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dystopianam · 4 months

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Tips on how to avoid and reduce the Pink Flashing - "Masterpost"

Look here for other masterposts!

⚠️ THIS IS NOT A COMPLETE ""GUIDE"". I won't be updating this post and I've explained why here. In this post I only wrote some advice, so you won't find an entire research on Pink Flashing. Please read other REAL guides if you are interested in that. Unfortunately, deleting the post wouldn't make sense since the reblogs would remain.

What is the Pink Flashing?

The Pink flashing, also called Pink Soup, is a graphical error that occurs when the game thinks it has reached the limit of its memory capacity to read the game's textures even if your PC is much more powerful and the configurations made to the game itself are very high and can hold much much more.

When this arrives, gradually an object or sim will start flashing pink and purple or even EVERYTHING will start flashing pink.

This type of error can occur both in game and on Bodyshop, and as many people mistakenly think, it is NOT a symptom of corruption. And it's not even a hardware problem of your PC. It's not your PC's fault, it's not dying, it's simply the game that's unstable.

What should I do when this occurs?

First of all, DON'T PANIC, it's nothing serious. The only thing you need to do is save the game before it crashes (because yes, it usually crashes after the pink flashing occurs), close the game and reopen it. When you reboot it, the pink flashing will be gone.

AND don't worry if some previews of your sims remain pink. They will update as you play (the fastest way to update them is to have your sim change clothes or change their appearance in the mirror)

@2fingerswhiskeysims added that another method is to minimize the game, leave the PC to rest for a few hours and then reopen the game. The pink flashing should then go away on its own (I would just recommend saving before doing so, because it's not a method that works for everyone. For example it often crashes immediately after the pink flashing appears or even just minimizing it makes it crash if it's like my game that even if you look to it by mistake it crashes)

Is there a way to increase the graphics capabilities of my game?

Yes, there is, and you should do it regardless of the pink flashing, to make your game more stable. This will NOT eliminate the risk of pink flashing, but will reduce it and make the game crash after hours and hours of play rather than after a few minutes or half an hour as happens to some.

What you need to do is make your own graphic rules that adapt the game to your video card and install the 4GB patch. This guide from Pleasantsim explains how to install both (as well as providing other tips for stability and improving graphics)

Another tip that many give is to use the Sims2RPC Launcher by LazyDuchess, as many say it has made their game more stable, while others say it has increased their Pink Flashing, so I think it's very subjective whether using this launcher is better or worse.

Is there a way to eliminate it or avoid it?

There is no fix for this problem and there is no way to eliminate it, although LazyDuchess is doing some research to see if it can be done. BUT I can give you some advice on how to avoid it for as long as possible (it will still appear after a few hours, but I can tell you what to do to be able to play safely for as long as possible)

From my personal experience, I understand that pink flashing occurs when the game needs to read a lot of thumbnails (of hairs and clothes expecially) and when you visit too many lots in the same game session or you visit a single huge lot full of objects. So, what you need to do is:

Save before changing your sims appearance (whether it's a change of hair or clothes) because the game almost always tends to crash after a long or sometimes even short makeover session. (It depens on how many ccs you have)

Avoid changing your sims hair if you don't have to. One of the causes of pink flashing is reading all the thumbnails of the hair in the game, especially if you have a lot of cc hair and getting to the last page or halfway through is very tiring for you and for your game that have to read all the thumbnails. It doesn't matter if the game already has them cached, pink flashing doesn't care.

Avoid changing your sims clothes if you don't have to change them (so avoid needlessly looking at all the clothes you have, in your wardrobe or in shop mode as if it were your closet at home). Just like with hair, pink flashing is triggered by reading too many thumbnails, especially if you have a lot of cc clothes. As with hair, it doesn't matter if the game has already cached thumbnails of all the clothes you have. Pink Flashing doesn't care. BUT unlike hair, for clothes I found a solution (which I hope is not a coincidence that only works for me). Unfortunately this took away the pleasure of going to the shops to buy clothes, but it avoided crashes and Pink Flashing. Basically, I discovered (and I don't know why) that if I use Pescado Clothing Tool, for some mystical reason the game doesn't crash and doesn't trigger pink flashing (I can even spend hours scrolling through all my many ccs and it doesn't annoys my game at all)

Last but not least, pink flashing can also be caused by reading too many thumbnails in buy mode or visiting too many lots during the same gaming session. Unfortunately there isn't much to do here, my only advice is to save very often when you edit lots, and to avoid visiting different lots too much if you don't need to (don't worry, your sims don't suffer from claustrophobia and can stay in their homes very well). If you have to edit a lot of lots, use a game session ONLY for that, because changing lots and scrolling through the buy mode there will be a lot of pink flashing very soon, at some point. At least you will have the knowledge that it will arrive any moment and you won't have to stress while you are in live mode.

