#woman... she's older than me... but still...

[leah-lover]

Second chances.

Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Summary: new job, old friends , and memories your tried to forget. Will you be able to dodge the past as you navigate your new job?

“ More news arrived from the RFEF who have promised that they were going through a systematic change after the Luis Rubiales scandal. They have announced this morning the arrival of a new head coach to lead the women’s team in the upcoming euro cup which will be held in switzerland. The 33 years old coach came from the united states where she led her team to victory in the nwsl. Her name may sound familiar to you because she was a part of Vilda's coaching staff until she decided to step away for unknown reasons. Although she has never coached a national team before, the new RFEF president is confident she will heal wounds left by her predecessor mostré tomé and restore the team to its winning ways.” says the reporter on the TV. you were sitting on your couch listening to her talking about your new job with player’s files in your lap. The international break was in 7 days and you needed to get familiar with everyone and have a clear plan of your strategy. 

Being back in Spain brought back so many memories. You haven't come back since everything went down and you quit your job. You swore you would never come back to work with the RFEF however seeing everything unfold in the news you knew that agreeing to come back was more of a necessity than a choice. You loved the girls very much and you knew that they deserved better than what they got and you were adamant on giving them the best. Moreover, the new president was a woman you knew and was friends with. You trusted her and agreed to give her a chance. Besides Barcelona was the best city in the world, you couldn't pass up the chance to come back home. 

As soon as you accepted your position, you contacted old colleagues, ones that you knew you could trust,  and combined them with some of the existing staff that you were 100 percent sure were a safe fit for the new environment you were hoping to achieve and formed your new staff and announced it to the media. The fans were shocked at the amount of changes you made and their comments were very supportive of your decision which gave you a boost of confidence. 

All you were thinking about was this team. You held and attended meetings all day long. You practically lived on your desk but it was all worth it because it all led to this phone call you were pursuing since the day you got to barcelona. You waited in front of your laptop anxiously waiting for your star player to join the zoom call. Shortly after you see her face pop on your screen. 

“ hola.” you say enthusiastically. “ hola.” she replies. She looked much older since the last time you saw her, which was 4 years ago. 

“ Thanks for agreeing to this call. It  truly means a lot.” you say playing with a pen in your hands. 

“ yeah it wasn't easy but i thought why not hear you out.” she replied. 

“ So I am gonna get right to it. I want you to be back in the national team. You are the best center back i know, i want you to be in the te am, and you deserve to have a place in this team.” 

“ I see you haven't changed, you are still as honest as you were but I would have to decline.” responded mapi. 

 “ I am turning things around maria. You know me, you know my story, you know everything. This time is different. I came back to make things different. You watched everything happen in front of your eyes. Do you truly think I could make someone feel the way I felt back then?” 

Mapi stayed quiet, she was perhaps thinking about that night you decided to leave everything behind. The night the idea of las 15 was created. 

“ okay.” you hear her say. “ I will come to this camp.” you are overjoyed “ you wont regret it leon.” 

 Your happiness was cut short because you remembered that you had to do this 2 more times with pina and leila. After 2 very long phone calls you got them to trust you and to agree to the return to the national team. You then drafted the call up list and sent it to your assistant. 

The days leading up to camp went by quickly as your plans of the first steps towards rebuilding were coming to fruition. 

You were sitting in your office when  you heard a knock on the door, it was your assistant coach informing you that the players began   to arrive. A wave of nerves watched over you but that was to be expected. You were a part of this team before and you hoped they would welcome you back with open arms. You were wearing casual clothes so that you won't be seen as authoritarian. You settled for a white t-shirt, black pants and shoes, and you wore your hair down. Your objective was to appear normal and friendly to the members of the team you weren't familiar with. You headed straight for the conference room and waited for the first people to arrive. Shortly after that Irene walked through the door. You were instantly transported back to 4 years ago which is the last time you and the captain have spoken. You closed your eyes briefly to try and get the bad memories away and open a new chapter with the captain. You shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with her and the rest of the barca group but quickly moved on to the other members that had joined. After they were all settled in their chairs you noticed the absence of the person you were most afraid to see, alexia putellas. Before you accepted the job you wrote down a pros and cons list. The first reason you put on the pros was the paycheck and the glory. However for the cons the first thing you wrote down was alexia putellas’s name. Seconds after you thought about her she appeared. She was just as beautiful and charming as you remembered. She immediately came to you but without sharing eye contact with you. She went in to kiss your cheek as a way to say hello and you did too. She still smelled like before and her smell still had a magnetic power over you. She then took a seat next to Irene and you pulled yourself together again and started your presentation. 

“ Hello everybody and welcome. You all heard of me, some of you even were a part of my team when I was working here which feels like a lifetime ago. But in that lifetime this team has risen from the underdog to the most favored and feared team in the world. I am here to continue that legacy and help the team strengthen its roster. But I am also here to create an environment, a culture, and a safe space for you all.  You all are the best in Spain and you deserve to be treated like it. This culture I am trying to create involves no tolerance for homophobia, transphobia, racism, or sexism. I urge you to report any case of abuse or mistreatment from my staff or your teammates. I tried my best to employ people I trust and are advised to report anything that made you uncomfortable.  So Without further or do let's talk strategy.” 

You go over everything you expect from the team and how the strategy is going to change. You then instruct your team to go rest so that training may begin tomorrow at 9 am. 

On their way out you called for the captain to have a word with them. Once the room is empty you quickly say ” so you heard everything i said, i just want to make sure that you two know that i mean Plus the captaincy is going to change. Obviously, you two are the captain and vice. You can come with me with any concern or question about anything.my door is always open.  I am appointing jenni as the 3rd captain.” 

“ That wouldn't go over well with the federation,” said irene. 

“ Well, I don't care. They knew who they hired. Plus I don't play by their rules.” you respond. The captains share a satisfactory look with you although you haven't looked at either of their eyes, then leave. 

Your transition to head coach seemed to be seamless. The players were responding to your advice and strategies. The media seemed to be happy with the changes you made and especially with the arrival of mapi leon. The vibe of the club overall was great, and you were getting comfortable in your new spot. However, it was all about to change at the pro match press conference. The conference itself went great. You and the vice captain answered all the questions given to you without any mishaps. But once the media left and you were left alone with alexia,  you felt yourself suffocating so you quickly got up to leave.  

“ You can't avoid me forever,” said Alexia calmly. 

“ Who said anything about avoiding you?  The conference is done, so I am leaving. If you want to talk to me about anything, my office door is always open.” you say with a cold tone not bothering to look at her. 

“ You don't talk to me like you never do. Besides you won't even look at me." Alexia sounded sad. All you wanted was to take away all her pain but you couldn't. 

“ I talk like this to everybody.” you hear her get up and see her in front of you. Not looking her in her eyes  would prove her point, and doing it would rip you to shreds. You suck it up and look at her hazel captivating eyes. “ Happy now?” you respond. “ We can't continue like this, we have to talk about that night.” 

“ alexia there is nothing to talk about. I forgot everything that happened ,I moved on. I am your coach right now. If you have a concern about anything football related, come to my office.” you were lying straight to her face. You didn't move on or forget what happened. You just hoped your tough girl act would hold with her. 

Game Day was always fun for you but this time around it had a little nervousness attached to it since it was your introduction as the new coach. You started your day witha call from the RFEF board wishing you good luck and re-stating their confidence in you. You revised your strategy, confirmed you starting 11, and headed to the bus so that you would head to the stadium. You decided on a blue suit and let your hair down. You looked both masculine and feminine   which summed up your personality perfectly. 

