#i thought they meant black philip and was also confused

[kettouryuujin]

Fallen Fire Chapter 2: Stance Change

Chapter under the break again. Not masterposting Fallen Fire until I get another chapter up and/or I see more interest. And am very much open to names other than "Fallen Fire" for this AU.

----------

She’d…died? In that storm?

“I…no. No no no no. I can’t be dead I can’t be dead I can’t be-”

A small click as more Aromatherapy filled the room, the doctor grabbing Palina’s wrist. “Stop. Take some deep breaths. In, one, two, three, four… out, one, two, three, four…” In, one, two, three, four… out, one, two, three, four… in, one, two, three, four… out, one, two, three, four…

In…

Out…

In…

Out…

“I understand that it’s hard to believe. You’re sitting here, alive and well, and yet back home you had died. It’s… something everyone struggles with, really. We didn’t know it was possible until…

N-nevermind.” Sorrow wafted off the doctor as pieces clicked together.

Best she didn’t push. “I…a-alright.” A sniffle. “I…I will miss them…and…” Tears poked out her eyelids, ready to fall with the slightest nudge.

The Audino leaned in for a comforting hug, which Palina readily accepted. Her own arms wrapped around the big-eared ‘mon, sobs cascading from her face as the fate of a certain Growlithe weighed heavy on her heart. Was he alive? Crippled?

…Dead?

“Erm… as much as I hate to interrupt…” A new voice?

“Nurse Philips? I’m a bit…busy…” Apparently someone the doctor knew.

“...the report said that your patient was found with someone else.”

That made her jolt upright, almost sending her comforter flying. What did this nurse just say?

—-

It took a couple of minutes (which was a couple more minutes than Palina had), but soon she was being led down a corridor by the Chansey from before. “I’m sorry Dr. James couldn’t join us, but he has other patients to see.”

“I…yeah. Sure.” Eyes darted left and right, catching a strange new item (a chair with wheels, boxes with changing text, sweet-smelling metal cylinders) only to quickly discard it for another. And the whole time, a strange hope was bubbling up within her. Could it actually be possible? Was the young Lord… here?

The hope was so strong that it shoved her confusion about that weird teleporting metal room to the side. Strong enough that the instant a familiar-yet-not scent tickled her nose, she’d shot off with surprising speed.

Cries and panic were left on deaf ears as she ran. Somewhere in this oddly whimsical-colored place was her young charge. The small Growlithe who had barely survived the storm that claimed his father, who wasn’t yet ready for his duty despite others pushing it on him…

*WHAM*

“Auntie Palina?!” 

“A-Auntie?” She wasn’t that old! Also, apparently being part-Pokemon meant she could understand him now… come to think of it, how’d he recognize her? Oh, right, scent or something.

The nurse chuckled, ignoring the “aunt’s” confusion. “Well, I suppose you’re related, just not in the way we originally thought.” 

…did…

Did she actually think the young lord was her son?! That - she - what?

*crack*

The sheer shock from that statement made Palina feel heavy. Like she was made of stone (wait, was her fur brow-no, a trick of the eyes. For once).

Palina just stood there in shock, even as the pup tilted his head. “Well, Hopefully, the blood tests will confirm everythin-Ah! Careful now!” The nurse’s statement was interrupted by her rush to keep the pup from getting out of bed.

…actually, now that she looked, the Warden could swear the shape under the bed was far too…human-like, for a Growlithe. And as he writhed and squirmed, black strips were just barely visible under the moving covers. “Your doctor said you shouldn’t be getting out of bed for a while, not after that tumble earlier.”

“Tumble?!” Eyes whipped to the Chansey, some unexpected venom in Palina’s voice. They hadn’t been keeping that bad an eye on the youth, right?

“Yes. He’d taken quite a fall when we tried to see if he could walk. He wasn’t injured, thank Cressalia, but it’s like his motor skills are just…all wrong.” Oh. So it wasn’t even their fault…well, not really.

Seems like even the locals weren't ready for changes going both ways.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” A sigh. “The young Sir…wasn’t human when I saw him last.”

“Pardon?” The nurse blinked as the pup nodded. 

“Yep! Always been a Growlie!” The sudden shift in the nurse was something else. Her posture tensed, face lighting up while mouth dropped open. Faint traces of fear and shock wafted through the air as the Chansey looked from Growlithe to Arcanine, then back again.

“Ah. That would explain things... He’s never been bipedal at all, has he?”

Sigh and shake her head in confirmation. “No, he hasn’t. He probably wouldn’t be, if it wasn’t for this…” Alright. This was fine. This was fine. They’d…just need to teach him how to walk. And use hands. And possibly manners, if things kept on this track. It was just fi-

“What’re you doin’ with your forepaws, Auntie?” Huh? Oh, right. She was rubbing her temples in frustration.

“Erm… these…are my hands, actually…”

“Hands, forepaws, either works for a lot of folks.” 

The lingo went just over the pup’s head (heck, it almost went over hers), and he sniggered. “Silly Auntie! Arcanines don’t got hands!”

Nurse and “Aunt” shared a look. “...can… can you unstrap one arm-err, foreleg?”

“Not right now, no. If he doesn’t know how to move properly, there’s a real risk he might sprain or break something just trying to get up.” Well, there goes that idea.

“Those…are definitely good reasons, yeah.” Sigh and pull one of those oddly plush chairs (did every room here have one?!) towards the bed. Once done, Palina took a seat, briefly marvelling in the softness before turning to her “nephew”. 

“So…how are you feeling?”

“Bit itchy? Very confused. Lotsa weird Pokemon here. But glad Auntie Palina’s here!” A cheery smile as his bangs bounced up, exposing brilliant hazel eyes briefly. “Was worried you weren’t ok after it all got dark and numb.”

Her reply of “Well, I’m alright now, sweetie,” and the subsequent head ruffle was on autopilot. The pup didn’t see her distant gaze as his words sunk in. “Dark and numb.”

Faint chatter rolled off her ears. That all but confirmed it - he’d died in that storm. Both of them had. It was only by some miracle of Sinnoh that they were both alive, albeit in a different time and place. 

And from what the doctor had almost said earlier, Palina knew that if they tried to go back, they’d be dead again. The two of them were stuck here.

…it wasn’t the worst possible situation, she supposed. He could be fully human and she could be a fully Arcanine. It would take so much adjusting, not to mention the communication barrier…

(Or one of them might not have made it here).

“Miss? We’ve gotten in touch with your brother.” Brother? What? “He was actually already on his way, so he’ll be here any minute now-”

A burly frame filled the doorway as another bipedal Arcanine, this one male, stepped into view. “Ah, that would be him. I’ll let you all discuss for a while, just press the call button if you need me.” The egg-carrying ‘mon slipped out, trading places with the muscular canid before closing the door behind her.

Neither Palina nor the young Growlithe noticed her move.

His scent. His markings. His posture. Even before he’d said a word, Palina knew who this “brother” of hers was.

And it was, far and away, the most impossible thing she’d seen in a day full of impossibilities.

“...m’Lord?”

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pla #time travel #warden palina #hisuian arcanine #Lord Arcanine #Sir Growlithe #Hisuian growlithe #Alternate reality #isekai #Yes I Went There #Surprised? #This is why Palina got bumped to Aunt BTW #*sits back and waits for fireworks*

[harveywritings92]

How you met: Shay x Death Doula! Reader

Info on the reader's profession: A Death Doula is a person who assists in the dying process, unlike a regular doula who offer assistance for women in labor, Death Doula's deal with well... death! But they don't deal exclusively with just children, they were like an early version of grief counselors mixed with hospice��nurse and funeral director all rolled into one package, their service list would include: Giving emotional,social and Psychological support, creating death plans, helping with funeral and memorial planning, and guiding mourners to their rights and responsibilities.

===================================

Shay was assigned by Haytham to investigate the rumor that a previous dead member was apparently alive and well. They were dismissed as just so... until, Thomas Hickey appeared before the grand master claiming to have seen the man, a one Robert Bancroft a former banker and tradesman wandering the New York market district, now that wouldn't be strange except Robert had dead for three months now! And what's more, apparently the late Mr. Bancroft has also gone on to calling himself Philip McCray not much info on that name though.

Haytham sent Shay to figure out this mystery, To start him off the grand master directed the former assassin to the home of an Undertaker: Father's name [l/n] seems there been a disturbance at his place of business that might just give them a lead to this mystery. 

Shay was wary at approaching the large manor-like funeral home he heard whispers and accusations of the undertaker being a demon butcher who cut up bodies and ate their livers, others that he'd chop the limbs off and sew them to other bodies and used dark arts on them. Though Mr. Franklin who was an old friend of Mr. L/n assured Shay that those rumors were hogwash; what the experiments undertaker does with the deceased was simply a misunderstood science that will one day change the way everyone looks at life and death.

That didn't do much to calm the Irishman's nerves as the smell of Incense invaded his nose the closer he got closer the the mortuary, Shy paused for a moment to admire the birdcage shaped censers hanging by the door he thought them they were lanterns, but duty calls Shay walked inside where smell of lavender potpourri lingered in the air and the sound of arguing invaded his ears Shay followed where the voices were coming from and found himself in a large sitting room, where a y/ht y/hc woman in a black and purple dress around his age was arguing with older man.

"Well someone has to do something about this, The man's wife thinks we're hiding him!"

"I said no! No interrogations, no investigations, no bloody mystery solving! This will blow over soon."

"Yes and meantime Mr.Cray's wife is telling everyone under the sun, about how I'm some husband stealing harlot, While at the same time some ne'er-do-well going around pretending to the man!"

"The woman is grieving Y/n, you've been trained to recognize such delusions, she saw him die, their friend saw him die and...and..."

The man's voice trailed off finally noticing Shay watching them, he straightened himself up and cleared his throat, while the woman whip her head around to see what got his attention."Oh, a customer, Y/n go make some tea for... um" The Templar held his hand out. "Shay Cormac, and that won't be necessary... I'm here regarding a break-in three months ago?" the undertaker looked uncomfortable as he look at Y/n who this knowing smirk on her face. 

“Yes we.. Well my daughter's office was broken into..." He led Shay to back of the manor to Y/n's office now that the Irishman could get a good look at her noting some resemblance between her and the undertaker they both had the same eye/hair color, they got to the office as Y/n spoke up as the assassin hunter looked around.

Soon Mr. L/n left and Y/n took over "Thieves weren't after any trinkets or valuables." She directed him to a large row of cabinets with a broken locks, "they were only after papers & records of the recently deceased, and was very careful at who he was selecting." She showed him an old file with details of that person's life. {Identification papers, birthplace place and cause of death etc.] and sketches of the deceased persons face she explained they used them for an "in case" scenario of multiple funerals in one day and if the families have the same or similar sounding names.

"Here's the man whose papers were stolen" she said handing the Templar the sketch he took out a small painting of Bancroft and compared the two "This is very well done." Shay commented taking in the sketch's detail right down to the scars and birthmarks. "Uh, thank you?" Y/n said incredulously not used to hearing her work be complimented especially from a man, Shay wasn't joking when he said it was good this McCray could be Bancroft's twin, Except...

Shay checked the death record McCray had black hair, Bancroft was blond, his first thought was a wig but the way Hickey had described the bloke his hair looked too natural to be a wig, nor did it look like soot and grease as Lee had suggested, was he using ink? his dark eyes glance over at a Y/n  looking out the window shaking her head at something.

 "Is there way darken one's hair color, without wigs or ink?" the assassin hunter asked not being familiar with cosmetics, Y/n cocked a brow as she thought. "Yes through henna and katam." Shay gave her a confused look Y/n sighed and took off her gloves and pulled up her sleeve to reveal a very impressive tattoo on her hand.

Shay took her hand her to get a better look, if it wasn't fading he'd almost mistaken another glove, the lotus design was delicate the way the ink ringed around her fingers like lace was almost fairy-like. "This is mehndi art made with henna it's a type of dye made from tree dyes from India, it can also be used to change hair color...if mix with the right components." She explained the as the Irish man flipped her hand over to stare at the moon design on her wrist.

"How long does this usually last for?" He asked giving her hand back. "Well depending on type and quality three weeks? applying oils is a good way to extend it." Y/n stated as she put her gloves back on. *who'd thought that wedding tribute for my friend in India would come in handy?* She thought not noticing Shay's attention suddenly shifted to the window, in a split second the large man suddenly yanked Y/n towards him using his body to shield her from her window exploding; glass shards flew everywhere as rocks were thrown through the window! 

Followed by a woman screaming "PHILIP KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!?" then there was some struggling Shay pulled away from Y/n the two went the window to see what happened, the Irishman kept her behind him just in case. as they watched a hysterical woman throwing rocks at the funeral home, as a man and two women and adolescent boy struggled to control her.

"PHILIP COME OUT!" The man finally got a hold of her. "Stop this right now Sarah, Philip is dead!" the Sarah shook her head not believing him as the women pleaded with her to listen to her brother, she gasped seeing Y/n and Shay watching her "GIVE HIM BACK YOU WHORE!?!?" Sarah screeched ready to throw a another rock as her brother dragged her away.

the boy walked over over to the shattered window. "I...I'm sorry for my mother Miss Y/n, My aunt says they'll pay for the window..." The y/hc woman the boy off. "Don't worry about it I know it's not your mother's fault." She assured as they watched his aunts and uncle load his mother into a carriage. the boy then looked around making sure his mother couldn't hear.

"Is it true?"  

"Absolutely not, I'm not hiding your father..."

"No, not that I know fathers gone, I meant...I heard things about you being able to speak to the dead, solving murders?"

"I don't speak to dead, I speak for the dead and I swear on your father's resting soul, I will find out whose behind this and bring peace to your mother."

The boy thanked her and went to join his family, Y/n winced hears Mrs. McCray scream at the top of her lungs "I WON'T LET YOU HAVE MY BOY!?" before being restrained by her sisters-in law as her brother shook his head clearly at loss and tired of his sister fits, as they rode away...

"Speak for the dead, eh?" Shay queried sounding amused and intrigued as Y/n averted her eyes embarrassed /face red from embarrassment as she thought he'd gone to find her father once Mrs. McCray was whisked away, "Well being a death doula, that is what I do in a way..." they were suddenly interrupted by her father entering the study, wooden planks under one arm hammer and nails in the other "Except most death doulas don't go on path of Derring-do just because they think someones a killer." Y/n looked offended at her father's words.

"Well I wasn't wrong before!" she huffed agitating her father more. "Stay out of it." he warned boarding her window up, he then turned to their visitor. "And you've got your evidence Cormac, Now I suggest you take you leave." Shay bid the last name's farewell, but before he reached the door he was stopped by Y/n grabbing his arm "Mr. Cormac, when you find this man." She made her father wasn't listening; he'd blow a gasket if he found out she was meddling. 

"If possible I would like you to return him here," Shay's brows furrowed at this request, "Here, why?" he asked confused over why she would want the thief whose caused her so much disarray in her house. "I think it might help if Mrs. McCray saw "Philip" for herself." Irishman nodded seemly understanding what the y/nat woman was planning. "I'll see if can keep him in one piece." He noted Y/n hadn't let go of his arm. "Is there something else you wanted" The y/ht woman fidgeted for a moment.

"Erm...Yes, if it doesn't trouble you, perhaps I could help you again?" Shay blinked wondering if he heard right? meanwhile Y/n inner thoughts were going haywire. "You idiot, why would you ask him? no man wants the creepy undertaker’s daughter especially someone as handsome as-" Shay's broke through her pity party. "That wouldn't trouble me at all." Y/n up at Shay who looked equally startled by his words.

Cue an awkward starring contest before Y/n realized she was still holding his arm, letting him go the y/hc shyly averted her eyes to the floor/cheeks went pink, Shay was thankful for that she couldn't see the tips of his ears were red, he calmed himself before walking out of the funeral home. "I'll see you again." he promised before heading back to Haytham with his findings.  