To summarize, pink flashing is triggered by:

Scroll too much hair pages in "edit appearance" mode.

Scroll too much clothes pages in "change clothing" mode.

Scroll too much furnitures in "buy/build mode"

Open/go in many different lots in the same game session.

Use very big lots with a lots of objects.

Apartment lots (these ones are a hell for PF)

AND the snow. Yes, when the terrain change in "snowy" mode, this trigger the PF a lot. You can disable the snow with mods if you want or simply save the game before the terrain changes and hope that it will not happen.

@brandinotbroke added that the shaders trigger Pink Soup. But when it comes to shaders this time it also depends a lot on the hardware capacity of your PC, and it's not just a game problem. Both the game's shaders themselves, additional shaders and default replacement shaders downloaded from the internet could cause problems. If you think this is the problem, the solution is to use the "userShader off" cheat. BUT this doesn't always mean that your computer can't handle that particular shader. Often some shaders need to be downloaded in their version to be compatible with other shaders. So try to differentiate the difference between an unsupported shader and a shader that is not compatible with another, always read the description of the creator's post carefully. (For example: the "Better Night Life" shader conflicts with Voielle's water shaders and for this reason there is a BNL shader compatible with Voielle's water. IF you used the normal shader instead of the compatible one, any object that works with BNL shaders will be affected by Pink Soup.)

@goingsimcrazy added that many hood deco, high quality setting, high DOF and lot impostors can trigger pink flashing. However, this is a mix between "your PC's hardware capabilities" and basically...player luck. Sometimes players with latest generation gaming PCs cannot handle the hood decos and players who play with toasters play surrounded by hood decos, so here isn't very clear how The Sims 2... decides its capacity and compatibility criteria. But anyway, if you think that your hood deco, lot impostors, high graphics qualities and DOF (distance of field) are TOO MUCH and that your PC cannot support them, simply deactivate and lower the graphics settings from the settings!

BUT @goingsimcrazy also pointed out a detail that I wanted to add too but forgot. Basically, deleting the thumbnails cache is of no use, it doesn't solve the pink flashing problem, in fact it makes it worse. I won't give you a computer lesson but in simple terms I'll explain it to you like this: caches are used to store information so that when you open a software, the software takes information from the cache file and speeds up its reading capacity. If you delete the thumbnails cache every two days what you are doing is practically punching yourself, because not only are you slowing down the game, but by doing so you force it to regenerate the thumbnails every single time, thus causing crashes and pink flashing. Delete the thumbnails ONLY if you have changed a huge number of default replacements and need to update the previews OR press CTRL + right click of the mouse on the individual preview you want to refresh.

@fireflowersims also added this, that it's very important, please read!

Small clarification to finish:

Sometimes pink flashing is also caused by very long gaming sessions (so even if you don't do any of the things listed, at some point it will still happen, but I'm talking about more than 4/5 hours of gaming).

Many of the things listed may be stupid and already known, many of you will be reading and thinking "the genius has arrived", but I have seen many people suffer from pink flashing, not understanding what trigghed it and doing A LOT of the things that trigghed it the most. (I watched a lot of gameplay on YouTube where this happened).

So...I hope I helped someone and if someone know other things that trigger PF let me know, I'll add it to this post!

#the sims 2 #the sims 2 pink flashing #pink flashing #masterpost

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queer-asinfuckyou · 5 months

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Time loops bring up interesting questions because like, where is the line on everything resetting? And how does that affect the way the time loop affects you? You can't make progress on projects (or start new ones) because they'll just reset the next day. If your hair isn't growing, your nails aren't getting longer, than your body isn't changing either. Which means that what you can do in the time loop becomes incredibly limited. You can't increase your physical health. Can't gain muscle mass, improve your heart, increase your lung capacity, anything. You also can't learn new hobbies because you can't develop the muscle memory for them. You'll always be just as slow and shaky as the first time you picked it up.

There's not NOTHING to do, you can always learn languages or educate yourself on a variety of topics, but it's all mental. It has to be, because that's the torture of the time loop. That the only think you retain are your memories. You can't be changing from day to day because then you would be changing from the day before and that's noticeable to someone else. No one else notices. You're trapped in here, alone.

#time loop #time loop posting #i fucking love time loops dude i think theyre so fun #this is inspired by the last post i reblogged #because i think it would be so fun to pick up hobbies in a time loop but unfortunately there are practical limitations #or as practical as you can get when youre talking about time loops

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kaledya · 1 month

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Constantine's character introduction:

Description: Constantine is the first child of Lilith and Lucifer, 6 years older than Charlie and the crown prince of Hell

-Constantine is rational as a person, he doesn't approach anything with emotions, he sees everything as a plus or minus or as moves on a chessboard.

