lipstick, her sophisticated dress. Except now she looks every inch the panicking intern Bianca first knew her as, and she decides to swallow her fears and take Adore’s hand, laces their fingers together like she wanted to earlier.

They’re holding hands. The director of communications for the government of the entire country is holding hands with a comms girl endless fucking pay grades below her, and there is so much wrong but yet so much that just seems correct. It’s two hands linked together. That’s all.

“Like I said,” Bianca smiles sadly at the carpet, deciding that particular story can wait until she’s six feet under. “Half the world’s doing whatever the fuck they want and not giving a shit about the consequences.”

Adore strokes her thumb at the knuckle and Bianca is lost for words, a rare occurrence in her life. “I’m so sorry, Bianca.”

“Well. We’ve both put our foot in it now, so,” Bianca drops their hands, decides it’s probably a good place to end whatever the hell this is. She picks up her mug and tries to ignore the feeling that Adore looks disappointed at the lack of contact. “To being untactful shits incapable of emotional intelligence.”

Adore gives a small laugh, clinks her mug against Bianca’s own. There’s a moment of silence before she speaks.

“I’ve never told anyone about cheating on Aja. Apart from her, obviously.”

“Well now I have some serious dirt on you,” Bianca raises her eyebrows in an attempt to make light of the situation. She is rewarded by a laugh from Adore.

“I guess I did it because…well. There’s like…always been a third person in my relationships. No, fuck, that sounds weird and intense, but…ah, it’s hard to explain,” Adore hisses through her teeth, and Bianca is intrigued. The entire opening hangs heavy in the air, and Bianca doesn’t want to think about the possibilities it holds. She can feel her heart speed up, and she takes a too-big gulp of her prosecco and feels the bubbles shatter like ice down her gullet. Adore is looking at her, she knows, but Bianca holds her gaze on the city. “Do you ever, like, think about how there could be a right person, but the wrong place and wrong time? Wrong universe, even. Like they could be so gorgeous and funny and warm and you just know they’d be great to talk to if you ever got a proper chance, but you’ve never had the chance, and you know you won’t ever get the chance? So you just make peace with it, except, like, you’re never really at peace with it because with every new relationship you get into it’s just taunting you, the what if, the wondering?”

The air is spitting and crackling with electricity. Hot oil on a pan. Bianca shakes her head. “Adore, I haven’t been in a relationship for, literally, years.”

“But you still know the feeling though, don’t you?” Bianca is suddenly electrocuted, thousands of volts running through her as Adore takes her hand and gives Bianca no choice but to turn and face her, the city lights ripped from her eyes as Adore gazes into Bianca’s own, nothing to reflect in them, just black. Bianca’s heart goes from racing to flatlined. Adore doesn’t break eye contact. “Bianca…I know you know the feeling.”

And this is it. It’s out in the open, the tension between them that’s lingered for years like somebody’s taken a knife to a huge helium balloon. Bianca almost wants to laugh. There is no point protesting, or trying to tell Adore she’s got it all wrong. Adore is headstrong, has always been headstrong, and she knows, and she knows that Bianca knows. The situation is funny. They’re Christ knows how many feet up in the air, in the offices in the dead of night on New Year’s Eve. Bianca knows whatever happens this evening that the second she steps out of the building and into the freezing cold air, the magic will be gone. Because that’s what this is- magic. It could only be magic that Adore is making Bianca confront all of this before the entire slate gets wiped clean, the biggest cliche in the book.

“Fuck,” Bianca just laughs, the resigned exhalation of someone who has no energy left to deny it. “You’re literally…you’re just a kid-”

“I’m twenty fucking eight, Bianca,” Adore snaps, as if she’s had that excuse used against her for the entireity of her life and has had enough. Bianca is suitably admonished.

“Right. Sorry. Ignore me, I’m old. Which begs the question…” Bianca realises they haven’t stopped holding hands yet. “Adore….me? Really? Me? Why me?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Adore shrugs. Her matter-of-fact-ness makes Bianca blush as if she’s back in high school. “And there’s, like…always been something about you that’s just drawn me to you. I don’t know. It’s like I said, I think we’d get on if we’d let ourselves get to know each other. I think we’re similar.”

Bianca paused before replying, taking a moment to just look into Adore’s eyes. She sighs heavily.

“There really is nothing about this that is any fucking fair at all.”

Adore laughs, neglecting to break eye contact. “How come?”

“Because there’s absolutely no way that we can pursue any of this. And it’s almost more cruel knowing we both want to,” Bianca snorts sardonically, refills her and Adore’s cups. Adore pouts. She’s showing her age.

“But we could if we wanted to. We could at least try,” she pleads, hope in her voice that makes Bianca want to wrap her up and take her home with her. Bianca laughs. Someone is going to have to be the voice of reason in this conversation.

“Adore, there’s a reason my marriage ended. There’s a reason I’ve not had a relationship for twelve years. There’s a reason I haven’t acted upon any of my feelings towards you,” she says, her voice coated in thick regret. She gives Adore’s hand a squeeze to soften the blow. “This job is my relationship. This job is my marriage. I barely have time for three meals a day- I don’t have time for three meals a day. I mean, fucking look at me. I’m at work on New Years’ Eve.”