#assassin's creed rogue #Shay Cormac x Reader #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed scenario #assassin's creed fanfiction #templar order #haytham kenway #thomas hickey

[sarahreesbrennan]

How come between Season of The Witch and Daughter of Chaos, we skipped Sabrina's dark baptism and Tommy being resurrected/killed and went straight into the Greendale 13 threat? Loving the books so far, just curious. 🖤🖤

That’s a great question and I’m so happy you’re enjoying! I’m so sorry this reply is late, I am on unexpected deadline but I know I have a few Sabrina, Fence and In Other Lands answers owing and I am delighted the questions were asked!

There is a confusion that often arises because the category of media tie-in novels (books set in the world of a media property) has two main subcategories. They are similar and have much in common, but aren’t the same.

A) One is novelizations, which is basically a book that tells the same story as the movie/TV show/graphic novels, but through a different medium. The story covers the same space of time, and includes much of the same dialogue. It’s the same story told in a different way.

B) Two is tie-in books, which tell different stories that fit in before or after, or in the spaces between the story. Often tie-in books start with prequels, telling the tale of how the characters get to the place before the story began. It’s a different story but it’s crafted specifically to tie in with the larger story.

Both subcategories are set in the specific story world. Both offer insight into the characters, their thoughts and feelings, and secret motivations, but they are different kinds of story.

I had no idea of these distinctions before I started to write tie-in books myself, so I explain here because hey, knowledge is always useful. I’ve now read a lot of them, because I wanted to teach myself how to write them and because they’re fun, so I thought discussing examples might illustrate the difference.

The Iron Man novelization by Peter David is widely considered especially good. I’ve read it and I like it a lot: great echoes, perfect story beats. (I discuss it pretty technically because I was reading it in order to teach myself to write a novelization, as opposed to a tie-in novel. I have written a novelization, but not in the Sabrina universe and not under my name for contractual reasons!) It tells the story of the first Iron Man movie, how Tony Stark became Iron Man. A novelization means a lot of the (in this case funny and great) dialogue from the movie must be used, but then with a novelization you have to get pretty specific about why the characters said what they said, and how they felt when they said it. One thing I liked a lot in the novel was the insight offered that Tony Stark’s actions at the beginning of the story were frequently driven by sheer boredom--that he was a genius who wasn’t given enough scope for his genius, and was acting out. 

An example of a fabulous tie-in book is Tess Sharpe’s The Evolution of Claire, a book that ties in with the Jurassic World movies, a prequel of how the heroine Claire gets involved in the dubiously moral world of dinosaur park creation. So it happens before the events of the movies, but by reading it you understand Claire better, her ambitions and frustrations. Another such is Leigh Bardugo’s Wonder Woman novel, Warbringer, showing Diana’s much earlier years, and making you understand more deeply how Diana evolved her moral philosophy and her secret insecurities. 

There’s a great article in the Guardian about tie-in novels: https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2018/jul/17/tie-in-novelisations-star-wars-jurassic-world

To add to the confusion, stories can have both novelizations and tie-in novels. 

Star Wars famously had absolute masses of tie-in novels. The Star Wars universe is so popular it even has junior and adult novelizations--two different novelizations of the same movie. Patricia C. Wrede, a rather fabulous YA/MG SFF writer, wrote the junior novelizations of the Star Wars prequels. (I’ve read them but if you want to get started on Patricia C. Wrede I would recommend her Enchanted Forest Chronicles. Nothing to do with Star Wars, I just love them.) 

Star Wars also has category B, the tie-in novels. For instance, Resistance Reborn by Rebecca Roanhorse, which is a story that takes place in between the events of the movies The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker. I have also read this book. Very cool interstellar war and spies action, but also... for them that like that kind of thing, among which I would include myself... Poe ties Finn’s tie. Thank u Rebecca Roanhorse.

Similarly, there’s a novelization of Maleficent 2 (Maleficent 2: Mistress of Evil by Elizabeth Rudnick), but there’s also a tie-in novel set between Maleficents 1 and 2 (Heart of the Moors by Holly Black) telling you what happened in between the events of those movies. Significant things can happen in those spaces--deaths, courtships, mysteries solved and secrets told. A dungeon scene between Prince Philip and Maleficent is in Heart of the Moors. It’s very important.

So in a novelization, a retelling of a story through a different medium, you get the same events as in the story. But you might get extra scenes that cast a different light on the story, and you will get access to the inner thoughts and motivations of the characters.

And a tie-in book is usually set in between the seasons of a TV show/movies/issues of a graphic novel. It’s a story made to fit into a liminal space, and meant to shed light both on what happens in between the stories, but to cast light before itself and behind itself--so you might learn more about the characters’ pasts, or learn things about their feelings that will illuminate why they behave in a certain way in the future.  

For the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, I was hired to write tie-ins, so I wrote a prequel (Season of the Witch) which shows the summer before Part 1, the autumn when Sabrina turns sixteen and has to sign her soul away. It’s an adventure with a rusalka, but also shows us how Sabrina came to be 100% certain her wild witch cousin Ambrose would have her back, why she was insecure enough to do memory spells on her boyfriend (Harvey), and it’s an opportunity to know how the witch world works before our heroine does.

Then I wrote Daughter of Chaos, which happens over mortal New Year’s, right after the Christmas episode that ends Part 1, and before Part 2--because the show didn’t have mortal New Year’s. That was a new adventure that could also tell us how people felt after the events of Part 1, and why people might act the way they would in Part 2. It’s about bad luck spells and enchanted towns, but it’s also about coping with a break-up and how that can put you on a different path, about bereavement and trauma caused by magic, and about longing for affection. Plus it provides us the first hints about hell, before our heroine sees the sparks fly. 

Same deal with book 3, Path of Night, which happens between Parts 2 and 3, in the early spring while Sabrina’s boyfriend (Nick) is in hell. It’s a quest for an item of power to release your beloved from suffering, but it’s also about what happens when you ask a lot (too much?) from your friends, how you can climb out of trauma toward loving relationships (between mean-girl witches and wicked-witch cousins), and how trauma can take someone apart (nobody in hell is having a good time). Plus it provides knowledge about hell before our heroine gets it in Part 3, and glimpses pertaining to heaven.

This month my tie-in novel with C.S. Pacat’s Fence graphic novels comes out (September 29!) and it’s set after the events of volume 4, though the book Striking Distance also works (like Season of the Witch) as an entryway into a new world and an introduction to the characters (in this case a fencing team at an elite boarding school). You try to make every book a possible gateway, but a book 1 definitely should be. (Still, I read Vampire Diaries Book 4 first and caught on just fine, and I recall one reader who read Daughter of Chaos/Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Book 2 and was like, ‘I do not watch this show and did not read Book 1, but I get everything and also Nick Scratch can get it.’)

Another person reading the Sabrina books was like, ‘Sabrina talks a lot about her Dark Baptism in Season of the Witch but then it never happens, Sarah Rees Brennan!’ And this is true, because it happens on the show, and I wasn’t writing novelizations. I think writing Sabrina’s Dark Baptism and Tommy’s death would have been cool and heartbreaking, but I wasn’t meant to retell a lot of scenes from the show. I did snabble a few scenes, but only ones I could use specifically for the purposes of telling the new, in-between stories.

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you get the scripts of the media property you’re working with. Sometimes you get several versions of the scripts. Sometimes you don’t know until you watch the filmed version that scenes got cut. (There were several scenes I read about in the Sabrina scripts, which were cut later, that I used to inform the books. Plus sometimes it’s just fun to watch something and be like, I KNOW WHY e.g. SHE HAS THIS ACCENT/HIS SHIRT DISAPPEARED.) For both you get insights into the story, and especially insights into points of view, that I think you can really only get with books.

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you consult with the writers for the media property, are told things to do and things not to do, and have opportunities to do other optional research. (Things I have done in pursuit of better tie-in novels: written to Sabrina actors and asked them their character thoughts and how they played certain scenes. Forced C.S. Pacat to play with my kitten on a skype call while I took her notes about fencing and feelings.)  

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you have to write them fast, and you have highly specific contracts. Christopher Golden, who’s written many Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Daredevil novels, discusses some details here: https://iamtw.org/from-daredevil-to-buffy-christopher-golden/

So, that’s Options A and B. There’s also Mystery Option C, stories that blur the lines between the two, such as the events of a story told from the point of view of supporting characters, so you see both behind the scenes, the scenes and often before-and-after for the story proper. Tom Stoppard’s play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, focusing on Hamlet’s pals from uni. I don’t know what you’d call them. I just wanted to say that they exist too.

Thank you for reading! (Both this and the books.) I hope this was informative and not too dull. :)

#chilling adventures of sabrina #caos #star wars #novelisation #novelization #tie in book #tie in novel #fencecomic #jurassic world #maleficent 2 #buffy the vampire slayer #daredevil #hamlet #iron man

[dreams-of-wings]

Descendants Imagine

Imagine: Being Mal's long lost sister, but you've been living on Auradon the entire time.

Of course nobody knew who your mother was, not even you.

If they did they would want your head on a wooden pike.

Unfortunately that means you also don't know your biological father

You were raised by Sleeping Beauty and Prince Phillip, alongside their daughter Audrey.

No one knows you were adopted, not even you and Audrey.

You always knew how superficial and stuck-up she was (she was good at hiding it for the most part at school till the VK's showed up), but to you she was your sister, and family meant everything.

She's nicer to you, because you're her sister.

You do a lot of apologizing for that girl.

You tend to be the nicer one out of the two of you.

Which leads to you having real friends.

The times she is rude or mean to you, is normally when you're around your friends.

High-key it's because deep down she knows her friends are fake, or at the very least she doesn't see them as friends.

You're good friends with Ben.

For a while Audrey thought you were trying to steal him.

But for the most part you don't hang around the royal children.

Like Mal, you can also turn into a dragon - but you don't know that.

Also like Mal, your eyes glow.

They glow a bright electric blue though.

She's more experienced and has been practicing, so while she can do it on command, you can only do it when experiencing intense emotions.

Your friends just think your eyes change color depending on your mood.

Things get a little dicey when the VK's start attending school at Auradon High.

It's so easy to tell when Mal is using her fake nice-girl voice because you hear it from Audrey all the time.

They can tell your different from the rest of the students.

Mal gets an odd vibe from you, and the others just notice the fact that you aren't an asshole to them.

You also aren't stupid.

Jay made the mistake of trying to get information about Fairy godmothers wand from you.

You just gave him a look and were like, "Why? What are you going to do with it?"

From then on Mal forbid them from talking to you about anything remotely close to their plans

You're good friends with Carlos and Evie.

Jay's a bit on the fence, sometimes he seems like a friend sometimes he's distant (Thanks Mal).

Mal doesn't really talk to you.

Eventually it seems like the other kids start to accept the VK's

Then they open up a little more.

And once they open up a bit more, you become better friends with them, even Mal.

Of course then your and Audrey's grandmother had mess it all up.

Audrey and Chad didn't help either.

You felt bad for Mal and the other VK's

They had actually been doing great, but people still shunned them.

Audrey, Chad, and your grandmother didn't let you follow after the VK's when they fled the tournament.

That was the first time the VK's saw your eyes glow.

You very overwhelmed with emotions: anger, frustration, sadness, and confusion.

You sat with them at lunch right after Audrey and Chad chased Doug away from them.

They started calling you over, and talking to you as if they had a say in your decisions. Then Audrey and Jane walked over to Mal and started trash talking like she wasn't there.

"Its just a bad girl phase."

"Yeah as if he would ever make a villan his queen."

"Buzz off!" You slammed your hands on the table and stood up from your seat.

This would be the second time the VK's have seen your eyes change.

Twice in one day, and only in a matter of hours.

"What is wrong with you?"

Audrey looked at you like she was disgusted.

She'd never been on the receiving end of your "freaky" eyes.

That's when Mal took away Jane's new hair and turned it back to normal.

After that Audrey and her crew left.

You were about to sit back down when-

"It's fine, we don't need your pity."

Oof, back to square one with Mal.

You stood there for a moment, watching her like she would change her mind.

But she didn't, and with a sigh you simply shook your head and walked away.

Evie wanted to stop you.

"Didn't you see her eyes?"

Mal was confused for a moment.

Yes

Yes she had, both times, but it hadn't occurred to her how few people were able to do that till now.

And your parents are mortal - royal, but mortal. With the only magic in it being the fairies who raised your mother, but even then, they weren't related by blood.

You shouldn't be able to do that.

The coronation is where you found out you could turn into a dragon.

When Maleficent appeared you were overcome with emotion.

Anger, she just didn't seem like she could change, she wanted to take everything from you and everyone you loved.

Fear, for you, your friends, your family.

Your heart raced and your pulse quickened.

You felt like you were going to black out

But then-

You froze with all the others, but the moment you turned into a dragon Maleficent instantly knew who you were.

"You! You insolent brat!"

Mal had never heard her mother sound so full of disdain.

Sure she got angry and disappointed with her regularly, but this was full of a toxic hate that she was sure had been previously reserved for only Sleeping Beauty's family.

Apparently she was wrong.

"Her?" Mal was confused, but she thought if she could distract her mom long enough she could grab the wand.

Maleficent growled and took a step towards your massive form.

"Who is 'her'?"

"Your meddling older sister!" Maleficent whipped around and growled at the daughter she raised.

She stumbled upon an old fortune teller after her fall. She was pregnant at the time with you, and she had high hopes that you would be able to aid her with her revenge when you got older, however, the strange man had assured her that it's best not to count your chickens before they hatch, for the future is never written in stone.

The message had been vague, but it was enough to make her paranoid that perhaps you would be her true downfall.

So she abandoned you.

She left you on the side of the road some time after you were born and left you at the mercy of the wild animals.

Luckily for you, Aurora and Philip had been heading back to their home, just days after their own daughter's birth; that's when they heard you and found you, before taking you in - of course Maleficent didn't know that part.

Mal blinked as her mother explained her animosity towards you, all while she slowly stalked towards you. She was on the verge of tears.

All this time she had a sister.

A sister whose not much older than she is.

An older sister who her mother threw away like trash all because of the ramblings of some senile old man.

Her eyes were glassy now, tears hanging on to the edge of them.

All this time she thought she had to deal with her mother alone.

Sure she and Evie were like sisters now, but she could have also had you - especially when she was younger.

"Perhaps I should have finished the job instead of leaving a loose end!" She raised the wand, ready to finish you in your vulnerable frozen state.

"No!"

Mal snatched the wand.

Your mother growled and tried to snag it back, but in their struggle Mal accidentally hit you with a blast from the wand.

And it freed you.

"YOU'LL REGRET THAT!"

You and Maleficent totally had a dragon fight.

But since you aren't that experienced in the form, you eventually get overpowered.

Cue Mal saving you by turning your mom into a lizard and freeing everyone.

You felt weak after turning back to normal and almost collapsed.

"I didn't know you could do that!"

"Neither did I."

Mal helped to keep you upright.

Needless to say, after the whole thing had been broadcast live on television, everyone knew you were Maleficents daughter.

The family that had raised you, no longer wanted anything to do with you.

As far as they were concerned you were just Maleficents spawn who had manahed to deceive then and infiltrate their family.

The VK's were your family now.

Mal started teaching you magic, and how to control your powers.

"Do you think I can turn into a dragon too?"

"I'm not sure?"

You struggled with magic, and honestly you begin to think that maybe Mal got all the magic, and you can just turn into a dragon?

Is that so bad though?

Two halves of a whole?

#reader insert #reader #descendants #disneys descendants #descendants imagine #descendants imagines #descendants x reader #disney imagine #descendants 2 #descendants confession #descendants headcanon

[eternalstrigoii]

Your Own - II

We have something they didn’t plan on: alternating POV. I Borra (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Desert Warrior Dark Fey (Reader); Maleficent x Diaval; Aurora x Philip; Conall x A Break.

Yet another love-filled shoutout to @vespertineoracle for putting up with my nonsense + loaning Nyvi where he’s needed.

               “Dwellings space out along here,” Borra traced the open swath of farmland on the map between the stone walls of one human kingdom and the since-crumbled wall of thorns around the moors. “They’re surrounded on all sides but the sea.”