Once you arrived at the stadium you gave the girls a motivational speech, headed to your seat in the sidelines and waited for the game to begin. You weren't a loud manager. You just sat there, observed the play and took notes. You trusted the girl’s judgment and gave them some autonomy when it came to the style of play which rewarded you with a goal in the 8th minute by aitana bonmati. The 1-0 unset turned into 6-0 by the 76th minute which made you proud of your debut. However it all turned into chaos when alexia putellas fell on the field. You panicked as the paramedics ran to her. You watched  intensely as they examined her and waited for the signal that informed you that you needed a substitution which you got almost immediately. Your heart broke for the recently healed midfielder but you had other things in mind. You called for Teresa Abelleira and subbed her in. The game ended in a 7-0 win. You shook hands with everybody, did an interview but the thought of alexia didn't leave your mind.  As soon as you were done you semi sprinted to the locker room. Once you got there you found irene. 

“ Is it the acl again?” you ask worryingly. 

“ No, it's just a muscle strain and her knee is acting up again.”  you breathe for the first time in an hour. 

“ This is happening because of you.” she says harshly.

“ Excuse me.” you couldnt believe what you heard. 

“ You shouldn't have come back here. You taking this job was a mistake. You have opened up an old wound and this is just the beginning.”

“ I am going to have to stop you right here. First,  I am your boss not your buddy from back in the day so you are going to have to take a step back and show some respect. Second, you have the nerve to talk to me about making mistakes  knowing that you ruined my life not too long ago.

“ She didn't sleep last night. That's why she got injured today. I am worried about my friend.” 

“ You should have thought about your friend 4 years ago.” you say as you enter the medic’s room leaving her behind. 

You found alexia with tape on her knee and achilles. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see you come in and sit next to her. 

“ I am willing to talk about that night this time only. Say everything you need but once I leave this room you are never going to bring it up again.” 

The only way to make it out is through. You thought.

[pitchsidestories]

all's well that ends well II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2010

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the full length oneshot to the snippet we posted last week. 🫶🏻

“You!”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked slightly at the end of the question.

You didn’t care.

There was no way, she was actually here. You had heard the rumours but hadn’t believed any of it. And now she was actually here, right in front of your eyes, on the Chelsea training grounds.

She actually did it.

You watched her through narrowed eyes, subconsciously clenching your jaw.

She smiled brightly at you: “Yes, me. Good morning to you too, pretty girl.“

There it was, that typical smug smile. Lucy Bronze, just like you wanted to forget her.

“Don’t call me that.“, you warned her.

Bad enough that she was here, you didn’t need her stupid remarks.

She remained unbothered, teasing you some more: “Oh, someone woke up in a bad mood.“

“No, only still stuck in a nightmare called Lucy Bronze.“, you replied, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her in the blue Chelsea training shirt.

From the look on her face she clearly interpreted it as you checking her out.

You cringed.

“A nightmare, huh?”, she repeated with a grin.

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid self-assured smile off her face.

“Dressed in Chelsea colours. Why did you come back? And of all clubs you had to choose mine?!”

You half-expected her to crack another joke but instead, her face turned serious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for you. I came for what the club had to offer.“

“In other words, Barca didn’t want you anymore.“, you taunted her.

You watched, waiting to see her face fall but it never did. She just cocked her head and replied: “Cold. But essentially yes, they didn’t guarantee me a spot in the starting squad so I left.“

Before you could stop yourself, you released a humourless laugh.

Following Lucys confused look, you explained: “You always leave when it gets uncomfortable. See you on the pitch.“

You turned around and took exactly two steps towards the football pitch before you heard Lucy catching up to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you really think that you don’t know me well enough.“, she asked, her voice finally conveying some anger.

“Oh, I do know you.“, you shrugged and left her standing on the sideline of the pitch, joining your teammates for the warm-up.

To your surprise, she jogged up next to you, clearly not done with the conversation yet. “Sure. Of course you know me better than I know myself. You’ve always been such a know-it-all.“

You huffed in offence but before you could protest, she increased her pace and left your side.

In her place, Sam Kerr appeared with a curious look on her face: “Wait, you and Bronzey got history?”

“Yes, it was a long time ago though and I don’t want to talk about it, okay.”, you revealed reluctantly.

“Aw man, I love a good break up story.”, the Australian forward replied pouting.

“I know you do Sammy, but you won’t hear that one.”, you told her.

“I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”, she declared confidently.

“Don’t you dare asking Lucy about us.”, you warned your teammate.

“I’m sure she’ll tell me.”, Sam responded winking.

Much to her actual surprise the English defender did open up towards her, once it was just the two of them in an empty room.

“Our story is quick to tell we were together for quite a while, I went to another club, so we tried to do long distance, yet it didn’t work out.”

“And she thinks it’s your fault?”, Sam questioned.

“Obviously and she’s talking about comfortable all she has ever known is English football.”, the older woman shrugged.

The forward took a moment to think about what she just said before humming. “Oh, this is going to be a very interesting season.”

“Admittedly, I did a few things wrong in the past and there isn’t much I regret but these I do.” Memories of the moment Lucy regretted the most passed behind her inner eye.

“That’s too much information. I didn’t come for a deep dive.”, Sam intervened chuckling.

“Come on girls, don’t dally.”, Millie who stood in the doorframe called for them.

“She thinks she has something to say around here now that she has an honours doctorate.”, the forward rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’re ready, Doctor Bright.”, the dark-haired defender reassured the blonde with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Good to hear, Doctor Bronze.”, Millie answered happily.

A few days had passed since your conversation with your ex-girlfriend. During and post training you tried your best to ignore her. You were about to leave the Chelsea grounds, but a familiar voice held you back.

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”, you wanted to know.

“Yes.”, Lucy nodded.

“Fine, but be quick, I don’t have much time.”, you stated in an icy tone crossing your arms impatiently.

“Then you’ve to make some time.”, she emphasized.

“What do you want to talk about?”, you asked short-temperedly.

“About us. This is getting ridiculous. How’re we supposed to play together when you ignore me all the time?”, the defender countered eagerly awaiting your response.

The late afternoon light enhanced her tan, and her green eyes were glowing. You couldn’t help to admire the woman in front of you, but when you remembered what happened between you two and acid formed in your mouth, so you spat out words as cruel as the taste of that. Sentences you knew would hurt her.

“You’re less quick and sharp nowadays. Also how am I supposed to trust you on and off the pitch?”

Lucy blinked at you. Her face frozen, not slightest slip. Shaking her head, she replied: “You really have a way of making someone feel welcome here.“

“I’m normally more welcoming to our new signings… making sure they settle well into London…“

You stopped yourself from continuing and bit your lip. Why did you now feel the need to prove to her that your were actually good person?

“But not to me, I got it.“, she said, almost reading your exact next thought. She should know that you didn’t welcome her here.

“You’re a whole different story.“, you said plainly.

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of her arms crossed in front of herself. The little hairs stood up, small bumps forming around them. She had goosebumps.

“You’ll need a jacket. The evenings can already get cold.“, you advised her, trying to let no empathy seep through.

At once, you felt glad that you remembered to wear a long-sleeved shirt to training. You absentmindedly pulled the sleeves over your hands.

Your ex just rolled her eyes: “You act like I’ve never been to England.“

“You’re freezing. I can see that from here.“

“Yeah, this is obviously not Barcelona. But I’m not new here.“, she replied with clear annoyance.

You refused to let her have the point. “True but you never played in London though.“

“No, I didn’t.“

“See.“

It was petty but you won. You turned to walk away from her like you had done so many times in the past few days but again she wouldn’t let you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back in one swift movement.

“Where are you going? We’re not done here.“

You sighed in frustration: “I won’t ignore you in training anymore. Happy?”

“No.“

“There’s more?”, you frowned at her.

“Of course, it’s not done with that.“

Eyebrows raised, you waited for an explanation: “So?”

“We should talk about us too. And what happened.“, she suggested.

Your heart stopped for a second, your lungs felt deprived of air and you couldn’t do anything but stare at her for a second. There was no way you would bring that break up back again. You both knew how it had ended.

“Another time, okay?”

