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welldonebeca · 2 years

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Miss, PhD (IX)

WC: 1k words Warnings: Fluff. Steve being a dumbass. Slow burn.

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Masterlist

Steve took your gift to class every single after that, waiting for you to do your regular route and walk past his class, just like you did every day, so that he could give it to you.

He didn’t, however.

You didn’t show up to campus - or at least didn’t walk about his side of it - for a whole week, which made Steve grow more anxious than he was willing to admit.

Had he upset you or made you uncomfortable in any way?

Finally, on his seventh day of waiting - minus the weekend, though he had spent all of it thinking and rethinking everything he might have done - he was so distracted he could barely concentrate on teaching his own class, which prompted him into just finishing it early and leaving everyone in the art gallery to go find you.

Where was your building? He didn’t know. Years and years of teaching in this university, and he never even thought about where the non-artistic things were in the campus. So, as soon as his feet got to the bottom of the stairs, he was looking for the Stanford map to figure out where to go. To his major luck, there was no building for mechanical engineering. He could find a building for physics & astrophysics, for applied sciences, bioengineering and an engineering centre.

Everything was in the same area, of course, in the same street and general quadrant, so Steve decided to try the Huang Engineering Center. If he was wrong, then he would at least find someone who could point his way.

He didn’t know what to expect as he climbed the stairs, but it was strange to just walk in there without a reason to do so, and he had to remind himself that he was a professor in that university and not just someone who walked into it.

“Excuse me,” he rushed to a professor, a woman in her forties, leaving the classroom. “Can you help me? I’m looking for a student.”

The red-headed woman looked at him up and down, not looking very convinced.

“A student?” she asked.

Steve felt himself flushing, hot on the cheeks and pretty sure he was blushing deeply.

“A PhD student,” he added quickly, squeezing the strap of his backpack. “In the mechanical department.”

The woman relaxed, and shifted on his feet, a little self-conscious.

“Mechanical Engineering is in the Packard,” she pointed behind herself, and Steve glanced into the room to see a building from the window. “It’s across the street from the Applied Sciences, but you’ll need to ask around for the student when you get there.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, stepping back, but stopped himself and turned to her again. “And I’m a professor here. I teach art. I’m not an invader.”

She nodded, unimpressed.

“Alright.”

“And the student is age appropriate,” he added.

Gosh, why was he blushing?

The redhead professor shrugged.

“All PhDs are,” she remarked. “It takes a lot of time to get there, you’re usually a grown adult by them.”

Steve confirmed, nodding insistently, not done explaining himself.

“I’m not in an inappropriate relationship with them,” he said quickly. “We are just good friends.”

He would hate to give off the wrong impression. You were in your mid-twenties, and even if you weren’t, what was wrong with being friends with you?

She shrugged again.

“No one is saying you are.”

The two of them fell into silence and Steve cleared his throat, stepping away when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’ll go now,” he mumbled, walking away from her.

He rushed out of the building and ran through the green field before crossing the street again, checking the name of the building he was supposed to be in before entering it, looking around, hoping he would catch sight of you and not have to ask around and embarrass himself more.

He was surprised when his eyes landed on Bruce, who was talking to a student a few steps away from a lab door, and stepped closer to him when his friend noticed him, and waited until Banner had wrapped it up before moving to his side.

“Hey,” he touched his back. “You’re out of your zone.”

Steve blushed, holding the strap of his bag with much more strength now.

“I’m… uh…” he looked for words. “I’m looking for a friend.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows, looking confused.

“You have friends in this department?” he asked.

“I got you,” he shrugged.

His friend chuckled.

“Well, then you are in the wrong building,” he remarked. “Because my office and classroom is in the bioengineer building, not this one.”

He looked away, and Bruce sounded very amused when he spoke again.

“Does your friend happen to be doctor Stark?” he asked.

Steve scoffed.

“Maybe,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Yes.”

His friend chuckled once more.

“It’s the third lab on the right in this direction,” he pointed forward. “I would wear PPE if I were you. She probably has some extra.”

He agreed with another nod, and Bruce shook his head.

“You know, she asked me about you,” he remarked.

Steve perked up at the comment. He didn’t know you were that interested in him.

“Really?’ he asked. “What did she say?”

Bruce shrugged.

“She asked me how old you were and how long we’ve been friends,” he took off his protective glasses, replacing them with his normal ones. “And if you were nice when you weren’t grumpy.”

Steve was surprised, and a little ashamed of himself - he really did not try to come off as grumpy to you. He was just… well, yes, a little grumpy.

“And what did you say?”

“That you were a nice guy,” he shrugged. “Not always grumpy, and 33.”

He nodded along. Steve wasn’t much older than you, just some months over nine years - he was turning 34 in July.

It wasn’t a big age gap between… friends.

“I’ll go now,” Bruce rested a hand on his shoulder. “Have fun with your friend.”

Steve just smiled a bit, walking in the direction of the lab, and cleared his throat as he stopped by the door, relaxing when he saw you from the little glass window, leaning over the counter with protective glasses and a lab coat, looking a little frustrated, and pulled his backpack to his front, looking for the wrapped gift and trying to smooth the green paper, all crumped after spending days hidden along with his things.

Finally, he stood straighter and knocked on the door.

. . .

"Miss, PhD" was posted on my Patreon back on January! To read the full story before anyone else and have early access to all of my works, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month!

. . .

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Miss PhD: @cosmic-darikano

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safereturndoubtful · 8 months

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Krn, Triglav National Park - Friday 22nd September

We nudged on a bit up the valley to Radstadt and the wide Enns river valley that gives the area such high quality dairy farming. There was rain coming today so I was keen to get out before midday, when it was forecast to set in. It was the sort of place that a few weeks ago would have been busy with tourists, but today, on a damp and cloudy morning it was a delight.

The driving was much more interesting now, traversing the Alps with the assistance of the Tauern Road Tunnel. At Villach it was a departure from the motorways that I have, in effect, been on since Newcastle. There’s 10 kilometres of the northeast corner of Italy then up over the Predil Pass once in Slovenia. By now the rain had set in, heavy and thundery. Though it made for slower going on the roads it kept a lot of traffic off them.

I was in Slovenia in early Spring last year, so had intentionally come a different way. I had been in the Triglav National Park in the east, and from Kranjska Gora south over the spectacular Vršič Pass.

My route crossed with that at Kobarid. A year ago I went west into Italy, today I would my way up the hill to Krn, in the southwest of the National Park. It was challenging driving on a very steep road with hairpins, and now in torrential rain with thunder and lightning. In Kobarid and around the valley there was some flash flooding and roads closed.

I just about managed it, and arrived at the campsite, which is in the shadow of Krn mountain, at 2244 metres, one of the most imposing mountains in the massif. Not that it was visible today..

Krn is a tiny little Slovenian village, up at 970 metres asl, and a perfect base for hiking in the Park. I will be here for a few days.

There was one other van at the site. With most of the fields under water I had lunch before proceeding. A Belgian guy arrived a little later in a Sprinter self-build and we surveyed the fields together. The higher part was inaccessible, but we found excellent places a little lower down.

The rain is in for the day, extremely heavy with thunder, but the occasional break, just enough to get some exercise with Roja before settling in for the rugby.

It’s Chile - England tomorrow, a special day for me with so many old boys involved. Actually Chile have a few injury concerns and have rested a few players who would normally start. 9 of my old boys started against Samoa, and one was on the bench. Tomorrow, 4 will start, and 4 on the bench. In the week, the captain, Martin Sigren, who I am in touch with quite a bit, told the Times “I said to England’s players I am coming for them”, some of the article is below, as it’s paywalled for most I think.. I just hope they put up a good show..

Several podcasts got me through those hours of driving. The one I want to shout about though is Bob Dylan Album by Album, and specifically season 1, the six episodes on Blood on the Tracks. It is excellent.

I also really enjoyed Ade Edmondson on Desert Island Discs this morning, a show that usually disappoints. But today, unlike other episodes, the guest did a lot of talking..

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contextualstudiesblog · 2 years

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5/10/22

Keep walking intently

This week I went out a couple of times to get some fresh air, but today, I decided to spend some time with one of my friends. We went to the city centre and stayed at the library for a while to study.

I usually take the bus to reach my destination, but today I got off early because I wanted to take a stroll through the city centre. I prefer to walk there since the pavement is not covered in cement but instead there are cobblestones, which are more pleasant to the eye and to the feet. They are a nice touch Romans left us and not the only one. Therefore the city, especially its centre, has a Roman structure: the urban layout is defined by a junction of two main roads, the cardo and decumano maximus. This enables pedestrians to find the centre of the city quickly, and moreover if you are lost and start wandering you are very likely to find the main square, since all roads take you there. This fun fact always makes me chuckle a bit, and while I was thinking about it I noticed that I had arrived at the library, but my friend was not there so I waited for her. I decided to take a seat on the stairs of the church, which faces the library, and suddenly their location seemed inappropriate.

I find it weird how the library, a place where you go to get answers and broaden your knowledge, is in front of the church, where believers are supposed to pray to a deity whose existence they cannot prove. The tangible meets the intangible, not only in a metaphorical perspective but also in a material one. Books, especially essays, are the outcome of much research and they explain a topic logically, whereas in the church you are guided by the words of a priest guided by faith. I felt I was going overboard with my reflections since they are a result of my atheism, and I was being impartial. So I backtracked and I realised that actually they are similar even though different. Both buildings offer answers to their visitors, some of them rely on logic and experimentation, others on spirituality. At the same time, believers also depend on a book, which has been proved wrong many times, which means that sometimes research can fail. While I was lost in my thoughts my friend arrived and we entered the library turning away from the church.

Later in the afternoon we parted ways, it was chilly outside but I decided to return home on foot. After some time I found myself taking a route I am used to crossing these days, and I ended up in front of the hospital. The building is immense and I am in awe whenever I visit it. I stopped for a moment and started observing it. I didn’t have an appointment, but the contrast between the huge hospital tower and the open fields in front of it overwhelmed me. It wasn't the first time I came by, but today it felt like I was seeing a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean.

That made me think about the inside of the hospital and about its architecture. The building was built a few years ago and it is rather new, in fact it was not only built to be efficient but also comfortable and pleasant to the patient. The windows are very large and high, so that light can enter, but not too strongly, the walls are painted in a light warm colour and each branch has its own. In a whole the architecture gave to the hospital a homely and cozy feeling.

Nevertheless I felt a chill going down my spine, it was getting colder, so I rushed back to the warmth of my home.

As Guy Debord said, Aller à la dérive, “drift away'' does not mean going on a walk or strolling thoughtless, it’s more deep than that.

Actually I felt that by walking today I have lived through the geography of the city, I have overcome my destination and started thinking and behaving on behalf of what I was seeing. The landscape I encountered shaped my reflections and spoke to me intimately, therefore I found Marx’s quotation, in Guy Debord’s essay, very pertinent. I focused every aspect of the buildings I saw on my own persona and how I relate to them.

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queer-charming · 2 years

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1000 Words - Chuuya X F!Reader - Part 1 (SFW)

Rating: SFW

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Some language, that's about it for this chapter. NSFW in future chapters

Synopsis: You've worked with the Port Mafia for roughly a year, working in the records department and going over mission reports. One operative you've found yourself particularly enjoying reading the reports of was one Nakahara Chuuya. You've recently found yourself in direct communication with him, you shouldn't feel anything about it, but the butterflies in your stomach wont go away... AKA I suck at summaries, it makes more sense if you read it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paperwork made your mind numb. You were pretty sure you’d read the same line, on the same paper, no fewer that 15 times and you were starting to get a migraine. You didn’t pull your eyes up from the papers until you saw a cup of coffee placed on the desk next to you, craning your head up to meet the eyes… or eye, of Kouyou. She gave you an understanding smile.

“Thought you could use a pick me up.” She said as she gazed down at the papers on your desk. “I know it’s mind numbing, but it’s important.” You knew she was right, but every single paper in front of you was almost identical to the last. Your job at this moment in time was to go over the reports from mafia operatives, they were recounts of missions, reports on suspicious activity and running theories. However, almost every single one of them was identical, went in, killed people, got out. It didn’t help that they were all written painfully plainly too; you couldn’t even tell who was writing which report with how dull and uniform they all were. Well, all except one particular one. You did typically enjoy reading the reports of one Nakahara Chuuya, who seemed to be the only operative actually capable of writing a report that didn’t make you want to tear your hair out and claw out your eyes with a spoon.

You only had to go through these reports once a month, but that week of the month was always full of headaches and excessive amounts of caffein, as the job typically kept you up into the early hours of the morning. You thanked Kouyou for the coffee and tried your hardest to get back to work. It was going to be a long night, you could tell.

Your job kept you pretty isolated, even when you weren’t going through reports, the majority of the time, you could do your job from home. Your usual day to day tasks were to map out routes for future ops, ensure shipments went smoothly, organize bribes (When they were necessary) and handle recruitment, rarely did your job require you to be out in the field, or even in the office, with the exception of the one week a month when you had to go through reports. Overall, you liked your job, it kept you entertained for the most part and the pay was significantly better than you could get doing something outside of the Port Mafia.

Since you were pretty isolated the majority of the time, you’d gotten to know most Port Mafia operatives through their writing, whether they wrote concisely or were all over the place, whether they used correct punctuation or just submitted you a large block of text (Tachihara, the asshole) and how animatedly they wrote, which for about 99% of the staff, was not very animatedly at all. Again, reading reports made you want to toss your brain out a window on the best of days. Chuuya fell firmly within that 1%; his reports were not only well written, but they were also interesting, they actually had some semblance of personality. It took you a long time to be able to recognize mafia operatives by their writing, except for Chuuya, you learned the recognize him almost immediately, and his reports were the only ones you actively looked forward to. You’d learned a great deal about Chuuya over the course of your roughly a year with the Port Mafia, you learned he hated some guy named Dazai, you learned he smoked way too much and you learned that he had a genuine affection for his team; of course, you’d never even met the man so it’s true he could still be huge asshole, but you were giving him the benefit of the doubt.

You finished with the report that had taken you the better part of 45 minutes when it really should have taken you 10, but hey, you still felt a sense of satisfaction as you wrote out your response. Part of this job, and the thing that made it the most tedious, was the fact that many times, operatives tended to be vague in their reports or didn’t include an important part of information that you really needed in order to log it properly, so you had to write back to them, ask them for that information or ask for clarification and then wait while they formulated their response. It’s what made the task last an entire week instead of just a few days. It was also the fact that you had to write everything by hand. Normally you’d prefer to use a computer, send an email or something, you were sure it would make the process faster too, but Mori was absolutely unmovable that everything that was sent between you and Port Mafia operatives had to be written by hand, as it’s much more difficult to intercept a physical letter than it is to hack into an email. You knew he was right, but you were really starting to get tired of the cramps in your hand.

You sighed as you closed the envelope, addressed it to the appropriate operative and placed on your stack of outgoing letters. You looked at your remaining stack of reports. You were going to be here until midnight, at the least, you were going to need a lot more coffee. Looking down at your new report, you recognized the vernacular and handwriting almost immediately, and found an easy smile slip onto your face. This was one of Chuuya’s reports, you didn’t even have to look at the name. You took a sip of your coffee, leaning back in your chair as you started reading.

“Mission number 4851 was successful. Numbers of operatives lost during conflict – 6. My team and I entered at the northwest entrance, from previous correspondence with one of our contacts, we were made aware the target would be closer to the South entrance. Target name – Kirito Tachibana – Identification number – 25648. Tachibana was a weapons smuggler, in fact I’d worked with him a few times over the years, before he went dark anyway. Approximately 4 years ago, Tachibana began selling weapons to a rival mafia group in Europe, he went dark, cut off all contact with The Port Mafia and lost us a metric shit ton of money.”