-Constantine would probably tell you the perfect way out of your problems if you went crying to him for advice, but he wouldn't try to console you emotionally.

-Constantine has the philosophy that everything is fair game for victory, if victory is the result it doesn't matter how much of a monster he is on the road, for example if it means protecting Charlie he will gladly do things to make Charlie hate him and not regret it, after all his sister will be safe even if she hates him.

-He's calm and patient and proud and egoistic, and his pride and ego comes from the intelligence and power that he has in general.

-Constantine is one of hell's foremost intellectually and is seen as having great potential even by his family. Even as a child he was able to grasp very difficult spells with ease and never had a problem memorizing spells due to his photographic memory.

-But this intelligence has a side effect Constantine can't feel emotions very well, he can't comprehend them very well, he can't empathize with someone, sometimes he even thought that Charlie inherited the angelic and humanoid parts of his parents (it could be said that Charlie has enough empathy for both of them).

-And since he knew what hell was like, he knew that if he was powerless he would not be able to protect his sister or himself in the future, so for a period after his 20s he devoted himself only to his education and self-development.

-As Constantine became more interested in politics, he taught himself how to be a snake with snakes, which again began to corrupt his own personality.

-It is really hard to get him angry, even when he is angry he keeps his poker face and never shows his emotions.

-He doesn't tolerate disrespect in any form and doesn't hesitate to punish anyone (except his family members and the people at the hotel (he knows that if he hurts Charlie's friends, it won't end well).

-As genius and calm as Constantine is, there's a mad genius underneath, sometimes spending weeks in his workshop and library researching and Charlie has to drag him out of there, or he can be brilliant at the hardest things and terrible at the simplest.

-Constantine is a really great wizard, often inventing his own spells and combining what he has (he may have blown up parts of the palace a couple of times, but on the bright side he created a repair spell).

----

Constantine is heterosexual, but he has never been in love, nor has he ever had a lover (he has the same capacity to understand love as a tree. He doesn't have) Lust has never been something that attracts him. For Constantine, it doesn't matter how attractive someone is, if that person can surprise him with her intelligence and see her as his equal, he will consider having a relationship with her, but lust is just salt on the dish.

in fact when Asmodeus asked him if he ever planned to make a lover he said "Lust is not something that interests me, my dear uncle, if one day I meet a woman who can surprise me with her intelligence and who I can consider my equal, I may love her. end of story''

-----

After the disappearance of lilith, Lucifer didn't want to be so involved in royal affairs anymore, he needed a break, so Constantine started to take care of most of the royal affairs and this increased his authority a lot over the years and now all the nobles look at the prince as a king instead of a prince.

Speaking style:

Constantine's voice is cold, he speaks like an British aristocrat from the 1800s, he chooses his words very well, he is a sweet-tongued snake, and he likes to analyze the other party and reveal their weaknesses in his speech.

Fun facts:

Since his eating habits have been transferred to his own palace, he usually eats cereal, fried chicken and dessert-like things, except for royal gatherings (I mean, he's half Angel, so he knows his health won't be affected by his diet, so he doesn't care)

Constantine has owl features, walks very quietly and can easily turn his head in the opposite direction. He has feathers on some parts of his body. His hands are like bird claws and he has great vision.

Since he and Charlie are half Angel, 4 hours of sleep is equivalent to 8 hours of sleep for them, but despite this, Constantine sometimes stays awake for days and tries to fulfill his need for sleep by sleeping for 2 days in a row (this does not exist at the moment, Charlie disturbed him and helped him to establish his sleep pattern)

Relationships:

Lucifer: Constantine had a close relationship with his father as a child, he saw him as a role model and loved spending time with him, constantly following him around the palace like a duckling. And he did his best to make his father proud, asking him to teach him new spells and enjoying their time together. But as the years went by, they started to have differences of opinion and so on. Now, especially after what happened between Lucifer and Charlie, they had a fight and never spoke again. Lucifer is upset about this, but Constantine doesn't feel much because he thinks it's the right thing to do, even though he loves his father to the core.

Later in the series, when Lucifer overcomes his pride and apologizes to Charlie, Constantine forgives him and the ice between them slowly begins to melt.

Lilith: Constantine was always closer to his mother and developed many of his personality traits after her example, and Lilith was very interested in her son's upbringing, taking care to raise him in a strict manner, teaching him everything she knew and showing him what kind of king he should be in the future.

Charlie: Constantine loves his little sister so much that he would burn every ring of hell seven times for her. And although he doesn't have much empathy etc., when Charlie is sad he is always there to support her as much as he can, he always treats his sister with respect.