“Y/n…“

You forced yourself to a half-smile: “See you tomorrow.“

You found yourself in the starting line-up for the next friendly at Stamford Bridge. You would be playing on the right wing, in front of Lucy. And despite all your doubts, the game went well.

More than well, to be honest. It was like you had never been apart. Lucys typical runs forward gave you the opportunity to move towards the centre and position yourself in the penalty areas. One of her crosses was so precise that you only had to tilt your head to put the ball into the net.

“Amazing game, girls. The season is off to a great start.“, Millie cheered as she high-fived you way too hard.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, Luce.“

“You’re welcome. I still know your movements on the pitch.”, Lucy waved it off while the look on her face was melancholic. There was a hint of fondness in her voice too.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your playing style.”, you bit your lip guiltily.

“I know.”, the defender sounded almost amused.

“Good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry.”, the older woman added quickly.

“Bye Luce.”

“See you, y/n.”, Lucy watched you go with a sad smile.

“Lucy? You two are so weird.”, Millie tapped on the dark-haired defender’s shoulder.

Irritated she turned around to face her team’s captain. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you finally talk about it?”, the blonde asked frustrated.

“I try to, but she always runs away.”, the older player explained annoyed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out for you.”, Millie promised.

And the Chelsea captain stayed true to her words.

It was the next day when you found yourself locked in a room with your ex-girlfriend.

“Sam, Erin, that’s not funny, let us out!”, you commanded, hammering your hands against the door. You felt like a mouse stuck in a trap.

“Do you hear anything, Erin?”, you heard the Australian ask the Scottish midfielder. The reply wasn’t audible to your ears because Lucy had started to speak.

“They’ll open the door again once we talked about us.”

“That’s so childish of them. To talk about us? That’s history.”, you grumbled.

“Of course. It’s obviously not history for you if you keep pouting about it.”, the defender observed

“I’m not pouting, I’m so over you at this point.”, you corrected her.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”, your former lover sounded unconvinced.

“You really broke my heart back then.”, you confessed quietly, your voice full of the sadness and hurt from days in the past when the breakup was still fresh like a open wound you thought would never heal.

“I didn’t do anything.”, she remarked calmly.  

“Yes, you did you left.”, you disagreed fiercely.

“I left because I had to. After you assured me, long distance would work.”, Lucy defended herself.

A grieving smirk appeared on your face, you remembered your old self, what a fool she has been. “I thought it would, but it didn’t that happens.”

“Yes, it happens. So, stop blaming me for leaving it was a mutual decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault- Cam we leave now?”, you directed the question towards the people who kept you in that room.

“Nope, you know what we want to hear.”, Sam declared grinning.

“Lucy, what does she want from us?”, you wanted to know.

“I’ve no idea., she admitted before continuing, we won’t get back together, Sam. That won’t work.”

“Exactly.”, you added quickly.

“That’s not what we want. Keep talking and you’ll see.”, the forward insisted.

“What if we begin again? Like we just met for the first time.”, Lucy suggested.

“Wait, what?”, you frowned.

“We can start over.”, she offered in a hopeful tone.

“You mean as in strangers who get to know each other?”

“Maybe.” , she nodded knowing fully well you’d never be a stranger to her.

“And we don’t know where this leads to?”, you felt your heart flutter against your chest, the door was open again and you both stepped into the unknowing. The past was the past the future was uncertain, all you could influence was the present.

All's well that ends well. Yet this was only the beginning and the closing of one chapter of your relationship.

[paingoes]

Rubies - Trial I

LETS FUCKIMG GOOOOOOOOO

im so excited to write this. i should also say i feel i owe a huge debt to @lumpywhump for this post? i didnt follow it to the letter but it realllllly inspired me and helped break me out of the writers block i had w this story.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, dehumanization, discussions of past abuse)

It was busy back at base. Nothing unfamiliar. Delta kept his head down, staying closely to Kitty’s side. He had a very practiced method of shadowing. He did not look up too often to check, but he seemed to escape the notice of most people passing by. They traveled deeper into the labyrinthine halls of Galatea. 

Deeper, though, may have given the wrong impression. Really, they were going further up. The rooms seemed to grow brighter as they did, more ivory than steel. It was cleaner, somehow. The people standing about were older than the rank-and-file that made up the lower levels. 

Delta was the youngest person there. He’d expected as much. He always had been.

Earlier, he had packed what little he owned into the weighted black duffel bag, with room left to spare. They’d spent the better part of the week trying to prepare him for what came next, but they always seemed to falter before they could bring themselves to really push. Delta listened patiently as their words tied up.

“They’re going to pry,” Apollo had admitted, “It’s what they do. They want to know what happened.”

“…In detail?” Delta asked.

He had a good sense for it, truthfully. Little snapshots burned themselves into his brain. The doll half buried in the mound where the camp had been pitched. The glass shards he’d teased out from Paris’s arm when he was too drunk to care for himself. The terrier that had rolled over onto its back, unaware he’d been sent to kill it. Sierra’s perfume on the bare spot of her neck and her horsehair brush against his temple. 

“I don’t know,” Apollo had sighed, “It’s supposed to be clinical.”

It didn’t feel that clinical in the building. Natural light still poured in, not any harsh fluorescent. It was more casual than he would’ve expected. He was used to more severity — in aesthetic and in manner. But the voices in the room were chatty, familiar. Without any particular edge. 

He took note of a few of them. Some he recognized — older members of Galatea, not half as famous as Levon but still well-known. They’d all known each other for a long, long time.

He did not recognize the woman who approached him. Her hair was cut in a neat line about her chin. Dark glasses obscured her eyes.

“This is it?” She was still facing him, but the question was directed to Kitty. She did not wait for an answer.

A finely manicured hand grabbed at his face unexpectedly. He flinched from the surprise of it, but otherwise held still. She tilted it his head to one side, then the other, examining him. He didn’t meet her eyes — or where they would’ve been if the glasses didn’t obscure them.

“Hello???? What the fuck?” Kitty’s tail puffed up in anger, stepping forward. 

“Hm?” The woman looked confused. She did not let go.

“Get off him?!?!?” Kitty’s voice rose several decibels. He realized with a start that her claws had come out.

The woman released him, but her puzzled expression did not change. Delta bowed his head a little, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Why?” She asked.

“He’s sentient,” Apollo seemed to immediately understand the confusion, “Was I not clear enough about that? Did I not explain this properly over the phone?”

“You are?” The woman looked at him again. Delta nodded slowly.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to be.”

Delta didn’t respond. Sentient. His own sentience felt like a finely guarded secret. He’d been coached to act like it did not exist. He knew any glimpse of awareness from him was not a comforting sight to the public. Nobody wanted a bomb that could think. He could, though. It seemed like he wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore.

The woman started to say more, then grew too embarrassed by the faux pas. She hurriedly excused herself. 

“Sorry. You’re okay?” Apollo leaned in. 

He nodded, again. He hadn’t really minded. It was all standard fare.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” Apollo said. He was being very precise with his words, “People shouldn’t touch you without your permission.”

Delta nodded like he understood.

~

“Okay. I think we can get started.” Levon swayed the pointer stick back and forth in his hands. “My name is Levon. You all know me, hopefully. I’ll be presiding over the deposition, as is the power vested in me. This is just going to be our day zero. We’ll get everyone up to speed on the situation, introduce ourselves, try to establish an outline for the rest of the trial. Sound good?”

They all sat around a long table. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. He’d been to enough of these meetings before — chained to the base of the chair, normally, or left off in the corner. It felt deeply unnatural to be sitting in the chair they’d assigned him. It was uncomfortable. He was at their eye level — and somehow felt even more on display than he had been nothing more than a statement piece. There was no avoiding the curious looks they kept casting his way.

“Silas Vern,” a thin man in a long coat introduced himself at the prompting, “Prosecution.”

“Maryam Pike,” a woman dressed in all pink stood up, “I’ll be leading defense.”