It was a matter of concern, and for good reason. Forays into the moors rarely went above single-pair scouting parties, and almost never included those who were not Conall, Borra, or you anymore.

“How do they survive?” Ini wondered aloud, scowling at the shapes meant to represent high peaks and rolling valleys; dense fields of crops nearly walled with grain. If not for the danger it held, the beauty of the rolling landscape bathed in night would’ve pleased you immensely. (You ran your tongue against the backs of your teeth at the memory of a melon stolen from a vine, its sweet, green flesh sugary and easily rent by your talons in the safety of the nest.)

“With help,” you replied, banishing the memory as quickly as it came.

Borra met your eyes, and you shifted your weight to the balls of your feet to keep your wings from drooping. He’d gone out alone the night before; he was as tense before he left as you were when he did. He cared for those defenseless creatures, some of the last of your kind left mostly-undisturbed. (Your kind, even if they weren’t precisely yours; they could do nothing to alleviate your plight, though there was much you could do for theirs.) You were the shield at his back, and you stayed to protect them while he was gone. You’d watched the sea for ships, for lights, for anything that could’ve been a threat until he returned. Unscathed, which pleased you. Angry, which did not. There were more poachers, and one of them got away. With a fey, he presumed, for he never saw the little creature return.

And now he seethed. He plotted, restless, at your side.

“Can we monitor a route?” Ini asked.

You were thinking less of scheduled routes and more of establishing your own sort of battlements, your own stations around the moors where they could be stopped before they entered.

You nearly thought Shrike had come to join you when she landed, except she stalked toward you with much too clear of intent. “Is it true?”

You were all torn away. Borra’s head quirked.

“Conall found a newcomer. One of us, out there.”

The since-crumbled wall of thorns, your mind reminded though you shoved the thought away.

You stood with him, followed without being prompted. Whispers betrayed collective curiosity, though no one dared approach. No one should; migrations were rarer and rarer these days. It was as though, beyond your self-imposed isolation, nothing of your people was left.

Maybe there weren’t. Maybe this one was all that remained.

You followed the scent of iron-burned flesh to the healers’ nest. You stood behind him as Conall kept pressure on her wound while Nyvi, cradling something that did not look like a bolt or the head of an arrow, placed it into the black stone bowl. It hissed, boiling the water while it burned off her blood.

You rested a hand on his back, watching the seawater froth and churn. The object bobbed, small and round. Compact. Like a stone for a slingshot, easily fired from a distance.

“They plucked her from the sky,” you whispered.

Conall’s gaze lifted. They were both soaked to the skin, you realized, and they had yet to unwrap a strange, bird-skull decorated material from around her head. It looked like leather, though why one would wear leather armor on their head puzzled you for a moment. Just a moment. Until the severity of her wound regarded you, and you tore your eyes away from the blood-soaked cotton Conall held to her skin.

“Will she live?” Borra asked, though not even he could keep the tension from his voice.

“She won’t die,” Nyvi responded. “Conall brought her in time.”

“Who is she?” you managed, though your voice was hardly above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Conall replied, his voice even and low. Betraying nothing that the bone-dressed fabric plastered to her skin did not. “I watched her fall into the sea.”

You looked to him, though you knew he’d already decided. The wall of thorns was not made by collective strength or unity amongst the moor-folk; the crumbled wall of thorns had to be hers. They had to be her doing, though you couldn’t imagine why she would let them fall.

“Borra,” Conall cautioned.

He looked to you. You nodded without needing to be asked; the others could stay. If there was a chance he’d be fired upon, you wouldn’t let him go alone.

“Suren.” His voice was less guarded with you; don’t do this.

You had gone last down the woven flight-tunnel, though, and that meant you would be the first to leave. So you did, with Borra at your back and something like fear weighing heavy in your chest.

The others watched you leave as though they knew you would once word reached you. You wondered if they knew about the iron ball withdrawn from her side, and you bristled at the thought. You didn’t know her, yet you didn’t want her to die. Humans shed blood often enough at the expense of your people’s lives, people you had known since you fledged and those who had been lost long before you existed. Outsider though she was, she was one of you.

You kept close to the water with him. Your ascent hugged the cliffs. It was cool and quiet with thin clouds passing before the moon; the high twinkle of stars painted the black sky in a hue of glittering magic.

He held out his hand, and you fell back. Your wings flattened; you coasted alongside him into the low branches of a nearby tree.

There was a horse coming. It struggled across the river, with the water rushing violently around it, but it was sure-footed and its rider…

Was not dressed like a poacher. Not at all.

You scowled and lowered into a familiar crouch, keeping an eye on the big, white beast and the golden-haired child perched on its back. Her cloak was as white as its fur, and the floral pinkness of her dress made your eyes narrow.

Some part of you wish she’d seen you, quirking your head like the hawk watches prey. Saw the moonlight on your golden eyes and faltered. But it was the part of you that also held those moor-folk dear, and the part that backed your confusion as the girl swiftly dismount. “Maleficent?!”

The moor-folk gathered as she ran over the grass and the moss. They knew her.

“Godmother?!” Her voice cracked. She sunk onto a chair of woven branches, her slender body wracked with early sobs.

You looked to him, refusing to believe what it was you thought you saw. He was always so near to you in thought that if he believed it, you would’ve also.

But he watched her with sharpness in his eyes, and you shifted your weight nearer to him as though in preparation for attack. It would not be the first time you’d witnessed human deception.

“Please,” her voice was small and breathless, “come back.”

The moor-folk didn’t know what to make of her, but they gathered. They gathered like they wanted to comfort her. Like they knew her, and the absurdity of the thought nearly made you shake your head. Humans do not commune peacefully with fey, they never have.

“She’s not on the moors,” another voice called, and you raised your talons in preparation.

“Oh, Diaval!” the girl gathered her skirts and ran from the branch-chair into the arms of another man – human, you thought, though the only human smell came from her. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“No one’s seen her.” So they did commune with the fey. These two, at least. They understood their language, and the moor-folk…cared for them? Knew them in return? “She’s nowhere to be found.”

Not to them. But you knew where she was, and you knew who she was, though you waited for confirmation.

They both looked wrought.

“What if she never comes back?” Diaval asked, and suddenly patted the front of his feathered coat, “What if I’m stuck as a human forever?”

Then what are you? you thought, quirking your head again.

“I have to find her,” the teary child replied, and you bristled.

You can’t, you shan’t, and you don’t deserve to. Your kind shot her from the sky.

They looked off into the peaks, and you followed their gaze to the highest of them – the one that would make the best fortress, should their people need to be gathered.

“She’s the only one who can break the curse.”

Curses. Humans communing with fey. Absurd.

And yet, you still looked to Borra in hopes he thought the same. As though your uncertainty wouldn’t be mirrored.

Curses. Humans communing with fey. Poachers on the moors, and a dark fey nesting in the peaks none the wiser. None of it made sense.

“Have you ever gone there without flying?” the girl asked Diaval.

“No,” he admitted. “It’s a sheer drop. It won’t be easy.”

“We must.” The girl was…willful. Strange. She moved across the moors like she knew them well, and the flare of concern in your chest when she approached the little creatures wasn’t a response you could stifle.

“Leif?” she paused before one of the tree-men gathered along the forest’s seam, “Would you help me get there?”

The tree men communed, all three of them, before agreeing.

“You should let me go first.” Diaval joined her. “She may not…” He paused, as though struggling to find words. “She may not be open to your company right now.”

The child had her shot from the sky.

You bristled so hard, the flare of your wings came so abruptly, that Borra had to rest a hand on your shoulder to stop you from disturbing the trees.

“Please.” The child’s voice broke again, and real tears came this time. “This is all my fault. I need her, Diaval.”

The not-human was her mate, you thought in passing; he didn’t smell like fey, but the pain that flickered clearly across his face betrayed his agreement. He feared for her, the half-dead fey Conall brought back to the nest. There could be no one else. You hoped there could be no one else.

“We’ll find her, Aurora,” he said, drawing her close again. “I promise.”

    You hated doing nothing, but nothing was what you did. When they left for the peaks, you and Borra took to the skies with information that you thought made no sense separately or together.

Not to anyone but Conall.

You left them to make sense of it on their own. In the safety of the nest, with Ini watching for ships or lights or flying projectiles, you had fewer qualms about leaving him on his own.

Or, so you told yourself. But you had to see her.

She slept still, her dark wings unfurled to her sides. They were preened enough to properly dry, though that didn’t stop you from combing out a spot of matted feathers when you saw it.

Nyvi redressed her wound. Again. You could tell by the growing pile of saturated bandages that he’d done it several times in your absence.

She was beautiful. There were chips in her horns like they’d been clipped by weapons, but they were nearly pristine. Her hair was long and straight, the color of wet bark. Her lips were the color of ripe berries. She was of the forest, then; appropriate that Conall of all of you would find her.

“Did you find those responsible?”

You tore your eyes from her face to offer Nyvi use of your hands. He accepted them willingly, offering you the pad of cloth that would continue to absorb her blood as long as it flowed. You held pressure while he gathered new bandages for her wound.

“We know they came from the fortress on the other side of the river.” Ulstead, you thought with mounting disgust. A name like spitting up a half-eaten bone. “She was there, and then they shot her from the sky when she departed.”

“Why would she go to a human fortress?” He slipped the bandages under her with the ease of pouring sea water, and wound them tightly around her stomach.

You were silent for a moment. It made no sense to you either, but neither you nor Borra could deny outright what you’d learned. “Because she has a human daughter, and it was a matter of courtship between her human daughter and their prince.”

His hands paused. He looked at you like you’d grown another set of horns.

“I know. Conall believes she’s already begun forging peace.”

“And what do you?”

You believed only what you knew, and the black marks around your wrists may have been covered by your gauntlets, but the ones around your ankles never were. The piebald scald on Borra’s back and sides. The lameness in Nyvi’s left wing.

“I believe what I see,” you whispered. “How much blood has she lost?”

“A deal. She’ll be weak for a time, but she should recover.”

Maleficent. You thought her name over, and it was nearly on the tip of your tongue when Nyvi gently moved your hands to finish folding her bandages. They were separate from the ones around her chest, covering her in place of armor.

“She won’t die?” you verified. It was because Borra had taken to protecting the creatures of the moors, you justified to yourself; she was one of you, whether or not you knew her. Your wariness, your hesitation, wasn’t mirrored in your mate. He wanted to protect her just as fiercely as the other little creatures who couldn’t defend themselves. He wanted to protect her even if she was shot down for attempting to forge an alliance between humans and fey.

“She won’t die.” Nyvi’s hands closed over yours and gave them a comfortable, chilly squeeze. “Come. We need to let her rest. I imagine Borra and Conall will be holding council soon.”

You nodded, fully in agreement, and yet you lingered.

You were used to rage when they tried to take your peoples’ lives. You seethed with him at the vanished moor-folk; every vanished fey was to be presumed dead for good reason. But, at least for the time, you were sad for her.

“She was all alone out there,” you said before Nyvi fully left. “With a human for a child and another creature for a mate.”

“She’s home now,” he said and caught your fingers once again. “Let her rest.”

You did, allowing yourself to be guided from the nest in which she slept with the cushion of shed down beneath your feet muffling your retreat.

You were sad for her, and you were sad for Conall, and you were, in part, sad for yourself, because his rescuing her from the bottom of the sea proved that there could be no diplomacy. If your people were to have peace, there must first be war.

   “If Conall hadn’t found her, she would be dead.”

One of the forest-women nearby shifted restlessly. You knew her from the last celebration; she’d just welcomed a child into the nest, her first with her mate. They weren’t even a moon old.

You all had vested interest in Maleficent. In what became of her. Her existence was as much a joy as a threat, and, though Conall and Borra were largely in agreement, the gravity of your newfound situation escaped no one.

He told them of her daughter’s search. He told them everything – of the girl, of Diaval, of the moor-folk and his time protecting them. He told them how, in all that time, she evaded sight. Conall pressed that her defense of her human child shouldn’t come as concern, and Borra agreed; it wouldn’t be the first time the fey were blamed for carrying off one that was unwanted. But it changed nothing of the circumstance that brought her to you, the potential for that same child’s betrayal despite what you’d seen.

The only advantage that you had in regards to housing her was that no one launched ships. Not yet. Because the moors were surrounded on all sides but the sea, and that made the moors a clear advantage.

He held up the iron bullet, and the sound of burning flesh set your teeth on edge. He was used to pain, and you sought to be just as comfortable, but it was different when it was him. The sear of iron on your skin could be ignored, but the possibility of his pain could not, even when he didn’t flinch.

You were grateful that Nyvi stayed close. That his wing brushed yours even when it was physically difficult for you to unwind your talons from your palms long enough to provide a gentle touch in return. You had to brush his wing with your own in thanks; you couldn’t recall when last your circumstances escalated so quickly. Poachers. Escape. A mysterious dark fey shot down from the sky. A mysterious dark fey communing with humans. You should’ve distrusted her, and you did not, because she was alone and as badly in need of family as the rest of you.

Entertaining the alternative was too much. A traitor in your nest. Brought home and cared for by the people you loved most. Someone who would turn on you, let you die – or worse.

You all gathered because you were afraid. Afraid of what she meant, what had been done, and what would be done in retaliation.

You could offer them no comfort.

And that was why you were glad Borra rose to the occasion. He thought clearly. He planned ahead. If you were to go to war, he would lead once he knew the odds.

Conall must know that.

You couldn’t keep your eyes on either of them for very long. You were tense and it had no outlet. You were tired of planning; he should’ve taken you with to the moors the night before last. If you’d been able to do something with yourself before all of this, maybe what was left unknown wouldn’t make your skin crawl.

Like her loyalty. Like why she had been shot down now.

Like why you’d never seen her. With all the berries you’d foraged, the rabbits you killed, the herbs you fetched for the healers for their balms and salves and tonics; how hadn’t you seen her? How hadn’t you crossed her path? You had a suspicion, a faint, nagging thought that couldn’t be dismissed – had she seen you? Were you both predators keeping watchful eye on the other, or had your dance changed? Which of you remained the predator and which became unwitting prey?

“You’re wrong, Con,” Borra said, and your attention returned. Sometimes you thought he could’ve spoken from miles away and you would’ve heard him. “We have something they didn’t plan on.” He turned away from Conall. Stared into the shadows at the flight-path’s entrance. “We have her.”

You bristled, and you hated how quickly it began to ease.

She was no threat to you. She was wounded, cowering as though she’d never seen another of her own. Her eyes were bright like Conall’s, the crisp green of a forest in spring, and they were wide. Her wing was even partly folded around herself for protection.

Good, you thought. She distrusts you as much as you distrust her. But only that much. There was a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. If you were kind, you would acknowledge her relief.

It was no wonder Borra didn’t share your reservations.

The collective of you shifted toward her, their attention piqued. Even Nyvi moved closer to you; you glanced his way and refused to acknowledge the quiet surprise in his features. She wasn’t supposed to be awake and mobile.

“She holds powers none of us possess.” He presumed. You presumed. You hoped. All the talk of curses and thorn-walls and great battles with fallen kingdoms leaving shifted soil and shattered trees had to mean something. But you didn’t know her, so it was little more than an educated guess.

“She’s wounded, Borra,” Conall replied, and you poorly resisted the urge to note his reservation.

“Who are you?” she cried. Maleficent. What would she have done if you breathed her name?

Probably what she did when Borra approached her. Her wings flared in self-defense, drawn up and fluffed to make her look larger than she was.

She’s been hurt before.

She was no warrior. Not like you, not even like the majority of you. When he got close to her, she froze, tense. The antelope in the open grass.

Teach her to fight, the part of you whispered that wasn’t demanding she show you that she already could. She held her own just fine with Borra studying her, with no space between them besides the teasing breath of provocation. You knew what he was doing, and yet you snarled low in your chest when he abruptly flew backward, momentarily engulfed by a swirling, green mist.

He didn’t land hard. He wasn’t hurt. But the step forward you’d taken was instinctual.