You chuckled at the wording. Chuuya was the only one who didn’t write in a constant crisp professional manner and it never failed to grab your attention. You’d found yourself developing a certain affection for his rough language.

“For the past 4 years he’d managed to avoid retribution from The Port Mafia, protected by his foreign friends. However, with the help of a confidential leak – identification number 8685 – I was able to identify that Tachibana would be attending a gallery, a mere 50 yards from a Port Mafia hub spot (Fucking idiot).

I approached with a team of approx. 25 operatives, all armed to the teeth and 15 of which being ability users. At approx.. 10:36pm we open fired on the gallery, hostiles eliminated – 16. Tachibana was successfully apprehended and transferred to a Rank 5 Port Mafia safe house, where his interrogation is taking place. Remaining team member reports to follow.

-Port Mafia Executive,

Nakahara Chuuya”

You took a moment to stare at the way he signed his name, the delicacy of the strokes of the pen, the pressure used to strike the ink onto the paper. You wondered who this Nakahara Chuuya was, what did he look like? What did he sound like? Would he find you as endlessly entertaining as you found him?

“Short and to the point.” Kouyou’s voice over your shoulder nearly made you jump out of your skin. “Sounds like Chuuya.” You turned to look at the woman behind you. She held a cup of coffee in one hand as she read Chuuya’s report. “Mafia group in Europe? Which one?” Kouyou put a hand on your shoulder before taking her leave. “Write him back, ask for clarification on which group.” She said as she exited the room again.

Write him? Like write a letter for Chuuya? It was at this moment that, in all the time you’ve been doing this job, off all of the letters you’ve had to write to ask for clarification or missing details, you’ve never once had to write one to Chuuya, he’s just always been so good at getting you all of the details. But the idea of writing to him, of making him take the time out of his day to add more information, it made you nervous. Not because you thought he’d be upset, but because it would technically be your first time speaking to him. Technically, he’s spoken to you multiple times, in his reports that is, but you’ve never responded. What were you even supposed to say? Did you word it the same way you did other correspondences? Would you be more formal or more casual, considering Chuuya tended to write to you in a more casual tone.

You stared at the blank piece of paper for what seemed like hours, your hand just barely hovering over it, trying to think of how to start this particular letter. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for just a moment before you let your pen connect to the paper.

“Executive Nakahara,

This is (y/n) located in records. I’ve finished going over your report of your recent operation – mission number 4851 – and I am writing in regard to gaining further clarification on the particular European Mafia branch you mentioned. Please respond at your earliest convenience. Thank you.

-Port Mafia Department of Records”

You stared down at your words for a few minutes. Was it too short? Too formal? Not formal enough? Was it really important that your name was in there? You were tempted to re write it and omit your name, but you stopped yourself. A part of you wanted Chuuya to know who you were. Wanted him to know the name of the person he was writing his reports to. You put your pen down on the table before you could think about it anymore. This would be fine. It got your point across, and it was short and to the point. It’s fine.

You repeated this to yourself as you folded the letter up, placing it neatly inside an envelope, which you sealed and neatly penned Chuuya’s name onto the front, placing it in your outgoing letters pile and trying your hardest not to overthink about it while you attempted to move onto the next report. It was not an easy task.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up with a splitting headache. 3 hours of sleep was not doing much for you right now. It took a considerable amount of time before you mustered up the motivation to get out of your warm bed and step out into Yokohama’s chilly autumn air. You were not looking forward to today, it was day 3 of your 7-day report season and you already felt like your head was going to explode. You hadn’t even made it to the office yet! You pulled your coat closer to your body as you strolled through the streets, it was quiet today, the docks were calm and all in all, it was pretty nice. You thought about possibly opening the window to your office, letting in some of this cool fresh air while you worked, the thought made the idea of going back to reading reports a little more tolerable.

The office was quiet too, no panicked team send outs, the front desk was unhurried and friendly as you walked past the front doors, the elevator wasn’t crowded. All in all, it was shaping out to be a decently nice day… until you go to your office and saw the stack of reports along with the stack of newly delivered response letters from all of the operatives you’d had to communicate with for further information. Your headache was back. A thought popped into your head though.

There was no way Chuuya would have already responded right? You had just sent the letter to him last night. Even so, you still found yourself sifting through the stack of envelopes, looking for the handwriting you new so well. You were nearing the end and you were beginning to lose hope, maybe you were right, and he hadn’t had a chance to respond yet, but then your eyes landed on it. The very same handwriting you’d practically memorized printed on the front of an envelope. “Records”it read. You paused before you picked it up. Would he be annoyed that you asked for further information? Surely not, he’s an executive, he of all people knows how important it is to get all of the information. Why were you even concerned in the first place? Your job was to collate information, not cater to Port Mafia executives you’ve never met. You didn’t work for Chuuya, you worked for Mori and Kouyou, but still, you couldn’t help the slight tremble in your fingers as you opened the letter.

“Miss (y/n),

Thank you for bringing this lapse in information to my attention. The particular branch I mentioned in my initial report would be the Polish branch. Feel free to contact me for any further correspondence, office number 9-B, my door is always open.

-Port Mafia Executive

Nakahara Chuuya”

You kicked yourself for the flutter of butterflies in your stomach at Chuuya addressing you by name. HE IS DOING HIS JOB! You kept repeating to yourself. You took a deep breath before setting the letter down and correcting your records to include the specified branch before your eyes returned to the large stack of letters and reports.

It was going to be a long day.

#Chuuya x reader #Bungou stray dogs #Bungou stray dogs chuuya #Chuuya nakahara #BSD x reader #BSD chuuya #BSD

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kikis-writing-world · 3 years

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Pregnancy Announcement HCs

Drabbles under the cut for how Pedro boys would react to your pregnancy, and how you’d share the news. Trigger/content warnings: Pregnancy (both planned and surprise,) mention of abortions as an option, talk of contraception, smut (including cum play, cock warming,) mentions of PTSD and past drug addiction, mentions of dead former partners, blood, periods, doctors/obgyns, single parent/father not wanting to actively participate. If I missed anything, please let me know! Lack of editing as usual...

Pics are for inspiration, not always an exact replica. All take place in a sort of modern AU where there might be a social media to post pictures to.

Dave York

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Dave already has a family and he made it very clear that he wasn’t leaving them for you. When you found out, you were terrified he would demand you terminate the pregnancy - heck, you considered it briefly yourself. You thought long and hard about your options even before telling Dave.

His first reaction was about as bad as it could get: he said nothing, got up and left. He returned a few hours later when you had already cried yourself hoarse. He held you in his arms as he spoke clearly and carefully. He asked if you wanted to keep the baby, and when he said yes he almost seemed torn. You don’t know if it was wishful thinking that he was excited to have another child, but you swore you saw a sparkle in his eye… of course, it wasn’t that simple.

He told you it wouldn’t be easy for you since he would never be with you like that - you were just the nanny he was fucking. If you wanted to go it alone, he would help financially and support you as much as he could, but he couldn’t claim the baby as his and risk losing his daughters.

You were going to have to go the single mother route, and if anyone asked you’d have to either say it was a fling or the father wasn’t interested in being in the picture.

Din Djarin

In all honesty, you were surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Din loved to cum inside of you. He’d lay with you, his softening cock still inside you to make sure nothing slipped out. When he finally did, he’d watch with amazement as your body twitched as it adjusted to emptiness. Gently, he’d push any dripping cum back into your fluttering hole. His deep, gruff voice was laced with exhaustion and lust as he would talk about filling your pretty pussy, not wasting a drop…

When you started getting ill, you at first thought it was just a passing bug. It was inevitable with all the travel that you would fall under the weather. Two weeks into the churning stomach, you realized you missed a period.

When you brought it up to Din, he changed all travel plans - the bounties could wait, he had to get you to the nearest clinic ASAP. The test coming back positive had him glowing with pride. It was hard to convince him to wait until further along to announce the pregnancy, knowing anything could happen in these early stages. As soon as you gave him the all-clear, he did everything but shout it from the rooftops. By the time the picture was posted -your headgear, his helmet, and a tiny helmet between - everyone already knew anyway.

Ezra

It was a surprise, but not a shock. You and Ezra, although you tried to be safe, definitely had a habit of being caught up in the moment and forgetting certain precautions. A walk through the forest that led to a beautiful field of flowers, a picnic on a moonlit beach - there were times Ezra was so overwhelmed by your beauty and the beauty around him that he just got swept up. It was hard not to get swept up with him.

He was ecstatic when you told him you thought you might be pregnant. He could hardly wait for you to take a test. His knee bounced anxiously as you waited the 2 minutes, holding your hand tightly in his. The positive result brought tears to his eyes as he embraced you close but gently, already scared of hurting the baby. He saw it as nothing less than a blessing. He dropped to his knees as soon as he let you go, already talking to the bundle of cells, calling them his little shining star. The nickname sticks throughout the pregnancy, leading to a beautiful space-themed nursery and all events leading up to the birth, including the announcement.

Frankie Morales

You’re absolutely terrified to tell Frankie. You knew he wanted to be a father, but the two of you had talked so much about the fears you shared about being parents. Mental health, substance abuse, financial stability - it made the concept of “starting a family” overwhelming.

Your stomach rolled the whole time you waited for him to get home from work, little plastic test taunting you from the table. What if it set him off? He’d been sober for years, but you knew every day was a new battle. You were so consumed by your own thoughts, playing out how he might react in your head, that you didn’t even hear him come in.

“Are you…” He half-asked the question, eyes darting between you and the test. You couldn’t find your voice, only nod. The facial change in him was immediate: broad smile and wonder in his eyes as he laughed, scooping you into his arms. You clung to him just as tightly as he started laughing, too much joy coursing through him. As he started crying “holy shit, I’m going to be a papa,” how could you have possibly doubted he’d be anything but ecstatic?

You each tell your closest friends and your families, but you manage to keep it under wraps for the first months until posting your announcement and shocking everyone. Toes in the sand at the beach of your favorite camping spot, imagining the sandcastles and other games you’d be playing in the near future - it was everything you could ever want.

Jack Daniels

The two of you were religiously careful. You had talked about a family, but had agreed that until Jack was ready - which may or may not happen - you were going to prevent it. But life finds a way…

You find out much later than you would have liked - nearly 3 months in, you missed the whole first trimester. Looking back, there were obvious signs of pregnancy but you just didn’t think it was possible. You and Jack find out together at a doctor’s appointment. You leave the office shell shocked with a stack of pamphlets to consider your options and an appointment for next week. When you get home, Jack doesn’t even talk about it. You try to bring it up a few hours later, but he ignores you.

Finally, 3 days later, you can’t take it anymore. You feel like you’re in this completely alone at this point as you yell at him “ignoring it won’t make it go away!” Jack breaks down and tells you he’s so damn scared. He cries in a way you’ve never seen him cry, talking about how he wants a family with you but he can’t go through that kind of loss a second time. It nearly killed him the first time and he wouldn’t be able to handle it again. You talk long into the night about all of it - both of your fears, worries, dreams, thoughts - nothing is off limits as you talk about all the possibilities lying in front of you. Even through the fear and trauma, one thing is clear: you both want this.

It’s not easy, but your doctor helps relieve some worries. She speaks frankly to you about the development of the baby along the way and suggests a therapist that might be able to help, as well as classes you can take on parenting. It doesn’t take long for the worried “what ifs” to be paired with excited “whens.”

Javier Peña

When Javier Peña walked into your small town police station, you thought you were dreaming. Sent to help with a case that your rural forces didn’t have the experience to handle, he was only supposed to be in town as long as the case took. You never imagined you, just a lowly admin, would catch his eye.

It didn’t take long for you to tumble into the bed of his hotel room. And your bed at home. And your car. And his truck. And just about any possible surface in between. What you thought was a one night stand turned to three, then four, and soon into a full fledged fling. You knew the expiry date hanging above your heads, so you kept your feelings for the charming (if a little gruff around the edges) agent locked deep away. The case took about two months, and then he was gone just as suddenly as he arrived.

A month after his departure, when you found out you were pregnant, you didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t even left you his number, so you were sure he had no plans to see you ever again. Should you track him down and let him know, or just carry on with this on your own? You spent night after night talking to the growing baby, asking what you should do.

Javier ended up answering the question for you, when he unexpectedly walked into the station once more. He asked to speak with you privately before admitting he had missed you. He told you about trying to forget you, only to spend most of his evenings telling his father about you. Eventually you cut him off with a kiss, telling him you’re glad he came back. You take his hand, placing it on your stomach when you tell him you had been thinking about him too.

Javi helps you secure a transfer to Laredo and even though you technically have your own place, you’re spending practically every night with him anyway. If anyone wondered why the move, well the recognizable mustache on your announcement answered their questions.

Marcus Moreno

Marcus doesn’t believe you the first time you tell him “I think I’m pregnant.” He remembers his wife’s pregnancy with Missy, and you haven’t shown any of those signs. You roll your eyes and tell him that every woman and every pregnancy is different, but he still doesn't believe you. It isn’t until he’s staring down at three tests, all positive, that it clicks in his head he’s having a second child.

He’s excited, but he admits he’s scared. He’s older now, what if he can’t keep up with a baby? More than that, he’s worried about Missy.

You both know you don’t want Missy to feel left out or replaced by a new sibling. The two of you have a good relationship, but of course there were speed bumps to get there. She understood you weren’t trying to replace her mother. Would she be as understanding, knowing that you weren’t trying to replace her?

You and Marcus sit her down and tell her together. Before you can even start on your planned spiel about how the family is growing and no one is getting replaced, she is talking a mile a minute about having a little sister. You and Marcus share a relieved breath and lock eyes before you have to remind her that it might be a little brother. This seems to dampen her mood a little bit, but overall she’s still excited… even if she is adamant she isn’t touching any stinky diapers.

Another way you make sure to include her, is how you announce it to your friends and family. You’re sure, with Marcus’ status, it will get out to the public eventually, but you start by sending close friends and family a picture of Missy wearing a shirt calling her a “Big Sister.” She loves the photoshoot, making all kinds of faces as you snap away on your phone. Happy, sad, pouting, crazy… they all go in the baby book.

Marcus Pike

It was only a few months after your wedding that you and Marcus were ready to start a family. You didn’t “start trying” as much as you “stopped preventing.” There were a few false starts when your period would be late or the time you caught the stomach flu, but a few weeks short of your first wedding anniversary, you were pregnant.

Marcus spent many nights laying next to you in bed, hand on your stomach as he just stared at you - to the point where you actually started to get annoyed by it. He was amazed at your body changing, at the growing child inside of you, that he was finally getting the “happy ever after” he’d been looking for all his life.

The announcement was hilarious to shoot. Marcus and you were covered in paint splotches, laughing with love shining in your eyes. You held a palette Marcus knelt in front of you with a paintbrush, painting “Masterpiece coming soon” on your stomach where the bump had just started showing with the right angle.

Max Phillips

Max knew before you did, even if he didn’t put it all together. He started complaining that you tasted different, smelled different. Not just your blood, but as he spent hours trapped between your thighs. His keen senses had him identifying a change, but neither of you knew what change it was. After all, as far as you knew, a vampire couldn’t get a human pregnant.

Max whined when your period was late - he loved your time of the month. “Best of both worlds” he would say as he feasted on you for as long as you could stand it. It had happened before, your period being late due to stress or illness, but this time it wasn’t just a day or two. A few weeks later nothing had happened. A quick trip to your gynecologist confirmed it.

“I thought you said there was no way you could be pregnant,” she teased as she showed you the results.

Max was shocked, scared, and then proud as a pig in shit. He was terrified to be a father, but he hid that behind a swagger and a “yeah, I knocked her up. Not even death can stop these swimmers.”

Even if you did try to hide it for much longer, the vampires he worked with could smell the change in you too. Put together with Max’s protectiveness over you being ramped up even more than it had been… it was easy to figure out.