“I’m at work on New Years’ Eve,” Adore gestures at herself, as if that simple fact is enough to convince her. Bianca laughs. She is the sweetest fucking person to ever exist, she fully believes that.

“There’s fourteen years separating us. I’m head of government communications, you’re a civil servant. That’s madness. We wouldn’t work.”

“No, probably not. It probably would just all end in tears. But at least we’d know. Which is, like, better than where we are just now, where we don’t know,” Adore shrugs, but the expression on her face lets Bianca know she thinks it’s a lost cause too. Bianca feels sad for her, feels sad for them both. She shuffles closer.

“Look. You know that I like you, and I know that you like me, and at least we don’t have to suspect it any more. We know. And it doesn’t matter that nothing’s going to happen, because…oh, fuck, what’s that saying? The possibility far outweighs the outcome, or some shit like that?”

Adore cracks up laughing. “That phrase doesn’t exist.”

“Yes it fucking- Christ, the point is that this night…” Bianca rubs her head in exhaustion. “…this night is like a microcosm of the universe. You were saying we’re in the wrong universe, well, just for tonight, this office is the right one. Just for now. A weird purgatory.”

Adore smiles, brushes a bit of hair out of her face. “So you’re, what. Confucius now, right?”

“Something like that.”

The chimes of Big Ben cut through the office and fireworks spring to life across the city below. Startled, both women spring away from each other. Bianca watches Adore check her phone. “Oh, shit.”

“We missed the countdown,” Bianca mutters sheepishly, suddenly ashamed of the whole conversation. Adore snorts.

“No, I just have, like, fifty voicemails from the girls,” she shrugs lightly, putting her phone face-down on the desk and facing Bianca once more. She holds out her mug and smiles gently. “Cheers, then.”

“Cheers,” Bianca says quietly, like she doesn’t want the office to hear. She taps the porcelain against Adore’s mug. They are close, their knees touching, and Bianca flicks her gaze up from the mugs to Adore’s eyes.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, before setting her mug down, bringing one hand to rest on Adore’s waist and the other to gently tilt her chin up before closing the gap between them.

If talking to Adore on New Years’ Eve in a dark office with the city lights reflected in her eyes is magic, then kissing Adore is the best kind of witchcraft. It’s a hesitant kiss, the fault of both of them as neither of them really know what they’re doing or what they’ll do once it’s over, so they carry on. Adore has brought a hand up to rest at Bianca’s jaw, her thumb stroking her cheek gently, and Bianca never wants the sensation to stop. She wants to freeze the entire moment in time but she is aware she can’t do that, so focuses on committing it to memory; the way Adore tastes like sparkling prosecco, the scent of her perfume, the way they both seem to just fit together and the whole exciting unfamiliarity of it all.

Just when Bianca seems to be getting used to things she feels Adore tugging away, and she in turn doesn’t resist. She can’t help the disappointed slump of her shoulders as Adore is once again in front of her, bashfully smoothing down her dress. All at once Bianca is swept up in complete fantasy. Maybe she and Adore could work. There might be a way to make it all doable, even if she only gets to take Adore out to dinner once every couple of weeks, something like that. Adore makes the decision for her, putting her empty mug down and standing up from the table, taking Bianca’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Happy New Year, Bianca,” she smiles softly before turning and opening the heavy glass door, managing halfway through it before turning and looking back at her. She wants her to say something, Bianca can tell, and there’s so much she could say. She decides not to ruin things. This night has been enough. It’s a new day- a new year now, and everything is fresh and new, a blanket of freshly fallen snow without any footprints. She decides to smile and give Adore a small wave.

“Happy New Year.”

The door swings shut, and the magic is over.

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #biadore #lesbian au #bianca del rio #adore delano #makes me wonder

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thewhiterabbit42 · 8 years ago

Text

On The Edge

Summary: While Sam and Dean try to beat Lucifer to Cas and Kelly, you’re left behind with Crowley who isn’t acting like himself.

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Word count: 6975

Warnings/Tags: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), foreplay, ummm, filth? (Jesus, how did Crowley come out with tamer tags than Gabe?) a little bit of everything as far as feels go.

Written for my 100/200 follower celebration

Requested by: @devilsnevercry1388 Quote: “This must be what going mad feels like.” Kink: Surprise Sex

Author’s Note: The poetry Crowley uses is from Part II of Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. They are my absolute favorite lines from that entire piece and just jumped into my head as I was writing this.

Special thanks to: To my wonderfully amazing beta @sumara62, aka my Jedi Master wise in ways of the force and the comma. You don’t just catch my mistakes, you help me bring to life what I’m trying to convey and I am grateful you know what my wordy ass is trying to say ;) I also want to thank the lovely @blondecoffeecake for keeping my muse fed and helping me take a direction in this story when I got stuck. Oh, and extra thanks for the future crack fic. Probably coming around Christmas.