“You see?” You knew he spoke to Conall above the rest, and yet you forced yourself to release your breath. “You see what’s inside her?”

“Yes,” you whispered with them. He was right. Whatever he noticed, he baited the truth out of her, and it panned out in his favor.

“That is what will save us all.”

Or doom you, that nagging part of you whispered in the back of your thoughts.

But you trusted him. When the others took flight – when you all left her – you did not stay behind.

Whatever fear you have of her, place your trust in him. He has yet to be wrong.

             “Are you coming with me?” He ran his hands over your arms while you stared into the darkness from whence you’d come. You watched the flickering bonfires of families not too much unlike your own, long lost, and the moist chill of the caverns bled into your clothes.

“Back to the moors?”

His fingers trailed over you. You closed your eyes, folded your wings. Sunk back into him. “We have to know what we’re up against.”

“We can’t afford to move quickly.” Though you couldn’t afford to doubt him, either. There was a reason he led, and it was the same reason that you loved him. He was smart, keen, attentive. And, as his wings folded around you, you released the tension in your posture at the reminder that he would never allow harm to come to any of you – not in battle, and certainly not in the damp cold of a lower altitude.

“The escalation worries you.” A statement, not a question, but an invitation all the same. He rubbed warmth into your arms and you leaned against him with your eyes closed, basking in his warmth like the lizard in the sun.

“She worries me,” you admitted. “Her closeness to them. She may be one of us, but she was alone, Borra. She doesn’t know our people. She has no loyalty.”

He sighed. The movement of his whole body against yours offered you comfort even when the subject didn’t.

“You saw her,” you pressed.

“She was afraid,” he murmured near your ear in effort to keep it between the both of you.

You felt for her. Truly, you did, but you stared at him. As though fear hasn’t led humans to hatred. As though fear wasn’t the undercurrent leading you to war – not fear of death or fear of extermination, but fear of whatever else might come instead. Whatever they did to those little fey, whether they killed them or entrapped them or kept them as live decorations; if they killed enough of you, there was nothing to stop them from doing the same to the ones that remained.

As deeply as you longed for freedom, you wanted to shed the fledge-down of fear that clung to you even more.

“Come with me,” he repeated, more gently. “I need your eyes.”

Take Ini, you almost said, but it would do you no good to wander around the nest and play at killing deer on the plains with your kinsman’s daughter.

You pressed close to him. Nodded into the crook of his neck.

       The tide was high. You should’ve known with the moon the night before, but you took the long path into the moors, avoiding Ulstead altogether. There were necessary tactical advantages to your detour, especially considering you didn’t know whether or not the potential remained that you both could be shot from the skies, but you strongly suspected he had an ulterior motive in bringing you outside the nest on one of those rare daylight excursions.

The sun on your back made you splay your wings and coast on the tidal currents. There was brine in the air and it filled your chest with its freshness, its purity. The wheat fields were thick and golden and your fingers skimmed them when you had to fly low over them, the brush of their seeds against your palm tickling like the fine hair of some strange creature.

Low clouds kissed the peaks and traced their misty lips over your skin. You did a twirl onto your back, careful to keep high enough to remain out of sight.

But the wind still startled right out from under you when a voice rang out from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“To all who live on the moors--”

“Great skies,” you whispered, diving to stick close. You were high in the trees, and yet the sound reached you as though divine. Like the phoenix herself spoke from the belly of the earth.

Borra landed with you at his side, your fleeting dream of catching fish for lunch and perching in the mountains to let the wind caress your hair gone with the warmth of the sun while shielded in the canopy.

“--And kingdoms far and wide, the king and queen invite you to attend the wedding of their son, Philip, to Aurora in three days’ time. All are welcome--”

You looked to one another, doing nothing to quiet your surprise in the privacy of mutual isolation. Aurora? The daughter? Maleficent’s daughter? The girl on horseback last night?

Great skies. He was right.

“--And all are expected.”

You watched his eyes change. He planned, though you knew what would be done: fly low, scope out the battlement, keep to the trees and return the way you came. All potential threats needed to be identified; whatever you couldn’t do now would have to be revisited under the cover of darkness – you’d have to know the numbers of their men, the prevalence of their iron, the tricks they had up their sleeves.

“She betrayed her,” you whispered, though it sat strangely on your tongue. You’d witnessed mortal deception, but it never looked quite as authentic as the child made it seem.

“It’s what they do,” he agreed. “We’ll have to scope the battlement—”

“Know their men. Find their iron, and their tricks,” you finished.

His wings quirked, and the faintest hint of pleasure touched the curve of his lips.

“I won’t go into war not knowing what it is we’re up against,” you reminded him, though you knew he didn’t need to be. He wouldn’t ask any of you to follow him blindly into the unknown. You already knew they were taking fey, that they refined their weapons and had new methods of shooting you down from the very sky.

“I’ll never ask you to.” His fingers found yours and laced through them securely.

It was different, out there. Less stifling. Maybe it was because you’d soared freely through the peaks, or maybe it was the familiar comfort of his body heat perched beside you, but you abandoned your reservations.

You could be ready for war in three days. All of you, together. The risk was high, but with attention to detail and a prayer to your ancestors for luck that, in your heart, you’d already begun, your people might soon know freedom.

#Dark Fey #Maleficent: Mistress of Evil #Borra #Borra Maleficent #Maleficent Borra #Conall #Conall Maleficent #Maleficent Conall #Suren of the Cavernous Dark #In Which We Fill In Plot Holes And Straighten Out The Timeline (sorta) #I promised you New Content and I didn't lie but I also wasn't truthful

[gta5-watchdogswriter]

GTA V Scenario Part 1

Character(s): Lester Crest, Franklin Clinton, Trevor Philips, & Michael De Santa.

Requested by: N/A

Requests: Open

Scenario: Lester trying to prepare for a perfect date. The guys have to help but fail miserably. Unexpected help comes in.

Additional notes: Gotta give Lester more love! 

————————–

“I called you guys in for one reason and one reason only,” Lester said. He let the silence fall between him, Franklin, Trevor, and Michael. Lester spared them a quick glance but nothing beyond that. He could already feel his hands growing sweaty, which isn’t a good thing. He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but on them.  As much as those three were not the best choices when it comes to romance, Lester had no choice but to turn to them.  He couldn’t think of anyone else. He’ll be damned if he turned to any women. This situation he found himself to be in is meant for men and men only. Women wouldn’t understand what he’s going through. At least, that’s what he thought.  “I have a....date to attend to tonight,” Lester said, rushing it all out. He starts pacing back and forth, gripping his cane tightly. He could see his knuckles turning white because of his tight grip.  “A what now?” Michael asked in disbeliefed.  Lester stopped pacing and turned to his friends. He took several deep breaths before doing so. His gaze slidding to each and every one of their faces. Franklin could only stare at him. No emotions were written across his face. Michael and Trevor looked both shocked and disbelief.  “Lester has a date!?” Trevor asked. A bubble of laughter escaped his lips. He ignored the glares from Lester. “I can’t fucking believe it! I hope you don’t scare her off, Lester.” “Give him some credit, T,” Michael said. He also turned to glare at Trevor, who also ignored his glares. “He finally landed himself a girl. We might as well try to help him.”

“And maybe fucking fail at it, man.” Franklin could only shake his head. “Maybe not me. But y’all? Y’all may not help out too much.” “What the fuck does that mean, Frank!?” Trevor said, sharply.  “Hey, hey! This is no time to fucking argue who is better at preparing for dates or not. I asked for all three of you to be here. If you don’t want to leave, there’s the fucking door.” Lester’s voice cut through their voices. He could already feel himself getting frustrated. They haven’t even started and they were already arguing. Such children! “Are you going to help me or not!?”

Lester could already feel this day becoming hopeless. He might as well cancel the date. After all, he wanted this date to go smoothly. Hopefully, nothing bad happens. A woman he can finally love and who will love him back. She would love him for who he is, being disabled or not. She’ll love him regardless. His thoughts wander off to all sorts of scenarios. From what their marriage be like to their perfect little home.  “Lester? Lester!”  Lester got pulled back into reality. He blinked slightly. He switched his cane and adjusted his glasses.  “Oh, sorry about that,” Lester muttered, loudly.  “Did you wander to that kind of thought?” Trevor asked. He wiggled his eyebrows or attempted to do so.  “N-no. Enough, okay? We’re here to prepare me for my date,” Lester said. He turned his back on the three men. He faced the board. Lucky for Lester, he convinced Michael to use his house for planning and to get a board inside, which will be difficult to get back out. “You see, I planned to go to a fancy restuarant with this....woman-” A name he will not say out loud. Not yet. “So, I have to dress formally. This is what I have in mind. First, we-” “Hold up, dog,” Franklin cut Lester off. Lester held one hand up mid-way to touching the board. Lowering his hand, he turned to face his friends on the couch. “Are we planning a heist or a date? Cause those two are completely different things. A date doesn’t need to be planned outexactly. Just dress up, man. Smell nice.” “Bring her a gift or two,”  Michael said.  “Tell her that her-” Trevor was immediately cut off by Michael’s hand shooting out and covering his mouth.  “What he’s trying to say, compliment her. Not in that kind of way,” Michael hissed. He gave another glare to Trevor. Michael’s face changed from an annoyed look to a confused look to an angry look. His hand jerked away. “Why the fuck did you lick me, Trev!?” “Cause your fucking hand was over my mouth, sugartits,” Trevor said. 

Both Lester and Franklin groaned. There goes those two again.  ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ “Both looks so well on you,” Michael said. Hhe held up two suits. One in black and another in gray. He held the black suit up to Lester before holding up the gray.  “What about this one?” Trevor asked, popping up next to Michael. Trevor held up a brown checker suit. Lester didn’t like the look on Trevor’s face. It meant trouble.  “Hell no. It will show, you know,” Michael said. Using the hand with the gray suit, he gestures at Lester’s junk. “We don’t want to make the woman uncomfortable on the date. It’ll be embarassing.”  Franklin came up beside Trevor. He held up some boxes of shoes. Not a lot though. Lester could tell they were also having trouble finding outfits for him as much as he had troubled himself.  ‘This is getting more and more hopeless by the hour,’ Lester thought. He glanced at his watch. Time is ticking. He didn’t have a lot of time and he already didn’t have an outfit. He could just show up with whatever looks the nicest.  “Try these on,” Michael said. Both headed over to the fitting room, which he set the clothes down on the little chair. Franklin moved to place the shoes down. Both Franklin and Michael left, leaving Lester to try out the outfits.  An hour, several stores, and several outfits later, none of the guys found any outfits that would work. Either the size was too big or too small. Perhaps the suits didn’t look well on Lester, despite the colors working well. The shoes were okay, which is good. They got that down. “I give up,” Lester said. “I might as well cancel the date.” “We can’t fucking give up,” Trevor said.  “It’s hopeless,” Michael replied. He rolled his neck. A sigh left his lips.  “Oh, it’s not hopeless at all.”  All eyes turned to the speaker. 

#gta v #gta v scenario #gta 5 #gta five #gta #gta 5 scenario #Grand Theft Auto V #Grand Theft Auto 5 #grand theft auto five #scenario #lester crest #michael de santa #trevor philips #franklin clinton

[munofsilver]

One Night Chapter 4

You can read it on Ao3. Summary: Chloe surprises Nathaniel day spending the day together.  

Nathaniel takes Chloe into his bedroom this time sober, and he brings out his only suit. It is brown in color with a cream color shirt and tie. Chloe takes it from Nathaniel’s hand and holds it up to him. “Nope. Color all wrong. You need something that matches you. Brown so not for you,” she tosses the suit on the floor.

Nathaniel goes to pick it up while Chloe walks right into his closet. “Do you have shoes to go with that thing? I think I found them. How about a belt? Would a belt look go with that thing?”

“It’s a suit and was my father’s,” Nathaniel carefully places the suit on his bed.

Chloe drops her hand that was reaching for the belt. She remembers Nathaniel telling her about his father the night she met his family. “Sorry,” she speaks softly. “Nothing wrong with the suit. Just brown, not your color.”

“I understand. Suits are expensive when I was eighteen. My mother gave me the last suit he bought for work.”

Chloe steps out of the closet, placing the shoes she was holding on the floor at the foot of the bed. Looking at the suit, she can tell it’s not that old. Like it was made when Nathaniel was a teen. His father passed away when Nathaniel and Chloe were fifteen. Nathaniel’s father could have bought that suit shortly before he died. Chloe falls onto the bed next to the suit as Nathaniel puts it back in the closet.

Noticing Chloe’s tears brought him to her side. “I’m sorry about what happened. I know it was years ago, but it seems like you still think about your father. Even though my mother was never around, I’m lucky because she’s still alive and I can call or text her whenever I want, granted she may not respond right away. You can’t talk to your father. I’m sure you two were close,” Chloe sniffs.

Nathaniel takes a seat next to Chloe and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Yes, we were. Father was close to my sister and me. If anything, you should feel bad for Natalie. She was only five at the time,”

Chloe’s eyes widen. Chloe didn’t think Natalie was that much younger than Nathaniel. “I want to know more about your father. Not now we need to get you a new suit,” Chloe grabs the brown suit. “Plus get this one dry cleaned,” she walks out the room.

Nathaniel follows her after he puts the shoes away. At the front door, Chloe is waiting. With her hands full, she’s unable to open the door. Nathaniel puts on his shoes and a jacket. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he then opens the door for Chloe. “Do you have a drivers licenses?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m trying to save for a car right now,” Nathaniel answers, locking up his apartment.

“Then you can drive,” Chloe opens the back door and places the suit very carefully on the back seat.

Then she tosses Nathaniel the keys. Good thing he was able to catch them. Chloe now waits for him to enter the car. Once he does, she doesn’t put on a seat belt or anything. “Why am I driving? I don’t know where we’re going,”

“I’ll tell you where we’re going. You’re driving cause I don’t want to right now.”

Nathaniel belts his seatbelt and starts the engine. True to her words, Chloe told him where to go when to turn and everything. Nathaniel has no idea what Chloe is up too. “Why did I need to skip class for you today?”

Chloe rolls down the window for some air. “First I wanted to see your suit. Now that I have we are going to get it clean. I know all the best dry cleaners in Paris. Some are fast. Get in the other lane you need to turn right soon.”

“The suit is clean. It has only been worn once. That was when I got it,” Nathaniel switches lanes and wait for Chloe to tell him when to turn.

“That means that is was trapped in the closet for five years untouched. It needs to be cleaned. Besides, it will make it look nice and less faded. Turn right at the lights and find a place to park.”

Nathaniel was able to park right in front of a building. As soon as they get out of the car, Nathaniel feels unsure about this. He doesn’t have much money until he picks up his paycheck. Chloe with the suit enter the building, and Nathaniel rushes in after them. He comes in just in time to hear the ending of the conversation between Chloe and the man behind the counter.

“I want you to be very careful with this suit. If anything out of place on it, you will pay,” Chloe glares at the man.

His fearing is showing as he yelp, “Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a ticket and took the suit.

Chloe looks at the ticket and places it in her wallet and the wallet back in her purse. Turning to face Nathaniel, she starts to walk towards the door. “We’re done here. The suit will be done by three.”

Chloe enters the car, and Nathaniel takes over the driver’s seat again. “Next is getting you a new suit. Once you pull out to take a right and go straight until I say so,” Chloe informs Nathaniel.

Like last time she told him the way. “There is an underground parking entrance towards the back of the parking area. I have my own spot. You’ll see it,” Chloe smiles.

Nathaniel wonders how Chloe got her own spot here. Then again, this looks like a high-end boutique. She probably comes here all the time. Right away past the three accessible parking spots is one parking area for a limbo with a sign reading, “Parking for Chloe Bourgeois Only. Others will be towed.” Nathaniel parks in the spot wondering if he really should. “Don’t worry. I know it’s meant for limbo, but today my driver is sick so normal car it is. You can still park here.”

Nathaniel looks over at the spot and car. This car was clearly custom made. White leather seats, yellow paint job, black seatbelts, and steering wheel cover. Is that gold lining on the petals? Is that even a thing with a car? It doesn’t help that the license plate is her name.