Others announced themselves, all unaffiliated, none of particular import. The attention turned back to Delta. He froze up. There was no chance at all he’d be able to speak.

Apollo saved him. His eye twitched in agitation, but that was the only tell. “Apollo Castilian. Katherine Leifer. Delta.”

No surname. He let it hang in the air before sitting down.

“Perfect. So, we’ll go over the facts of the case with the assumption that you’re all hearing them for the first time.” Levon clicked something. The projector behind him turned on. It was a screenshot of the forum’s homepage.

“Around twelve months ago, Agora user-” Levon read every letter of the keysmash. Delta felt a small twinge of annoyances; he’d meant for it to be unpronounceable on purpose. “-began posting a series of threads containing confidential information on Empire’s operations. The nature of the data breach indicated a very high level of clearance within the imperial system, leading many users on the site to believe it was an internal whistleblower. The information was recorded and passed along — unattributed — to Galatea’s intelligence by a Miss Katherine Leifer.”

Kitty smirked a little.

“This was eventually adapted into an exclusivity deal in which the poster was offered immunity in exchange. He turned down the initial offer. About three months ago, he asked that it be re-extended. Under the command of Flight Officer Iza Mok — and unbeknownst to any of her superiors — that request was granted.”

The projector changed to play a video. It was very low resolution, taken from miles away, but it showed the carnage of the airship. It burned and burned in the sky, shaking and struggling until it all went out at once, falling into the ocean. 

“An attack was launched on the Centurion Ball. There were no survivors,” Levon said flatly, not sounding too upset by it, “The asset was retrieved, at which point it was revealed that the user possessed extreme psychic ability. Later disclosure confirmed the identity of Δ-107. Our intelligence up until that point had suspected the designation represented a weapon of mass destruction, but we had no explicit knowledge of its design or purpose until now.”

Levon closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he was looking straight at Delta.

“We had no knowledge or expectation that he was alive. Records suggest that he has been marked as imperial property from the age of thirteen onwards. Intelligence uncovered proof of purchase from the now defunct Beldam Institution.”

Oh, it had been ages since he’d heard that name. No one inside of it ever called it by name. It was simply The Institute. Nothing else existed outside of it. He felt strangely sick.

“The full extent of destruction is currently unknown. It seems unlikely that it can even be uncovered. What we do know is the destructive potential suggested by the power readings — and some confirmed incidents. The objective of this trial is to agree upon a just course of action that can ensure the safety of all parties. Any questions?”

He looked around expectantly, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“None? Okay. Silas and Maryam have both been appointed by me, in light of their expertise. We’ll spend the next meetings going over both sides of their arguments. The rest of you are expected to remain impartial to anything but the evidence and the arguments presented. Likewise, if you have any questions or concerns you feel need to be urgently addressed, you need to bring them up now. My hope is that we can get this out of the way in one shot. I don’t want this to be an ongoing discussion. And — I hope this goes without saying — none of this leaves this room. Clear?”

Like that it was dismissed. The older members of the board started to file out, some casting last looks over their shoulder that Delta plainly ignored. Kitty’s hand found his own as she rose to stand.

“Hang back a sec,” Levon said.

She sat back down. As the room emptied, Levon sat too. He leaned one elbow against the back of the chair.

“How are you feeling?” He asked casually.

Nobody answered for him this time. He thought he’d have made it through today without having to speak. He wished he’d stop getting questions like that. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to answer them.

“I’m okay,” he mouthed it more than he said it.

Levon’s eyes switched to Kitty and Apollo, who he knew were far more likely to object. Apollo clicked the pen against the table.

“…I don’t understand what the prosecution is meant to be arguing. You said this wasn’t a punitive trial.”

“He’s arguing for more strict security measures. It isn’t a punishment.” He studied Delta as he said it. 

Delta didn’t care, really, how strict anything was. He’d come to surrender. He’d expected to be imprisoned for the rest of his life, if not killed outright. The trial struck him as a formality that they need not take. He wouldn’t have fought them on anything they decided. They needed no pretense of fairness for that. He already knew what he deserved.

“You mind if I talk to you alone?” Levon asked. 

Delta nodded, ignoring the quiet protests Apollo was making with his eyes. Kitty squeezed his hand again.

“I’ll cya,” she promised. He believed her.

Levon led him out of the conference room, out into the hall. Delta stayed close to him, careful as if there’s be a tug at his collar if he let himself fall too far back. There was a faint industrial hum throughout the whole building.

“Is there anything I can do that would make this easier for you?” Levon asked quietly. “I know it’s going to be difficult either way. I’m sorry to put you through it. But if it has to happen, is there anything that would help?”

The question caught him severely off-guard. He stepped quietly into the elevator that Levon held open for him. He shook his head.

“…I don’t need anything, sir.” 

It was so hard being talked to like a person, though he was familiar enough with being talked at. He didn’t know how to respond in kind. He’d never gotten so many questions before. He was too nervous to answer most of them, too confused to even understand what they were getting at. He kept getting his wires crossed.

They went up a few floors — the one where Delta’s new room was kept, the same floor Levon’s office was on. They stepped out.

“You’ll tell me if you do?” Levon tried instead. It was easier, the yes-or-no questions. Those he could handle.

“Yes, sir.” Delta agreed. He didn’t think it would happen, which made it much easier to confirm.

Levon held open Delta’s bedroom door for him. He was slightly taller than the door frame; he’d have to duck down if he wanted to come inside.

“The room’s okay? For now?” He asked, “You know how to use the buzzer?”

The new room was sterile and clean, white and ascetic. It was expensive, more than Galatea was typically willing to shell out. There wasn’t much inside of it, no decorations, but there were CDs and a projector and books enough to entertain him. No internet. Levon said to wait.

“Yes, sir.”

He did know how to use the buzzer, if he needed anything. But he didn’t. He was used to the solitude. 

“Okay. Phone’s always on. Anything at all, let me know.” It seemed like he was going to say something else for a minute, but it didn’t happen. “Bye.”

The door locked behind him.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @flowery-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

[odinsblog]

Wtf is wrong with people?

I was out getting some last minute hurricane supplies (ya know, just in case) and as I was driving out of the parking lot, I saw an elderly woman getting out of the passenger’s side of a car parked in front of a Publix. It’s rainy out (bc approaching hurricane) and she slipped and fell onto the sidewalk. By the time it happened, I was pretty far away from her and stuck in parking lot traffic, but I figured that I would circle back around the parking lot and see if she was okay

It had to take me 2 or 3 minutes to complete the loop back to where she fell, but when I got there SHE WAS STILL ON THE SIDEWALK and NOBODY was stopping to help her! And lemme tell you, if you know anything about hurricane shopping in grocery stores, then you KNOW that the parking lot and sidewalk was chock full of desperate last minute shoppers (young, old, men, women, etc). But NOBODY had stopped to help her. The driver of the car she fell from was struggling to get his fucking walker out of the back seat to go help her, but he looked to be even older than the old woman who had fallen. They had to be somewhere in their late 80s or 90s

Ofc I jumped out of my car (left it running and stopped, blocking traffic) and helped her back into her car, and she was profusely thankful. Thankfully she seemed to be okay

I’m not writing this to show what a good guy™ I am, I just could not believe that absolutely NO ONE had stopped to help a little old lady sitting on the sidewalk who had just slipped and fell from a car

Unfuckingbelievable

Afterwards, my mind immediately went to my mom and my great aunts. If something like that ever happened to them I would hope that a decent human being would stop and help them

WTF is wrong with people?