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my permission. Giving credit does NOT count.***

The world sits on the edge of a precipice, the Winchesters scrambling to keep it from toppling over. You, on the other hand, sit back at the bunker, arguing with a rather pissed off Crowley who does not like having his hand attached to the furniture. Not that you blame him. You’d be a little miffed if your friends got a little stabby as well.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell Dean not to leave you with the king of Hell. You might as well be telling him that one day Sam will die. It skitters across his radar before he deftly bats it far out into the stratosphere where reminders of his own mortality have taken up residence. For the most part, you’ve been able to avoid any close, direct contact, but everyone’s luck has to run out sometime.

You just hope yours is the only one that does today.

The problem isn’t that you don’t like Crowley or you think he’s a danger. It’s that you don’t know how you feel about him. The last few years have been especially confusing, the boundaries blurring between ally and enemy, and he’s taken to walking that fine line of cooperation until it benefits him to step off again. The uncertainty puts you in dangerous territory, walking something equally as thin and fragile and you don’t know anyone in their right mind who would want to star in a tightrope act without having a safety net in place.

Yet, out the door your friends run, though you can’t be mad at them. Not only are they trying to stop the devil and save the world, but leaving you behind is their way of protecting you. Leaving Crowley, however, is the one thing they are doing to cover their own hides, and you can’t blame them after the secrets the demon has kept.

Though it does leave you with a royal pain in the ass.

“Crowley, we’ve been over this…”

Over. And over. And over… to the point where you’re one nerve away from finding a spell that will seal his mouth, temporarily or otherwise. He cocks a brow as if he’s heard that and you wonder how privy he really is to your thoughts and how much he just plays dumb.

“You’re not their lap dog, you know,” he tells you. You expect for there to be a hint of disdain accompanying the phrase, but there’s nothing, save that familiar rasp and something that pushes just beyond the fringe of neutrality.

“You’re right,” you agree, though what you’re conveying is far different than the portrait of the undervalued sidekick he’s trying to paint. “I’m not.”

“You’re so much more than they give you credit for,” he continues as if you haven’t even spoken. Then again, that’s Crowley. When all the doors he’s tried are locked, he’s persistent enough to circle back around again to see if there’s any he’s missed.

He’s never tried to pit you against the Winchesters before. Then again, you’ve never been in his sights. Just as you’ve always preferred to stay on the periphery during any dealings, he’s always seemed more than content to overlook your presence.

There’s a heady moment as your eyes connect and there’s no doubt about where his attention is focused now.

“Always tucked away in their shadow, kept on the sidelines, and told to stay behind,” that touch of something in his tone grows louder, and you feel your stomach flutter beneath his unwavering stare. “The truth is, they can hide you all they want and you’re still going to steal the show. Every. Single. Time.”

Your heart picks up a few extra beats and it’s a reminder of why you avoid him in the first place. Your stomach also rumbles and the hunter in you reminds you there’s plenty of space between Crowley and the kitchen. The woman, however, is starving in ways that go beyond not having eaten since that morning, and she is what makes you linger longer than you know is wise.

You expect a smug smile. A little mocking amusement to round out the look. Instead, he simply looks tired, worn in a way that’s beyond your understanding. You wonder if it’s connected to the fact that you only have a single lifetime to endure when he’s had so many.

You also wonder at what point timeless beings lose track of what number they’re on.

Whatever the look is, it’s not one he wears well, and he is most certainly wearing on you as he scrapes the bottom of the barrel trying to get beneath your skin.

“Let me up, kitten,” his tone is lined with silk that caresses over you, ensnaring more than just your hearing. The sudden nickname has you so distracted you almost step straight off the safety of that wire. Despite the weariness that clings to his features, there’s an energy simmering beneath the surface. Your instincts flare, warning you that something is off, and it’s enough to keep your feet firmly planted where they belong.

“I can’t let you up,” your voice comes out a little more breathy than you intend, something that does not go unnoticed. His gaze fixes more intently on you, becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and you unconsciously shift your weight.

Whatever he’s selling, you don’t want any of it.

You don’t even know how you feel about the fact he lied about Lucifer. Is it betrayal churning in the pit of your stomach when you look at him? Is it resistance to the hope that descends now that your anger has abated, insisting that he must have had his reasons? Or is it possible you’re unnerved at how close you came to never seeing him again?

If you’re being honest with yourself, you know which one it is. Most days, however, you don’t like to be. Today is no exception.

You rise from your seat next to him, intention clear in the way your eyes drift to the door.

“Wait,” he insists, his good hand shooting out to grab you by the wrist. Electricity sparks beneath his touch and you almost gasp at the way it shoots up your arm. It ricochets back down the length of you, sending smaller shockwaves off within your chest and stomach. You’re not the only one that feels it and you watch as the darks of his eyes suddenly swallow the cinnamon flecks sprinkled around the centers. It leaves only uncharted and vast green seas staring back at you.

“I can’t do this, Crowley.”

You’re not sure what this even is, only that you don’t intend to stick around to see what he has to say. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you. You slip through his grasp with ease, a final jolt sliding through you as his fingers trail lightly over your pulse before dropping away entirely. You can’t even look at him as you leave the room, as you focus on simply getting away.