When they were little the two of them were mischievous enough to do things to destroy the palace, so Constantine's most fun memories are the times she spends with her sister and as much as they love each other, like all siblings they sometimes fight or bicker, when they were little it was normal sibling bickering, when they grew up it was usually about Constantine's inability to take care of himself properly, but now, even though they don't see each other much, they often call each other and they have a really healthy relationship and even though their opinions may be divided at times, they both respect and value each other.

Serenity: Constantine describes Serenity as an interesting case. As an overlord, Serenity was the only one Constantine noticed because she was someone who tried to gain power through sweet talk and knowledge, not brutality, a woman who built her empire through mind games, and she did something surprising for a sinner: she spread her power not only to the guru ring but also to other rings, which is why Constantine found her intriguing.

When they first met at the hotel, they naturally got along well, but as time went on and they were both in the same areas because of Charlie, Constantine got to know Serenity better and realized that he liked spending time with this sinner, even though even he was surprised by it. Serenity was smart and cunning, Constantine rarely found someone who could keep up with him in conversation, and he and Serenity shared many hobbies, so over time their enmity turned into friendship and even months after they met Constantine invited Serenity to his palace. He really liked listening to Serenity's comments on his books or projects and they both really enjoyed those days but of course there is no real trust between them, one is a prince of hell and the other is an overlord but they still like each other's presence.

Hotel residents: Constantine is neutral towards them.

Alastor: Constantine and Alastor have a relationship of respect, as long as Alastor respects Constantine, Constantine is neutral around him, he doesn't get into dogfights with Alastor like Lucifer did. And Alastor knows Constantine's authority, so he doesn't do anything out of line, but Constantine doesn't like Alastor, he knows he's not in the hotel for fun, and he finds it annoying that he's trying to get close to Charlie, but he doesn't see him as a threat, he just sees him as a fly that makes a noise, and he's waiting for him to do something out of line. But of course they have a lot in common in terms of personality and hobbies, if you don't include their positions etc, they could get along well in that way.

The relationship with sins:

Bee: Constantine loves his Aunt Bee very much, even when he was little he remembers like it was yesterday when he used to stay with Charlie and his Aunt Bee always did her best to keep them both happy and she was always kind to them and when they are with her he likes to forget all the royal stuff and have fun. Now Bee is one of the few people who can run up and hug Constantine at royal meetings.

Satan: Constantine grew up closest to Satan, who saw the potential for destruction in Constantine from the time he was young and wanted to guide him, and succeeded. Constantine's perception of power often comes from Satan.

Belphegor: Constantine likes to spend time with her. Belphegor is a women who studies medicine and science, so Constantine really likes to discuss these things with her.

Mammon: he doesn't like him, he thinks he's a clown.

Asmodeus: Constantine is not very close to Asmodeus, but he likes his uncle.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc

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phillippadgettwrites · 5 months

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Dropped Call, Chapter 2

Rated X / 3700 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re in Lakeland, Florida and it’s been pissing rain since they hit the tarmac in Tampa. Between the inability to keep his loafers dry, the fact that he forgot his glasses, and the lack of cable in his motel room, Mulder is in a seriously bad fucking mood. He even turned down dinner with Scully, something that is typically the highlight of his day on assignment, to spare her from his grouchiness. He always hates himself when he’s an asshole to her for no justifiable reason, and right now he doesn’t possess the capacity to regulate his emotions as effectively as he’d need to to avoid it.

At this point, he’s come to the conclusion that the phone call was some kind of hyper-realistic dream or fantasy. Given, the facts don’t totally line up in support of that theory, but it’s easier to operate under the belief that it never happened than it is to accept the idea that it did happen but will never be spoken of, much less acted on. Easier than accepting that he unwittingly divulged graphic details regarding his sexual fantasies about Scully to Scully herself, and she was so horrified that she can only cope by acting as though the phone call never took place at all.

But was she really horrified? His memory of the exact words spoken by each of them isn’t especially sharp, given that he thought he was speaking to Electra, but he’s pretty sure he remembers her asking him questions, goading him into sharing more. And he knows that he correctly recalls what she said about “enjoying other meals,” because by then he knew exactly what he’d done and who he was speaking to, and the high he experienced in light of her confession lasted well into the following day, right up until he knocked on her door with a paper bag containing tom kah gai in hand.

She hadn’t acted strangely, aside from the general lethargy caused by her cold, and that in itself struck him as strange. She ate her soup, smiled at him while he detailed the creative ways he’d wasted time that morning in her absence, and then yawned and said she was going to take a nap. It’s not that he was expecting her to bring up the phone call or kiss him goodbye or something, but he thought things would feel…different. He certainly felt different.