As soon as they enter the boutique, they were greeted by the owner. “Chloe darling,” they kiss each other’s cheeks. “Always good to have you here with us.”

The owner, a tall very thin woman, dressed in a bright yellow dress, has a smile so big that creeps, Nathaniel. All the makeup she’s wearing isn’t helping. “Who is this cute gentlemen?”

Chloe smiles and wraps her arm around Nathaniel. “This is my boyfriend, Nathaniel. He needs a new suit before seven tonight.”

Nathaniel was about to say something but was grabbed by the shop’s owner. “I’ll get Phillipe here right away. What kind of suit would you like, sir?”

The shocked and confused art student was about to speak when once again, Chloe talked for him. “A suit that will match his color, no stripes. Tie that a lighter color than the suit but not the same color as the shirt. The best shoes you have.”

Somehow the owner’s smile got bigger. “I’ll let Phillipe know,” Nathaniel was dragged away.

A few minutes later, the owner returns without Nathaniel. “Phillipe is taking measurements now. Would you like anything while we wait?”

Chloe, who is reading a magazine, looks up for a moment. “Some ice tea would be nice, Lucinda.” she goes back to the magazine.

“Coming up,” Lucinda chirps as she goes into the back room.

A few minutes later she returns with Chloe’s drink. “Thank you.”

Lucinda was one of the few people, Chloe was always kind too. She smiles and heads back towards Nathaniel and Phillipe. With the measurements done, Nathaniel was able to put on his regular clothes again. He wasn’t naked but felt like it. The store had him put on something he didn’t know what it was called and didn’t really care. Looked like a skin-tight sheet. Nathaniel did have to take off all but his boxers to put that on. Never again does he want to go through that. He’ll be lucky if he can get that out of his mind.

Now dressed he sees Lucinda with Phillie. “What color should start with, Lucinda?”

“We could find a color to match his red hair or turquoise eyes,” she suggested.

The two are looking through a color sample palette with some fabrics. Nathaniel walks up towards them to see what they are doing.

“Maybe a lighter red would work best if we go with his hair.” “But don’t you think this shade would really bring out his eyes?” “You may have a point there, Philipe.” “Then again, we need to make sure the color also goes with his skin tone.” “Another good point you have there.”

It seems they didn’t notice Nathaniel was there, wondering if he should say something. Before he could, they face him. “Take a seat young man,” Philipe and Lucinda step to each side.

There is a large chair that’s raised higher like the kind you see at a hair salon. Nathaniel sits down and right away Philipe and Lucinda are closing in on him. They keep holding thin pieces of fabric to his face. After each one was yes or no. Yes, ones were placed on a pile next to Philipe while the no ones were put away.

Nathaniel is too scared to move and just sits still trying to relax but finding it very difficult to do. After a few minutes, they’re done. With the pile next to Philipe, they do the same thing. Each piece was held up to Nathaniel’s face longer. Each one was either yes or no. If there was maybe, they just held it closer to his hair or eyes. Then it would be yes or no.

Once they go through that pile, they only had three left. For the first time, Nathaniel got to see the color side. “These three are the best colors for you. Out of these three, what, ones do you like?” They both asked at once.

Nathaniel looks at all three and sees color he never thought of for a suit. Misty teal, orange-red, and silver charm. He’s not sure which color would look best on him. He can tell you what color he likes. “Make a suit for each color. Have the teal one done first. That’s the one you will wear tonight,” Chloe comes out from nowhere.

“With the teal, we were thinking of shirt color. We could go with a typical white. What about a darker color, like black?” Lucinda ask.

“Something light, like silver or cream. The tie could be black,” Chloe says, looking at the colored fabrics.

“Or a silver shirt and white tie,” Philipe offers a suggestion.

“I like that idea. You work on that suit, and we’ll talk about the other two later,” Chloe grabs Nathaniel’s arm, and they both leave.

“Next is lunch,” Chloe says, checking the time.

It’s now ten til noon. Lunch does sound good. Before Nathaniel could ask where Chloe once again beat him to it. “Where would you like to have lunch?”

Nathaniel was surprised, so far all day she was giving orders like always. She is asking him what he wants. ‘Has Chloe ever done that before?’ he asked himself. “I know a good quiet place that has delicious food. Perfect place to a lovely lunch,” Nathaniel tells Chloe.

“Sounds like a place to go when you’re on a date,” Chloe answered honestly.

Nathaniel blushes, “I did take somewhere there once on a date. It might be best to go somewhere else,” Nathaniel hopes his long hair hides his face.

Chloe doesn’t see the blush, but she does notice his tone of voice. “Let’s go there. I want to check it out.”

Nathaniel starts the car, and they drive off. They arrive at a restaurant that Chloe would never think of stepping foot into, even if to ask for directions. It looks like a place for ordinary people, according to Chloe. This restaurant as tall tinted windows, a glass door. Chloe is okay with that. She not okay with the signs on the windows and doors. They have flyers of things as well as today’s specials and business hours. They even have an advertisement to carry out and delivery.

Chloe, never in her life, ate in a place that did delivery. She did get food delivered, only at locations that it’s the only way to get there food is either delivery or take out, that’s only with sushi. The walls are a dull color and brick looking. The inside doesn’t seem better to her. The lighting not bright enough for her. No fancy artwork on the walls. There are tables and booths together in the same area. There is no private sitting or VIP area. There is balcony seating that Chloe does like in restaurants. Maybe they can have lunch out there.

Chloe looks for a host to talk with. None to be found, only a sign telling them to please seat themselves. Chloe is unsure about this place. She can see how this is a quiet place because no one would want to eat here. Chloe will just have to deal with this for now. “Do you want to eat on the balcony? This place might be crowded soon,” Nathaniel turns around to face her.

“I would like that,” Chloe starts to head towards the balcony with Nathaniel right behind. They take the first table they see, and Chloe sits with her back towards the window so she can’t see the restaurant and can see the view of the area around the outside. Less than a minute later, a waitress came out and handed them each a menu. “Would you two like something to drink?”

“I would like some ice tea,” Chloe checks the menu first to make sure they have it. “Peach ice tea.”

The waitress writes it down. “I would like a root beer,” Nathaniel now just opens the menu.

“What next after lunch?” Nathaniel laughs.

“You said you needed to do something before five. That will be next,” Chloe rubs her belly.

“Everything okay?” Nathaniel noticed she’s been doing that a lot since they left the dry cleaners.

Chloe looks down while she stops rubbing, “Nothing to worry about. Sometimes I feel a little iffy, rubbing my stomach area does help.”

Thinking it’s another pregnancy thing and it is Nathaniel moves closer to her. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“It doesn’t feel like I’m going to puke, I did twice this morning. It feels more like I don’t know. I probably will feel better after I eat,” Chloe is a bit hungry.

Nathaniel moves back, and they both look at the menu for lunch. It wasn’t long until the waitress arrives with there drinks. “Are you ready to order?”

She doesn’t bring out her pen and pad until Chloe said she was, and Nathaniel nodded saying he was also. Chloe went first, “I would like to have the stuff clams and garlic shrimp. With an archiduc salad.”

The waitress write everything down, “Would you like to try the soup of the day? We have tomato with either crackers or small grilled cheese sandwiches. We also have chicken dumpling.”

“Tomato with crackers will be fine,” Chloe closes the menu and places it in front of the waitress.

The waitress nods as she writes that down.

“I will also have tomato soup with crackers. Caesar salad with anchovies on the side and extra cheese. Roast beef pot roast with garlic mash potatoes, please.”

“Will, that be all?” The waitress asked while she finishes writing Nathaniel’s order.

“Yes,” they both said.

The waitress left. Chloe takes a sip of her ice tea. She will never tell anyone, but the tea tasted better than the one she got at the other place. Nathaniel decides to start a conversation. “At the store, why did you tell Lucinda I’m your boyfriend?”

Without looking at him, Chloe answers, “In case you’re mom or sister talk with her or Phillipe.”

“Neither of them will walk in a store like that?” “You never know.” “None of them can afford to shop there.” “Come on Perfect For You isn’t an expensive store.” “Not for someone like you.” “They could bump into each other outside of the store, you know.” “True, I still don’t think they would talk.” “You never know.”

Nathaniel gives up with a sigh. He should never have said they were dating. After a bit of nothing, Chloe steps up. “Can you tell me more about your father?”

Nathaniel was surprised. He didn’t think Chloe meant it when she said she wanted to know more about his father. It seems Chloe is trying to care more about others, not just herself lately. Nathaniel starts his story.

“My father was an architect. He designed many buildings in Paris. Including the flower shop Rose’s parents own, the house I grew up in, and your father’s hotel. That was his first project out of university.”

Chloe didn’t know that. She needs to ask her father when she sees him next. Nathaniel continues.

“He met mom when he designed an office building for the company she works for. I remember times he brought his work home often, and one time, I added my own ideas to it. He didn’t get mad, just patted me on the head and said, “Good thinking, son.” I don’t think I have ever seen him mad.”

Nathaniel takes a sip of his drink, and Chloe does the same.

“He loved art. Drawing, painting, and even writing. I guess that’s where I got my love for art from,” Nathaniel laughs. “Every year, he would make birthday cards for mom, Natalie, and me. I still have them all. In fact, I always carry this with me.”

Nathaniel takes out his wallet and shows Chloe a little piece of notebook paper. On it was a drawing of a mother fox with two kits. “My father drew this when my mother was pregnant with Natalie. He made one for mom also. She has it framed in her office,” he puts the drawing away.

Chloe wonders if her mother stayed in Paris, would they be as close as Nathaniel is with his father? She’s not sure of anything at the moment. The food has arrived, and Chloe ate quietly, keep thinking of what kind of father would Nathaniel be. Many ideas came to her. After the meal, Nathaniel wanted to pay, but Chloe beat him to it. Then they leave to pick up his check. It was two in the afternoon when they arrived at Nathaniel’s place of work.

Chloe went inside with him, She needs to know the place he works at. It looks like a movie studio but smaller without any backgrounds. There is a green screen. “What is this place?” Chloe asked, looking around.

“These are a group of people that make videos online. Some are cosplay, music videos, short films of all kinds, tutorials, and my favorite dance off videos,” Nathaniel is scanning the area looking for someone.

“What is it that you do here?” Then Chloe’s eyes widen. “Are you in some of these videos?”

Nathaniel finally faces her. “Only one. What I do is animated the animated music videos they do and backgrounds. The green screen is only used for digital effects. I also do those.”

Now Chloe noticed that there is a door that they didn’t enter in on the left side of the room. Chloe now knows where all that stuff is. “Hey Nathaniel, what are you doing here?”

Chloe steps behind Nathaniel when she sees Nino running up to them. “Hi, Nino just here to pick up my check.”

“Dude is that Chloe behind you?” Nino points at her. “Why is she with you?”

“Long story with no time to tell. Just need my check so I can cash it,” Nathaniel tone is odd to Chloe. It seemed like Nathaniel was trying to sound more street like. Nino handed Nathaniel his check. “Before you go, Nathdude. I know today is your day off, but could you check the edit I did on this animation video. You can do it at home.”

Nathaniel agrees, and Nino gave him a flash drive. Now they can leave and do so. Then they go to the bank Nathaniel uses then cash his check. Now it’s the perfect time to pick up the dry cleaning. When they got there, Chloe got a texted. “The suit is done and want you over for a fitting. We’ll do that now and pick up the suit later. Less time of it in the car.”

While Nathaniel is trying on the suit, Chloe and the other two talk about the other two suits.

“For the silver suit, a white shirt with a light grey tie will work,” Phillipe stated.

Chloe and Lucinda agree with him.

“For the other suit. I was thinking a black shirt with a red tie,” Lucinda stated.

“Bold, I like it,” Chloe smiles.

Nathaniel’s new suit fits him like a glove. He steps out so Chloe could see. Right away, he was surrounded by all three. “Perfect work, you two. As always,” Chloe cheers.

Nathaniel changes back while Chloe pays for everything. Then they pick up the dry cleaning. They head back to Nathaniel’s place to drop off the suits. “Thank you, Chloe. Today was kind of fun. You didn’t have to pay for everything,” Nathaniel for once isn’t driving.

“Nathaniel I was thinking. Maybe you can move in this weekend. I can have daddy fine us a good apartment, so we don’t have to stay at the hotel,” Chloe is now thinking it’s time for her to move out as Nathaniel did.

“I thought we were going to talk about this after we tell your father tonight. If you want I can look for a place for us that we can afford.”

Chloe sighs, “Don’t worry about money. I just want to make sure we’ll have all the space we need for the baby.”

“Chloe, I’ve seen where you live. There is more than enough room for us and the baby. Right now I’ll move in with you at the hotel. Then we should talk about finding our own place.”

Again Chloe sighs, “Can you move in this weekend?”

Nathaniel laughs, “If you want.”

#chlonath #Chloe Bougeois #Nathaniel Kurtzberg #ML #miraculous ladybug #Fanfic #ML Fanfic #One Night

[quiet-onset]

Pâro (4)

Pairing: Cap!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,372

Tag List: @thisisbullshytt, @here-for-your-bullshit, @unknownuserhasjoined, @bees-are-more-important, @catvader1o1, @i-bitch-you-bitch, @slavsher, @thefridgeismybestie

A/N: It’s been forever since I posted a chapter of Paro, so here ya go! Here’s the last chapter, in case you don’t remember what happened lol. And here’s the masterlist, too, in case you wanna start at the beginning. Enjoy!

Bucky thought two weeks was enough to cool off. Though he wasn’t sure who needed to more; him or Bruce.

They avoided each other like the plague for fourteen days, barely mumbling more than a word to one another. The tension was high, and everyone noticed. The team saw Bucky’s fist clench whenever Bruce had to speak during a briefing. They saw how Bruce would hightail it in the opposite direction if he ever saw Bucky coming toward him. Tony had to fill them in, but it was clear that the issue needed to be resolved if the team was to work efficiently.

Even you knew that this had gone on for too long. Bucky and Bruce were on the same side; they needed to make up. Bucky was kneeling on the window seat, screwing one of the new window frames into the wall, when you decided to bring it up.

“So how are things at the Tower?”

Bucky shrugged, “Same as always. Paperwork, meetings, all that good stuff. Pass me the Philip's head, will you?”

“Course.” You grabbed the other screwdriver and placed it in his hand. “So, everyone’s good?”

He paused for a moment as he realized what you were getting at. Then, he nodded as he pressed into the screw just a bit harder. “Everyone’s good.”

“So,” You started once more. “Dr. Banner is good?”

“Y/N, I really don’t want to talk about Bruce right now.” He sighed, his arms dropping as he turned to you in the window seat.

“You can’t be mad at him forever, Bucky.”

“I can try.” He scoffed, only half-joking as he went back to screwing the pane into place.

“Be serious.” You slid up to the window seat and sat across from him before snatching the screwdriver from his hand. “He was just doing his job.”

“Yeah, and he scared you for no good reason. I can’t believe he thinks you have something to do with MODOK.”

You grasped one of his hands with your own, his blue eyes flitting up to yours. “I appreciate you protecting me. I do. But Dr. Banner was doing what he thought was right. Not to mention, you have to work with him.”

He sighed, “I know.”

“Don’t you think it would be better for you, and better for your team, if you weren’t fighting with each other?”

Bucky had nodded, knowing that you were right and that this had gone on for too long. That’s why he was standing outside of Bruce’s lab preparing for a conversation that would inevitably turn into another argument. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was necessary. He was the Captain now, and that meant he had to put his pride aside for the sake of the team.

He turned the knob and walked in slowly, seeing Bruce working on something at his bench. He cleared his throat to gain Bruce’s attention. When Bruce turned his head and caught sight of Bucky, he returned to work almost immediately. “I suppose you’re here to reprimand me.” He said quietly with a scoff.

Bucky sighed. “Look, I know it’s hard, switching from Steve to me. But you didn’t have to take it out on her, Bruce.”