***

You try to eat something, but find yourself checking your phone more often than bringing food to your mouth, which only results in cold chicken and an even colder appetite. You push your plate away, letting out a long, drawn out breath.

You don’t like that you’re stuck here while your friends are off trying to outsmart the devil. You don’t like how they feel more like family than your actual one does anymore and you’ve let them leave to defuse the most unstable nuke in existence without you. You most certainly do not like the restless energy that thrums until you can’t sit still and your hands itch to do something other than press a button and tap a screen.

Your options, however, remain limited.

You decide clearing the table and doing dishes is as good of one as any. It won’t occupy your mind, but it will help keep your hands busy. You let the water run as hot as it will go, using the scalding temperature to keep you grounded. It’s not enough to drown out the buzzing on the edge of your senses that rises steadily, culminating in an electrifying crescendo.

It’s strange. You can’t remember ever being this keyed up. Not during the apocalypse. Not even when Amara was on the brink of destroying existence. Your friends have come back heroes from worse odds and yet you’re coming apart, stitch by unraveling stitch. It’s more than that, though. You feel as if you’re slowly stepping onto the wrong side of sane until even the simple task of washing silverware requires far more concentration than necessary.

By the time you realize you’re not actually going crazy, it’s too late.

He’s already there by the way the hair on the back of your neck stands on end and his presence crackles on the air. It makes it harder to breathe, or maybe it’s just the sudden realization of how much trouble you’re in depending what side of the line Crowley decides he’s on.

“I’ve tried so hard to stop this from happening,” his smooth voice reaches out from across the room. You have no idea what he’s talking about and with everything that’s happened, you’re not sure if you should be reaching for a weapon, running, or offering him a glass of scotch as a peace offering.

“Day after day, day after day, we stuck, nor breath nor motion…” His voice starts as a murmur, words taking on a smooth, seductive cadence that speaks of something long-endured which rises palpably in the air around him.

“As idle as a painted ship, upon a painted ocean…”

You’ve considered the possibility he went insane the moment he decided to alter the plan to put Lucifer back in the cage. The fact that he’s speaking English but still not making a lick of sense is certainly not helping his case. Then again, at least he’s saying something, since the only way you can track him is through his words.

The way he moves, however, has instincts whispering with warning. You recognize the feeling. It echoes of cases that have slipped beyond your control and you immediately still.

“Water, water, everywhere,” he continues, his presence a slow stalk that inches closer and closer. If you had to guess where he was, it would be just passing the kitchen table.

“And all the boards did shrink…” His voice reappears much nearer than that and he’s closing in faster than you anticipate. “Water, water, everywhere…”

The silence that lapses is deafening. You’re on edge, ears straining, but the only sound you can make out is the rapid beating of your heart. There’s a heady rush as the air around you becomes charged, thick, overwhelming to the point it’s almost suffocating.

This time when he speaks, he’s close enough for his breath to ghost over the shell of your ear.

“Nor any drop to drink.”

His hands move to the counter on both sides of you, and you can only hope this is all just some elaborate plan to unnerve you and not actual insanity.

“I have tried so hard to be good,” he murmurs, his nose pressing lightly against the back of your ear just before he inhales. Deeply.

The fact the king of Hell is smelling you right now suggests his eggs are, indeed, a little more scrambled than usual.

Your body is just as confused as your mind, adrenaline rushing out to combat the threat even as your stomach flutters with excitement. Your hand, however, instinctively closes over a steak knife, the action hidden beneath the foamy layer of bubbles that sway across the water’s surface.

You wonder how much of a head start you could get if you catch him someplace good with it.

“Put the knife down.” This is neither a suggestion nor a threat as if he, too, can hear that song of dissonance that often hums when he’s around.

You do as you’re told, the weapon slipping through your grasp before you pull your hands out and place them on the rim of the sink in plain sight. You know you’re caught. The question is, what is he going to do with you?

“Turn around,” he instructs and, as with the knife, you have no choice but to obey. He steps back, allowing you room to move and as soon as you do, you find yourself face to face with something unexpected.

“Crowley?” This isn’t just a question of what he’s doing. You’re also wondering just who it is you’re looking at because the Crowley you know is many things. Calm. Collected. Clever. At least three steps ahead of everyone. The man in front of you? Looks like whatever thread of logic tying his plan together has become significantly frayed.

The only time you’d seen him this out of sorts was when he’d been hit with a spell that melded his mind with his vessel’s until each personality was wrestling for dominance. You can’t help but wonder if Lucifer had done more than just try to put him in the ground.

“So this is what going mad feels like,” he remarks, and it’s the last thing you want to hear. There’s an odd glow in his eyes, one that echoes with the same manic buzzing skittering between the small gap between your bodies. You don’t know what it is, only that it leaves goosebumps racing across your skin in not an entirely unpleasant way.

“I’m worried about you.” You pause, watching as the darks of his eyes swallow more color in response to your words. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Or perhaps I am myself more than I’ve ever been,” he counters, his fingers caressing your cheek. There’s an intimacy beneath his touch that has your eyes going wide, and once again your instincts are telling you to freeze. He pushes your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear before fingertips dip down along the curve of your jaw. That same electricity sparks again, this time jolting straight into your pulse until it’s forking through your system to the point your nerve endings are positively tingling.