[bucknastysbabe]

i'm like two years late but i finally binged the 1st and 2nd season this week! currently obsessing over the concept of cole w/ rhaenyra's valyrian-looking (but bastard nonetheless) daughter, returning after 5 years on dragonstone. thoughts?? anyway glad i found your blog it's actually making me more insane <33

Yessss I like this and decided to make an angsty lil songfic!!! Thank you for waiting! I’m so glad you love my stuff it’s so rewarding!!!! COLEWIVES RIDE AT DAWN TO PONDER LIFE ON A LOG AND BE HORNY

I hope you enjoy mwah mwah❤️

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Song fic, Velarystrong Princess, TW: very twisted thinking, homicidal ideation, hate sex, sadism/masochism themes, bastardphobia and dornish racism match made in heaven, obvious poison tree allegory and trying to work through both sides own mistakes screech, ye olde seroquel hours, Criston gets his head fucked with, angst, dark, rough sex, quickie, pnv!sex

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @aemondfairy @elaratyrell @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

You were ten years of age leaving the Red Keep. There was naught much but scorn and pain surrounding the place. As Rhaenyra’s first, you were a baby girl born with dark hair and dark eyes. Save the silvery streak in the thick curls— still, that wasn’t much to help.

You could cry and yell until you were blue in the face claiming your dark eyes shone like indigo in the right light. Aegon would laugh and laugh. Queen Alicent had remarked in passing that your features were too ‘strong’ to overlook. She didn’t mean the Valyrian traits.

Your family left for Dragonstone, anger in your heart, wishing them to choke on their words. The whole lot of the green-clad faction. The morning upon leaving was seared into your heart, tucked away to stew upon. You were straggling behind, trying to decide whether to desecrate something in the room or not.

A knock upon the door made your head whip up. You opened the heavy oak up, staring at one Ser Criston Cole. Your mother always instructed you to stay away from Alicent’s loyal kingsguard. His dark eyes scanned over you and the room. His head tilted toward the right as he gruffed, “It’s time to leave, Princess.”

He spat the last word out like bile. It made your skin prickle uncomfortably while grabbing your soft-knitted dragon dolly— black as night. You walked beside the knight, knowing he’d never much liked your mother or any of you, your ‘father’ Laenor, and Ser Harwin. You missed Ser Harwin as he was good and kind.

Ser Criston looked down at you, his lips twitching.

“Do you suppose you’ll enjoy your new home? A fine one for the future Princess of Dragonstone.”

You eyed the bigger man back, anger growing in your chest. Instead, you replied quietly, not wishing to incite his notorious rage, “I do not wish for it. My mother has enough issues. My brother Prince Jacaerys shall receive the inheritance.”

It’s people like him who made you decide that at such a young age. The anger, the scorn, the stares all the time from court and ‘family’.

Ser Criston let out a bitter little laugh, “Hah- you might be smarter than the whole lot. You’re sharp and strong.”

That was the end of talking with Ser Criston. The seed had been planted along the many others. Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Otto, the list went on and grew.

You were back in King’s Landing once more. Now a woman grown of eight and ten. Everything felt different and the old burning in your chest began to rise once more. You hoped the deep anger would shield you from this cutting place— something to keep the pain from sinking in. You were here for another claim of bastardy, this time from the Sea Snake’s brother.

You weren’t a child anymore. Under your veil of anger and haughty face, there remained a well-developed princess. Lovely sweet fruit and honey, hiding the blackened insides. The stares of the staff and onlookers in the yard shifted to the now older children of Rhaenyra.

Jace and Luke watched the much taller form of Aemond sparring with the white knight. You had learned the truth about him after bothering your mother enough. He was still handsome, spry, and dangerous despite his age. Aemond made Criston yield, turning to face your brothers.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked.

You stood behind them, frowning, sharing none of the shock and awe they displayed. Aemond likely suffered from the same as you— swallowed whole with righteous anger. Ser Criston peered at the boys, then you.

All three of you passed, the knight sipping from his wineskin. He was leering, thick brows down as dark orbs roved your face, down to your tits and hips. You spat, “Mind yourself, Ser.”

He almost choked on his water, Aemond’s brow raising and Jace grabbing your arm to speed along.

How dare he look at you like some slab of meat when he hated everything you were. Who you were born from. Jace murmured, “Come now, don’t let him rile you up, you know how it’s going to be here.” Luke was frowning, the princeling worried.

As the day passed, you felt your mind head in different directions. Your mother had even checked on you, asking why you were so distant. You shrugged, claiming to be unsettled by the events of earlier. Daemon sliced the man’s head in half in front of everyone.

As they dressed you in a room, you pondered Cole. How it would feel to slap him, make him admit he wanted another princess. He desired a bastard, a bastard born of the woman he lived to hate. You wanted him. The hate in your heart needed suffering for him— even if it reflected on your hypocrisy.

The conflicted feelings turned swiftly into conviction through the wretched dinner you sat through. Putrid comments from your uncles. Fighting and laughing, crying and dying, the premonition that this would be the only time all of the ‘family’ would sit in a room.

It was sad in a way. The fact that everything had been cleaved in half before anything good could come forth. Not that you could do anything. You’d reap what they had sown, the sins of the forefathers. You could wallow in feelings that always turned back to the same damn thoughts.

Let them all burn in agony. Feel the pain you’d dealt with for years, a firstborn bastard with a cunt. It was such easy pickings when your mother remained heir. As she was entitled to be. Sometimes it seemed easier if she just let Aegon’s idiotic self become king or hire some faceless man to kill them in their sleep.

There you were. The anger and fantasies took the pain of real life away. Blooming in a million separate ways, oh, but what if? Your lips curled up walking down the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, fingers trailing across the walls after being dismissed from dinner. You narrowed your eyes at the familiar form placed outside your door.

You stopped near Ser Criston, leaning against the frame of the door. He nodded, “Princess.” Criston had spat it at you like an insult again, likely ruffled from your behavior earlier. Why was he here of all places?

“Shouldn’t a warrior like you be outside of Luke’s door so Aemond doesn’t go carve his eye out?”

His eyes narrowed, yet Criston’s lips spread into a thin smile. The marcher replied, “No. It’s for protection. A pretty unmarried princess like you? Most men here would open their door. So in you go.” He opened the door, jerking his head with a grimace. You caught the implication swiftly, bristling.

“Oh? Because I’m on the wrong side of the blanket you think me to go out and fuck the men of the castle? My wretched uncles, who don’t give less of a shit about me?”

You shook with anger, trying to shove the pure hate back into the little pocket in your breast. Ser Criston gripped your arm, escorting you in with a growl, kicking the door shut behind him. He tossed off his helmet, hackles raised as his eyes studied you, his other hand coming up to hold the other arm as you tried to squirm away.

Criston’s voice was more shaky than you expected as he spoke. It was a bladed jab, “I’d almost say she birthed you on her own if it weren’t for that hair, you’re just as spoiled and miserable as your mother was at this age. You’re reckless, not to be trusted.”

Your lips pursed as he held you in place. The anger wanted to burst back out, fire and blood indeed. No, no, you needed to nurse it for when the time was right. Even if the little metaphorical pocket you’d sewn the seeds of resentments into had grown into a cavern. A void of straggling branches and vines only filled for a moment.

If the knight in front of you knew how fucked up you were, he would likely seal you off in the black cells. Father above, your mother would too. You’d be mad and alone— but the fantasies and resentments would keep you company.

Eyes gliding up to Cole you finally replied, “I suppose I am reckless. This place makes me mad. How you tolerate it is beyond me.” You’d rather not speak on your mother at the moment, but you sighed, “My mother has done good by me. She’s loved us all. Yet she doomed us with our nature, especially with my little silver brothers.”

Criston seemed to like your response, hands easing off you. He hummed, “You are sharp. Of tongue and mind. That’s never changed. Alas, you’d never know peace until you’re well married off and away.”

You crossed your arms, putting some paces between you two. There was a manic laugh bubbling from your chest, a harsh noise, “I’ll never know peace wherever I go. None of us will, alas certainly not you either. Not with what weighs on your soul.”

The Kingsguard’s long legs closed the space, hand darting out to grip the side of your head as he growled, “Don’t speak of things you know nothing of. Ill-begotten wretch.”