You took the picture as a joke - it was supposed to be a compromise that if you took this photo, he’d take the cheesy ones you wanted - but damn if it wasn’t your favorite of the bunch.

Maxwell Lord

You know that Maxwell had a bad history with family. First his parents weren’t as supportive as they could have been, and then his ex-wife had all but used Alistair against him anytime she could. You knew he may be nervous when you shared the news, but you didn’t expect him to turn into Maxwell Lord, television personality instead of your Max.

The first question out of his mouth was “is it mine?” Which broke your heart and set a fire in your gut. You threw anything you could get your hands on at him screaming at him for accusing you of cheating on him. You had just started to calm down when he mentioned lawyers and set you off again. You knew his past, but you truly thought he loved you and that you were his future.

You left, booking yourself in at a hotel. You didn’t leave the room - not only had you not packed anything and knew the paparazzi would devour a picture of you looking so disheveled, but you just couldn’t find it in you to go anywhere. You stayed in the room, ordering room service, watching TV, and crying. In a fit of rage, you had thrown the bottles from the mini bar across the room, needing to channel your anger and knowing you couldn’t drink your sorrows away anyway.

He showed up a few days later, having followed the credit card charges to the hotel, looking remorseful. He apologized for the way he reacted, and you heard him out despite still being upset. There was a long talk in which you reminded him that you’re not his ex or his mother. You’re not trying to screw him over or get anything from him by having his child. It takes him a long time and a lot of groveling for you to truly forgive him, but you go back home that night.

A few months later, as the two of you take a picture on his yacht, both of your hands holding your growing bump, you can hardly tell the fight had happened at all.

Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand

Ellaria noticed before you did. A mother herself, she picked up on the glow in your skin, the change in your body, and the complaining about aches in your back or your breasts. When she pulled you aside and suggested you were pregnant, all you could do was blink. The three of you didn’t use protection with each other, only when others were invited into your bed. You’d never gone out of your way to prevent pregnancy, so while it shouldn’t have been shocking, it still caught you off guard. Ellaria brought you to her doctor, sitting with you while you found out for sure.

You were nothing but excited to share your news with Oberyn. You knew how he felt about you, about love and passion, about the children he already had. You had no doubt that he would love your child just as much as the rest of his daughters. The night you told him was spent making love while he waxed poetic about you, your body, your child... If you hadn’t already been pregnant, you’re sure you would have been at the end of the night.

With sand snakes spread across Dorne, you struggled for a way to tell them all. Sending letters didn’t seem to do the moment justice. This may be Oberyn’s 9th child, but it was your first and you wanted an extravagant way to share the news.

Ellaria helped you to plan gathering all the children together. It wasn’t easy, but a month and a half after finding out, you had the whole, huge family together. You posed them all for a picture with you, Oberyn and Ellaria front and centre. You were handed a sign to hold for the picture - supposedly showing the family crest. However as soon as the picture was taken, you turned to show them.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @dihra-vesa @vonschweetz @insideafictionaluniverse @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @spideysimpossiblegirl @thottiewinemom @mrschiltoncat @anaaaispunk

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fireemblems24 · 3 years

Text

Post Grondor Field AM Analysis

I'm prefacing this by saying that I'm still not sure I can write a good analysis of this scene for two reasons:

1. I don't know what comes after, and

2. I'm very emotionally involved in what happened.

But I tried my best. One thing is for sure though, what happened in Grondor in AM was an incredibly significant turning point for AM and Dimitri and my thoughts and analysis on it will definitely expand as I keep writing about and playing the game.

Part of me is just so happy I got to see Dimitri's supports, have the inevitable turn around, and get to do things like tea and dinner time again that it's hard to be objective about this scene.

And by "this scene," I don't mean that actual fight at Grondor, but everything from Fleche's attack to Byleth's words in the rain later.

It wasn't all about Byleth . . .

Given how poignant Dimitri's character arc has been so far, I had a deep rooted fear player-pandering would ruin it. Byleth, as a concept, isn't bad, but too often the heaps of praise feel underserved and other things (like Claude's intelligence, Edelgard's relationships with everyone else) get ignored to make more room for player-pandering.

Thankfully this did not happen. Byleth, throughout the early chapters of AM's part 2, failed to reach Dimitri. And, honestly, seeing Byleth actually struggle for once has done wonders for how I view her character. Still, I worried that player-pandering-power, rather than something that felt earned, would cause the inevitable eye-opener for Dimitri.

But it wasn't just Byleth. Fleche's vengeance kicked everything off, what veered Dimitri away from his fate in other routes. He accepted his death at her hands, not bothering to defend himself. Rodrigue stepping in the way and his parting words forced Dimitri to confront things he'd ignored. Throughout AM so far, people have posed questions to Dimitri who refused to answer them because he didn't want to face what they asked. But Rodrigue dying for him, spending his final words telling Dimitri to live for himself - combined with Fleche's attack - forced Dimitri to confront things he avoided. It wasn't until after all of that when Byleth steps in.

And Byleth didn't "fix" him either. Dimitri's supports show a young man who's still very much struggling with his mental health, poor self-image, his previous actions, and wondering if he deserves not only to live for himself - but if he even deserves to live. Byleth didn't hand-wave Dimitri's problems away.

Everything about the scene is stronger because it didn't fall back on player-pandering, but more earned, realistic, and dramatic actions and consequences - including Byleth's involvement which felt far more earned than usual because of prior failure.

But I wish Dimitri's friends played a bigger role.

Not everything was perfect though. I wish we got a little more than we did from Dimitri's house mates - especially his childhood friends Sylvain, Ingrid, and extra special mention to Felix and especially, especially Dedue.

Throughout all of AM, none of the above mentioned characters feel utilized to their full potential. This isn't a problem exclusive to AM, and by all means it's far from the biggest offender, but given how close all the ties are in AM, it's felt when it's not there.

I still don't know what exactly I would've done with them. Maybe I'd need to make the game an actual novel to do it, and you can't forget how perma-death has historically held back games at times, limiting major moments to a select few "retreat" candidates.

Still, though, getting a bit more from Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, and Dedue would've made the scene even more powerful.

I actually really liked the scene in the rain.

I haven't made it a secret that I dislike Byleth. Or maybe disliked is more accurate. Lately I've been rethinking my stance on Byleth, in part because I've heard from people who like her or found ways to make her work and from my own thinking about the game while planning future write ups.

I don't think it's Byleth I really dislike, but the player-pandering. Separating the two isn't easy, but it's easier since I've starting coming around to seeing Byleth as her own character.

There's been a few moments that made me care for Byleth, and this scene in the rain was one of them. Because she didn't just fix everything. She tried and failed for months to reason with Dimitri, and despite everything she never gave up on him or failed to keep offering her hand.

I'm not going to lie. I got all the bubbly, heartwarming, heartbreaking feels the writers wanted me to in this scene. Seeing Byleth reach for something and fail, and then finally, finally get through was rewarding in a way many of Byleth's prior accomplishments aren't because this one felt earned. And by God did she earn it.

Some people will likely disagree with that last point, but I disagree with them. She asked Dimitri hard-hitting questions, forcing him to come to unpleasant conclusions rather than trying to force him into anything. She kept Dimitri from veering to far off course, even at expense to herself when she killed Randolph. She saved Dimitri from Fleche when he refused to save himself. She quietly supported him, coaxing out the good she knew was still there and refused to give up on.

I'd never in a million years say someone in real life should put up with Dimitri's toxic behavior and verbal abuse, even considering his extreme trauma and aggravated mental illness. But seeing someone fuck up so badly still get forgiven, still get supported, still struggle but honestly change for the good, still get loved, start to accept and forgive himself through the power of love and forgiveness from others is very powerful, especially since media so often downplays those "softer" things as weakness in comparison to the "badassery" of ambition and stoicism. Using Byleth, who previously had little experience with feelings, who was encouraged to experience them in healthy ways by Dimitri, return the favor isn't really the worst choice.

It's cliche, but cliches aren't always bad.

The mentor dies. Redemption in the rain. Revenge against the protagonist's actions opens their eyes. Etc . . . This scene was chuck full of cliches, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Tropes serve an important narrative purpose because a writer can rely on them to convey a message to the audience that either saves time or sets them up for something unexpected or even expected. Fire Emblem has always and will always be incredibly cliche and full of tropes. It loves tropes so much there's in-universe ones that make some unit or character discussions sound like a foreign language to people outside of or new to the fandom, talking about "Ests" and calling someone a "Camus."

What matters is if a story pulled something off well, not if it's terribly unique. A mentor dying is powerful because it forces the student to grow. Redemption in the rain is high symbolic of water washing things away + the somber atmosphere rain creates. Someone trying to get revenge against a character provides an eye-opening experience about the ripple effect of their actions. We see these things in fiction all the time because they work.

All the tropes worked like expected in this scene. Using images instead of cut scenes did make less of an impact, but more on that later.

Tl;dr: There's nothing unexpected or terribly unique about what happened. It was honestly painfully predictable, but that doesn't make it bad and is in a series that does this all of the time.

The voice acting carried because those images can't.

A major downside to this scene is that it used vague images instead of a cut scene. I get that budget and time were likely concerns, but many cut scenes from earlier in the game seem rather trivial. Did we really need that dance one? Really? I don't think so.

This was a hugely important, action heavy moment. Using one or two still images to convey everything that's happening and all those emotions, really makes it less than it could've been.

That said, the voice acting saves it. I've raved about how amazing Chris Hackeny is as Dimitri, so nothing new here. Rodrigue's and Fleche's VAs also did a fantastic job. No one oversold or undersold the emotions. Even without the cut scene, you felt what happened thanks to the skill of the actors. This scene would've been so much harder to engage with without them, if this was an older FE game where all you got was text. This is 100% one of the moments highly elevated by the decision to have a fully voiced game and choosing high caliber talent (let's not talk about Radiant Dawn's voice acting).

Questionable support timing.

One issue I had came right after the scene when I viewed Dimitri's supports. The nature of some - like his with Raphael and Alois - didn't quite line up with the character I saw in dialogue right after. I wish they staggered them a bit more or got picker about what you could get in part 1 or 2.

This isn't limited to Dimitri either. In the same support batch, I also got a Marianne B support where she still had no confidence or self-worth. And then like 10 minutes later I talk to her in the monastery and she mentions about how seeing all the death in Grondor made her value her life even more.

In the past, I've also received entirely valid opinions that Dorothea in part 2 is hard to understand because she's cherry and flirty in her supports, and morose and hates the war in her monastery stuff, making her seem inconsistent.

It's a bit jarring. It's not really an issue for characters who don't change much like Edelgard or Raphael, but even for characters with more subtle differences than Dimitri, Marianne, and Dorothea - like, say, Lorenz - you get a lot of weird stuff because of supports. I just think Dimitri's stands out because he's a main character with a really prominent, important turning point for his growth.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #azure moon #fe3h #fe16

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djarrex · 3 years

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Countermeasures || 1

Archives

Fives x ofc!reader

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Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of lust? is that a warning? otherwise, nothing yet ;)

chapter summary: Renna (you), an intern who spent the entirety of her internship thus far filing paperwork in the archives of Tipoca City’s medical wing, finally is able to work with a real patient - that patient just so happens to be Fives.

note: Renna will basically be taking the place of AZI-3 in the Conspiracy arc. A lot of the dialogue I wrote is from the episode, and of course I added more to dig deeper into Renna and Fives as characters. When this idea came in my head I was only planning on writing it as a oneshot. As I starting writing this, however, I realized there was so much more that could be done with it since this arc is both a good one and a sad one. If you’re ready to go on this journey with me, then keep going under the cut! <3 Also, I wanted to add that there will be POV changes in this chapter. I don’t know if I’ll stick with that going forward, but we’ll see.

* tbh special thanks to @bvcketfvcker for coming up with the series title and being da Best™

***

The archives of the medical wing in Tipoca City, the capital of the watery planet Kamino, were always so cold and lonely. Every single day of your internship thus far has included you being nearly drowned in paperwork, no real field experience to show for it.

You’ve been on Kamino for your medical internship for what, close to six months now? You were still stuck doing paperwork. Maybe at the six month mark you’d be moved up to sterilizing all the medical equipment, which would seem terrible to anyone else, but at least you’d be in proximity to anything remotely “medical”. You were longing to get your hands dirty, to start real field experience, to learn how to heal. You wanted to help people, to help anyone in need. You wanted to learn the practices for saving someone’s life. Everything you wanted, you could not get if you were stuck in the archives with paperwork as your only companion.

You decided within your first month that you would not let the paperwork and lack of real purpose get to you. So, you made your situation better by wearing - to the best of your ability - a positive attitude. On the day that marked the end of your first month here, the Kaminoans told you that music can be played in the archives as long as it’s not too loud, so you brought in a small radio the very next day. The start of your second month was a little better than the day before. You hummed to the music playing on the radio as you tried to make a game out of filing the paperwork. Turns out, not even a simple game could be made out of something so boring and tedious as filing paperwork.

You lost count of the days you’ve been in Tipoca City, within the archives shelled by the stilted dome structures, after your second month. Every day was exactly the same; you filed and shredded paperwork, organized reports, and finished filling out medical reports that the Kaminoan doctors didn't even want to bother with. Every day you woke up early, headed to the archives, and spent your entire day there in solitude until it was time to head back to your quarters for the night. Lunch was always dropped off to you by a couple of guards from the Kamino Security Team. The guards were always in full grey and white armor but you already knew what they looked like; they were clones, and you’ve seen their face in every file. They were handsome, sure, but there were literally hundreds of thousands of them out there.

You were pretty sure you were coming up on month six of your monotonous internship. Waking up and getting ready was a routine ingrained in your bones. You were taking the regular route to the archives from your quarters when you were stopped by a couple Kaminoan doctors on the way. To your surprise, they asked you to follow them, which you were hoping translated to you not having to work in the archives anymore. Maybe month six was the lucky number.

You walked behind the tall and slender creatures through unfamiliar halls. You had no idea where you were following them to, but anywhere was better than where you were originally heading.

They kept walking, with you in tow, when you passed by the only Jedi you’ve ever really spoken to - Master Shaak Ti, a calm and collected Togruta who was known to have a soft spot for the clones here on Kamino. The Jedi nodded in greeting to the Kaminoans in front of you, then over at you. With no words spoken, you were now following the Jedi through the halls, still unsure of the destination.

Just around the corner, you saw two very decorated troopers coming towards you. They donned blue and white armor with a ton of other accessories. As they got closer, the one trooper removed his helmet and carried it at his side. This trooper had the usual dark brown hair and kept the common clone cut style. The way this clone walked with his helmet pressed to his hip had awoken something in you, though you couldn't put your finger on exactly what that something was.

“General Shaak Ti.” The other clone removed his helmet as he greeted the Jedi. He was blonde and sported a closely shaved cut; despite having the same face and body, the two clone troopers looked completely different. They were unlike any clones you’ve ever seen.

That’s when you noticed another trooper laying on a stretcher behind them; his hair was long enough to be worn in a bun, a tear drop was inked underneath one of his closed eyes. He was also unlike any clone you’ve ever seen - especially since he appeared to be unconscious, He was hooked up to oxygen, you also noticed, as two guards pushed his floating stretcher right by you and around the corner, out of sight once they went down the hall.

You realized how zoned out you were and quickly snapped back to reality - only for only a second, though - as you became transfixed on the clone in front of you on the right, the one with dark hair. You scanned his features a little more now that he was closer; he had a dark goatee that framed his chin and his right temple had the number “5″ inked on the skin. His armor was crazy different from the armor the guards here wore. He looked... good. Uh oh.

For just a brief moment, the “good looking” trooper’s eyes broke away from his conversation with the Jedi and met yours. Slightly embarrassed, you snapped your head forward and glued your eyes to the Kaminoan’s ankles in front of you.