You do your best to ignore the rush of blood that accompanies it, though you’re aware most is rising to the the surface in a heated flush that is not just limited to your cheeks.

“What do you want?” How you manage to ask is beyond you. Coherent thought is a concept swiftly abandoning you, as is your ability to take in any air.

He smiles, and you have a feeling whatever he’s about to say is not going to bring you any relief.

“Just a taste,” he insists, and there’s no doubt about what he’s after as his gaze drops to your lips. He doesn’t wait for a response, his hand taking you by the chin to guide you toward him. He does move slowly enough, however, to let you know he is asking.

The question, though, appears time limited.

Your mind is present enough to understand this is a terrible, terrible idea, and it transfers that memo to your hands which fly up to his chest as he starts to lean in. Pushing him away, however, is just as decisive as pulling him to you, and once again you cannot move, too scared to leave the safe confines of that careful line in either direction.

It doesn’t stop his lips from meeting yours. It doesn’t prevent the searing heat that unexpectedly blossoms beneath the contact. It most certainly is not stopping it from unfurling across your cheeks, creeping down the length of you or melding with that previous warmth that still has color singing across skin. Once together, it sinks lower, slipping beneath the surface, and sending tendrils through your system as if in search of something.

You have a feeling whatever it’s looking for is a lot more than just a taste.

You feel your legs grow shaky, his tongue sweeping languidly along your lower lip before he draws it into his mouth. The way he suckles it, though, is what has your balance faltering. You almost lose it completely with the gentle nibble that follows and as before, the only thing keeping you from plummeting over the side is that sustained, cautious, lack of response.

He doesn’t try to push for more, but the pressure of his mouth is increasing, that persistent edge within his gaze beginning to enter his movements. With every subsequent kiss, he seems less satisfied, as if the taste he seeks only parches him instead of bringing relief.

You’re proud of yourself for keeping it together, for not letting your senses become ensnared by the scent of his cologne or the lingering taste of scotch that transfers indirectly to your tongue. You do not succumb to the warmth of his body that hovers so close to yours, and you convince yourself if you can just hold on to something, you can keep keep from getting swept away.

Unfortunately, your fingers decide that something happens to be Crowley.

They slip beneath the lapel of his suit, clutching the smooth fabric. You’re not sure if you’re the one that’s dragging him closer, or if he’s taken it as a sign of encouragement and is now moving toward you. Either way, the small gap between your bodies disappears and the world shifts a little sideways as his hips meet yours. The moment he backs you into the sink, your stomach abandons ship, dropping somewhere beneath the floor, and you’re not certain if the noise that catches in the back of your throat is one of alarm or anticipation.

Whatever it is, it spurs him to action, and the fingers beneath your chin break away to thread through the back of your hair. The way he handles you is tender, bordering on the familiarity of a lover’s touch, and the unexpected gentleness has your heart fluttering in ways of which you don’t approve.

Gently he guides your head back, mouth breaking away from yours, but instead of ending the madness, he takes it one step further. Lips and tongue dance over your jaw before dipping down the side of your neck where teeth take hold of your pulse and tug.

“Crowley,” you gasp, his name just another shade of gray on this spectrum of ambiguity you’re caught in.

Part of you knows you shouldn’t be doing this. He’s a demon, the king of Hell, and everything about those two things, and the fact you’re practically a Winchester, should have you ending this. Yet, it’s also not that simple.

He has stood with you against greater evils. He has saved your life on more than one occasion. He has even gone out of his way to protect you. You. Someone who really is just a sidekick to the more important characters in this ongoing cluster for which Chuck has set the stage

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he rasps, soothing over where he’s just nipped. “Tell me to stop and I’ll leave.”

Desire roughens the smooth edges of his words, but as he draws back for a fraction of second, you notice his voice and gaze are at odds with each other. A fleeting glimpse is all you catch, but you almost swear his eyes hold a plea for you to end this. Yet, his lips are descending down the other side of your neck, his tongue teasing its way to your ear where it grazes along the outer edge.

The moment you feel his teeth upon your earlobe, your resolve to remain neutral vanishes.

You grab the sides of his face, fingers splaying over coarse stubble as you pull his head back. His breath grows as still as yours does, or perhaps it’s just the entire world stopping in that brief moment before you give your response. Even you’re not certain what it will be until the words are tumbling from your lips.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you warn, stepping straight off that line into the unknown as your lips rush forward to meet his. Your permission strips away the barriers of his control, his tongue hastily pushing into your mouth, eager to explore.

Your fingers card through his hair, holding his head to yours as if afraid he may pull away at any second. His hands, however, are everywhere, rising up your back, sliding around your side, ghosting over the sides of your breasts before smoothing down the length of you. They land briefly at your waist, fingers taking possession in the form of a light squeeze before slipping down around the back of you. He grabs you right where your thighs meet the curve of your ass, and he takes a moment to appreciate this part of you before deftly hoisting you into the air.