You grinned.

Criston didn’t have the luxury of nursing his anger. It appeared the more he tried to hold it in, the more it seeped out. His entire body was on the attack as he glared at you, eyes wide, teeth close to baring, thick brow twisted up. He didn’t sew a pocket and you wondered if it was worse or better for the soul.

You leaned up into his angered visage, lips close to his, your lips split into a mocking smile. Something was invigorating about this— watching his nostrils flare as the brunette sharply exhaled. He hadn’t released your head, breath choppy.

“You’re confusing me,” Criston gritted out.

“I want you of course.”

Spoken as if it was the most simple thing. Gods this felt fucking good.

He smashed his lips to yours, nose bumping together as he turned his head, lowering to your height. Your nails dug into his neck, inexperienced lips molding to his pace. It was rough, brutal really. Criston’s tongue ungracefully slipped into your mouth when his hand slapped your ass, prompting you to yelp.

You smacked him back on his cheek, pulling away. Criston growled, “You’re definitely on the wrong side of the coin and blanket, get over here.”

You surged back to smash your lips against his, gripping at a handful of dark hair, groaning as teeth and lips meshed. He turned you toward the bed, bigger frame crowding yours, shuffling steps until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You hissed as he pushed you back, your body bouncing once.

Criston immediately pinned you down, his cold plate digging into your soft skin. He breathed, “Sick goddamn spawn. I see the thorns underneath.” One of his knees propped against the bed, teeth subtly dragging down your throat. A hand kneaded and groped your breast, drawing a low moan from your throat— the edge of pain sent more throbbing below.

You wanted him to hurt. Moreso you to hurt and throb with pain, entering that state of bliss within. All of Criston’s physical soft spots were practically hidden, you reaching down to undo his sword belt clumsily. The knight smirked.

“You want my cock? Fitting for a natural born off a whore.”

You spat back, “Says the man who fucked the whore and now wants her filthy bastard. Is it my cunning, sly nature? My natural wanton lust that weakens you so?”

He gritted his jaw, hand slapping down next to your head with a curse. Criston swallowed heavily, both of his hands rucking up your dress, ripping anything in the way. He’d rip you too. A nice surprise you supposed, perhaps not for him.

You taunted with a grin. “You’re weak you know? Must be the Dornish blood. Ser Criston, you just need the feeling of a noble cunt to keep you going, hm?”

He was feverishly undoing his breeches and padded tunic. Shoulders shaking with anger, disappointment, something else. Criston cursed as his fingers slipped again, huffing, “Fuck you.”

You waited with a smug look, looking forward to this new, powerful experience.

His dusky cock was flush and hard, bigger than what you imagined. You weren’t sure what the imagination even was— your fantasies were feelings, not pictures. He felt at your bare cunt, thick calloused fingers unceremoniously delving into the slick heat.

You grunted, the pain giving way to more. So much more.

Criston pulled his fingers back, brows raising in alarm as the maiden’s blood covered his fingers. You watched him and quickly jerked his hand over, eyes flicked upwards. The man shook harder, gasping, “Gods fucking dammit— damn you, damn you!”

You suckled your essence and blood off his fingers, biting at the tips, just enough to leave the fingers throbbing. The anguish upon his shining eyes and his furrowed brow was gorgeous. More arousal filled your belly, moaning softly. He rumbled out a low noise, breath heavy, the knowledge he’d fucked something up due to instinct again eating the man alive.

“You broke it, now take me,” you demanded, licking blood off your lower lip.

Criston let out a harsh noise akin to a sob as he aligned himself with your soaking pussy. There was a long pause, likely a useless prayer in his head. He inhaled against your pulsing neck. You moaned again as the thick tip of his prick entered. The earlier stinging and pulling returning, the pain sending your lashes to fluttering.

“Mm- fuck- don’t stop, hard, I want it hard,” you rasped.

Criston moaned weakly, jerking his hips forward, breath hitching against as he had filled you to the hilt. Guilt and shame roiled off his frame. Meanwhile, you could breathe it in, feeling like a god. The power you held over this sick, pitiful man who happened to be a warrior. Your walls shifted and burned, something to relish.

“Come on now, take me Ser,” you cooed, a hand skating down his neck to squeeze. He thrust again, the pair of you gutturally groaning. You spread your legs wider, planting them on the bed, shuddering at the fullness and dull throb.

He began to shake the bed with the force of his fucking, grunting, and huffing into your neck. Criston would hold up sometimes to mutter pitifully, shivering from head to toe. His handsome face screwed up, thick brows knit as he groaned.

You panted, “Feels so good, fuck.”

The friction was nice, but his broken mumbling made you grow dizzy with arousal. Guilt lurked beneath, you shoving it away with a grip at his hair or bite to his jaw.

You were crying out in ecstasy now as he had both knees on the bed, holding your hips up as his throbbing cock pushed and pushed into your soft core, the heat growing overwhelming. Sweat shone on your brow and breast, Criston faring no better. You felt like a ragdoll, the white knight doing all the work, yet you pulled the strings.

You smiled in delirium, imagining him guiltily stripping his cock for days after this. Unable to look you in the eye ever again. Gods, gods, you needed this more. Criston moaned your name, his shaking hand peeling off your hip to swirl at the sensitive little nub at the apex of your thighs.

You cried out again, arousal surging into your veins, squirming and milking his cock. Criston’s hips stuttered as he whined something about forgiveness. Your chest felt full and fuzzy, content, idly wondering if he was always so emotional.

Soon, the stuffed feeling of your cunt, the nerves singing from his insistent rubbing of thumb had you on the edge, mewling in bliss. You whined, “Yes, so good Ser Criston, ’m gonna come, my white knight.”

He broke down again, falling forward and sobbing into your neck, the sound of his pain like a bolt of ecstasy. You clenched up around him, head thrown back as you moaned and huffed, lips curled up as the burn spread across your frame— cunt weeping and pulsing around him.

“Fuck yes! Yes!”

It wasn’t much long after you writhed and clawed at his throat, Criston pulled out, sniffling and sulky as he came with little whines, face dark with embarrassment and self-hatred. His cock spit onto your thigh and the bedding as he heaved. He sat on the bed, big mournful eyes on you, the evidence of his lust.

You easily rolled away, panting. With a stretch and final savor of the ache, you padded to the washroom to ring the bell for servants to draw a bath. Leaning against the frame, you watched the broken man, lost in his thoughts, silent tears down his flushed cheeks. You scoffed, “Fall to your needs again? Perhaps you’d be a better guard dog if they gelded you.”

You turned without a word more.

He was crying softly in the other room, once again broken down. You had nothing to say. Ser Criston deserved to remember what he was, a whore.

Cherishing your newfound feelings, your chest had begun to ache for more. You sighed, internally nursing those seeds, some had sprouted, you couldn’t let them grow much more. Only allowed for when the time came. Now was a tease, a glimpse of something much more powerful that would emerge when the realm erupted.

He left eventually, you sitting in a tub, eyes closed, humming softly as the servant brushed your bastard hair. Dripping with honey, filled with thorns and poison. Mayhaps you’d be too gone a day, but now? There was much more to life yet again.

[katy-l-wood]

Beta Search

I'm looking for a beta (or a few) for my new book who is willing to read it in chunks as I get them done. The book is heavily based around wildland firefighting, and that's something I know enough about that I don't know what isn't common knowledge anymore, so I'm looking for someone that knows nothing or next to nothing about wildland firefighting and can point out anything that's confusing to the average person. (Other feedback is also welcome! That's just the one main thing I know I need to get checked right off the bat, lol.)

These are three of the major characters. Left to right we've got:

Theo: second in command of his family's private wildland firefighting company, The Torch Crew, which was started in the fifties by his grandfather. Doing his best to keep the company alive despite the mismanagement of his much older second cousin who currently owns and runs it. Definition of "he a little confused but he got the spirit" queer ally.