Just as you started listening in on the conversation, the two clones, the Jedi General, and Dr. Nala Se broke away and turned the corner in the same direction they took the unconscious trooper.

Kriff. You missed the entire conversation. The Kaminoans started moving forward, and you assumed you were still supposed to follow them, so you did. You still had no clue where you were going, but you’ll get there eventually.

***

Fives’ POV

Fives walked to the left of Rex, a long-neck doctor in between them, while Tup’s unconscious body was guided by two Kamino guards behind them.

“You will have to say goodbye to your friend now.” The long-neck broke the silence. Fives was worried for his friend. No one, not even Kix, could figure out what was wrong with him. Why would Tup shoot and kill General Tiplar? Fives noticed Tup was acting somewhat strange right before it all happened, but didn’t think too much of it at the time, Now, he’s racking his brain, trying to understand what set Tup off. He’s a good soldier, a good man. He’d never do such a thing in his right mind.

It was suggested that Tup be sent to Tipoca City, to Kamino, back to his roots, for a better chance of figuring out what was wrong with him. Fives gladly accepted the offer to escort his friend there, and was overjoyed that Rex came along with them.

General Shaak Ti came into view, and the troopers came to a halt. Captain Rex greeted the General, and she turned her attention over to Fives.

“Fives, am I correct?” He nodded. Tup was being pushed from behind them and then around the corner in front of them, quickly going out of view. The General spoke again, her eyes glued on the unconscious trooper being led down the hall. “You’ve served with Tup?”

Fives was desperate to be by his friend’s side right now. “Yes.”

Then he saw you. You, a foreign species to Kamino. What were you doing here? It had been a while since Fives was last on Kamino, but he was sure there weren’t any others like you here before unless they were Jedi - but the only Jedi known to hang around Kamino was General Shaak Ti.

He had noticed you tailing the long-necks before you had even come entirely into view. Fives let his eyes flicker over to you as Tup was being taken away, only to have locked eyes with you for but a second. He noticed you blushed right before you snapped your head forward, obviously embarrassed that you’d been caught staring. General Shaak Ti’s voice broke Fives’ trance - didn’t even notice he was losing focus once he caught your eyes - and it was all over in less than five seconds.

“You must come with me.”

Fives quickly snapped his attention back to General Shaak Ti, “with... all due respect, General, I can’t just abandon him now.” The Jedi General smiled reassuringly, and turned to lead Fives and Rex down the hall in the same direction Tup was taken.

Fives knew where his undivided attention should be, and that was on Tup - his friend - his friend that for some reason just gunned down a Jedi in the heat of battle in the space station just outside of Ringo Vinda, only to come to with no memory of what he had done. Fives cursed himself for thinking of you when his friend was about to be strapped to an exam table, being poked and prodded like some kind of lab scurrier.

***

Renna’s POV

Dr. Nala Se, the Chief Medical Scientist on Kamino, approached you once you had gotten to the head medical lab and informed you that you’d be the one who would start procedures on a clone trooper who had potentially been exposed to a virus of some kind. You nodded, all too giddy as you gladly accepted the task.

You were escorted by two guards to where you’d be working with the patient. When the door whisked open, you slowly made your way into the quiet room, the door shutting quickly behind you. You glanced to the right, noticing the window that would normally allow you to see into the room next door was blacked out - put into the privacy setting. Strange.

“You?” The deep voice - a voice that sounded like honey in your ears - put a halt on your thoughts about the darkened window. You knew it was the voice of a clone; the only voices you ever heard were either the slow, drawn out words of the Kaminoans or the clones’. Of course a clone would be in that room, of course a clone would be the subject of your testing.

Who you didn’t expect to see was the clone trooper you saw in passing not even a half hour ago - the one with the dark goatee and number 5 tattooed on his temple - the one who made you blush when he caught you staring.

You felt yet another blush heat your cheeks before you even registered it was happening. What the hell were you blushing for? He’s a clone, and you’re here to take blood samples and body scans to make sure he’s okay. You knew you were staring at him like a fool, and for way too long. You shook your head slightly in an attempt to reorganize your thoughts.

“You ok, Miss... miss?” He stood up from his seating position on the cot, and cocked his head to the side with his arms folded across his chest. You nodded your head slowly.

“Renna,” you nearly whispered your name to him - the words almost came out choked - for some reason you had forgotten how to speak in Basic for a moment.

“Look, Miss Renna, I am not a threat. Neither is Tup.”

Your brow raised as you studied the clone’s expression. It was hard; his eyes were piercing and his brows were furrowed. Crossed arms flew to his sides, hands tightening into fists. No doubt he was feeling angry and confused.

“T- Tup?” Was that the name of CT-5385? “You’re referring to CT-5385?”

“Tup! The trooper in that room right there?” He pointed over to the darkened window, “He’s a good soldier, my friend, and he’s in the room next door getting - getting tortured by those long-necks.” A beat. “None of us clones go by numbers anymore, by the way.” You closed your eyes for just a moment, trying to think about what to say next. You inhaled deep through your nose, then slowly out through parted lips, watching as his expression went from angry to more... afraid? Worried?

“Trooper, I promise Tup is in good hands. I’ve been briefed on his- his condition... they - we - just want to find out what made him kill Jedi General Tiplar, that’s all. They’ve asked me to do a couple of procedures on you, take some notes, since you were close with Tup. Maybe we can find something in you that will help your friend.”

The trooper’s expression changed again, softening as his fists unclenched at his sides. Surely he had to understand the gravity of the situation; when you were briefed, it was mentioned that no one on Kamino had any idea why CT-53 - Tup - shot a Jedi General in cold blood, or why he keeps floating in and out of consciousness, murmuring things like “kill Jedi”. Clone trooper Tup seemed to have no memory of what he had done; and so far, no scans were showing anything wrong with him, though his health was deteriorating.

You walked over to the counter where the sterilized needles and scanners resided and started to prep the equipment, reading over notes to see what it is you needed and what you were supposed to be testing him for. Reading through the notes, you realized this trooper’s designation was ARC-5555, and the tattoo “5″ on his temple made sense now. It was actually kind of... cute.

It was silent for a couple minutes while you were getting everything ready when a loud, airy sigh coming from behind you made you turn around to face ARC-5555.

“The name’s Fives.”

***

Fives’ POV

Fives was getting more worried for Tup by the minute. His rising frustration didn’t help, either. General Shaak Ti had engaged the privacy setting on Fives’ only view of his unconscious friend, leaving him in the dark as to what the long-necks were doing to Tup in the room next door.

Fives sat in the room in silence, alone with his worries and doubts. You were out of his thoughts at this point; the worry and fear he felt for Tup swallowed him whole - until you were the one walking through the door. It could have been any Kaminoan, any droid, yet you were the one they had sent.

His eyes wide, he watched you slowly walk in as you immediately set your attention to the darkened window to the right side of the room. Fives wanted to know if you knew what they were doing to Tup, why they were hurting him, why Fives wasn’t able to be there by his side. He had a million questions, almost all of them relating to Tup, except for the ones he had about you.

Fives was sitting on a cot on the other side of the room, and you hadn’t noticed him yet. What is she doing here? Who is she? She definitely isn’t a long-neck. He wanted to ask you all kinds of questions, a mix between wanting to know more about Tup and wanting to know more about you, but all he could muscle out was one word.

“You?” Fives shook his head in disbelief as the first word he said to you left his lips. It did manage to get your attention, though, because you turned away from the dark window and were now staring directly at him. Fives felt his heart beat just a little harder when he could finally take in your whole figure in more than just a quick glance. You were beautiful - more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen, and wearing the same thing he saw you in earlier; a tucked-in dark grey skin-tight top that came up your neck like clone under-armor blacks did, a white lab coat that came down to your ankles, hugging your curves in all the right ways along the way. The coat was open in the front, save for the one buttoned part right at your waist, just barely keeping the coat together. Your black boots were knee-high, your black leggings tucked into them. You stepped closer to Fives and his heart started racing; he was completely in awe of you, but there was something else, and it made warmth head straight to his groin.

***

Renna’s POV

Fives. That was his name. Not ARC-5555 , just like Tup wasn’t CT-5385. “No clones go by numbers anymore,” he had informed you. Being waist-deep in paperwork all the time never gave you an opportunity to actually work with the clones. All you knew about the clones were their designations, along with whatever the paperwork was filed for. It didn’t occur to you that they had names.

“Look, is Tup gonna be alright? Have they found anything out?” Fives’ eyes were pleading, begging for some kind of reassurance.

“Please, sit down.” He huffed, but obeyed. “We’re using hyper level tests, so we should get the results fairly quickly.” He nodded his head, thankful for any little crumb you could give him. “I’m gonna need to get started now, okay?”

Needle in hand and ready to go, you preemptively apologized.

“Wh- ow!” You jabbed the needle into the side of his neck, a sympathetic smile on your lips.

“I said I was sorry!” You chuckled quietly. Fives rubbed at his neck and you made you way back over to the counter, inserting the needle into the port next to the computer.

“Well?” His hand still rubbing at his neck, you squinted your eyes to read the results displayed on the screen.

“Everything... seems normal.” You weren’t exactly sure what to expect, but you were happy your very first patient wasn’t immediately dying on you.

“Oh, great! That means you can let me out, right?” The excited tone in his voice made it quite difficult to relay the next part to him.

With an apologetic smile, you walked back over and sat on the cot across from him.

“Actually... I’m afraid that’s not possible right now, Fives. I was instructed to keep you in quarantine until we’ve pinpointed the exact cause of Tup’s breakdown. We can’t risk any further casualties.” You couldn't bear to look at him now, so you glued your eyes to a fresh scuff mark on the toe of your boot.

“Like I told you before, I am not a threat, and neither is Tup!” You looked back up at him when his voice raised. Fives wasn’t angry, or at least it didn’t appear that way. He was worried for his friend.

“I- I believe you, Fives. Unfortunately, I’m not the one to make those kinds of calls. I’m just- just an intern. This is my first day not filing paperwork in the archives. I don’t- I don’t want to mess this up. You’re my first real patient.” You stood up to leave the room, letting your hand rest on his shoulder for just a moment in an attempt to comfort him. Something you never thought you’d be doing - comforting a clone. You told him you’d be back later to check up on him and to perform any tests the doctors deemed necessary. Then you left.

***

As you headed for your quarters for the night, you couldn’t help but think back on your introductory meeting with your very first patient. You replayed your short conversation over and over in your head; you transfixed on his voice, the raw emotion in it that went straight to his facial expressions, and the way he looked at you. You’ve seen his face many, many times in the files you were doused with daily, but most of the clones on Kamino didn’t have anything significant to mark them apart from one another - no scars, tattoos, different hair styles, and were generally clean-shaven. When you first saw Fives, his tattoo and facial hair was what did it for you. You hated to admit it, but you may have just accidentally gotten a crush on the ARC Trooper.

This was all new to you. You never realized clones had such... emotion. Or capable of such emotion, for that matter. You were kept in the dark for the entirety of your internship on Kamino, and now you understood why. You weren’t Kaminoan, you weren’t a Jedi, you were just an intern. In their eyes, there was no reason as to why you should engage the clones, so they kept you busy with paperwork every day. You wondered if you were physically kept away from the clones because you were also human, and therefore were able to share the same emotion and ideals as them. That idea wouldn’t have made sense to you if you thought about it earlier today, but now that you met Fives, it made sense.

Maybe the Kaminoans were fearful that you would be a distraction to them, or them to you.

***

Tags: @bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567

#djarrex writes #countermeasures series #arc trooper fives x you #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x oc #fives x reader #fives x oc #fives x you #fives smut #arc trooper fives smut #the clone wars fic #conspiracy arc #the clone wars conspiracy arc #arc trooper fives #captain rex #clone trooper tup

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ladyeliot · 3 years

Photo

I got you.

Request: Anonymous. Hello there, first of all I love your way of writing, the fics are great! Could I send you an request? Maybe the reader and Chris met again after the pandemic, they have an unfinished relationship and she realizes that she still loves him. Don't worry if you don't feel like it, thanks a lot!

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warning: Mentions of anxiety and the pandemic. A little angst.

Word count: 2687

Notes: Sorry for taking so long! And for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

There had been so many times when you had imagined yourself growing old with him in that house that you didn't know how to deal with the situation right now. You were in Massachusetts, inside your car, standing in front of his house, without any warning and without knowing how he would react when he saw you after so many months.

You and Chris had a history, a short but passionate history that lasted two and a half years as an established couple and one year with comings and goings. The reason for the break-up was not the end of the love, but the time. The time you spent apart was longer than the time you spent together, your work was not very compatible with his, and although you both did your best to overcome it, it was not enough. Even so, after the friendly break-up the relationship didn't end completely, let's say it never had a point and end, becoming friends with benefits, and it was something that didn't seem to matter to you. However, there was a conversation going on between you, and although neither of you named it, that conversation was present. Every time you coincided for a short period of days everything happened except that conversation, and without it neither of you could evolve, neither of you could have freedom. You felt that you were still bound, and you both knew it.

The global pandemic did not benefit your situation, while he stayed in Boston with his family, you flew home. At first everyone thought that the situation would be resolved in a couple of months at most, but as time went on the problem became bigger. The months passed, the pandemic became uncontrollable and everyone stopped their lives. Your contact with Chris was not lost, but it weakened, there were too many things to think about and the constant fear that something might happen to a loved one made you anxious, and your priorities were elsewhere.

As time went by you discovered to value the little things in life, perhaps because of the pandemic. You realized what really mattered, what made you happy and what you were willing to fight for in your day-to-day life. Chris was one of those things. Your life with him was not perfect, like nothing else in this life, but the positives outweighed the negatives. Confinement allowed you to meditate, to consider how you wanted your future to be and to discover that the important thing was to live in the moment, because you never know what is going to happen. It was clear that during the pandemic you couldn't fight for what you wanted, nor take a plane and fly to where he was, but things would slowly come back to normal, and it would be time to make an important decision.

As you had predicted, light began to appear at the end of the tunnel. Things were relaxing again, taking on a new normalcy and you had to start to take up your old life again. Conversations with Chris had increased over the last few months, you had too much to say but it was a bit difficult for both of you to put it on the screen, so in the end you always ended up talking nonsense and getting a laugh out of each other. Maybe that was what you liked best about him, that he managed to make you smile even in your worst moments. It was comforting to discover that he was well, that he had overcome, with his more and with his less, that period and that your feelings towards him had not changed.

It was obvious that you were back to your routine, and that meant that work would barely let you take a break. The New York company had not dealt with the COVID crisis very well and the situation was quite alarming. You barely had time to reconnect with your friends, as you set foot in New York City hundreds of business problems fell upon you. Stress was trapping you, preventing you from even sleeping at night, and all you needed was to escape from that environment because your head was going to explode. You were told that several trips were planned to discuss the impact the pandemic had had on various locations around the country, and you felt an immediate relief when you were told, unless you could get away from the centre of the bomb.

Your destination was even more comforting, as it was barely 30 kilometres from your previous residence with Chris. The plane left for Boston first thing in the morning, the sky had not yet awakened and you chose to rest your eyes for the 60 minutes that the journey took. You hadn't spoken to him for the last two weeks, basically since you arrived in New York, when he called you, you were in business meetings and always came home in the early hours of the morning, falling into bed. That was your life, quite complicated to complement with external factors.

The meeting with the Boston headquarters was not too negative, which got you to relax and send good news to your company. The most positive factor you brought out is that you had finished early enough to do what you had in mind since you discovered your trip to Boston. You borrowed a car from your company and set off for the house where you had lived for almost two years. You didn't know if he would be there when you arrived or if it would be completely empty, but you erased those thoughts from your mind and just drove.