But weeks have passed, and she has more than fully recovered from her cold, yet there is nary a hint of increased sexual tension between the two of them. In fact, there’s been a distinct lack of their typical casual flirtations, almost like they’ve regressed. What conclusion can he come to other than she’s just not interested? She seems to want to pretend it never happened, and for lack of a better option he’s done the same.

He calls the front desk again, hoping that he’ll get someone other than the exceedingly unhelpful young man who offered apologies regarding the lack of cable, but no solutions. After speaking to the night shift manager at length, his options are to move to a room clear on the other side of the complex, or go without.

“Let me think about it and call you back,” he says, then slams the phone down on the receiver with more force than is necessary and flops onto the bed.

Within seconds the phone is ringing and he picks it back up, expecting to hear the night manager on the other end.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

He can hear the ghost of her voice through the poorly insulated wall between their rooms, a murmuring, indecipherable vibration.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted the rest of this pizza, but I kept getting a busy signal so it’s probably cold now,” she says.

“I’ll never understand your aversion to cold pizza,” he says.

She makes a noncommittal little noise, and then they are quiet for a beat.

“So who were you talking to?” she asks.

Her voice is a bit higher than normal, giving away her attempt to appear disinterested in the answer, and that, in turn, piques Mulder’s curiosity.

“Who do you think?” he replies, just to see what she’ll say.

Scully scoffs as though this confirms what she already suspected.

“Please send my regards to Electra,” she snarks. The reference to their previously unmentionable phone call sends a shock of adrenaline through him. He can’t think of anything to say, so he just doesn’t say anything. “What time do you want to head out tomorrow?” Scully says quickly, changing the subject, and he can nearly feel her embarrassment radiating through the wall.

“Nine?” he suggests, and she grunts her agreement. There’s another pregnant pause, and he decides to seize the opportunity. “I told Electra about what happened,” he says, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

“Oh?” Scully says after a beat.

“Mmhmm,” Mulder replies, summoning courage. “She said you’re going to put her out of a job.”

Scully huffs an uncomfortable little laugh.

“I highly doubt that,” she says quietly.

They’ve never had an issue with awkward silences. As many hours as they spend in one another’s company, it’s just not possible to avoid lulls in conversation, and he’s long appreciated the fact that Scully doesn’t try to fill them with meaningless drivel. An unfortunate side effect of this is that on those occasions where they are intentionally avoiding a specific topic of conversation, the weight of those unfilled silences is practically unbearable.

He wants to ask her so many questions. Why didn't she tell him it was her? Was she disgusted by what he said? What did her cryptic comment about “enjoying other meals” really mean? Is this a door she never wants to open, or does she just need him to open it for her so they can both walk through?

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he blurts out, inexplicably compelled to keep them on this subject. “We’ve never talked about it, but I realize that it was probably really weird for you and…sorry.”

Part of him knows he’s fishing for information. If she accepts his apology, he can take that to mean that an apology was due. If she refutes the need for one, that will tell him something entirely different.

She doesn’t do either of those things.

“Well, I could have hung up,” she says, her tone inscrutable.

“But you didn’t,” he says, equally ambiguous.

“No,” she says.

The silence is so fucking heavy it makes him feel sick.

“Why is that?” he ventures. “Just out of curiosity.”

He hears her pull in a slow, deep breath and then expel it in a huff.

“I’m not sure,” she finally says. He can’t tell whether she’s obfuscating.

“Were you offended?”

“...No.”

“Surprised?”

“Very.”

“Was that surprise of the pleasant or unpleasant variety?” he asks, switching the handset from one ear to the other so he can wipe his sweaty palms on the bedspread.

He’s listening so intently that he hears both the wet sounds of her tongue moving around inside her mouth in search of words, as well as the creak of bed springs as she shifts uncomfortably on the mattress.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” she says after a time.

What the fuck does that mean? He wonders. He could logically conclude that she was into it, between the not hanging up, the asking of questions, and the hesitance to outright say whether it bothered her. But this is Scully, and the risk of making an incorrect assumption is not one he is willing to take.

“How long have you been talking to her?” she asks, and at first he doesn’t understand the question. Talking to who?

“Oh, I was actually talking to the front desk,” he says, realizing that he never corrected her. “The cable in my room is out.”

“Oh,” she says. “So you didn’t really tell her about what happened?”

Her tone is strange and foreign to him. She sounds uncertain, insecure almost.

“I did, a few weeks ago.”

“Hm.”

“To answer your question, I’ve been talking to her for….I guess a little over a year now,” he says.

This would typically be an embarrassing thing to disclose, but her active participation in a phone call of the same nature makes him feel like she doesn’t really have a place to judge. He also finds her curiosity regarding Electra compelling, though he can’t really say why.