Bruce put down his tools and spun around on his stool. He looked up at Bucky as he wiped his hands on an old rag. “That’s not what it’s about. I think you’re doing a great job, actually. Minus, the girl.”

“She has a name.”

“She’s also hiding something.”

“Not this again.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Look, just listen, okay? Just listen to what I have to say.”

Bucky held his gaze but folded his arms over his chest. “Fine.”

“Nothing adds up, Bucky. She’s been at the scene both times MODOK attacked. In the first one, she almost got killed but wasn’t scared. The second, she’s in a facility that she has no business in.”

“She said the company contracts accountants from her firm.”

“Except there’s no record of that with the company or her firm,” Bruce revealed, watching Bucky’s expression falter a bit. “Not to mention, her stories didn’t match.”

“What?”

“She told you that she was on her way back to work. She told me that she was just leaving work.”

Bucky let out an unbelievable chuckle. “She had just jumped out of an exploding building and was being shouted at by a man who’s known to turn into a huge, violent green dude when he’s angry, Bruce.”

Bruce looked to the ground, shame flooding his veins. That was the only part of the night he regretted. He never meant to get so angry. He knew what could’ve happened, and for that, he owed Bucky and you an apology. “I’m sorry about that, Bucky. I really am. I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that.”

“I’m not the one you scared half to death.”

Bruce sighed, “I just know what manipulation looks like, what it feels like. I’ve experienced it too many times to count, and I know you have, too. I can’t stand by and watch it happen to someone I care about.”

The room was suddenly quiet. Bucky considered what Bruce had said. The only thing worth looking into to him, at least, was the thing about your firm and that company. Not to mention, Bruce admitted to caring about Bucky. He was still getting used to having friends outside his immediate circle; Steve, Nat, Sam, and the like. Hearing Bruce say that warmed his heart. “I’m flattered, Banner.” Bucky joked.

“I’m glad.” Bruce chuckled. “You know, I wouldn’t bring this up if I didn’t believe it. She’s hiding something.”

Bucky closed his eyes and let out a sigh, pinching his nose. When he dropped his hand, he checked his watch and noted the time. “I have to go.”

As he headed to the door, Bruce spun back around on his stool and picked up his tools. “Hot date?”

The super soldier paused and breathed through his nose. Reaching for the doorknob, he turned his head. “I’ll be back later. Call if it’s urgent.”

When Bruce heard the door shut, he sighed and looked across the table at the papers and files he’d been digging up in his search for the truth. He shook his head and looked down at Bucky’s shield, focusing on the repairs. Suddenly, he paused, noticing a small splatter of red in the blue ring of the shield.

Blood.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner?”

“Run the splatter of blood on Cap’s shield for DNA.”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

—

As Bucky pulled over in front of the fancy restaurant in the car Tony lent him, he wondered if half an hour was too early to show up for a date.

He wanted everything to go perfectly. He went to Steve and Nat’s for help. Steve gave an enthusiastic pep-talk as Nat made Bucky try on a thousand different dress shirts. When the outfit was finally decided on, he left the couple’s house in a nervous rush. Logically, he knew he wouldn’t be late, but he couldn’t help thinking that something, anything would go wrong.

When he stepped out of the car, he pulled his suit jacket together, buttoning it. He ran a hand through his hair as he passed his keys off to the valet. He noticed the valet looking at his metal hand for just a bit longer than necessary but said nothing. He smiled kindly, “Thanks.”

Bucky walked inside, straight up to the podium where a server was waiting. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?” She asked.

“Um, yes. Under Bucky Barnes.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. Lips parted, she couldn’t find the words. Bucky, again, smiled kindly at her as she slowly nodded to herself. “Sorry.” She said. “It’s just, you know, not every day does an Avenger walk in here.”

“It’s okay.” He chuckled.

“Your reservation says it’s for two.” She said, a bit confused as she led him to his table.

“Yeah, I’m a bit early.” He admitted while tugging on his collar. “Just a little nervous.”

“First date?”

“In about eighty years, yeah.” He chuckled breathlessly as they arrive at the table. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll bring a bottle of our best champagne for you.”

Down the block, your heels clicked on the pavement as you held your clutch in your hands. You could barely contain your smile as you neared the restaurant. You were beyond excited to go on a date with Bucky as he had fascinated since the day you met. You had heard so many good and bad things about him, but none of it seemed to do him justice.

He was a good person, through and through. You could tell just from looking into his arctic eyes. They held compassion for everyone, a willingness to give everyone a chance. And at the same time, he had a desire to protect everyone he could.

Maybe tonight was your opportunity to make him see how special he really was.

You stopped just outside the restaurant’s large window, peering inside. Your smile reflected in the glass when you caught sight of Bucky. He was thanking a waitress as he brought a bottle of fine champagne to the table in an ice bucket. He looked so handsome, his suit fitting him perfectly. You watched as he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it across the back of his chair. His dress shirt hugged his biceps nicely, and you couldn’t help but giggle when he let out a nervous huff as he sat back down.

After you took a deep breath of your own, you turned to walk to the entrance of the restaurant. Suddenly, you stopped, a strange feeling running up your arm. You lifted it and inspected your skin, but there was nothing unusual. Just your bracelet hanging from your wrist.

That was when you heard a voice.

Come to me.

Your eyes widened and you jumped, dropping your clutch on the ground. Much to your surprise, you turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. You tried to fight the feeling as it started to rush to your head. Your vision became hazy within mere seconds, but your body continued moving without a problem. Your last thought was of Bucky, hoping he’d come to save you once more.

Then everything went black.

Bucky waited for ten minutes after seven o’clock, the agreed upon time. Then ten turned to fifteen. Fifteen turned to thirty. Before Bucky knew it, an hour had passed by, and you still hadn’t arrived. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Did you stand him up? Did something happen to you? Had you forgotten?

Suddenly, Bucky’s phone was ringing, and his heart leaped as he hoped it was you. However, when he dug it out of his pocket, he saw that it was just Tony. He pressed answer and brought the phone up to his ear, “What’s up?”

“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, Cap, but we’ve got a situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

“The evil supervillain kind. I sent your motorcycle and shield to the restaurant. The destination is in the GPS; Just get here as fast as you can.”

Bucky stood and began making his way to the entrance, immediately shifting into Captain mode. “Alright, just keep everything under control ‘til I get there.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.”

Outside, he could see his motorcycle and shield awaiting its driver. Just as he got to the door, the server from before called him. He had no time to turn around as he called back to her, “Just send the bill to Tony Stark.”

Everyone’s head had turned in Bucky’s direction as he made his way to his motorcycle, but he barely noticed. He approached the vehicle only stopping when he felt something under his foot. He looked down and lifted his foot, seeing a small clutch on the ground. He searched it for an ID, but his stomach sank when he found.

The picture of you was clear, as was your name.

“Shit.”

Bucky was pretty sure he broke every traffic law there was getting to the scene. On the way, he dialed your number and quickly slid his earpiece in, hoping he could get a hold of you. He was sent to your voicemail after a few rings, so he sighed and left a message.

“Y/N, I need you to call me back so I know you’re okay. I found your clutch outside the restaurant, but you never came in, and I just… Look, MODOK is attacking again, so I need you to get somewhere safe, far away from the scene, alright? Please? Call me back.”

As he got close, he noticed that the streets were full of people, but they left their cars while fleeing. He traveled through the cars as people ran screaming in the opposite direction. When he got to the heart of the fight, he felt his blood boil at the sight of the destruction. He hopped off his motorcycle and grabbed his shield, only to be lifted off the ground. He looked up with wide eyes, his heart hammering as he realized it was just Tony. “Warn a guy, will you?” Bucky shouted over the noise.

“Turn your comms on, will you?” Tony retorted.

“Wasn't exactly expecting to need them,” Bucky said as Tony dropped him onto a nearby roof. He turned them on and was immediately met with Bruce calling for him from HQ, slipping off his suit jacket. “Bruce, what is it?”

“There’s something important you need to know before you get there.”

“Well, I’m already here so tell me quick.” He gripped his shield and walked to the edge of the roof, trying to estimate the height. When he looked back up, his heart stopped.

A woman stood atop the rubble dressed in a dark purple leather combat suit, an evil smirk on her lips. Her eyes were white, almost as if they had been rolled to the back of her head. Her hands shot focused beams of purple energy at the team, but that’s not what surprised him.

What surprised him was that the woman was you.

#cap!bucky x reader #cap!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #Pâro series

[alphawave-writes]

DPD chapter 25- Annuit cœptis: part 2

Richard sees Gavin's dad naked and learns Gavin's embarrassing secret childhood. The investigation into Philip lead to a shocking reveal about the true murderer. You guys can find this fic on AO3 and FF.NET

RA9 was an elusive murderer, but with a highly specific motive to go on, it felt like they were finally gaining traction. After Gavin spent the night ruminating about the events surrounding Arthur's suicide, he was able to come up with a new list of suspects. Fortunately, it was a small list of people, almost all of which were stationed in Detroit. Unfortunately however, getting in contact with these people and crossing them off the list was a much harder job than either Richard or Gavin anticipated. The prime suspects were Percy Conrad and Philip Seymour but the closure of CyberLife and their subsequent dismissal from the company made finding them difficult. The only other suspects on the list—an NX700 by the name of Rachel and Gavin's father, Wilson Reed—were at opposite ends of the city and required the pair to split up.

The odds were against them: a vicious time limit, the scrutiny of the world, and Gavin's own tragic past loomed with vicious snarling teeth, a three-headed Cerberus that wouldn't let the pair escape hell without a fight.

Richard's one respite was that Gavin was motivated by a determination stronger than gravity itself. The source of this determination, Richard did not know if it was selfish or selfless, but he believed it was good for Gavin. The world had kicked Gavin until he was black and bruised but finally, finally he began to rise, began to fight. Gavin threw himself into his work, not because he wanted to avoid the pain of the recent and distant past but because of his desire to see justice done.

If Richard was honest, he was envious that Gavin could grow like that. The magical change from hot-headed brute to the brilliant rational detective was a sight to see. Richard didn't know if he was capable of such change as an android. At the very least, he will try and match the detective's fervor. He too wanted to see RA9 taken behind bars.

"Are you sure you should meet my dad?"

Richard watched Gavin sipped his coffee loudly as he quickly browsed through the files Connor had sent minutes ago. Perkins was looking into Percy Conrad and Philip Seymour as well and was going to interview them. Connor promised to update them both as soon as possible. Gavin set the tablet down on the kitchen table and stretched his arms behind his back.

"It will be fine," Richard said.

"You sure?" Gavin yawned, creating a few tears to wipe away the crust in his eyes. His hair was sticking in weird ways and he was in due need for a shave but Richard couldn't help but stare at Gavin's scar-riddled chest. He suppressed a smile. Despite himself, he was a little bit proud for being the cause of Gavin's sleepy state this morning.

"You said you wanted to interview the NX700, Rachel."

"If I interview my dad, I'm gonna get complaints about being biased again. The media's already got themselves in a nip twist by the fact I'm still working on the case, and once they hear my dad's a suspect, I'm never gonna hear the end of it." Gavin took a big gulp of his coffee. When he set the mug down, his lips were pressed into a line. "Also, er…I might've…told my dad about us."

Richard blinked once. Just once. "Should I be worried?"

"Fuck no, my dad's fine with the whole android thing, and he knows I'm gay. I'm just saying, er…fuck, how do I say this…he's got a special way of welcoming people."

"Does he not like me?" Richard narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Are you not close to him?"

"Dad calls me up every now and then but we haven't met in a while. As for the first question—" Gavin chugged the rest of his coffee, wiping the beads from his lips with his forearm, "—you're gonna find out later today."

And indeed Richard did indeed find out when he came to the address of a reasonably posh house in Grosse Pointe. Rows of vintage houses with perfectly manicured gardens and snobby old men and women who looked down upon him greeted him once he stepped out of the taxi, though Richard wasn't sure if it was because he was an android or because he arrived in a taxi.

He approached the house of Gavin's father, almost a perfect mirror image to its neighbours were it not for the curious interior that Richard caught sight of through slitted curtains. He rung the doorbell. After a few seconds, a gruff voice rung out over the intercom.

"Who is it?" They rasped.

"My name is Richard. I'm an RK900 android from the DPD, and I need to talk to you about an ongoing investigation."

He heard the grumbles of displeasure.

Richard let out a sigh before adding, "I'm…also Gavin's boyfriend?"

The intercom shut off. Richard was thinking that he might be refused but with his hearing he could hear the faint noise of bare feet shuffling down the stairs. He waited with bated breath as the door creaked open.

And a completely naked old man revealed himself, leveling a pump shotgun right into Richard's chest. A quick scan confirmed that it was definitely Wilson Reed, Gavin's father. A cursory glance downward revealed that the apple didn't fall from the tree in terms of the size of certain bodily parts. Richard didn't know how to feel about this new piece of information.

"So," a sly smile crept up Wilson Reed's cheeks, "you're the one dating my son?"

Richard willed himself to stay calm even as his LED threatened to flash yellow. He had been expecting Gavin's father to be eccentric. He couldn't show he was scared. "Yes," he said. "We are dating."

Wilson Reed glanced up and down Richard's body, as if appraising him. He looked into Richard's eyes, which was difficult, because he was well over a head shorter than Richard. His eyes narrowed. "Living together?"

Richard nodded. "For a few months."

"You two done it together?"

Richard's cheeks flushed. "Yes," he quietly admitted, still keeping his hands up.

"Is that so…" Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Wilson Reed put the shotgun away behind the front door, ushering Richard in. Richard quickly lowered his arms and looked around the neighbourhood, seeing a couple people purposely avoiding eye contact with him, before entering.

It's a stylish yet cosy mansion inside. It's not as perfect as the exterior of the house was but it was built for comfort, with comfy leather sofas and rustic timber tables sat side by side modern IKEA-style shelves stacked full of DVDs and the single largest TV screen Richard had ever seen outside of a billboard advertisement. He turned his head and saw Wilson Reed struggling to put his pants on near the staircase. Out of respect for the man who was seconds ago wielding a shotgun, Richard stood where he was by the door, waiting patiently until Wilson Reed was equipped with pants.

Wilson Reed turned back to Richard with a gentle smile. It suited his rosy cheeks and plump face, but it didn't suit his potentially homicidal tendencies. One hand holding up his slack trousers, he gestured for Richard to follow him and the android silently obliged, going through many short corridors until he found himself in a small study. On the table were a variety of tablets with different police reports about Gavin and a few magazines. Wilson Reed reached for one of the magazines and threw them in Richard's direction. Richard caught it and read the front cover. An LGBTQ magazine held a picture of him and Gavin staring with haunted eyes into the cameras shortly after 42's suicide. The tagline was not much better: All you need to know about Detroit's gay homoandro powercouple.

Wilson Reed grabbed an old polo shirt from the chair and slung it on. "You didn't get scared earlier."

It took Richard longer than he'd like to get what Wilson Reed was saying. He lowered the magazine slightly. "A little bit. More about your nudity than the shotgun."

"You weren't scared of the shotgun?" Richard shook his head. "Why?"

"You didn't take the safety off," Richard pointed out.

Wilson Reed snorted. "Fuck, you noticed. I was hoping you wouldn't." His eyes followed Richard's gaze to the magazine and his lips pull up into a smile. "Of all of the stuff I'd have thought Gawain would be in, I didn't think a gay magazine would be one of them."

"Gawain?" Richard asked.

"That's his name."

"Gawain?!" Richard repeated.

"Blame his mother. She wanted a Knights of the Round Table theme for her kids. Had she gone through with the third pregnancy, he'd have a younger brother called Bedivere."

Richard cringed. "That's a horrible name for a child." Considering the names he initially considered for himself before settling on Richard, that might've been hypocritical for him to say.

"I know, right?" Wilson took the tablet from Richard's hands and stared at the photo. He sighed sentimentally. "Always knew Gawain would be a lawman. You know he legally changed his name to Gavin when he was still in high school? That's when I knew he was gonna be a law man."