Maddie: Theo's best friend. Trans woman. Takes no shit and is trying very hard to get Theo to stop taking his second cousin's shit. Very good at cutting down very scary trees and making it look easy. Lives by the mantra of "not my monkeys, not my circus" as much as possible, but when she jumps in she jumps IN.

Andreas: Main character. Asexual. 20 years old. College dropout who only joined the family firefighting company because he didn't know what else to do with himself. Nearly dies on page one and in the process accidentally ends up enmeshed in a bunch of nonsense with several Greek Gods, kicking off the plot.

Said plot, without giving too much away at this point, involves a lot of natural disaster and Andreas trying to navigate what it means to be favored by the gods, especially when at least one of those gods has it out for the existence of all mortals.

Overall themes of sacrifice, what sacrifice means, responsibility for the climate, and power as an individual vs. a collective.

I have about 30k written so far, and I'm thinking it'll end up around 80-100k, and will be a standalone. I'd send it to you in probably 2-3 chapter chunks as I get them done, plus that 30k chunk that's already done. I'd appreciate relatively quick feedback (weeks rather than months).

If you're interested, please DM me! I'd like to do this over Discord if possible, if not, email is fine. And it would be using Word for feedback as I don't use Google Docs.

I'll turn off reblogs when I've found enough people, so if reblogs are on I'm still looking. :)

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage let's go steal a beetle

Eliot Spencer really, really hated it when the con had to change gears halfway through. Made things messy and complicated and it was never good for anyone but Sophie to try playing two parts. But he adjusted his stupid little hat and hoisted himself up into the pilot's seat of the Helicopter.

"Hey." said the man already in the copilot's chair. "You're not Johnson."

"No," Eliot said. "He got sick. Celiac flare up, I think. Trust me, you do not want him flying one of these things." That was one way of putting it, anyways. Beaten over the head with a stale baguette was a little more accurate but hey, who was really counting.

"And you're...authorized?" The copilot asked, looking doubtful. 

"Am I--I got called in on my night off because she's got something that has to happen tonight. I mean, If you want, I can just go, and you can explain to Ms. Kord why her chopper's grounded for the night.  I had dinner reservations, man."

"No!" the copilot said frantically, no doubt thinking about the fate of anyone who disappointed Victoria Kord. Eliot had a feeling her idea of a severance package was a little something like the Hannity lady back at Wakefield's.  

"Alright then," Eliot said, settling in. Damn. It was a sweet helicopter. Shame he wasn't going to get to keep it.

~

Jaime felt more like he was falling, not flying, gravity dragging him towards his home. He could hear Khaji Da in his ear, feeding him information about the helicopter, the dozens of Kord Industry's private army foot soldiers surrounding the house, all armed to the teeth. Well, so was he, with anything he could imagine. 

He spun in the air, aiming the world's largest staple gun, dodging the live rounds they were firing at him.

Somehow that made this more real than the fight earlier. It was one thing to be fighting for his life running from the Kord building, all that glass and chrome and unreal wealth. Not here, above the rooftops and powerlines he'd known all his life. 

"Stand down. Give me back my Scarab." He heard Jenny's Aunt--and when had that become who she was, in his head?--say over some kind of loudspeaker. Half the neighborhood must have heard it, and the gunshots, but no sirens wailed.

"The Scarab's not yours," he said, unsure if she could hear him. He aimed at the Helicopter to be sure she understood. It dipped just enough that he missed. He could tell from Khaji's delight that this--deflecting bullets, firing back--was something they could do all night if they needed to.

"Target the family," came the next order. Jaime's blood ran cold.

He dove forward, but not in time. 

The house he'd grown up in exploded.

"No!" he screamed, mentally directing everything into the thrusters. He had time, he had---

Khaji Da stopped him, feet above the flames.

|You will die. I cannot allow you to go in|

"They're in there!" Jaime yelled back. "I can--I can still-- I have to save them!"

|No lifesigns are detected| Khaji Da responded. |I am sorry, Jaime Reyes.|

Jaime didn't have the chance to scream again as a flare of purple lightning lashed out, some kind of net or grapple or bolas that burned and stung and dragged him from the sky.

The last thing he saw was his home in flames, the roof caving in.

~

(approximately ten minutes earlier)

Parker dropped through the hole in the roof, swinging herself so she landed on the worn and patched linoleum instead of directly on the table. 

The older woman, who had the vibes of Hardison's Nana if she was Eliot, which was frankly a terrifying thought, threw a sandal at her head. Parker caught it easily. "Everybody out," she said, the Spanish falling easily from her lips and apparently throwing everyone else for a loop. The two men stared at her. The Nana threw another sandal. Parker ducked under that one.

Parker huffed a little. "Kord's people are coming to kill you all," she said, not bothering to beat around the bush. " Or worse? Not super clear on that. So. Everybody out, come on."

"Why should we trust you, blondie?" one of the men asked.

"Where's Jaime?" the girl about Breanna's age demanded. 

"Because I'm the good guy, and I don't know, but if we stick around here we will continue to not know. It's not safe here, can we go?" Parker pushed.

"You expect us to trust you? You broke into our house!"

"You left a hole in the roof, that's practically an invitation." Parker reached up and tapped her com. "Eliot? ETA? Someone give me something, they won't leave." 

"Seven minutes," Eliot said. "Get them out."

Breanna chattered breathlessly in the other ear. 

Parker turned off the com. "GarlicBre52 says you can trust me. I'm the Cavalry. Good enough?"

"Garlic sent you?" the more paranoid man said, looking suddenly like he might actually believe her. "How'd they know about any--"

"Look, you can talk to her yourself, after we go, because in about 5 and a half minutes, this place is going to be on fire and we need to not be here when it is." Parker was getting impatient. 

"Everyone, go," Nana Sandals said, and everyone obeyed, following Parker out the back door, and along a hedge to the next street over. Parker heaved open the food truck door. 

"What about my son?" the man who wasn't staring with outright glee at all the tech said. "What did you do--"

"Hey, we didn't do anything," Breanna said. "Parker, you told them we're here to help, right?"

"Of course I did!"

"Then where is Jaime?"

"Uhhh," Breanna said, fingers flying over her keyboard. " About a minute out. Don't worry, Eliot's going to get him."

"Eliot," Nana repeated. 

"Yeah, Breanna said. She spun in her chair. "Hey, Rudy."

"You know this girl?" Nana asked. Rudy frowned. 

"How do you know my name?" he said. "Garlic, I take it?"

"Eh, Really good facial recognition. I'm Breanna. Thanks for that tip last month, by the way-- the cobalt instead of tungsten? Really worked great."

Rudy gave a modest tip of one shoulder. "Yeah, Ma, I know her. From online."

"Uncle Rudy, you didn't tell me your government conspiracy hacker friends were cute girls. I'm Milli, by the way."

"Flirting later," the woman who had to be Milli's mom said. "Someone explain what's going on. Please."

Breanna made a face. "Uh. Long story very very short, Kord Industries wants something your son has, and we really don't want them to have it, and they want it bad enough to, uh. Kill you? So we're faking your deaths, if that's cool. I mean. Also if that's not cool? But like. Just until we take them down so like. Three days tops."

"And someone named Eliot is finding Jaime?"

"Should be, right about--" everything shook "--now."

~~

Eliot thumbed the buttons and switches on the control panel, giving a glance back. The poor kid was semi-conscious, dragged into the back of the helicopter at Victoria's feet. He swallowed bile. 

"Set a course for the island," Victoria ordered. 

Eliot glanced at the densely packed neighborhood below, lit up behind them with the orange of flame and the dancing lights of firetrucks. "Yes Ma'am," he said, and turned towards the water.  Carefully, casually, he released his seatbelt and harness, stretching his legs just a little.

"You're going too far west," Victoria snapped. "Johnson, get it together, unless you want to be fired."