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “That’s a long time. With one person, I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He can tell there’s something she’s not saying. Something she wants to ask him, or wants to know but is unwilling to ask. He has an overwhelming urge to tell her everything, to detail the ways that talking to Electra helps him cope with having to bury his feelings for Scully every weekday between the hours of 9-5, plus most weekends. He wants to tell her that it’s not just about sex, though it was the night he ended up with her on the line. That Electra knows exactly what Scully looks like, down to the little mole on her upper lip, and that she snorts if he manages to make her laugh hard enough. That for every time he’s jerked off while telling Electra what he wishes he could do with Scully physically, there were two phone calls where he kept his pants on and told her how tormented he is by his inability to get closer to her emotionally.

“It’s not always like that,” he says, opting for a less detailed disclosure. “Most of the time when I talk to her, we just talk.”

“About what?” she asks, and he immediately feels his face get hot.

“I feel like you already know the answer to that,” he says, equally mortified and irritated. It doesn’t seem fair for her to feign ignorance at this point.

Scully is quiet, but he knows her mind is racing. He can feel it, a frenetic crackle against the shell of his ear.

“I guess I do,” she says when he’s just about to ask if she’s still there. “I don’t want you to think…” she starts. He waits for her to find the right words. “I don’t want you to think I was offended or that I’m upset about what happened,” she says carefully. “I realize that it might seem like I am, so I just wanted you to know that I’m not.”

“Okay,” he says uncertainly. This is good news, in a way, but it’s also non-news.

“I also owe you an apology,” she continues. “It was inappropriate of me not to tell you as soon as I realized. I violated your privacy, and I’m very sorry for that.”

“No apology needed,” he says. A beat passes. This is ridiculous. “Can we just—Look, I know this is awkward, and I know you’re a private person, but can we just—”

“I don’t think I’m ready to do that,” she interrupts him, her voice urgent and a little afraid.

He takes a moment to absorb this.

“You’re not ready to talk about it,” he says, and she hums in confirmation. “But you’re….interested? Open to it? Eventually?”

“Eventually,” she repeats. “Not now.”

“Okay,” he says, satisfied that he understands the situation. “I can and will respect that.”

“Thank you.”

“See you at 9 tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

He hangs up the phone and folds his hands over his belly, staring at the dusty popcorn ceiling as he thinks back through it all. A little smile plays at the corners of his mouth. Eventually isn’t something he can necessarily look forward to, but it’s a hell of a lot better than never.

The phone rings, and reaches across the nightstand to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

Mulder’s eyebrows furrow. The voice is definitely female, but he can’t immediately place it

“Hi. Who’s this?”

The caller clears her throat.

“Uh, this is…it’s Electra,” she says.

A hot flush spreads out over his entire body, and there’s a slight ringing in his ears.

“Hi,” he says, sitting up. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she says. “What are you doing?”

He hears the vibration of her voice from the other side of the wall, the cadence of it a millisecond ahead of what comes to his ear through the phone.

“I’m just relaxing,” he says. He suddenly doesn’t know how to behave. “I’m at a motel and there’s no cable in my room.”

“Oh no,” she says. “What are you going to do to entertain yourself?”

Her tone is awkward and unconfident, but he understands what she’s going for and plays along.

“I don’t know,” he says, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “Any ideas?”

“Well,” she says, her voice just this side of shaky. “You could tell me about another one of your fantasies, if you want.”

There is a rush of blood to his lap that makes him momentarily lightheaded. She’s really doing this.

“Okay,” he says, but his mind goes blank. What is she hoping to hear? What if he says something she finds offensive? This is a lot harder when he knows it’s Scully he’s talking to. “Give me a second to think of something.”

“Last time we talked, you said you had other fantasies of the same nature,” she says hesitantly.

“I do,” he confirms. “I just…sorry, you just caught me off guard.”

“I can relate,” she says with just a hint of coyness, and that makes him relax a little.

He lays back down on the bed and closes his eyes. If he’s going to do this, he has to pretend it’s really Electra on the line.

“Okay,” he says. “Something that’s important to know for context is that she loves to take baths.”

“She?”

Mulder opens his eyes, taken out of the moment. He never has to specify with Electra; there’s only one “she” he’s ever referring to.

“My partner,” he says reluctantly.

“Oh,” she replies. “Okay, go ahead.”

Mulder closes his eyes again and lets the image of his fantasy fill his mind. The tiled walls of Scully’s bathroom, the bright smell of her lavender bubble bath, her dirty clothes in a heap on the floor by the tub.