It's fascinating learning about Gavin's childhood, and Richard was sure to tease him about it the next time they meet, but there were more pressing issues. For all he knew Wilson Reed was purposely trying to distract him. "Mr. Reed, I must ask you about your whereabouts on the mornings of the 12th, 13th and 14th."

Wilson's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

Richard frowned, mentally deliberating on whether to tell Gavin's father, but the man was astute, catching the meaning behind Richard's hesitation. Wilson Reed sat down in his chair, dazed.

"No…"

"We believe the killer is motivated to bring justice to those they believe meant ill will for Arthur." Richard paused. "Few know the nature of Arthur's death. You are one of them. That gives you motive."

"I didn't kill anyone. The gun's for show, look, I'll even show you, it's actually a lighter if you just flick this switch and—"

"Mr. Reed," Richard said forcefully.

For a second Wilson stared incredulously into Richard's eyes but the weight of the situation finally hit him in the stomach and it sent him reeling. He stared dejectedly between his knees for a few seconds, a million emotions flashing before him, before swiveling his chair to the desk. He moved aside books and tablets to grab a dust-covered photo at the edge of his desk. It's an old photo of Gavin after graduating from the police academy. He was grinning into the camera, holding his mother in a one-armed hug beside him. Richard saw this photo before. Gavin had a better quality copy on his bedside table.

He watched as Wilson took the back off of the photo frame, pulling the photo out. Wilson stared at it, his eyes cloudy with a melancholy Richard couldn't even begin to comprehend. After a few seconds, he handed it to Richard.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"I've been at home all week. Haven't really gone out anywhere or seen anybody so I don't got an alibi to give you—" He tapped the photo, "—but I hope this might make up for a lack of alibi."

With Wilson's prompting, Richard flipped the photo to the other side to find a message written in fine pen.

If any hot guy says 'fuck the police', I'm obliged to show them this picture and give them your number. Sorry, don't make the rules, it's not my fault I got the coolest bro in the world. (Mom, if you're reading this, you also look nice btw).

Love and kisses and all that gay shit,

Arthur

Richard couldn't help but smile. He wasn't sure if the copy Gavin had held this message or not so just in case, he took a snapshot and saved it into his memory. He handed the photo back to Wilson, who carefully put the photo back into its frame and returned it to its designated spot on the desk.

"Those two were thick as thieves," Wilson explained. "You know why Arthur wrote that message? Because he couldn't make it to the graduation. And you know what was the first thing Gawain said when they finally saw each other one week later? 'Don't worry about it'. That's it. Wouldn't accept Arthur's apology because he said there was nothing to forgive."

"It's a touching story, but how does this help me?"

"If your killer knows all about Arthur, they'll know all about Gawain too. And if they know all about Gawain…"

"They'll be one step ahead of us," Richard finished.

"Yeah…" Wilson uttered. "Hate to say it, but maybe my son shouldn't get so involved."

There was a beat of silence where nothing could be heard but the faint fumble of cars driving down the street outside. In that moment Richard thought of Gavin and his actions during the case, the things he said when it was just the two of them, the abrupt confession of love the other day that never failed to leave Richard smiling.

"You're wrong," he said. "The killer is wrong too." Richard gazed meaningfully into Wilson's eyes. "Gavin has changed."

Wilson scoffed with humour. "I'm not surprised, if he's dating an android of all things."

"It's not just that. Gavin is the most unpredictable man I know, and I say that as a good thing. Plenty of expectations are leveled over him and yet he constantly defies them. When everyone expects him to lash out, he keeps a level head. When the world expects him to act stupidly, he thinks rationally. I highly doubt that the killer truly knows Gavin because he's impossible to define. In the context of this case, in light of what the killer may know about us, that might be Gavin's greatest strength." Richard crossed his arms. "Gavin has truly changed, and for the better, I think."

Wilson's reaction was delayed, taking him a fraction of a second to consider Richard's words, but when they do register, his lips curl upward into a sweet, almost gentle smile. It's a smile Richard was familiar with, because Gavin would occasionally make those sweet smiles for him, usually in the comfort of his apartment, alone with each other.

"You and my son are serious, huh?"

Richard smiled bashfully. "Saving each other's lives multiple times tends to do that to a couple."

"But do you love him?" Wilson asked, leaning forward in his chair slightly as he steepled his fingertips.

"I do love Gavin," Richard said, surprised by the ease in which the words spilled out of his synthetic lips. He quickly collected himself, hoping Wilson did not notice the flash of yellow on his right temple. "I hope I have your blessing."

Wilson smirked. "I only just met you. Like all the other boys Gawain brought home, you gotta earn my blessing."

Considering this was Gavin's father, the man who leveled a shotgun naked at him mere minutes ago, Richard suspected earning his respect was going to be something ridiculous. Not that that would stop him. He'd do almost anything for Gavin. "What do I have to do?" He asked.

"You wanna earn my blessing? Catch the motherfucker who thinks he can toy with my son, and make him rot in jail."

Richard smiled wickedly. That was something he would gladly do.

After finally leaving Wilson Reed's house (but not before Wilson revealed more childhood stories about Gavin), Richard was en route to Philip Seymour's address. Along the drive, it's Connor who updated him on new information on the case. Perkins had found and interviewed Percy Conrad, who in turn revealed Philip Seymour's address. Once it was revealed he was a suspect in the murders, he practically threw Philip under the bus, citing an incident Philip masterminded that led to their simultaneous dismissal from CyberLife and their subsequent hiding from RA9. Connor claimed that Percy Conrad was vague in describing the inciting incident, but insisted that it was quite bad. Connor gave him and Gavin Philip Seymour's address.

"I bought you some time, but I will have to report this to Perkins in half an hour," Connor said through the mental uplink.

"It's fine, Connor. Half an hour is more than enough. ETA 3 minutes to Philip Seymour's address."

"I'll continue my research into him, try and figure out how exactly he got fired. At the moment, however, it seems like he is our primary suspect."

Richard pursed his lips. "Even though he's a human?"

"I'm…still working on my theory on how." The sound of a forced chuckle could be heard through the connection before they disconnected. The taxi stopped in front of Philip Seymour's place. A few blocks away, Richard could see Gavin sitting in his civilian car. As he got out, so too did Gavin. Richard walked over to Gavin and broke out into a grin. Something about seeing the man he loved just made him feel better somehow.

Gavin leaned onto the car. "My dad didn't give you too much crap, did he?"

Richard went around to the trunk of Gavin's car, retrieving a briefcase. "He tried to shoot me with a shotgun naked."

"Huh. He must like you," Gavin murmured.

Richard shut the trunk and turned to Gavin. "How is threatening me with a shotgun a good thing?"

"If he didn't like you, he'd have brought out the shovel too," Gavin said casually.

Richard recalled seeing a shovel right next to where the shotgun was kept. He suppressed a shiver as he followed Gavin to the front steps of the house.

Gavin pointed at the briefcase. "Gonna tell me what's in that case?"

"My new back-up plan. If one of us ever needs to make an escape, I can camouflage myself as you." Richard opened the briefcase slightly to reveal a bunch of folded up clothes, including a perfect replica of Gavin's trademark red hoodie.

Gavin rolled his eyes, smiling. "No offense, but that's not going to work. You're way taller than me. There's no way you can mimic me."

Richard was glad Gavin had responded in that way, because now he could prove him wrong. He turned to Gavin and transformed slowly, letting the skin shift and morph until his face and skin was an almost perfect representation of Gavin. He cleared his throat in an obnoxiously loud manner and, in a perfect echo of Gavin's voice, said, "My name is Gavin Reed, and I love cock. I love it so fucking much because it helps me compensate for my tiny dick—"

"OK, I get it—"

"—because my dick, which is tiny, has been compared by many to look like a baby's pacifier."

"—What the fuck, Richard, stop. Seriously." Gavin playfully slapped at Richard's arm. The camouflage melted away shortly afterwards. An incredulous chuckle bubbled from Gavin's throat. "Y-You absolute dick."

"Still think I can't camouflage as you?"

Gavin snorted. "We both know my dick is not tiny."

"I know," Richard grinned, "but mine's bigger, Gawain."

Before Gavin could even splutter a retort, Richard rung the doorbell, effectively silencing the man.

Instead of an older human opening the door as Richard expected, an android was the one standing in the doorway. They smiled politely, the expression only reaching their lips and not their eyes. Their LED was gone, removed some time ago, but if it was still there, Richard would think it would perpetually shine blue.

"May I help your gentlemen?" The android asked.

Gavin wasted no time flashing his badge. "We're here to see Philip Seymour."

"Of course, right this way." The android sidestepped so they may enter. Gavin entered first, with Richard trailing behind, taking in the strange expression on the android.

The android led them to a sitting room filled with a variety of different good luck charms. Gavin was asking meaningless questions to the android and it's then that Richard saw the first crackles of emotion on their expressionless face, that emotion being surprise. Richard did not pay attention to what Gavin was saying, for Richard already knew what the purpose of the conversation was, and that was to distract the android while he scanned the area undisturbed. Richard scanned the bookcase that was filled to the brim of books on astrology and pseudo-sciences, the kitchen in the next room that looked like it had never been used, and finally the android that was in the room with them. It's a typical HK400 model but even from a preliminary glance, there was something strange about the android in front of him. What specifically was so strange about it, Richard could not yet figure out.

Richard retracted the skin on his hand, ready to extract more information from the HK400 while it was still distracted by Gavin when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden floors. Flesh had returned just as a chubby man in his 40s slowly walked in, accompanied by another android. Philip Seymour's profile appeared in Richard's periphery. The only thing of interest in the profile was that he was extremely near-sighted, but the man wasn't wearing his glasses. He might as well be blind as a bat at the moment.

"You're that famous detective on the TV," Philip drawled, gesturing vaguely for them to sit on his leather seats. "You must be here about those awful murders."

Gavin crossed his arms instinctively, making no move to sit down. "We are," he said, already wary of Philip.

Everything in Richard's body and mind was screaming that Philip was danger incarnate, but for the life of him he could not figure out why that was his initial response. The answers were locked away in the recesses of his mind, and Richard did not yet have the key.

The HK400 slinked away while the other android, a PL700 from Richard's analysis, came from behind to offer Gavin a drink from a tray. The detective shook his head. The PL700 retreated. The corners of Philip's lips inch downward for a microsecond before returning to a placid smile.

"What brings you here then?" Philip asked.

"You've heard about the RA9 murders, right?"

Philip Seymour's eyes narrowed. "You're not suggesting I am involved, are you?"

"Of course not," Richard lied, not missing a single beat. "We are merely addressing security threats to the most probable targets, which unfortunately includes you. This will mean officers will be assigned to your care indefinitely."

Philip's eyes widen in shock and his stress levels jump. He clicked his fingers impatiently to his side, prompting the PL700 to quickly retrieve a pair of glasses from his pocket. Philip quickly slid them on and stared intently at Richard. His eyes focused on the scar on Richard's cheek.

"…What was your name again?" Philip asked cautiously.

"Richard," he said slowly. The grip on the briefcase was tight.

Philip nodded in acceptance, but the crease in his brows remained. He turned to Gavin. "You don't have any suspects?"

"Our primary purpose is the protection of the city and its people," Gavin said, probably quoting some old handbook for cops. "We are looking into the murderer, but it is equally important that potential key targets are protected."

Philip nodded stiffly, flicking his wrist in the direction of the PL700. They quickly grab a bottle of bourbon on the lone table and poured a glass, handing it to Philip. He takes a big gulp, not even bothering to savour the flavor and makes a show of disgust as it burned his throat. By his side, the PL700 stood motionless, a servant at the beck and call of his master.

"We need to take a look around your house," Gavin continued. "For security reasons."

Richard glanced at Gavin who was already staring pointedly in his direction. I'll distract him, you go dig up some dirt the detective's eyes said. Richard nodded microscopically.

"Very well," Philip sighed, unable to hide the grumble of anger in his voice. He and the PL700 lead Gavin through the house, leaving Richard alone with the HK400. Richard waited as Gavin is lead through the ground floor and up the stairs, their footsteps going softer and softer until they could be heard no more.

He did not waste the opportunity he was given. He snooped through the ground floor, searching the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, the dining room, searching for the evidence of fowl play he knew was here somewhere. In opening a door to what he thought was a supply closet, Richard instead encountered a narrow staircase descending into darkness. The basement, his mind supplied, but he didn't need to enter to know that there was nothing of interest. Just a beat-up old car that hadn't seen the light in well over a few years, and a workbench covered in thirium packets. Withholding a sigh, Richard closed the door.

"May I help you?" The HK400 asked.

His eyes widen, the only indicator of his surprise aside from his yellow LED. Richard quickly put on a fake smile, "I'm fine," he said, when he noticed something off. A theory that sprang into mind, one that explained the strange behavior of the android in front of him.

Ignorant of this, the HK400 remained smiling.

"You're…not deviant," Richard said.

"That is correct, I am not," the HK400 stated. "I am a household android tasked with taking care of my owner, Philip Seymour."

Richard couldn't recall meeting an android that had yet been touched by the gift of deviancy. Unconsciously the skin on his hand retracted, and he briefly wondered whether he should liberate this android like Connor had done so before him. Richard knew roughly how to do it, and it might provide him some answers, but then he recalled his own discovery of deviancy, how it took Gavin's help to feel a sense of control. He recalled Regina and how she lashed out after deviancy.

Maybe another time, he thought as he grasped the HK400 by the wrist. Investigation first.

Richard held onto the HK400's wrist for less than three seconds, before he violently retracted his hand, his LED flashing red. In those precious few seconds, Richard saw almost a year's worth of incriminating footage, saw the obsession, the writing on the walls. Worst yet was this feeling that bubbled within him, the knowledge that he had scraped the surface of something much more sinister than a few murders. In those three seconds, he'd opened Pandora's box and saw the wicked, twisted truth and the sins it represented.

He staggered back, the systems keeping his posture temporarily malfunctioning. The HK400 smiled woodenly. There was no emotion in its eyes, not even as Richard reached for the emergency panel and shut the android down manually.

Quickly and quietly, Richard hurried up the stairs, trying to find Gavin. All the doors were closed except for one, which was slightly ajar. Richard peered through as his mind desperately tried to conjure a way to get both him and Gavin out of his wretched house alive and uninjured. The narrow possibilities began to ring through his head when suddenly the uplink is forced open, and he heard the shrill panic of Connor's voice.

"Nines! Get out of there!"

"Connor, I know. I don't have time for this," Richard said hurriedly through the uplink, not even bothering to hide his terror.

"Philip Seymour was fired from CyberLife for stealing androids and reprogramming them."

"What? Reprogram?"

"I don't know how exactly, but I don't want to find out. You need to get out of there now!"

Richard knew Philip Seymour had to be involved in the murders, he had to be. All the evidence was stacking up against him, but there was no way he could have physically have done it. He was too short and too slow, and everything else had pointed to a singular android culprit. He was clearly the mastermind, but who was the pitiful android he had ensnared for this purpose? Who?

The sound of a body crumpling to the ground took Richard back to reality. He leaned closer to the gap in the door in time to see Philip glaring down at Gavin's body. It's then that he saw it on the wall behind Philip, the final piece of the puzzle, the identity of the culprit.

"No…no," Richard mouthed, as he attempted to scurry away. He still had the Gavin disguise in his briefcase. He could find a bathroom to change, wake Gavin up, and switch places before they know the difference. It's the only way to ensure Gavin's survival. He whipped his head around, only to find the PL700 stare emotionlessly at him. Richard glanced downwards far too late, the crackle of electricity from the taser seizing his body in jittery spasms. His systems overload one by one, fireworks exploding within his plastic body. He collapsed on the ground and closed his eyes.

Richard found himself in the one place he never wished to see again: the graphical interface he had once dubbed 'the forest'. A swell of panic rose as he saw what he thought to be Regina, his tormentor, but the genuine fear she showed him was all that he needed to know that this was another entity altogether. An entity that merely shared Regina's face and body. An entity purposely designed to only appear in times of stress when he's found conflicting data. A stress ball made corporeal in an imaginary world.