You knew the route perfectly, you used to do it every morning. It was nice to rediscover the variety of colours that those little forests could have during the autumn. You lowered the window so that the wind would fill the interior of the car, producing extreme relief in you, relaxing every limb and freeing your mind from any stressful event. That's all you wanted during the long, final months of your life. It took you just over 30 minutes to reach your destination, and when you were there the world around you came to a standstill. It had been so long since you had been in front of each other that a little worry had formed inside you.

You assumed that naturalness was the best way to deal with such a situation, so you chose to get out of the car and face what might happen. You analysed the outside of the house, there was no car in the driveway, no sign of anyone inside, but a very familiar voice, along with some barking, guided you to the back of the garden. A wistful look on your face, and your smile widened when you discovered that Dodger, hearing the rustling of leaves under your feet, had noticed you. From the distance he headed towards you at great speed, causing Chris to fix his gaze on you. As usual, Dodger lunged at you, causing you to fall backwards into the wet grass, but you were used to that.

The next few minutes hundreds of emotions met in the air. The reunion with Chris was silent, but many things were said through the eyes. First came the nervous smiles, then the excited look and then the hugs.

"It's been so long since I've hugged you... that I've forgotten how it feels to be hugged by you," he whispered those words in your ear and made you tremble, wishing that the embrace would never end.

There were no questions between the two of you, no "What are you doing here" or "Why did you come here", you didn't need an answer to either of them, you wanted to focus on the moment. You went back into that house, for the first time in a long time, accompanied by a Dodger that was fully seeking your attention and that almost prevented you from walking.

"Let's go, buddy! Let Y/N in the house," he said trying to catch him. "Oh, he just ignores me. I'm sorry you'll have to manage on your own. He has chosen, very smart."

Chris' comment made you show a sweet smile as Dodger tried to lick your whole face as you crouched at his height.

"I've missed you too, sweetie," you said, standing up as you could.

You headed inside the house, where Chris was watching you with a tender expression on his face. As you entered, a warmth and that unmistakable aroma of Chris was in the air. It was a mixture between the smell of wood from the fireplace and his fragrance. That caused your senses to come together and create a familiarity in you. You looked around curiously, quickly analysing every corner, Chris waited while you checked.

"It's all the same," you said in a soft tone smiling at him.

"Yep," he replied in the same soft tone. "Will you stay for dinner with us?"

You showed him a smile as you slowly nodded. "That sounds great."

You knew you had one night before your plane back to New York left the next day. There was too much to do and too much to say for just one night, and neither of you were likely to start that conversation, you were experts at it.

Both of you got down to work in the kitchen, as if you were back in the past. Neither of you were experts in that field, but you used to let yourselves go. Dodger, calmer, took a seat in his basket and watched you with curiosity.

"Beer?" asked Chris, approaching you with a bottle.

"Thank you," you took it and took a little drink, imitating him.

The situation was common, two people cooking, but for you it was not at all common where you were. Chris was a person who did not hide his emotions, and you had seen this during the time you had spent together. In the relationship it was much harder for you to express what you were feeling, but at that moment it was perhaps not too much for you to be back in your old home, with the man you had loved, after a year of not seeing each other and having a relationship that was not quite closed.So you finally put down the knife you were cutting onions with and threw yourself away, knowing that everything could go wrong.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?" You frowned softly and looked at him.

Chris was caught off guard by the question, as he watched you and arched his eyebrows, while leaning against the refrigerator.

"Okay," he nodded across his arms. "Why are you here?

You remained pensive, you had gone into the lion's den, because even you did not know very well how to answer that question. Why were you there? You opened your lips to look for a coherent explanation, but nothing. Chris was waiting for the answer, but he realised that you didn't know what to say, so he approached you. "It's okay," he said, taking a lock of your hair and putting it behind his ear.

"No," you frowned. "It's not okay."

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously, returning to his previous position.

"To us," you pointed. "I don't know if it's right what we're doing to each other.”

"What are we doing to each other?" he asked gently, trying to get you to express what was on your mind.

"This," you raised your voice a little. "We didn't finish. We have no end..."

"That's why you came," he crossed his arms at a considerable distance. "To put an end to it?"

You asked yourself if you had come to that, and the answer was obvious, no, you had not come to that.

"No", you whispered looking into his eyes, then you put your hand to your face. "God, this is too complicated."

"Hey...", he came up to you again and took his hand away from your face. "If it wasn't complicated it wouldn't be us."

Those were the truest words he had ever said. You both had a magnet for complicated situations and were the first to try to deal with them.

"Try to tell me why you came here," he kindly insisted again. "I have a clear idea, but I need you to confirm it.

You remembered how you felt when you got there, when you drove there, when you discovered that the business trip was taking you to Boston, where he was. All your happiness in those days was for him. During the pandemic you told yourself that you needed a change in your life, that many things had been lost because of your previous priorities, and your mood had also changed.

"I have come... ", you sighed, emptying your lungs and taking in air again. "I'm here... During the pandemic, I realized what really makes me happy, how things can change from one day to the next and that you have to fight for what you want." You felt a little embarrassed. "God..."

Chris knew how complex everything was for you, that you only extracted your sentimental feelings and thoughts when you were angry and had an argument, so that was a big effort.

"Please Y/N, continue", he gave you a soft smile.

"In short..." you started.

"No, don't summarize", Chris cut you off with a little laugh, which relaxed you.

"Okay," you leaned against the kitchen island and took a breath of air. "It's simple, I've decided that I want to be happy, and you make me happy.”

When you released that sentence you felt an inner relief, you freed yourself from a great weight that had been with you for a long time, and now Chris had everything in his hands. The next ten seconds were the longest of your life, you waited to see Chris' reaction, who was just a few meters away looking at you with a little smile on his face, that you didn't know how to take it.

"Well?" you whispered expectantly. "Are you planning to say something?"

The smile on Chris' face widened and he slowly took a step towards you to shorten the distance, standing face to face, finding you between the kitchen island and his body. He didn't say anything, it was what he did that made you realize his opinion. He stretched out his arms to take your face in his hands and approached you very slowly to kiss your lips. Your heart gave a return when you felt him so close to you again, testing his taste on your lips again, rediscovering the touch of his beard. A bark from Dodger came in the moment, but you barely noticed the event, as you were too busy meeting again.

You split up by cutting off the kiss and frowning.

"Wait. You haven't said anything, what do you think?"

"Come on honey, isn't it obvious?"

You arched an eyebrow waiting, Chris rolled his eyes and caught you sitting on the kitchen counter, you being taller than him.

"You're going to make me say it," he said, looking at your smile. "If I tell you that I love you, so that I can kiss you again and then later develop the answer, will that help?”

Those were the things you loved about him.

"It depends on the kiss."

Chris soon had you in his hands again, more firmly than the previous time. You let yourselves go forgetting everything around you, as if you wanted to make up for all the lost time, all the time apart. Chris lifted you off the counter again and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"I got you," he whispered against your lips.

"You've always got me."

Tag list: @imerdwarf @mycosmicparadise @lavendertales

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

#chris evans x reader #steve rogers #request #writing #ff #fan fiction #fanfic #marvel #mcu #y/n #female reader #chris evans imagine

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arcales · 3 years

Note

Mmmmmmm maybe about the a headcanon of how they celebrate MC's birthday? If it isn't too much to ask ofc

Of course not! Sorry it took me a while, I’ve been really busy! Hope you enjoy :)

Asra:

Home-made cake! Faust is helping of course. Wrong ingredient!, She warns Asra, but he doesn’t care. Asra doesn’t believe in recipes

Whilst the cake is baking, he’s decorating the house. That means party hats for both him and Faust. If MC is asleep, he will try to put a party hat on sleeping MC. Other decorations include those “Happy birthday!” napkins and balloons

He got a gift for MC months in advance, because he saw it and just thought it was perfect. It was a drag trying to hide it from MC

Planned a very intimate party with only the closest people

After the party is over, Asra and MC have a cup of tea and talk about everything that’s happened thus far, and about wishes for the future. They end the day by cuddling in bed.

Nadia:

She desperately wants to have a small party, but since everyone expects a grand event for the countess’ partner, she organises a ball

She’s stressed. Like with the masquerade, she’s constantly being pestered about whichever exotic animal left the palace garden this time, or whether the decorations should be cherry or berry red. Preparing for this causes her to have less time with MC in the days leading up to their birthday. However, she makes sure to have a nice present for MC

The party ends up looking amazing, however. MC is impressed and is constantly complimenting Nadia, while she tries her best not to blush

Julian shows up out of nowhere and rushes them to the garden. Asra, Portia, and Muriel (and maybe Lucio?) are all there, a small picnic with food stolen from the main room set up. Nadia and MC sit with them, share stories, and have the best time of their lives.

In the evening, they return to their bedroom, play music and slow dance. Without the stares of hundreds of guests, it allows both of them to relax, and simply enjoy each other’s presence.

Julian:

Have you met Julian? He doesn’t plan ANYTHING. So MC has no idea if there’s anything planned, they only know Julian is coming over. The first surprise is Julian knocking on the front door, instead of using the window to break in as usual.

He takes MC out for a walk in the town. During the walk, he gets MC a lot of snacks (and, of course, the pumpkin bread) from the stands, as he and MC discuss going on a journey together! Julian suggests some of the places he’s been to, and they make up a whole route to travel around the world

They see Portia out and about, and she’s visibly annoyed with Julian for not planning a fancy day for MC. She ends up dragging them to Mazelinka’s house. Mazelinka threatens Julian with her spoon, this isn’t how I raised you!, but fixes her soup for all of them to enjoy. They spend hours laughing at childhood stories, and MC enjoys the atmosphere

To MC’s surprise, Julian actually did plan something for today. He takes MC to the theatre and tells MC they’re participating in a play together. MC knows the lines by heart because they thought they were helping Julian prepare for this. They’re taken aback a little, but end up agreeing. The show ends up being very fun, and the audience loves it

Some of the cast/audience invite Julian and MC to Rowdy Raven afterwards, where they end the night in a very high note.

Muriel:

Muriel expresses his love through actions. Especially for MC’s birthday, he makes them breakfast in bed, and decorates the tray with freshly picked flowers as well. The night before, he made a flower crown for MC, which he puts on them without a word. He also made matching bracelets.

“Are you okay, do you want anything?” He wants the day to be perfect, and MC has to remind him they already have everything with Muriel and Inanna here. Muriel finally relaxes a little, then smiles. They go to the hot spring, and spend some time splashing water at each other, talking, and kissing

Asra comes over over to the hut to take them to MC’s shop, where friends have gathered. Since he’s grown a little more comfortable with everyone, he’s happy to do this. At the small party, Muriel opens up and expresses his adoration for MC. MC won’t have that be it, so they compliment Muriel as well. Everyone joins in, and talks about how both MC and Muriel have changed, and how happy they are for them

The discussion takes a turn where everyone asks them when they’ll get married. Before MC can give a flirty reply, Muriel blushes, gets up and says “We’re leaving.” Amused with Muriel’s shy nature, MC just laughs, thanks everyone for coming and excuses them both. On the way to the hut, Muriel stops, and tells MC again that he loves them. He also reassures that, if that’s what MC also wants, he’d love to marry them.

MC is blushing now too. They have a discussion about the topic, and decide what feels best for them. Either way, they’re happy they communicated their feelings, and back at the hut, they sit by the fire, and cuddle with Inanna. They fall asleep tangled together.

Portia:

Portia has been so excited for this day, she kept telling everyone about it. Yes, Pasha, I know it’s MC’s birthday, groaned Julian. She ignores this and reminds him about three more times

She took a day off as well, and when Nadia found out why, she had a new outfit for Portia made so she can impress her partner even more. At home, she baked a cake, and some muffins. And also prepared a three course meal. Is it enough?

Pepi is also excited, as she sees Portia running around trying to set everything up. She organised a small gathering for lunch, but wants to have one on one time with MC later

When MC arrives, Portia gives them a big hug, and immediately gives them their gifts, as she can’t wait anymore. During the meal, Portia can’t stop gushing about MC, and re-telling stories about their adventures

Once they’re alone, Portia and MC go to the docks, rent a boat and spend hours at the sea. They don’t go too far, but just enough to feel like they’re on a big adventure. Exchanging deepest wishes and feelings, they grow closer than ever, and Pasha doesn’t stop grinning for days

Lucio:

Even though he loves MC immensely, he probably forgot their birthday was so soon. In the state of panic, he buys anything and everything he thinks MC would like

But he forgot the cake. Oh god he forgot the cake. He’s up early in the morning, cursing at the poor attempt at the cake he’s made. It wakes MC up, who sees Lucio begging the oven to make the cake better. They laugh, and offer to teach Lucio how to make a cake

Lucio is pouting, this isn’t how I wanted today to go, but gives in. It ends up being a very fun experience for both of them, and when it gets out of the oven, Lucio stares at the cake as if it’s a new-born baby

MC and Lucio eat, barely able to resist giving cake to Mercedes and Melchior. The floofy good boy and girl can’t eat cake, it’s bad for them. Afterwards, Lucio reveals the huge amount of presents he has for MC, and watches excitedly as MC opens each and every one of them

In the evening, they go for a walk to the field to watch the stars. They look back on the many things they’ve experienced together, and express how excited they are for the future

I hope you enjoyed this! It was fun writing this

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #asra alnazar #nadia satrinava #julian devorak #Muriel #portia devorak #lucio #headcanons #The Arcana Game

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safereturndoubtful · 1 year

Text

Day 26 - to Fafião

A rain day and a slow start on my part. I finished a book of short stories, the Weird Tales of William Hope Hodgson, an American who was prolific in the horror genre from the early 1900s. I read quite a bit of this sort of thing, it is in the British Library Tales of the Weird Series, and he is very good, an imagination that at times must have worried even him, and the ability to get it down on paper. A review tomorrow.

I emerged from the van just after 10, in steady rain, but I couldn’t leave it much longer, as I wanted to move on today. Having seen hardly anyone for four days, by chance a British couple from Berwick on Tweed were passing, Lee and Emma, and their dog. They told me they had a similar self-built van parked down the road. I saw the exterior at least later, it is a sprinter in an attractive light green with a black bonnet. We walked together for a half hour or so, but they had full waterproofs on and we’re heading up to the mountain, the route I took on my first day here.

I was running low on supplies, so filled up at the small supermarket in Geres. I don’t think I’ll come across anything with that sort of stock for a week.

Then I headed to Fafião, and found a park up at the football field just out of town. It’s fine while the rain is here, and besides, I need a decent 4G signal for the rugby tomorrow.

Later in the afternoon, as the rain still hadn’t abated, we walked into the town. It’s a traditional Portuguese cobbled community, but clearly popular in the tourist season, with a fair bit of accommodation, and a few bars and restaurants, two of which were open. The first one I tried had a very wet outdoor sitting area and wasn’t suitable. The second, Fojo de Lobos, or ‘The Pack of Wolves’, had a covered outdoor area, and more, some decent craft beer. I got chatting to the barman, he was a keen sportsman, and setting out as a trail runner. I did my usual, trying to pass the message around Portugal that they have qualified for the Rugby World Cup, but it wasn’t long, and we lapsed onto Sporting Lisbon’s defeat of Arsenal last night.

It’s a Friday without Rugby, Union at least, as there is League. The rain continues, so I’ll settle to watch that.

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

in the dark.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

request from anon: I dont know if you've already done something like this 😅 But can you do a hotch x new bau member? Like her and hotch are already a thing and they try to keep it hidden (and they do for a like a month) before someone makes the connection. Just a big secret fluff fest?

a/n: ask and you shall receive anon! secret fluff fests happen to be my specialty, and you’ll need hella mouthwash and floss for this one to avoid cavities. i had SO much fun writing this one and couldn’t wait until the morning to post it. words: 4,791 (whoops) warnings: some swearing, nothing too wild.

part two!

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Closed for Now!