“One of my fantasies is that I stop by her apartment unannounced, and I hear her call out for me to let myself in. So I use my key, and once I’m inside she tells me that she’s in the bath.” He pauses to see if she has any commentary on this, but she says nothing. “I start talking to her through the door, which is something I’ve done a handful of times, but in my fantasy she tells me to come in.” Another pause. All he hears is her even breathing. “She’s in the bath, but it’s so full of bubbles that I can’t see anything. I sit on a little stool beside the tub and we keep talking.”

His heart is pounding. He can’t just say this to her.

“And then what?” she asks. Mulder swallows.

“And then…I end up touching her under the bubbles,” he says, glazing over the rest of the details and making use of a euphemism.

Scully laughs a little.

“I think you may have skipped some things,” she says gently, and he cringes.

“Sorry. I don’t want to be too graphic.”

“Why?”

“I guess I’m worried I’ll offend you,” he says.

“What if I promise not to be offended?” she offers.

“Is that something you can reasonably promise?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“Okay,” Mulder says, sucking in a steadying breath. “I’m sitting next to the tub and we’re talking. After a while some of the bubbles start to dissolve and I can kind of see her body. Not details, just sort of the contrast of her skin, and—” he pauses, then forces himself to say the next part. “I can see darker areas, like her nipples and her pubic hair.”

Scully hums, an indication that she’s following along. That she’s listening.

“She’s talking about how much stress she’s been under. I think in the fantasy I kind of know that she’s been having a hard time and I’m worried about her.”

“Interesting,” Scully says, her voice breathy.

“Why is that interesting?” he asks.

“Oh…just…I guess I find it interesting that her emotional state factors into your fantasy,” she observes without judgment. “That was also true in the previous fantasy you shared.”

He doesn’t miss the fact that she’s referring to herself in the third person. And she isn’t wrong.

“So she’s talking about how stressed out she is,” he continues, shifting his hips around as his erection begs to be touched, “and I tell her I can help. I ask if she’ll let me.”

“What do you say, exactly?” she asks.

He reaches down and gives his cock a squeeze. “I say something like, ‘I know what you need,’ and then I look at her body under the bubbles. I’m not very explicit.”

“Why?”

“Because in this fantasy we’ve never done anything like that before, so I wouldn’t just come out and say it directly. That would be too forward for her.”

“So you want it to be realistic?” she asks.

“Sometimes.”

“Okay, so you tell her that you know what she needs. What does she say?” Scully says, getting them back on track.

“She doesn’t really say anything. Her eyes get wide, and she looks down and realizes that she’s slowly being exposed. She’s embarrassed, but she’s also excited.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s not telling me to get the fuck out of her bathroom,” he says lightly, and she laughs.

“So what do you do next?”

“I reach out and touch her knee, which is above the water. And then I watch her face as I run my fingers down the inside of her thigh.”

“You don’t kiss her?”

“Not yet.”

“Does she stop you?”

“No. She just looks at me. Her eyes are still all big and her mouth is open. She’s breathing hard. And then she moves her other leg to the side.” He swears he hears the tiniest little moan slip through the phone. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What?” she asks, though it’s unclear whether she’s asking what his question is or if she’s just confused by his divergence from the story.

“When we talked before, when I told you about my other fantasy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Were you, um…did you touch yourself?”

She’s quiet for so long that he gets his dick out and gives it a few strokes before leaving it to rest, stiff and aching, against his belly.

“Yes.”

His dick lurches, standing at attention briefly before it flops to the side. He doesn’t want to come before this is over, lest his post-nut clarity ruin the rest of the experience, so he tries to touch it as little as possible.

“She moves her other leg to the side so I know without a doubt that she wants it. When I touch her, she closes her eyes and moans right away. Even under the water I can feel how wet she is. How slippery. I ask her again to let me help, but this time I say, ‘let me make you come, Scully.’”

She gasps a little, and he realizes that he used her name. He’s never used her name with Electra.

“What does she say?” Scully asks, nearly whining. Her voice is high and tight, and he wants to know so badly if she’s touching herself again now.

“She says, ‘we can’t.’ But she’s pushing her hips into my hand even when she’s saying it so I don’t stop. I know she wants it. I put one finger inside her and she just…she melts.”

“Oh,” Scully breathes out. It’s unclear whether it’s commentary on the story or a vocalization of whatever she’s doing over there.

“I get rid of the stool and I kneel beside the tub so I can kind of lean over into it for leverage. And that’s when I kiss her. Or I try to, but she can barely kiss because of what I’m doing to her with my hand. I add a second finger and she’s throbbing like crazy.”

“Yes,” Scully says in encouragement.

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks quickly, his tone unchanged from his narration.

“Yes,” she says again.

Mulder squeezes his cock in his fist.

“Me too.”

Another, “Oh.”