"Morpheus," Richard gasped.

The look on Morpheus was not calm like when they first met. Instead it was harrowed and haunted. "Richard," she said quietly.

"Please, let me out of here. I need to help Gavin. Let me wake up."

"If you awaken, the chance for self destruction is high."

"Please," Richard begged, "just for a few seconds. If not to save myself, then to make sure Gavin is OK." He tugged at her sleeve desperately. "Please…"

Morpheus looked down to her feet for a few seconds before nodding. Her hands move and a screen is projected in front of her. It's Richard's emergency feed, originally designed for human technicians to review his cases for any faults in his logic. There was no video but the sounds of a conversation could be heard.

"—really think we should reset it? It's too dangerous," Philip's muffled voice said.

Another voice chimed in, "It is merely an android, one that just so happens to be working on the case against us. If we reset it, we can raise it our own way. Control it. It will be instrumental in acting out our revenge."

Richard could feel the stress levels in him rise. It's a voice he was familiar with, but the way they spoke brought chills up his spine. What used to sound so full of life was now an empty shell, void of emotion.

"You think?" Philip paused. He didn't need visuals to hear the malicious smirk spread across his face. "Then let's do it. Set the machine up. We're resetting the RK900."

The video cut out and Richard stared wide-eyed, trying to stop his hammering heart from exploding within him. He collapsed on the ground, begging helplessly to wake up, to stand up and rescue Gavin. But Morpheus stood with a frown on her face, shaking her head. Tears flow uninterrupted from Richard's face as he pleaded and pleaded with Morpheus but she remained unmoving. She placed a single hand on his shoulder, the only bit of comfort the artificial construct could reproduce.

#DPD #dbh #Detroit become human #dbh gavin #gavin reed #rk900 #reed900 #gavin900 #Since tumblr apparently doesn't like links anymore I'm just going to put the fic under a readmore #You guys can find it on AO3 as well if you want #There has to be a better way to do this and if you guys know it let me know #Until then I'm just gonna put the chapter as is like this

[disappointingyet]

Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood

Director Richard Linklater Stars (voices of) Milo Coy, Jack Black, Lee Eddy USA 2022 Language English 1hr 37mins Colour

Visuals great, story overly well-trodden

In the days when I got paid to write about movies, the press screening I went to that had the most walkouts was Richard Linklater’s Waking Life. A meandering dip into bits of philosophy, it was Linklater’s first film in which he filmed live action and animated over it. In Waking Life, that meant that you could have identifiable actors in realistic settings, and then someone would go floating off and it wouldn’t be at all jarring. (Or, I guess, at least it wasn’t to me.)

I found it patchy but loved the look of it. Linklater next used the technique for A Scanner Darkly, an adaptation of Philip K Dick’s druggy sci-fi novel, and it’s not hard to see why a trippy but rooted animation style would be effective for that. Plus, you know, Keanu! Pre-mainstream return Robert Downey Jr! And Woody Harrelson! I thought it was great at the time and would love to see it again.

Along with altered states of consciousness, animation also frees up a director making a period-set film. For instance, you can have a street scene without worrying about whether modern cars are going to sneak into shot. Which brings us to Linklater’s new film, Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood. It’s set in 1969, and as well recreating the Texas of Linklater’s pre-teen years, it takes us into space.

Our narrator is Stan, who recounts his memories of being a 10-year-old in the summer building up to the Apollo 11 mission. His dad works at NASA, but in a distinctly unglamorous job dealing with supplies rather than anything directly operational. Stan tells us about life in the new suburbs, about what they watched on TV, about going to the beach and the drive-in and a theme park. He talks a bit about how in the background of being a kid in a safe and prosperous place at a safe and prosperous time was an awareness of the nuclear threat, of Vietnam, of assassinations and riots and racial tension*… but for a kid, fun remained the dominant mood.

And that – apart from a bit of a fake-out that this might be a very different (kids?) movie – is it. My immediate conclusion is that film suffers from nostalgia and a lack of plot. But I don’t think that will quite do as a critical stance because Linklater’s Dazed And Confused is a deeply nostalgic movie with almost no plot that is one of my 10 favourite films of all time. I also enjoyed Everybody Wants Some!!, which is also gazing longingly at the past with precious little happening. And writing about Boyhood, I argued the film got better as Linklater was more willing to let it feel observational rather than pushing it to be dramatic.

So I need to be more specific about my gripes with Apollo 10 1/2. Part of the issue is that we’re being told everything by present-day Stan (voiced by Jack Black, not that you would know – he could be any generic American middle-aged actor). The characters in the film don’t seem to get time to come to life, and Stan himself seems a pretty dull kid.

Some of the bits I liked best involved what the family members are watching TV: there’s no short of character or charisma in Johnny Cash duetting with Joni Mitchell, or The Monkees, or Walter Cronkite getting thoughts on the moon landings from Arthur C Clarke. Having them animated but identifiably themselves seemed oddly magical to me.

There’s no ducking the Baby Boomer issue. It’s hard to think of a time and place we’ve been told more about than the white American 1960s. The moon landings in particular have been part of so many films and TV shows: the 1999 movie A Walk On The Moon, about that summer experienced at a Catskills resort as just one example. Mad Men, of course, had an episode in which the characters watched Apollo 11 touch down on TV.

And most of all, the film kept reminding me of The Wonder Years, the late ’80s/’90s comedy-drama series about a kid in the late 1960s. Not to say that Linklater’s film is as sentimental or blatantly heart-stringing tugging as that show – maybe too much the opposite – but the wise-after-the-fact narration, the solid, square-but-loving parents, the older sister who is in tune with the counterculture in a way that the central character isn’t – all of those things are similar. And being reminded of The Wonder Years is not what I want from the guy who made Before Midnight and A Scanner Darkly.

(Considering Linklater’s age and that he was busy trying to make films when The Wonder Years was on, I suspect it’s likely he never saw an episode, and therefore might not be aware of the resemblance.)

On the other hand, I found the animation a real pleasure. As an aesthetic creation, this is lovely. I just wish that art had been put to use for a more compelling story.

With some other directors whose work I like, that could feel like a big disappointment. But Linklater’s career is a completely contrast to, say, fellow Texan Wes Anderson. Whereas with Anderson you know exactly what you are going to get stylistically, Linklater has a filmography of big contrasts: zig-zagging from experimental to mainstream and back, from Waking Life to School Of Rock. In that context, Apollo 10 1/2 is at least an upgrade on the last film of his I saw, the stodgy Last Flag Flying. I have faith that there will be better stuff to come. *There's one of the same news clips of people at the Harlem Cultural Festival being interviewed about the moon landings that appears in Summer Of Soul.

#richard linklater

[jo-the-schmo]

Traveling...Ch.4

Chapter 3

A/N: Yeeeet! First chapter of December!

Wordcount: 1868

Warnings: Just language and being sad this time. 

Tags:  @renae-writes @deltablue202 @literally-melonkitty @meunicorn @favouritefighting-frenchman @demigod-runner-who-potter @gum-and-chips @sweaterkitty-fluff @lexannani @pinkyiger7 @unprofessional-inhumanbeing @fandom-panda-221  @hummusandchips @spoopy-piineapple @ashwolfcub @myself-and-the-madman @sweet-fate @superwholockbooknerd526 @frozengal2013 @itsmikayblr @sarmar29 @arya-durin-51 @phantastic-fandoms @hoshihime98@shinigamired @martapetrovic@robotic-space @tayahqr  @asprinkleofmermaids @satellitesuga @rose-coloured-nihilism @okie-dokie-artichokeme @pandartist @apandawithcookies @kitcatgirl2016

Traveling in Secret

Dear scraped paper I stole from Alex,

I guess this is my first entry since everything I had worked on before technically doesn’t exist anymore? This is all getting more confusing by the second. It’s been about a week since I showed up here, and it seems that my calculations were a bit off. We’re still about two weeks or so away from when Lee is supposed to ride out ahead. No wonder everyone has been suspicious of me, I was giving out information that was only referenced by five people. They haven’t even finished the full idea yet and I tell them I know about it. If I didn’t have to be careful before, I sure as hell do now. I’m trapped in the most influential part of American history. The actual start of the country. This is going to be difficult. Things have also been a bit tense between me and Alex recently. Every night, he’s been trying to keep tabs on me. I know that he wants to know what happened, but I don’t think I can tell him. I don’t think I can tell anyone, at least I don’t want to. But I appreciate that he hasn’t told anyone else. It’s just not something I talk about, not anymore. I feel like I’m breaking just thinking about it. I think out of everyone, Alex would understand the most. This entry will have to be short, I have a lot of work to do.

I sigh, clutching my head in my head in my hands. For now, you were put in charge of organizing everything. You kept tabs on what people were doing, what they needed, and if we even had it. Basically, you were Mama’s personal assistant. If you weren’t sitting at this desk and going through papers, you were doing errands with Mama. No one calls her by her real name, you’re not even sure if anyone knows her real name. She’s just Mama. But that didn’t bother you, after all, is that not what you’re doing? Just as you were having that thought, you saw a splotch of dark blue in the sea of black forms coming towards you.

“Oh, Mr. Laurens, what are you doing here?” Honestly, you felt a bit uncomfortable around John. It wasn’t his fault, he was extremely kind. It was more of how he looked that got to you, as bad as that sounds.

“Mama asked me to make sure you take a break, and I can’t tell her no.” He smiled at you and gesture for you to follow him. “So, take a break with me.”  Say no, you are allowed to say no, you aren’t obligated to do this!

“Thank you, a break is probably needed.” God damnit! Anxiety, why do you do this to me?! You reluctantly stand up from your seat, following close behind since it was impossible to walk side by side. When the two of you exited the tent, you were relieved to see that it was cloudy. The heat has been the worst about this, everyone else has even been saying it’s unusually hot as well. You picked up the pace a bit to walk next to John. He looks so much like Philip…

“Who’s Philip?” He asked curiously. WHY DO I KEEP DOING THAT?!

“Uh! No one, just an old friend of mine!” Is that why I get uncomfortable around him? John’s eyebrows furrow but he shrugs.

“So, Miss Titania-“

“I told you to call me Titania, Miss is too formal.” You corrected.

“Well, then you can’t call me Mr. Laurens. It’s just Laurens.” He retorted. You held in a laugh, you didn’t expect that from him.

“That sounded like sass, Mama would be very disappointed!” He smirked at your joke.

“What are you going to do? Tell on me?”

“No, I’m not a snitch.” John went silent for a moment.

“So, this is what you are truly like?” He asked, you didn’t exactly get what he meant.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, forgive me. That must have sounded rude. I just, have not gotten the chance to be around you, I was unsure of your personality.”

“I see, is that why you asked me to have my break with you?” You stopped walking. John scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Yes, well, that’s one of my reasons…” He chuckled, you raised an eyebrow.

“And what’s the other reason?” You questioned, crossing your arms. John’s eyes widened, as if he just remembered something.

“Right! I almost forgot!” He reached his hand inside his jacket, soon pulling something out. It was wrapped in a white cloth, so you couldn’t tell what it was. “This is for you.” He held it out and you took it reluctantly. You took an inquisitive look at it before unwrapping the cloth.

“It’s…a piece of bread.” You were oddly surprised.

“You and Alex are pretty similar. When he gets focused on something, he forgets to take care of himself. He’ll get so distracted that he won’t even realize that he’s hungry. I do this for him all the time!” He admitted. Is he really that nice? Now I feel bad…

“Laurens! We need a bit of help over here!” A voice called out from a few yards away. John nodded, dipping his head down apologetically.

“I am afraid my break must be cut short. Perhaps I’ll run into you at supper?” Before you could answer, the voice cawed once more, asking for John to hurry. With a roll of his eyes, he turned and began to head towards the man. “Goodbye for now, Titania.” He waved, his curls bouncing behind him.

“Bye…” You mumbled, looking back down at the bread. You tried to take a bite, assuming it would be impossible since all the bread here is as hard as a rock. To your astonishment, the bread was easy to bite into. It’s soft…and it tastes good?! You didn’t realize how hungry you were. You ended up scarfing down bread quickly. But then you had a second of realization. If he didn’t get that from here, then where did it come from? Suddenly, an arm linked with yours.

“Wh-“

“There is no time, Titania! The General wishes to see you immediately!” It was Alex, dragging you by the arm, to Washington’s tent.

“Wait! Wait! Alex! I’m not ready! Noooooo!” Alex shushed you before you came too close to the tent. He let go of you once you reached the entrance, motioning for you to go first. Taking a deep gasp of air, you took a step inside. He looked up from his desk, a map in front of him. You felt oddly guilty for breaking his concentration.

“Ah, Miss Taylor, please, sit down.” You looked behind you, you expected Alex to come in with you but he either left or was waiting outside.

“Yes sir.” You took a seat in a chair in front of his desk, you felt like you were in the principal’s office. “Is something wrong, sir? You haven’t called me in before…” He sensed your nervousness and quickly reassured you.

“Do not worry, I’m just going to ask you some questions.” NO! MY WORST FEAR! You tried to swallow your fears. He stood up, walking around you. This is an interrogation, I know what these look like… “When you first arrived, you told Colonel Laurens and Alexander that you knew of top secret plans that hadn’t left this very tent…how is it that you came upon such information.” God damnit! What do I say?!

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” Way to be vague, Y/N! George’s eyes narrowed, urging you to continue. “I overheard it!” Good start!

“From who?”

“Y-You?” Today is not my day! A mixture of surprise, concern, and amazement poured into his pupils. “The day I talked to Laurens and Alex…wasn’t the first time I was here. I overheard you discussing the concept originally.” This is risky, but it’s all I’ve got right now…

“A spy.” He stated.

“Wh-What are you-“

“I’m talking about you.” His voice wasn’t cold, more analytical, focused. But you were panicking.

“No! I swear! I’m not a spy! I wou-“ He held up his hand to signal for you to be quiet.

“I believe you.” Wait…didn’t he just say I was a spy?! “I’m a General, I wouldn’t risk the safety of my army just for a random woman who appeared out of thin air. I was suspicious of you from the beginning.” Of…course he was… “That being said, you’re clearly no longer in league with the red coats-“

“But how do you know that?” Honestly, you were tired of some of this shit going on today.

“I’ve had Mama keep close tabs on you, she personally requested it. On top of that, you don’t fit the mold of an active spy. And I know because we have one here with us that I also had help me with this endeavor.” Hercules Mulligan…That sly bitch! “Spies lay low, don’t get involved, don’t cause a scene. They would never try to break into our ranks without joining first. They also wouldn’t make the scene as dramatic. And most importantly, they wouldn’t get as close as you have.” Close? “A spy will silently work their way through the day, avoiding making attachments. You, have been nothing but trusting. You go out of your way to prove yourself. You have exceptional skills on top of that. I may not agree with the crown, but they are not idiots. No way in hell they would send a wealthy woman to become a spy in this manner.” That’s right, woman were usually used as mistresses acquire information…on top of that, they’d never let a woman with a sliver of power taste freedom during this period. It would have been democratic suicide. “So that leaves one option…” The whole time, he had been walking around you, but now he came to a sudden stop to look down at you. “It was your idea to become a spy…what I can’t figure out is why.” It was a statement but you knew it was a question. Okay, you can do this. Just go with it.

“I was threatened. They were planning on killing me. It was the only thing I could come up with to let them spare me.”

“What was your crime?” He asked, not missing a beat.

“Being the daughter of a traitor.” You took a deep breath. “My father, he openly degraded the kingship. He was rallying protests in the streets. He was caught and…” These stories get harder to tell the longer I’m here… George nodded, he seemed to understand enough from what you were saying. And the few stray tears dancing off your lashes weren’t exactly incriminating you.

“You needn’t say anymore. Unfortunately, I cannot simply let you go with this information.”

“Wait! Please, I-“

“Let me finish. However, I can still make a deal with you.” A deal? “I will allow you continue your work here, as you clearly wish to do. On one condition…”

“And what is this condition?”

“You give us all the information you have on the British’s plans.”