+++

You stepped into the elevator and took it to the sixth floor, where you knew the exact route you needed to take to avoid the BAU bullpen. You’d been called to Erin Strauss’s office, pulled from the heavy caseload at CARD for some kind of mystery meeting with the adjacent section chief.

Checking your watch, you figured that there would be enough time to for a visit before returning to the eighth floor if this meeting didn’t run too long.

“Good morning, Agent. Thank you for coming in.”

You were halfway impressed – you’d barely made it through the door when she started talking. “Good morning, ma’am.”

She stood, handing you a folder. “This shouldn’t take too long, but you’re welcome to sit.”

You flipped through the folder, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk. “A transfer from CARD, ma’am?”

Erin nodded. “I’d like you to try a stint in the BAU. We are working to fill a few roles as the unit’s caseload increases, and when asked, your unit chief did not hesitate to recommend you.”

Oh god.

Your thought died on your tongue before it could leave your mouth.

That was a problem for another time.

You cleared your throat to cover the rising heat in your cheeks. “Yes, ma’am. Of course.”

“You should have no issues settling into the team. Your new unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, is a strong personality, and I am the first person to tell you he’s not always easy to get along with –“

You stifled a laugh, covering it with a light cough into your elbow.

“- but his team is very capable. If you have any issues at all, feel free to bring them to me.” She placed her reading glasses back on her nose and signed something in front of her.

“Shall I report to Agent Hotchner today?”

Agent Hotchner. That’s a goddamn crackup.

“No, not today. I’ll get everything in order for your arrival tomorrow. Report at 9am tomorrow. Agent Hotchner will be ready for you.”

You’re damn right he will.

+++

You rolled over in bed and burrowed into the warm body beside you. To get any closer, you’d have to be under his skin.

Aaron grumbled and managed to pull you even closer, one arm spanning the length of your spine and the other resting across your thigh where it was slung over his hip.

You were somewhere between sleeping and waking for the next hour or so. The slow rise and fall of Aaron’s chest under your cheek brought you a bone-deep calm, letting you rest comfortably in that liminal space.

You were prepared when Aaron’s alarm went off, a full half-hour before it normally did.

“Early meeting?” you asked, as if you didn’t already know.

He hummed an affirmative and tipped your chin up with one finger. “No earlier than usual, but I want to get settled in before the day starts.”

My favorite Type-A Unit Chief.

You smiled against his mouth, stretching up into his kiss. It quickly turned less-than chaste, your tongues sliding together and your hands wandering across his chest and back. The raised ridges of his scars marked your path as you traced invisible patterns on his skin. You knew his body as well as he did, maybe better, and he yours.

After a few minutes, you came to your senses and pulled back. He looked dazed, his lips swollen and plush, his hair soft and tousled on top of his head.

“You have no business looking that good when you have to leave early,” you said with a light laugh. You carded your fingers through the hair at his temples, taking the opportunity to sweep your thumb across his cheekbone.

He gave you a crooked grin and reached for you again. You rolled away from him, pressing your palms to his chest and locking your elbows.

“If you keep this up, you’re gonna be late.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and threw the covers back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You launched yourself across the bed and wrapped your arms around him, tracing the lines of his chest and abdomen with light and playful fingers.

“As you so astutely pointed out, I will be late if you keep this up.” His chastisement was weak, at best.

You pressed kisses to the space between his shoulder blades and pushed him out of bed. He turned around and brought your face between his hands, pressing a series of kisses against your lips.

How he ever makes it to work on time, I have no idea.

+++

At about 8:50 that morning, Strauss knocked twice on Aaron’s open office door before letting herself in.

Aaron looked up. After processing who it was, he set his pen down and laced his fingers.

Why is she always ten minutes early?

“Good morning, ma’am.”

“Good morning, Agent Hotchner.” She looked a little antsy, but he wasn’t sure if that was just her general affect, or something more specific.

“What can I do for you this morning?”

“You have a new agent reporting to your unit this morning. Highly recommended. An asset. Please be welcoming.” She was short and to the point, but it made Aaron’s head hurt.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “All due respect, ma’am, it has been very difficult for me to manage these new agents with such little notice.”

“I understand, but that is my call and not yours.” Aaron suppressed a sigh as she continued. “You’re perfectly capable of managing a larger team, especially one with such capable agents.” She placed the personnel file on his desk and walked out, leaving the door open behind her.

“Damn it,” he said to himself. There was no point in reviewing the file – it was entirely possible Strauss told the agent to report at nine, which means they would probably arrive early, which means –

“Aaron?”

He looked up at the door and his face broke out into a smile in spite of his sour mood. After a quick moment, he sobered and picked up the file on his desk. “I can’t chat long, sweetheart – I have a new agent reporting this morning.”

You did your best to look both politely interested and appropriately surprised.

“Oh, of course, love. I’ll leave you to it.” You were still smiling at him, waiting for it all to click into place.

“Thank you. It shouldn’t be long. We haven’t been called on a case yet this week, and the new agent will have to sit with Dave to work through a couple of consults so I can get a better read on capabilities...” He trailed off, distracted. He opened the file but didn’t look down, his gaze still stuck on you.

You sauntered back toward him. Your palms met the cool wood of the desk as you leaned over it and kissed him lightly. His shaky exhale fanned across your face – restraint evident in his posture. You were taunting him, and he knew it.

But the door was closed....damn it.

He still hadn’t looked down at the file, but a small smile dancing around his mouth. “You can’t be here. My new agent will be here in a few minutes, at the very most.”

“Who’s the agent?”

He shook his head and glanced down at the file. He did a double-take, and the only thing more comical than his head flying back up was the pink flush that rushed to his cheeks.

There was silence for a moment as you watched him process the information before him.

“You’re my new agent,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

You winked at him.

“Did you ask?”

You shook your head and sat, leaning back in the chair and getting comfortable.

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”

He closed the file and set it back on his desk. His arms crossed as he reclined in his chair, an eyebrow raised at you.

You finally gave in, resting your elbows on his desk and your chin in your hands. “Are you upset?”

He laughed, and you were happy the door was closed. There was no way you could keep anything from the team if they’d heard that. “No, I’m not upset. We’ll just have to compartmentalize a little bit. It won’t be easy, and we’ll have to tell Strauss eventually.”

“Let’s just see how long it takes for the team to pick up on it, and we’ll go from there. What do you think?” Keeping a team of profilers in the dark was no easy task, but you were up to the challenge.

Aaron’s face drops into his normal operating expression – stoic and a little skeptical. You’d seen it before, and you supposed you’d grow even more accustomed to it soon enough. “That sounds perfectly reasonable, Agent. You can speak to facilities about getting a desk downstairs. Report to Agent Rossi next door – he will walk you through all of our procedures.”

You suppressed a smile and stood. “Thank you, sir. Will that be all?”

He returned to his report, but there was a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Agent. That will be all. Thank you.”

This was going to be fun.

+++

Your first three cases went smoothly. You quickly endeared yourself to the team and had a natural knack for building geographical profiles with Reid. Hotch did his best to pay you very little mind in the field, only to knock on your hotel room door in the very small hours of the morning.

The humor in referring to him as “Hotch” and “Agent Hotchner” and “Sir” hadn’t worn off yet. You had to suppress a smile every single time. It was easier for him, as he was so accustomed to working with his natural stoicism. The hardest part for the both of you was avoiding anything that looked like familiarity. Casual brushes of his arm, catching his sleeve, his hand on your lower back as you got into the car – it all had to go.

You’re new. You’re new. You don’t know anyone. Keep it together.

It was a game, in some ways, and one you both enjoyed playing for different reasons.

“How are you liking it so far?” Emily asked, dropping down next to you on the jet.

Aaron was across from you at the table, and you’d been playing a quiet game of footsie for the better part of fifteen minutes. You pulled away first, tucking one foot under you as you turned to face Emily.

“So far so good,” you replied. “It’s a little bloodier than CARD, but dealing with adults is always easier than dealing with parents.”

She laughed lightly and clicked her tongue. “Well, once you get your first case with kids, we’ll revisit that one.” She lowered her voice, not that Hotch wouldn’t be able to hear her. “They’re always particularly hard on JJ and Hotch, you know.”

You nodded sagely. “I can imagine.”

Hotch raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

She bumped your shoulder with hers and invited you to drinks with Derek and Penelope when all the paperwork was finished.

“Sure,” you said, beaming. “I’d love to.”

You looked back down at your tablet as she rose to find a better place to nap. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a minuscule grin on Aaron’s face and returned it with one of your own.

+++

“Oh c’mon everyone has a crush on someone in their section,” JJ exclaimed, looking to Penelope for confirmation. All of you, save for Aaron and Dave, piled into the car and went to the bar when you finished your case reports.

Garcia nodded. “Oh absolutely. Have you seen those TASK guys?”

“Hey, I’m right here.” Morgan pulled on one of her pigtails. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“No but seriously,” Emily said. “Anyone catching your eye?”

You shrugged noncommittally, sipping your drink. “Not really.”

JJ squinted at you. “You might want to rethink lying to a bunch of profilers.”

“I thought profiling each other was against the rules!”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Well yeah, but that’s mostly for the big stuff, and it’s more a suggestion than a rule.”

“I thought I saw you eyein’ our fearless leader last week,” Penelope said with a sly grin.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink, buying yourself some time. You knew exactly what she was talking about – a press conference, in which Hotch shut down a particularly combative reporter with a practiced finesse. You’d failed to hide your smile before Penelope caught you, on one of her rare outings on a case.

“Yeah! I watched you guys on that last case. He’s way nicer to you than he was to me when I first got here.” Emily sounded a little hurt and a lot indignant.

Derek bumped your shoulder with his and gestured to Emily. “That’s because she was insufferable when she first got here,” he stage-whispered.

Emily looked damn near close to throwing her drink at him when you finally relented.

“Okay, fine. I may or may not have noticed that Hotch is...attractive.” You tried your best to sound more evasive and far less sure than you were. You were certain Aaron was one of the finer men you’d ever laid your eyes on, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Aha!” JJ said with a laugh. “I knew it!”

“What?” You asked

“You’ve got a crush on Ho-“ She shut her mouth abruptly as her gaze shifted over your shoulder. Emily swiftly took a massive sip of her drink and set it down a little too roughly.

You all turned around, only to find Hotch standing behind you at the bar.

“Am I too late?”

“No!” Penelope said, a little too quickly. “Not at all. Here, take my seat.”

She vacated the seat beside you, and you shot her a look.

You were playing your part well, and so was Aaron. With a small smile, he sat beside you.

“Settling in okay?” He asked. The bartender placed a beer in front of him, and he winked at you when he took a drink.

“Ah,” you said. “Emily beat you to that question,” you checked your watch, “about an hour ago. I think I said something about it being a little bloodier than I imagined, and that my new boss is a real hardass.”

+++

When you stumbled through the door of his apartment, a bit flushed and a little tipsy, you couldn’t stop laughing. You toed off your shoes and collapsed into his chest, looping your arms around his neck.

“Emily was trying so hard to weasel something out of me! You should have seen her, Aaron it was hilarious.”

He pulled you close and pressed his cold nose into your neck. You jumped and gave his hair a swift tug.

He looked up and his eyes darkened. You knew that look.

My God, he’s handsome.

“What do you say we string them along a little longer?” He asked, his voice low and rough.

You gulped. “I think that’s a great idea.” It came out a little higher and a little breathier than you intended, but he tended to have that effect on you.

+++

You had just turned off the light when there was a knock on your hotel room door. With a sigh, you hauled yourself back out of bed and opened the door.

Aaron was on the other side, in his flannel pajama pants and one of his many black crew-neck t-shirts. He looked exhausted, but that was normal when you were on the road.

“Want any company?”

As if he had to ask.

You stepped back, letting him in and locking the door behind him. He had a hand on you almost the entire time, fingers glancing across your skin as you felt your way across the room in the dark.

When you both settled under the covers, he wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him with your back to his chest. Within minutes, you were already dozing, safe and warm in his embrace.

“Hey, Y/N?” It was almost a whisper.

You matched his volume, as to not break the sanctity of the darkness. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d told you, not by a long shot. Nevertheless, it never lost its novelty. Maybe he said it a little differently or maybe you heard it a little differently each time he said it, but it always managed to set off a wave of affection that originated somewhere near your sternum.

You took his hand from where it rested against your abdomen and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I love you too.”

When your alarm woke you in the morning, he was gone. A note covered your phone where it rested on the nightstand. His blocky, even script danced in even lines across the paper.

Sweetheart,

I had to get back to my room before the others got up, but I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll see you at the precinct in a couple of hours.

I love you (even when you snore).

- AH

You scoffed. You’d get him back for that later.

I don’t snore, Aaron Hotchner.

+++

The laughter carried out of Aaron’s office and down the hall, where Dave was reading at his desk. He set his book down – the latest advance copy of a friend’s draft he’d offered to go over as a favor – and listened.

He thought he was mistaken, but he could swear he heard Aaron laughing, too.

And laughing he was. You were reaching forward with great ambition. Your one knee giving you leverage on the desk, one foot keeping your balance on one of the chairs, trying in vain to snatch the pen from his hand.

“Give it to me! You’ve been here for hours!”

Aaron’s left arm stretched high into the air as he reclined in his seat, the pen in question entirely out of your reach.

You changed tactics, bracing yourself against the desk as you leaned forward and snatched his tie. You pulled it, tugging him toward you. Your lips crashed together, and you wound the tie around your fingers to keep him close to you.

Kissing Aaron never got old. He relaxed into you, leaning forward. His hands were warm on your face, his thumbs sweeping across your cheekbones. You could feel the pen resting against your skin between his index and middle fingers.

You brought your hand to his wrist, your thumb at his pulse point. It was always reassuring to know he was here and alive. But there was, of course, an ulterior motive.

When you slid your fingers up the side of his hand, you took the pen from between his fingers. You threw it over your shoulder and he laughed into your mouth. You pulled back and kissed his nose. He looked at you, and you looked back for a moment, the outside world forgotten.

Meanwhile, Dave had left his office, peering through the not-so-closed blinds and listening through the open door.

“How long were you planning to keep us in the dark, kids?”

You jumped apart, skittering to your feet and turning around. At attention, you heard Aaron sigh and slowly rise to his feet.

“Dave, I –“

Rossi waved him off with a wide smile. “No need. As long as I get to be in on it, I’ll drag the rest along as long as you’d like.”

He crossed the office and took your face in his hands, kissing you on both cheeks. At your left, he whispered in your ear. “Thank you for taking care of his heart.”

+++

“Oh, you are so busted.”

Aaron froze where he stood, closing the door to your hotel room. He grit his teeth and took a breath. “JJ –“

She sauntered up to him with a smug smile. When she reached his shoulder, she shoved him playfully, her façade breaking immediately. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m so happy for you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in an almost-smile. “Thanks.”

Just then, you opened your door, holding his FBI windbreaker and fully expecting to sneak down the hall to his room. “Aaron, love, you forgot – fuck.”

JJ laughed. “For a pair of profilers, you two really suck at sneaking around.”

Your stomach dropped. “Do the others know?”

“I think Dave has picked up on a few things –“

Aaron shot you a look, but JJ was still looking at you.

“- and I think the rest of them are just hoping you’ll get your shit together.” She shrugged. “I’ll keep it under wraps – I’ve got money on another four months and I intend to rob Emily blind.”

You snorted, but Aaron grabbed your wrist – a warning.

Don’t tell her Dave knows, that touch said.

Just as Aaron predicted, she kept talking. “If you hold out for me, I’ll give you a third.” She raised her eyebrows and extended her hand to you.

“Deal,” you said.

She sighed, chuffed, and almost danced down the hallway. “See you later!”

+++

The ride home was quiet, with almost everyone asleep. Hotch was kicked back in one of the seats, his eyes closed, brow drawn, and arms crossed. You always tried to put yourself where you could see him, without getting too close.