"Mm." Eliot said. "That threat would work a lot better if I worked for you." He veered sharply, slamming everyone to the side as he snapped off the toggles and jammed the steering, then threw himself into the back.

Eliot thanked God and Hardison for the latter's parachute stash. 

"Hope you can swim, kid," he said,  pushing off hard with Jaime Reyes in hand as the helicopter spun wildly towards the water.

~~

Jaime choked, sputtering wildly and trying to yank away from the iron grip around his waist. He remembered the helicopter--being grabbed--the house--his family--

"Calm yourself, Jaime," Khaji Da said, but that was easier said then done.

"Let me go! Let go," Jaime thrashed, sinking deeper before popping back up above the water.

"Easy, kid. You good to swim?"  The grip didn't release. Jaime twisted, trying to get a hand under the man's throat.  Khaji could make anything he imagined, and he could imagine a lot of ways to hurt the people who'd--who'd killed---

"Hey." the man said, kicking them both closer to shore. "Don't do that, man. It's ok. We got them out."

Jaime blinked, salt water stinging his eyes and burning his nose as he tried to parse the threat.

|The Eliot Spencer is not lying| Khaji Da said. |Recent data suggests his connection to the fall of multiple criminal organizations. Recommended course of action: hear him out.| 

That was just unexpected enough for Jaime to listen.

"See that food truck parked on the beach?" Eliot Spencer asked. "That's them.  So don't just go haring off or try to gut me, ok? Can you swim?"

"Yeah, I--" he sputtered again on a too-large wave. "If you hurt them--Khaji--"

|Food Truck: Brick and Basil, contains several life-signatures that match the Reyes household, with additional signatures. No one is currently experiencing physical distress.|

The beach rose to meet them, the sand cool and soft under Jaime's bare feet. Eliot Spencer let out a piercing whistle, and the side of the truck swung open. Jaime sagged in relief as Khaji pointed out the silhouette of his sister, unharmed.

[friendrat]

Just as a general statement, just because an actor or voice actor does something wrong, it doesn't have to taint your view of that media. You can still love the story and be upset with the individual. We can separate the art from the artist.

[fandomsandfeminism]

😮‍💨 Went out to socialize with some coworkers yesterday. I mention that I'm bi, and then just a minute later that I have a husband.

Coworker (who is a lesbian, for the record, so what follows isnt straight ignorance) that I really do not know: oh, wait, you're married?

Me: ha, yes.

Them: And you're bi?

Me: ...yes?

Them: wow, so like, an open relationship?

Me: ....?????? No?

Them: really?.....so, you're married. In a monogamous relationship? And...you're still bi?

Me: ...................yes? I...still think women are attractive? Like my husband still thinks women are attractive? Getting married didn't change that.

Them: oh, wow, how interesting.

[fishareglorious]

i do a light chuckle once i remember hofmann and semmelweis are friends but then i remember semmelweis and marcus' suitcase interaction where they talk about her and i am once again inconsolable about this old woman's death

[bmpmp3]

finding out ur coworker is way older than you thought and having to very quickly reorient how you talk to them

[menlove]

I've been thinking a lot abt the ways in which society doesn't prepare people for parenthood lately

mostly bc I am 24 and my dad was 21 when I was born and my mom was 25 so I am right in that age range and I cannot stop thinking about how young they were, especially my father. because it is absolutely no excuse but I can't help thinking about what it would be like to have a 3 year old right now and how hard it would be. and I've gone through more therapy than he ever did and done so much more self reflection than him.

and I'm really very glad our generation is having less children and having them when they're older and like I said it's no excuse but... I can't help but feel sad for the ways society fucks over young parents and their children

no one ever taught my father how to be a parent and the world pushed him to be one when he was still too young to know who he was or how to Be a person. my mother was barely 18 when she had my oldest sister. she was still a child herself and didn't know what being an adult was, let alone how to be a mother...

like I keep thinking about how some of my most Traumatic memories of my father would have only happened when he was 29-31 and that's the age of my friends. that's almost my age. and none of us know ourselves at all, let alone how on earth to have been raising a family

I don't think that people shouldn't have kids and I think young parents can be really great but... idk. sometimes I remember that our parents just felt like children playing house. and my heart hurts a bit for the little girl and little boy that still existed and got eaten up by traumatized, scared, and selfish people

[agirlinthegalaxy]

It's been rolling around in my brain the last few days for some reason, but I still hate the family backstory reveals for Sophie and Eliot. I've seen some of the meta for it, but quite frankly, it still makes no sense. If it had been something actually thought of and intentional in the original, I think it could have been so fascinating. I mean, Sophie's willing abandonment of Astrid to contrast with Nate's loss of Sam or Eliot's adoption in contrast with Hardison's and Parker's? Could have been excellent! But they came out of nowhere in Redemption and don't work with these characters.

Sophie was still actively using the fucking alias that she met Astrid under! She met with someone from her past on the show! Like. Quite frankly, that one is unequivocally bullshit that they made up and threw in and pretended could fit with the established canon. (And I'm sorry, but the idea of Sophie abandoning Astrid and never telling Nate about her just... So much of Nate's trauma was rooted in the loss of Sam, and I think that introducing this element after he's gone and unable to respond to it taints Sophie and Nate's relationship in a way bc I'm not exactly sure how Nate would've responded to learning about this but I think that it's something he'd have needed to know. I don't know how to fully express my thoughts on that but yeah.)

As for Eliot, I don't like the adoption aspect literally at all. The way that he would interact with his family and the memory of his family would be different, and I think that it's flat out ridiculous to think that he'd have never mentioned it to the team in the original show, especially when dealing with the kid cases. (I also dislike the biracial adoption as its own element because if Eliot was actually raised by Black parents in the... idk what 80s/90s? That just. doesn't feel congruent with how they write Eliot interacting with PoC, not necessarily in a bad way, but babe, he's written like a white southern man raised in a specific kind of culture that does not jell with that. It also makes Eliot look... really bad that he was apparently raised with the knowledge of how fucked up the military was and his parents' history and made the choices that he did.) Like the show may not have explicitly stated it but the implication of that relationship was vastly fucking different throughout the original show.

Just. These were not backstories that were congruent with their depiction and characters in the original show, and they're also just moves that I don't particularly like or find interesting directions for those characters. There's also something to be said about how it was apparently unacceptable for a woman to not have kids or someone not reconciling with their biological family when that was something that the original show handled a lot better. Out of all the directions to take Sophie and Eliot's stories, that's just not really one that I think was a good idea.

[pynkhues]

I'm really sorry you and your sister are dealing with that

(no pressure to publish this, not that there should ever be pressure to publish an ask if you don't want to, of course, but just wanted to say I hope you're doing okay)

Ah, thank you, anon, it's okay. It's been a while now (court moves slooow), but we're getting hopefully close to the end. She filed in Family Court December 2022, and we've had about five interim hearings with final trial (finally) scheduled over four days next month, so fingers crossed! But yeah, it's been A Time. He's financially and emotionally abusive against my sister, and both those things as well as medically negligent against their children (who are only six and eight and both have special needs), so it's been....rough. To say the least.

But on a lighter note, have one of my new favourite photos I took of my nephews at the jellyfish enclosure at the aquarium last month!

[tpup]

20 is such a baby to me and idk if that's fair or just me projecting bc who I was at 20 seems sooo far away

[luminarai]

You know when you read a piece of fiction - book, short story, fanfic, what have you - and there’s just one tiny detail that just takes you completely out of the story?

I just read a passage in a piece of original fiction where the main character hugs a friend and tells us she smells like the ‘delicate rose and jasmine of her familiar Chanel No 5’ and my brain just screeched to a halt. Tell me you googled ‘famous fancy perfume’ and picked the first two scent notes you saw without telling me. Many things can be said about that particular fragrance I don’t think anybody with a working nose would describe it as ‘delicate florals’.