You fold against him, your arms resting on his shoulders and legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, trapping his increasingly hardening length between your bodies. You’re vaguely aware he’s taking you somewhere, but that tongue of his is doing things to yours that makes it hard to think of anything else. It’s not until he sets you down on something solid that you realize he’s brought you to the kitchen table.

You take some time to get a taste of him, but it’s clear neither of you are satisfied with just this. You need to feel his hands on your skin, his body pressed to yours, and neither of those is happening with how much clothing you both still have on. Your fingers begin to pluck at the buttons on your shirt when his hands come up and cover yours.

“Allow me,” he offers, and a sudden chill washes over you as your entire top layer disappears in the blink of an eye.

He hardly gives your bare skin a glance, foregoing sight to take in this new aspect of you through touch. His mouth comes down on your shoulder and he places hot, open mouthed kisses along it before making his way lower. Teeth and tongue come out to add taste to his exploration, and they expertly tease along the ridge of your collarbone, drawing from you an appreciative hum.

His hands slide up to the band of your bra, though only one of them takes hold of the fabric before deftly undoing the hooks. A smile tugs at your lips. It’s such a subtle and very Crowley-esque move.

“Show off,” you tease, and for a moment, he looks like himself again, a cocky smirk stretching across his features as his head hovers just over the swell of your breasts.

“If you think that’s impressive, I’m just getting started.”

His gaze never leaves yours as his hands resume their course, moving up behind your shoulders with that same, feather-light touch. He hooks his fingers beneath the straps, drawing them down your arms before he removes the article altogether. The sudden coolness has your nipples hardening, and even as he tosses the garment over his shoulder, his eyes are still on yours and that confident grin remains in place

The promise that gleams within hazel breathes vitality back into his features, and that heat burning its way through your blood pools straight between your legs

The king has returned and the way his stare slides down the length of you, his entire kingdom now sits before him.

His eyes linger, as if committing every curve to memory, before his hands reach up to cup your breasts. You exhale, a soft sigh passing your lips from the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Tension releases though there’s a different one slowly growing in its place as his thumbs tease over hardened nubs. A band of pleasure begins to stretch beneath your stomach, growing tauter as his mouth dips down, tongue teasing languid circles around sensitive peaks.

Your hands splay out along his lower back, and luxury resonates in the smoothness of the garment that whispers through your touch. You grab a fistful of fabric, hastily untucking it from his pants before delving within to grab his ass. It’s firmer than you expect, and your fingers take ownership before pulling him tight against you.

The table begins to sway as you roll your hips against him, a soft creaking underlying your gasps and sighs that punctuate the silence. You feel him twitch against you, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat.

“Easy, kitten, or I’m liable to just bend you over and take you right here,” he warns. He’s only partially joking. The energy beneath his skin suddenly spills over onto yours, and the frantic cadence to which it beats leaves you wondering just how he hasn’t just taken you already.

“Then why don’t you?” You question, enjoying the way his eyes flutter as you rub yourself against him again.

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined this.” Everything gives a sudden shift, apology lacing his words and vying for a spot within his gaze. As he drinks in the sight of you – your lips swollen from his attention, your skin ablaze with your own heightened desire, the way your sex is so wet the dampness is spreading to his pants – there’s an undeniable thirst that overtakes everything other than the driving need to quench it.

“I’m not complaining,” you breathe, and his stare turns wholly unapologetic as you take hold of him through his trousers, thumb smoothing over the tip straining through the dark material.

“Eager, are we?” He chuckles. “So am I. Though perhaps we should move someplace a little more comfortable?”

You expect him to magic you into your bed. Any bed, really. What you don’t expect is to find yourself in his lap in the middle of the library. There’s just enough room for you both in the giant, antique leather armchair you’ve dubbed the throne by how he never fails to commandeer it when around.

“I may have imagined this however…” You blink and your last remaining article of clothing disappears along with all of his. “On a number of occasions.”

You’ve always wondered what lay beneath that suit of his. It takes you a moment to wrap your head around the fact that for a moment, it’s all yours.

Your hands take in the lean planes of his chest, smoothing over the tops of his shoulders before dipping down along the corded muscle of his biceps. They come to rest at the crook of his elbows, and you look up at him through lashes with a combination of coyness and shyness.

The latter is something you’re not used to feeling, though you suppose you’re also unaccustomed to sitting astride an actual king’s lap.

“Touch yourself, darling. Show me how you like it.”

A thrill sings straight down the center of you, and you’re not sure what turns you on more: the sensual lilt his voice takes on or the wickedness that burns within his stare. You want to obey him, but you are all too familiar with what your touch is like, and you have waited far too long to feel his.

“I have a better idea,” you tell him, lips curling carnally as you raise off the chair. He tilts his head curiously as you turn around before lowering yourself again. You settle your legs on either side of him and his breath hitches as you sit back down, intentionally rubbing yourself against him in the process.

“Well, you certainly have my attention,” he murmurs, his hands gliding along your inner thighs before coming up to rest on your hips. The sensation fuels your excitement, and it’s a concentrated effort to keep your movements slow and steady. Your hand overlays his, index finger lining up tip to tip, before you pluck his grip from your side and place it over your mound.