Derek sat beside you, and you thought he was asleep, when –

“Are you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on between you and Hotch?”

You looked at him over your nose. “I don’t know what you’re referring to. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

He removed his headphones entirely, keeping them around his neck. “Oh come on. You might be able to trick the rest of them, but not me.”

It was true. Derek was the one you had your eye on from the beginning, and Hotch had told you to remain especially vigilant around him.

When you didn’t say anything, Derek continued.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You’re better at hiding it than he is.”

Your cheeks warmed, and a smile pulled at your lips. “Really?”

He nodded. “Hotch is a sucker when he’s in love. I saw it when I first met Haley, and I see it with you.

“I’ve got money on catching you guys next week, so let’s keep this on the low for now. I will, however, be very impressed if you manage to keep this under wraps much longer than that.” He shrugged. “If JJ wins, I’ll babysit Jack for a night so you guys can go out on a real date.”

You offered your hand, and he shook it once. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Morgan.”

He put his headphones back on, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes.

When you glanced up, Hotch’s eyes were watching, half-lidded. You knew he heard the whole thing. He gave you one of his smiles that wasn’t quite a smile and closed his eyes again.

+++

A few nights later, you all had plans to meet up at Dave’s for dinner. You and Aaron were there a little early and could take a few minutes to relax. You were curled up on the couch at Hotch’s side, his arms wrapped around you to pull you snug to his chest. Dave had a movie on – one of those loud action movies starring some famous bald guy with an iconic one-liner and a bad attitude.

You got so caught up in the movie you didn’t hear Spencer and Penelope arrive. By this point, you were halfway into Aaron’s lap, his cheek against your temple, and your fingers tracing patterns on the hand that rested on your hip.

“Oh. My. God.” Penelope stopped dead in her tracks, snatching Spencer’s sleeve.

At this point, it was just funny. You looked up at Aaron and laughed, tucking further into him. He kissed your forehead and looked up at them over your head.

“Where’d you have your money, Garcia?” He asked.

Penelope shrugged. “I’m out, I had three weeks ago, on the Nevada case.”

“I had a maximum of seven months, based on our last bought of big secret-keeping,” said Spencer. “So I’m out too. We’re going on eight months and five days, now. Emily’s up next, at the nine-to-nine-and-a-half month mark.”

They plopped down on the couch beside you, and you disentangled yourself from Aaron. Penelope glommed on to your arm. “What are we watching?”

+++

The end of the night found Dave, JJ, Derek, You, Aaron, and Penelope outlasting Emily, who graciously offered to drive Spencer home. You and Aaron were cleaning up in the kitchen, visible through the big window, while the rest of the team lounged by the firepit. You sprayed Aaron with water from the sink, and he swatted you with a towel. Very few dishes were actually washed.

They couldn’t hear your laughter, but they saw it written all over your faces.

“So,” Derek started. “Who knew?”

They all shared a look for a moment before bursting into laughter. They realized the game you played was better than the one they thought.

“Who’s the only one who doesn’t?”

JJ smirked into her wine glass. “Oh, that would be Emily.”

Derek offered the neck of his beer bottle, and JJ clinked her glass against it. “How’d you manage that?”

“Nuh-uh. Not a chance. I don’t kiss and tell.” She winked at him.

+++

“Oh, goddamn it, you guys! You couldn’t have done this last month?” Emily threw her hands in the air.

She’d just pulled the kitchen divider curtain on the jet home from an exceedingly long case. When you last checked, everyone was fast asleep. Even then, though, you’d grown more lax in the off-hours – Emily’s bet had long since lapsed, and everyone else (who mattered) knew.

You sat on the counter, with Hotch leaning between your legs. He was making a cup of coffee, seemingly uninhibited by the obstacle of your body. Your phone was in one hand, and the other was resting casually on Aaron’s shoulder, playing with the hair behind his ear.

Aaron stood up straight, his coffee in his hand. With his usual deadpan, he took a sip and said, “Sin to win weekend is coming up, if you’re worried about your account balance.”

There was a snort from behind her, and you belatedly realized her exclamation had woken the rest of the team. JJ was already collecting cash from Dave and Derek. She ruffled Spencer’s hair on her way past him. Derek dialed Penelope, and almost immediately had to take the phone away from his ear to avoid premature deafness.

JJ stood before Emily with one hand on her cocked hip and the other extended palm up, right under Emily’s nose.

Emily scoffed and pulled out her wallet. “You suck.”

+++

Three Months Later

There was a knock on your door, and you smiled to yourself as you signed another document. “Come in.”

The familiar figure sat at the chair across from you, kicking up his feet like he owned the place. You didn’t look up from your work.

“Get your feet off my desk, Hotchner.”

He huffed, but the dress shoes disappeared from the polished surface. They were soon replaced by a pair of elbows and a set of ten laced fingers.

It was nice to be back in CARD. A couple of people from the Critical Response Team had transferred out of the unit, leaving significant gaps in leadership. You were now the Special Agent In Charge for Northeast CARD operations and Deputy Unit Chief – duel positions that kept you mostly chained to your desk unless something went horribly awry.

There was no need for Aaron and you to sneak around anymore, but you missed it a little. A secret was a little exciting – something that was just yours.

But then again, that was the thing about love. It didn’t have to be exciting to make your chest feel too small for all the things you kept inside of it.

You finally looked up from your file, closing it and pushing it off to the side. Warm eyes met you across the desk.

“What can I help you with, Agent Hotchner?” Your tone was crisp and professional, but you reached for his hand, and he took it.

He rolled his eyes. “The team is going out tonight.”

“And?” You raised an eyebrow.

He stood without releasing your hand and rounded your desk, pulling you to your feet. “You’re coming with us.”

“I am?”

A tug and you were pulled flush against him. “Of course.”

“And after?”

“Jack’s with his grandparents for the weekend,” he said.

When you kissed him, you could feel his smile against your lips.

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @octothorpetopus @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls

@vintagecaptainspidey @venusbarnesmb @writefasttalkevenfaster (thought this might be up your alley, but let me know i’ve im overstepping at all xo)

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotch #tali writes fanfiction

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baeddel · 3 years

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@androfem has made a number of good posts about transmisogyny, addressed to a milieu I’m very glad not to be part of anymore. I wanted to run off of something they wrote in this one...

[2.5k words. transmisogyny, racism tw. epistemic status: Hawkeye Gough]

while hedging an argument in the second paragraph, they write “i’m by no means someone who can definitively say what tme/tma mean” (thus preparing us to hear a definition but to treat it as nondefinitive), but that they see the acronym ‘tme’ (’tranmisogyny exempt’) as “the most palatable attempt trans women and transfem nb people have made towards identifying whether other trans people are one of them or not, and other trans people communicating that as well voluntarily.” By palatable they mean to other people in their milieu, who they spend the rest of the post attacking over the reasons they found all the other terminology (casab etc.) unpalatable. Their criticisms are all quite good.

But - am I crazy, or, aren’t they wrong in this quote? The way I remember it, trans women did not come up with the term ‘tme’. This was something that tme people came up with themselves. The use of tme would eventually become imbricated with the disuse of casab, under the argument that casab requires you to ‘out’ yourself, and so on, which was its own controversy. But originally it wasn’t related to this reservation or at least I never experienced the two as connected. tme was something that, to us, came out of nowhere; it was something like an alien bacteria penetrating the atmosphere from the belly of an asteroid; it woke us up to a whole neighbouring discourse that we were unaware of. That neighbourhood was made up of cis women, trans men, and nonbinary cafabs who were beginning to grapple with the ‘transmisogyny question’. At the time, most people did not take the concept of ‘transmisogyny’ seriously; many people still believed that trans women had male privilege and so on. It was a huge surprise to us to find a whole emerging discourse of non-trans women who believed transmisogyny was real and took it seriously enough to invent their own terminology for describing it.

It’s possible you can trace the coinage to some trans woman somewhere. But at least, at the time that we encountered it, we understood it to be the self-description of non-trans women. A lot of trans women at the time reacted very negatively to this. One of the main criticisms was that tme was not a ‘coherent category’ - could we say that it tries to be too definitive, ie. a definition that overapplies? The anxiety was that it would collect the experience of subjects which cannot rightly be put together; trans men, cis women, cafabs, whoever else, do not all experience patriarhcy(!) in the same way. They all have different proximities to misogyny, emotional labour (when you were still allowed to say that), access to community, sexual access & availability, and so on. Later or earlier, I don’t remember, this same discursive device would be used by trans women against casab; we were derided for “treating casab like a coherent class.”

Androfem may be surprised to learn that this criticism orginates with trans women, if they weren’t there for this. The gesture returns, later on in their post, when they chastise others in their milieu for reading trans women’s arguments in bad faith. They caution that “the assumption shouldn’t be made that [a transfem is] completely unaware of or in denial about” all of the various nuances of proximity whenever she says “definitively” (emphasis mine) that “tme people aren’t affected by transmisogyny”. At this point, the taboo on definitions reaches a delerious extreme - Androfem’s peers take issue even with this tautology! And the solution Androfem proposes is not to take the claim seriously, but to secretly insert something that disrupts it, imagine some inapplicable cases, and so on, and, further, to assume that she is also doing it behind the scenes. Androfem identifies this obsurantism with transmisogyny; their peers cannot bear to take a trans woman seriously, so they will always send her work back and demand a new more palatable analysis. And we trust they are right to make this diagnosis; but this trans woman experiences it as the terrible return of her own native discourse. What we sowed in 2012 they now reap in 2021.

Why has this discourse progressed to such an epistemologically vicious place, where no statements about gender are possible? Baudrillard would enjoy watching our transsexuality become transpolitical. For whatever unconscious reason, whenever we are presented with a master signifier capable of rendering the transcendental field, we are immediately compelled to castrate it. Our destiny is to constantly throw discourses into indifference. Maybe. But the more direct lesson is that something went wrong with the method of analysis we employed to explicate transmisogyny in 2012. What went wrong?

Maybe we can begin with some statements in Androfem’s post and work backwards. They write that “tme people benefit ... from transmisogyny”, although they insert in parenthesis “(some more than others)”. This was an analysis we would have subscribed to in 2012. In 2021, we now want to ask: who benefits and in what way? Who benefits more, who less, and why?

It’s true that transmisogyny brings some profit. Growing up as trans girls we are often deployed as women are deployed; we become the older sister, surrogate mother, and secret girlfriend. Whenever our peers see us in the correct light and notice our softness (to borrow a Saxon term), they exploit it. For boys the profit derives primarily from our socially acceptable proximity in the enforced homosociality that children in our culture endure. The trans girl is a girl who you can have sleepovers with, who you can have in the boys locker room, and so on, and therefore have early sexual and emotional access to. Girls generally exploit it a little later on, when heterosexual relations are expected. The trans girl can be a special kind of boy, like a ‘gay best friend’, but who is sexually available. Both boy and girl cast their brief teenage becomings on their own special gendered Other who is capable of facilitating it by her difference. Contra Balzac, it is precisely her castration that allows her to function as a superavailable Other, not (yet) as an overproximate Same that makes us recoil.

This relation of the tme to trans women dominates in the Bay Area of California, where trans women have resumed some of our traditional roles as temple functionaries. You probably have some homeless or recently homeless or about-to-be homeless trans woman (lets say she is ‘having to be homeless’) in your overcrowded apartment who will always be there to help you process your gender feelings and is probably down to fuck if you can get over yourself and make a move on her.

But these wages of transmisogyny are transitory and marginal. While most trans women will have encountered some of these kinds of exploitative gendered relations, it is by no means a universal experience of tme people. And, whats more, it is possible to have these relations, with the same benefits, which are not exploitative. I have known many cis girl-trans girl couples who got together under the bonds of enforced heterosexuality because of the profit each had for the other - the trans girl is not threatening, better about her boundaries, and so on, perhaps because of her own experiences of sexual exploitation; the cis girl, for equally contingent reasons, just ‘gets it’, and doesn’t try and make a man out of the trans girl - and when the trans girl realizes she is trans and comes out to her partner, the two track an escape route from heterosexuality together. There is no reason to expect it to always go one way, exploitative, or always the other, emancipatory. Is the cis girl ‘benefitting from transmisogyny’ in this scenario? Is she perhaps benefitting less than others, or more than others? I think that we cannot easily analyze every relation between person and person in terms of cost and benefit; even when we are bound by structures of domination, we cannot already anticipate the outcome. At the same time, if such experiences are rare, we aren’t surprised, because we know that the desiring-situations are staged in a certain way that makes discovering these kinds of escape routes difficult.

But simaultaneous with these occasional benefits, 1. transmisogyny is usually damaging to a trans woman without bringing any profit to her persecutor, and 2. transmisogyny is usually damaging to a tme person as well. Don’t you think so? Superficially, it acts as a limit on your presentation; all cis men growing up experience limits on their behaviour, backed by punishments, to prevent or destroy whatever might seem transsexual in them. Maybe it plays a similar role in the upbringing of cis women, trans men, cafabs, etc., in ways that are waiting to be articulated? On a deeper level, transmisogyny - as the hygeine of gendered categories, the social governance of presentation, etc. - plays a crucial role in the overall desiring-situation of oppressive heterosexuality; it creates a series of taboos, anxieties, myths and harsh realities which, in some indirect way, help to maintain heterosexuality’s renewal in each successive generation.

I think some harm was done by a too-ready application of frameworks developed to analyze white supremacy to the question of gender. The progressive leitkultur in those days was still the ‘invisible napsack’. While for transmisogyny the benefits are merely occasional, there are universally accessible wages of whiteness. White people enjoy a distorted labour market; the deterritorialization of black neighbourhoods creates (barely) affordable apartments for (eg.) white students [the scenario with the Oakland enaree we described implicitly takes place in one of these apartments]; and, most generally, there are habits of prosociality between white people which are difficult to break that continually renew the same distribution of wealth, status, care and intimacy [Eldridge Cleaver referenced Harry Golden’s gag about ‘vertical integration, horizontal segregation’ (pg 67) as a good description of race relations in Folsom; we find it to be a good description of race relations in the trans community as well].

When we tried to apply these readymade frameworks to transmisogyny, we found it difficult to construct relevant categories. Transmisogyny could not be domesticated to a form of exploitation metaphorized in economic terms. Therefore, every further demand for a ‘materialism’ that could clearly enumerate the relationships of exploitation would be frustrated, finding only edge cases and anecdotes. There was no underlying machinery that always produced this or that outcome. Therefore, each category was “incoherent”, too definitive, unable to capture what we took for an underlying system that was just out of reach. But the problem was only a misplace of focus. Transmisogyny is not really a system of exploitation; it’s the nightmare of a patrilineality that cannot enforce its borders. It is necessary therefore to move beyond categories like oppression and privilege, bigot and victim, exploited and exploiter, and deal with the domination that captures both ‘tme’ and ‘tma’ in its ruses. Now we can answer some of the old warhorses; CASAB is not a class which we can say anything about, nor is tme or even tma; it is rather the residue of a paternal subjugation, a ‘weight of dead generations’ that everyone confronts moments upon their exit from the womb; a universal coercive sexuation which we cannot help but encounter, combat or obey, enforce on others and despair in our private moments. Everyone, everywhere, is aware of the problem; and the exit is waiting, somewhere, as yet undiscovered, for anyone to seize.

So much for the riddle of 2012. In 2021 the situation is not really the same. Androfem’s milieu were not socialized by anti-revisionist parties and do not metaphorize their experiences in economic terms. Their platform is a sort of legalism. They enter into a discourse which has been a continuous bloodbath for twelve years (the relevant year for them is not 2012 but 2009, and the website not tumblr but wordpress); every discussion has already been had; what is necessary now is only to enforce the common law precedent. They are obliged to accept the existence of transmisogyny because it was already accepted before they got there; they don’t really understand why and are not curious about it. They are not gender abolitionists, but inclusionists. If they had lived thirty years ago they would probably have been exclusionists and thirty years before that, inclusionists again. Every conversation begins with some pious disavowal, ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again...’ Everything has already been tabulated in their stare decisis; asexuals are not lgbt, queer is a slur, cottagecore is colonialist, and so on. What motivates them is primarily some irrelevant triviality like whether this or that fanfiction is normalizing abuse or whatever. It is thus easy to see why Androfem argues that the old taboo on being definitive is transmisogyny; in their milieu it is a strategy for rendering the anti-transmisogyny laws unenforcable. If the law is ever invoked there is a loophole; look here, you missed this nuance...

Much of that milieu - from my own experience with it - is dominated by TERF cults that essentially run friend groups as front organizations; they start off siccing teenages on each other over shipping drama and soon encourage mobbing trans women undesirables. These networks were active on wordpress in 2009, they were on tumblr when I joined in 2012 (where they were able to leverage irl connections to intimidate members of my friend group who were organizing), and they are running discord servers and stalking tumblrs here in 2021. [If anyone from that scene is reading this far and this sounds at all familiar to them: I’m sorry but, yeah, you’re in a cult. You’re better than this! The fandom drama commentariat is not really worth trying to reform. Sauve qui peut!]

These are normally crypto-TERFs who are ‘officially’ inclusive of trans women and, in fact, their friend-group cults are usually full of trans women. Trans women, we have to say, make the most ruthless transmisogynists. To this extent we must disagree with Androfem when they say that “the smallest demographic in [TERF] communities are transfems”; in my experience transfems have sometimes been the most numerous, and it is precisely because TERFs are organized around transmisogyny. The reasoning behind this paradoxical outcome is understandable only in terms of dianetics and thetan space operas.

Anyway. I have sometimes felt that transmascs need some kind of Prince of their own; someone who is able to articulate his own transsexual line of critique in the face of trans women’s well-known and well-settled one, but with the minimum amount of ressentiment; who can hold his own against transfeminine parochialsm and not cave to cheap attacks, but also not make them, and not become parochial himself. I think that ‘tme’ is at its most valuable as an organizational principle when only someone like Androfem can “definitively” articulate it. It has to be a space for tracking the escape from my own desiring-situation on my own terms, in my own style, by my own design; bathed in my own light... But to be capable of accomplishing this it needs to become a break with all previous discourses. One that is open, flexible, and forward-looking; a dangerous gambit which is definitive and unprecedented...

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sinnohborn-trainer-evan · 2 years

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The night I met a Shaymin

This story took place during my second exploration of Sinnoh, days after I had accomplished what I set out to do after my training in Kalos, Unova, Galar, and other regions. With no real greater goal in mind, I instead took time reflecting on then and now, and what I've learned and gained from those experiences, and how they've changed my life.

One very particular night turned out to be a lot warmer than I expected, especially since it is late February. Spring usually begins rolling in sometime at around early to mid March, but this may well just be a sign that Spring could come early this year, and even if not that, at least I got to enjoy a nice soft breeze and a lack of snowfall.

To keep up with my routine training exercises with my Pokémon, we took a visit to Route 224, a cape that stretches beyond the path from Victory Road past the Pokémon League. It is one of the few hotspots for hot shot Trainers trying to build their teams' strength so they'll face the league. But of course, my Pokémon and I didn't have that much trouble handling however many stopped us in our tracks.

As I reached the dead end, looking out into the sea, I find this unusual looking rock with a very cleanly polished surface, you could see yourself staring back if you looked intently at it. Upon further examination, messages, mainly of names followed by words of love and gratitude, are etched onto the flat surface, immortalizing their bonds in stone. Seeing the heartfelt messages got me to thinking about my own experiences, and the people and Pokémon I befriended on my journeys who helped me go past my originally perceived limits as a Trainer of Pokémon. With that, I decided to take a nearby edged pebble to carve out my feelings of gratitude.

"To all my friends, my family, and my dear Pokémon who support me, I give you all my thanks. - Evan"

Writing this and flashing through all the best moments made me grow teary eyed for a moment, my vision blurring, I wiped my eyes so I could see everything. Part of me was sorta glad no one else was around to watch me become emotional there.

To my surprise though, when I regained my full vision, I noticed a very long flowery path stretching on from the original dead end with the rock, all the way to... someplace.. I couldn't see far enough where the final destination was but I was more focused on, 'was this path always here? I swear this was where I had to stop.'

Compelled to keep going, I readjusted my bag strap and continue walking, on my way down the flowery path that divided the sea. As I walked, I kept turning behind me to see Route 224 just becoming farther and farther away, the commotion of trainers battling slowly growing silent, now overpowered by the ever-present sounds of small waves crashing against the sides of the path. Just how long is this path?...

The loneliness that accompanied where I was going temporarily set in this natural fear of straying too far from civilization. However, the lovely starry night sky and the way the flowers glistened in the moonlight brought on a feeling of serenity which replaced that fear. I felt more relaxed than I was afraid of being far from other people.

When I had finally reached the end, I was met with a scene that looked like it came straight out of a painting, a somewhat expansive field boasting a colorful arrangement of flowers, much like that of the ones seen behind Floaroma Town. Yet beyond that, it seemed like there was nothing else to find, not even a wild Pokémon as far as I could see or hear. This little island of flowers was as remote as you could get in Sinnoh, and it's a certain beauty that's hard to find anywhere else.

Quite comfortable and relaxed, I decided to lay down in the flower fields and look up into the night sky, enjoying the natural light show of the moon and the stars.

It was during that meditative rest that a certain rare Pokémon revealed itself among the flowers, a small, round four-legged Grass-type that had foliage all on its back like the quills of a hedgehog, and at the sides of its face, a familiar yet extremely rare breed of flower, much like the Pokémon itself. There I realized, a Shaymin approached me.

I looked over to see why it seemed curious of me, and just by looking at me, it somehow knew that I meant no ill towards it. It even behaved as though it expected me to pay visit to the flower paradise, as it chose to settle beside me while watching the sky together.

I tried to make conversation with the Shaymin, pointing to specific stars in the sky and calling out the constellations that we humans had made of the star alignments so long ago. I also told this Shaymin about all that I've been through on my travels, and how grateful I felt for each and every one of the people I knew personally.

Listening intently, the Shaymin looked to be truly moved by my genuine words and feelings. The way it looked at me somehow made me believe it was trying to tell me:

"I would love to see these wonderful experiences with you!"

This Shaymin definitely seemed to be rather fond of my company, so I asked the Shaymin if it wanted to come with me on my adventures. It stopped for a moment to think it over, and then nodded its head with a gleeful expression. Looking through my bag I search for a particular ball that might suit Shaymin perfectly, a Friend Ball, once gifted to me by a friend who came from Johto. Delighted by the similar coloration between Shaymin and the Friend Ball, it voluntarily entered the capsule, and with the chime of the final click, the deed was done. I now have the Mythical Shaymin on my team!

As one more act of kindness for my newest companion, I gave Shaymin the nickname of Glory, after that of my mother's favorite kind of flower, an act in itself a token of gratitude for my mother for giving me the chance to live this amazing life.

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valhahazred · 3 years

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Cryptid Mythos bonus! Everything that appears on this sheet is an entity reported by real people. Why no Mythos this time? Because these encounters are so strange in appearance or behavior that they could slip right into the Sothic multiverse with little to no alteration or alternative explanation. Good luck Investigators!

All Colours Sam In 1973, in the town of Sandown, 7 year old “Fay” and an unnamed friend encountered a very strange individual as they explored the fringes of a golf course. They first became aware of something weird going on when they heard a sound like an ambulance siren in the distance. Following the sound to a footbridge over a creek, the two children were confronted by a three fingered hand wearing a blue glove that beckoned them from beneath the bridge. Awaiting them was a seven foot humanoid figure wearing strange clownish clothing, seemingly reinforced with wooden slats that protruded from his sleeves and pant-legs. The figure had a book in his hands, which he immediately fumbled and dropped in the water. He splashed around cartoonishly before recovering his book, leaping out of the creek and away from the children. He moved to a small metal shed with a high-kneed hopping gait and disappeared inside. The children went to leave, only for the mysterious entity to exit again with a microphone that appeared to be the source of the wailing that drew the children in the first place. It spoke into the microphone in a friendly, non-threatening tone. “Are you still here?” The children were curious and unafraid, so they moved towards him. He held up his book and pointed at the words in order to introduce himself. “Hello and I am all colours, Sam”. They asked if he was human and he said no and when asked if he was a ghost he replied, “well, not really but I am in an odd sort of way.” The children asked what he was then and he simply said, “You know.” During their conversation with the entity they learned that although he went by Sam, he didn’t really have a name, he claimed that there were others like him and that he was afraid of humans and that he was a pacifist, refusing to harm others even if they should attack him. He invited them into his hut, where he shared some wildberries and showed them a magic trick, where he placed a berry into his ear and seemingly teleported it to his mask’s eyehole and then to his mouth with quick jerks of his head. They continued to converse for almost an hour before the children decided to leave. Was he an alien in a make-do disguise? An animated scarecrow? A figment of childish imaginations? Or just a strange homeless man dressed like a clown? Whatever the truth, All Colours Sam, also known as the Sandown Ghost Clown, was never seen again. The Crazy Critter of Bald Mountain This weird looking creature was sighted by three people in the week following a fiery object that passed over the Bald Mountain near Newaukum Lake in Washington. When the local Sheriff began an investigation into the sighting he was visited by heavily armed and uniformed men who claimed to be from the Air Force and forced him to give up the case. Old Saybrook Blockheads Mary Starr was awoken in the early morning on December 16, 1957 by a bright light shining into her bedroom. She looked out the window to witness a 30 foot cigar shaped craft hovering over her yard, less than 10 feet from her house! Inside the apparent spaceship she witnessed a pair of small creatures with fleshy skirts and clear cubic “heads” containing a floating red bulb. They raised their right arms and as a third entity appeared in the portholes the ship brightened before shooting off into the sky. Space Brains of Palos Verdes As John Hodges and Pete Rodriguez were leaving a party at two in the morning they were not expecting to meet anything from out of this world but as the car turned on its headlights illuminated two bizarre entities! The men panicked and drove away, ending the story for Rodriguez as he made it home with no complications. However, in Hodges case he next became aware of himself two and a half hours later in the driveway of his home, sitting in the car as if in a trance. Troubled by the missing time, he eventually went for hypnosis in an attempt to recover his memories of the night. While under regression he claimed that while he got his friend home safely, when he returned to his own residence the disembodied brains were waiting for him! He asked them what they wanted and suddenly he was elsewhere, in a dark room with entities that looked like the classic Greys but very tall and with webbed six fingered hands and yellow eyes. They explained that the brains were “merely translators” used in order for these beings to interface telepathically with humans. He claimed they warned him that Earth had “too much power” and showed him a map of the planet covered in lights that indicated places where humans might destroy themselves. They showed him images of dead planets and made several inaccurate prophecies before he suddenly found himself back in his car. Unlike many other abductees with similar experiences Hodges did not try to make excuses for their bunk predictions or feel like it made him important in any way. He simply assumed the aliens were untrustworthy and were playing with him. The Casa Blanca Entities This is one of the strangest and most confusing accounts of a Close Encounter of the Fifth kind, as eight children ranging from the ages of four to fifteen were terrorized by a parade of extraterrestrial monsters one summer day in 1955. It started with an array of UFOs, sun-like, disk-shaped and semi-transparent, appearing and disappearing with musical pings. Then came the entities. First was a ghostly being bearing a shiny belt buckle that was so brilliant it could blind someone looking straight at it. It was followed by disembodied arms in riveted armor that seemed to beckon to the children, small strange men that used dual ray guns to paralyze and finally a many limbed creature. All through this strange arrival something spoke to the children telepathically, offering to take them away. The kids they spoke to often seemed to be entranced, moving to the dancing UFOs mindlessly and required physical force or even being hosed down to snap them out. One child even fell off a roof in an attempt to reach a UFO, only to be protected by a red force field. The weirdest part of all is that not only did adults not see anything, they couldn’t. Despite being present for the event a mother of one of the children was unaware of the paranormal happenings. Does this mean it was all in the children’s heads, as they were overtaken by some kind of playground hysteria? Or is there some alien force that not only wants our children but can make themselves invisible to undesirable observers. The Garson Invaders In 1954 three of these insectoid entities appeared to Canadian miner Ennio La Sarza. Their appearance was already exceptional by the usual standards of reported alien contact but in a particularly striking detail their faces appeared to glow in colours La Sarza had never seen before! The beings asked La Sarza to do something for them but he refused, not only to do it but to even speak of it. It was so awful and “outright apocalyptic” that he even considered asking the RCMP to lock him up in case the creatures he’d met had some way to enforce his cooperation. The Poole Pyramid This multi-hued metallic pyramid appeared in 1965 to seven year old Terrence Druce of Poole in Dorset when he awoke to it hovering over the foot of his bed. He shrieked in terror, waking his younger brother in time for him to also witness it as it faded into thin air. That encounter might have never been recorded if the brothers hadn’t seen it again the very next day, lurking in a parking lot. They said it seemed aware of their presence and turned to watch them but it did not follow them when they decided to flee the scene. Delta Dogs An anonymous woman was driving through a snowstorm on route 07 through Syracuse in January 1958. She came across what at first seemed to be a downed plane but as she approached her engine slowly ran itself down and the car stopped itself. As she desperately tried to restart the car the snowstorm calmed and more details became apparent. Projecting out of the large object she’d thought was a plane crash was a 50 foot illuminated pole. Two strange beings rose up along the pole, floating by it as it started to retract. When the pole finished sinking into the object the creatures disappeared and the craft took off so fast she couldn’t make out where it went. The Electric Serpent of Tacoma This is easily the most unusual sighting of a sea creature that I’ve ever heard of. Seven men camping on the shore of Black Fish Bay in 1893 encountered a sea monster that appeared to be cybernetic, if not entirely biomechanical! Disturbed by a horrible noise and blinding lights the men left their camp to find a huge, hairy walrus-like animal with steaming horns, bands of coppery metal and a revolving propeller-like tail! One of the men approached it to get a better look, only to be struck by an electric blast from its copper bands and fell to the ground as if dead. When one of his friends tried to pull him to safety, he was likewise shocked by the impossible animal. The other men fled into the woods after seeing two of their number seemingly killed and the Electric Serpent seemed to lose interest and swam out into Puget Sound. Once they were sure it was gone the remaining men returned to the beach and were elated to find their friends burned and stunned but still very much alive! So what happened? Was it just one of the sadly common newspaper hoaxes of the time? Or did a bunch of 19th century fishermen find a literal fucking pokemon? You decide! Stickmen The Stickmen are an extremely recent phenomenon, with reports starting within the last 10 years or so. They are described as being stick thin and roughly humanoid, sometimes with bubble heads, glowing eyespots or even top hats. They range in size from human-like to towering in excess of 20 feet. What is most interesting about them is their apparent two dimensionality, sometimes appearing the same no matter what angle they are viewed at and sometimes being able to turn to the side and vanish as though they were never there. They are also frequently reported as being accompanied by a feeling like static electricity and of aggression or hostility. Despite those impressions the Stickmen do not appear to be hostile, instead seeming surprised and immediately retreating from a witness.

#call of cthulhu #cthulhu mythos #cryptids #eldritch #aliens #monsters #sandown ghost clown #all colours sam #The crazy critter of bald mountain #Old Saybrook Blockheads #Space Brains of Palos Verdes #The Casa Blanca Entities #The Garson Invaders #The Poole Pyramid #Delta Dogs #The Electric Serpent of Tacoma #Stickmen #my art #cryptid mythos

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