“You want to know what I like?” You purr, dragging his finger along your folds, wetting it with your slick. “I like the thought of you touching me.”

“As do I,” he drawls, his free hand sliding up over your stomach, brushing along your rib cage before finally closing over your breast. You let out a whimper and guide the finger in your possession to your clit. You start him with slow, sensual circles, teasingly light in pressure. His other hand takes a sensitive bud between fingertips, alternating between rolling and gentle tugs.

The combined sensations has you mewling and the embers of your desire catching fire. You allow him to take the reins, rewarding his efforts by rocking back against him. You relish the way his breathing begins to pick up, matching yours as an increasing tempo of ragged gasps interspersed with moans.

“Is this really the way you like it?” He rasps, his tongue flicking out around the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps skittering across skin. “Or are you someone who likes things a little rougher?”

He pinches your nipple harder, your pleasure soaring as he simultaneously increases the pressure with the finger between your legs.

“I like anything, so long as you’re the one doing it.”

You’re not sure where the confession comes from, only that it’s stumbling past your lips faster than you can catch it. His cock twitches against you and the moment you realize what buttons you’ve pushed, you can’t resist hitting hitting them again

“I’ve always wanted you to touch me,” you continue, “To know what it was like to have your hand down my pants.”

Deep down, you always wanted it to be him fucking you into those cheap motel mattresses, instead of all the random drunks from the bar.

The snarl that rises in the back of his throat suggests he does, indeed, hear far more than he lets on, and his teeth flash out across your neck, his nip wholly ungentle. His finger picks up speed and you let out a whine, your legs beginning to shudder as those flames lick more insistently at your core.

You’re so close, teetering on the brink of release, when you feel his breath fall heavily against your ear.

“I’m going to show you exactly what you’ve been missing,” he promises, and it’s the decadent silk within his tone that ignites your senses, sending those flames into a crescendo of heated bliss that sings across your system.

As your walls shudder around nothing, however, you feel more than a little incomplete.

You barely finish coming when the world shifts around you in a blur. You don’t even have time to blink when you find yourself face to face with him once more. The odd glow remains in his eyes but it’s grown so much brighter, pushing the fringe of feral as he grabs you by the back of head and drags your lips back to his.

His tongue slides over yours and as he’s in the process of reclaiming your mouth his hands shift. The fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips are as demanding as his kiss. His cock is positively throbbing, and you reach between the two of you to give him some relief. There’s a half-growl, half-moan that hums against your lips as you work your hand over the shaft, sliding up around his tip which is dripping with pre-cum.

His grip over you tightens as he jerks you up to your knees. You know what he wants, and the fact he wants it now has your legs trembling with anticipation.

The manic energy buzzing beneath his skin hits a fever pitch as he lines himself up with your entrance. His fingers become possessive, tips pushing to the point it’s almost painful as he pulls you down upon him. The movement is faster than you expect, and he swallows the sharp cry you give with his mouth. You’re so wet, the only resistance he encounters is from the fact it’s been awhile since you’ve slept with anyone.

After a few, short thrusts he’s fully sheathed and there’s a satisfied rumble that spreads through his chest. He holds you there a moment, allowing you to adjust, or perhaps he, like you, is simply taking the time to savor how he feels inside you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this good, your walls stretched to the max, but not uncomfortably so. It brings with it a feeling of completeness you’ve always been missing with other men.

You have a feeling it has nothing to with Crowley’s size, though it certainly is kingly.

His hands slip down the curve of your ass, resuming their insistent grip as he urges you to start. You begin to move slowly, enjoying the feel of him languidly dragging across your walls and the way he perfectly hits that sensitive spot inside from this angle. The moment his grip passes the threshold of pain, however, you decide you’ve both waited long enough.

The next time you raise up, you take a moment to tease his tip along your entrance, in and out, in then out, before abruptly slamming down onto him. You catch him by surprise and are rewarded with a guttural half-grunt, half-groan. You repeat the movement, and this time he moans, deep and loud, and before you can do it again he’s taking control, thrusting up into you with slow but hard strokes.

The sudden roughness awakens something in you, and you realize just how much you need this – him. Your nails rake over his back, leaving raised paths of pink in their wake. Your teeth take hold of his bottom lip and you don’t just tug, you bite. The next breath he takes hisses in through his teeth and for a moment you’re afraid it’s too hard.

“The kitten has claws,” he murmurs in approval, picking up the pace.

The chair begins to rock beneath you, wood groaning in protest, and every now and then there’s a high pitched squeak as the entire seat jerks across the floor. His hand flashes up to the back of your head, pulling your hair and drawing you back, exposing your throat to him. His teeth leave a trail of stings in their wake and the sensations he’s creating has heat lapping at your core once more.

Your eyes slip closed, and you’re amazed at how fast he already has you ascending back up that blissful summit. Everything suddenly stills, from the noises unconsciously slipping through your lips to your very breath as you focus entirely on him. The way he’s pistoning in and out of you. How it feels as he hits that inner wall whenever he gives a particularly deep thrust, burying himself as far as he can go. From how surprisingly warm his body is to the feel of his skin against yours, you have an inexplicable urge to remember every detail you can about this encounter.

“Look at me,” his voice breaks through the riptide of sensation you’re all but lost in, drawing you back.

You do as he asks and something shifts. That driving need he’s been battling slides a little further beneath the surface, his thrusts slowing as his hand comes up and cups your cheek. The thumb that grazes along your lower lip is tender, his penetrating stare speaking with an emotion far less casual than you’d ever expect from him.

He doesn’t just want you, he wants all of you, and that does more for you than seeing him wild with desire ever could.

“You are perfection,” he marvels, and the way he looks at you it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. In many ways you feel the same, this man before you almost a stranger in comparison to the one you thought you knew. The weariness still clinging to the lining of green has a different word whispering across your mind: human.

You don’t have time to dwell on the revelation. His thumb brushes across your clit, causing you to shudder as sparks shoot from beneath his touch. You clench around him, wanting this to feel as good as he’s making it feel for you, and you realize just how little you’ve given in return.

It’s time to fix that.

“Enjoy the ride, sire,” you tell him, loving the way desire darkens in his gaze at the term. You give a few slow roll of your hips before you begin to raise up off him, bouncing on his cock at a steadily increasing pace.

He allows you to take over, eyes riveted to your features. He’s drinking in every detail, watching every nuance and expression as if enraptured. Perhaps, like you, he feels the need to commit you to memory. Whatever his reason, he pays more attention to you now than he has the entire time he’s known you, and that bundle of nerves is receiving the majority of it, his finger swirling around and around as he continuously adjusts the pressure.

It isn’t long before both your sensitive spots are singing, from one of his tips or from another. The symphony he creates is carnal, filled with decadence and heat, much of which flows from his stare alone. He’s proud of the song he’s creating, the notes striking chords within him as well that have him humming right along side you. He holds back, however, waiting for your blissful tune to finish before he writes the rest of his.

The chorus is rapidly approaching, a crescendo building until you’re standing at that edge once again. You’re so close you can peer right over it, but as your eyes slip shut in preparation for the fall, his voice draws you back.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you realize he wants to watch more than just your features when you tumble over the brink. You open your eyes again and you’re surprised at the depth in which green has become illuminated, a stark contrast to the darkness in his pupils that are so vast and wide. Impulse takes you by the hand, drawing your palm against his cheek. As an unexpected tenderness settles within your chest, you realize just how deep you are in this.

The way the sentiment echoes within his gaze, you also realize you’re not alone. It takes you a few moments to work your way back to that peak. You’re still wrapping your mind around the fact this is, by far, the most intimate thing you’ve ever done with anyone. You manage to maintain the eye contact, daunting as it is, as you line yourself back up with that ledge. The sweet symphony sends its final wave of notes singing through you and you take that final leap, your movements stuttering as you drop straight into the heated verdant waters that continue to stare at you.

This time, when you come you feel so full and whole, it almost aches.

You have yet to hit the ground again when his hands slip down your waist and you can tell he’s grappling to remain in control. His grip is bruising, and suddenly he’s slamming into you at such a breakneck pace you can’t even make a sound. The impassioned gleam within his gaze carries with it that touch of madness, releasing it in a final, bright burst as soon as his rhythm grows unsteady.

He gives a few final thrusts, his hips rising off the chair as he pushes into you as far as he can go. His cock pulsates before spilling his seed inside of you, something you don’t normally allow anyone else to do.

Perhaps Crowley’s crazy is catching.

Your body melts against him. You know you should move, but you can’t seem to extricate yourself from him, You don’t want to let him go. You don’t want this moment to end. You know beyond a doubt there’s no going back from here, but you’re not sure what going forward means either, and hiding a few more moments while you’re both in limbo seems far less intimidating.

“It’s always been you.” He breathes his ragged confession against your neck and this time the entire universe grinds to a halt. It’s probably as close as he’ll ever be able to come to saying the three words that hold more power to create or destroy than any spell or ritual ever could. For the king of Hell, this is immense, and brings with it a startling burst of clarity, that has all but a few pieces of today’s puzzle sliding into place.

You swallow, head slowly drawing back so you can look him in the eye.

“Crowley…” Your tongue almost fumbles at the rising emotion that threatens to cut off your words. “What’s going on?”

The smile he gives is open, full of adoration and a sadness that squeezes around more than just your throat. It feeds the fear rising in your chest, and you can’t help but feel like something awful is going to happen. It makes your grip over him grow tighter, more possessive, and now you have no intentions of letting him go.

“For once, I’m going to do the right thing,” he says, an unmistakable apology resonating beneath his tone. A heavy sense of foreboding washes over you. Logic becomes bypassed and you no longer care what it is he’s talking about. All you can think about is the sudden, visceral need to tell him no one else has ever meant anything to you, either. It’s always been him.

A sudden weight dampens his features, one that has weariness returning ten fold while something suspiciously looking like guilt and regret mutes his stare. You have a feeling you don’t need to say a word to him, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. The moment you open your mouth, however, he vanishes, leaving you with nothing but the fading warmth of his heat on leather and the chilly bunker air.

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