“I curl my fingers up towards her belly, and then I get my thumb on her clit. She’s holding on to the sides of the tub for leverage and practically fucking my hand, she wants it so bad.”

“Uh huh.”

He can’t hold back anymore. He strokes his cock frantically fast, pumping his hips up off the mattress as though thrusting. He no longer has the capacity to worry about how graphic he’s being.

“Then she comes. She comes so hard she can’t speak, can’t breathe. And her cunt is just…god she’s so tight. And all I can think about is how good it would feel to be inside her when she’s coming.”

Scully gasps, and suddenly the line goes dead. Through the wall, he hears a long, low moan, and then a series of high staccato whimpers. He explodes forcefully into his own hand, sending ropes of cum up as far as his chest and completely defiling his last clean T-shirt. He still has the phone propped against his ear and his cock in hand, slippery and quickly softening, when he hears a click, and then her voice comes back through the open line.

“Mulder?”

He sits up quickly, which makes his head spin.

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking, can we leave at 8:30 tomorrow? I’d like to stop for some decent coffee if we can make time.”

Mulder blinks stupidly, disoriented.

“Uh, yeah, 8:30 is fine. Are you…you’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” she says simply.

“Okay. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Mulder sets the phone back on the receiver and looks down at his cum-streaked lap and belly. That absolutely happened, there is no doubt in his mind.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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sleepysera · 3 months

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"The latest research (from Susan Hallam, professor emeritus of education and music psychology at University College London) shows that learning an instrument improves discipline, self-confidence, focus, problem-solving, language, literacy, math, and personal well-being. It increases the capacity of memory, improves time management and organizational skills, enhances coordination, decreases stress, enhances your respiratory system, and promotes happiness in your life and that of those around you. Playing music can be an efficient way to stimulate the brain, establishing and strengthening new and existing connections, cutting across a broad swathe of its regions and cognitive functions, causing ripple effects through the decades (need I go on?)."

-James Rhodes, How to Play the Piano (2016)

#books #quote #nonfiction #music #piano

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ariadne-mouse · 1 year

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For the combination of two prompts:

"headache relief" and "a truly abysmal cup of tea"

Shadowgast, rated G, hurt/comfort, 833 words

Essek's visits to Caleb's cottage in Rexxentrum were brief, and precious; despite their shared expertise in dunamancy, there never seemed to be enough time. And so when Essek arrived one windy spring morning, but could not concentrate on their shared research, and shied away with a wince from the meager light filtering through the shuttered windows, Caleb felt even more urgency to remedy whatever ailed him. Not just so that Essek would be well, but because these narrow hours were all they had to express the full spectrum of anything and everything they might have to say to each other.

There was Sending, yes, and Essek was talented in layering many things into few words. But Caleb found he yearned to make and share space, and to see the gallery of Essek’s expressions play across his sharp-toothed mouth, his elegant brows, his clever eyes.

This pained, stubborn expression was a new one on his dear friend, and Caleb cataloged it feverishly in his memory even as he sought its antidote.

"It's nothing," Essek demurred, when Caleb pressed. "A slight headache."

"Do you need to rest? You are very welcome to--"

"I did not come here to sleep," Essek cut him off, then shook his head at the suggestive implication, waving it away as if it was a bothersome fly, then winced at both sudden motions. "I am here so we can revise the second runic config-" he broke off with a hiss and rubbed his temple.

"Essek," Caleb half-chided, half-pleaded. "What can I do? I have healing potions. Or do you need Jester?"

"Oh, no — please, no."

In fairness, he was probably right. Despite her capacity for healing, Jester might very well simultaneously increase the headache in some other way, bright and loud and well-intentioned.

Essek reached for a quill and a spare parchment from their research and jotted down a list, and a set of notes, his eyes squinting, his shoulders a scrunched line of weary tension. He offered this to Caleb, ink still wet, letters running rudely together. "If you can procure these herbs and prepare them as written, that would be a great help. This... issue... has a particular root cause, and a particular solution."

Caleb burned two teleportations and ten minutes in the city, and another ten minutes in his small kitchen fussing with hot water and dead plants. While he'd been gone, Essek had curled up in an armchair with his feet tucked childishly under himself and his forehead resting on the upholstered arm, eyes closed, breathing slowly and deliberately, flinching when the metal pot clanged on the stove.

The resulting brew was enough to fill one of his homely porcelain teacups, and dark enough to look like it might leave a stain. The smell was cloying, bitter. Essek looked at it with a combination of relief and revulsion. After cooling the steam off it with a curtly-gestured prestidigitation, he lifted it to his lips — markedly hesitated — then downed the whole thing in a few rapid gulps.

"Water, please." He thrust the cup back at Caleb, his face an open snarl of disgust.

The water, quickly procured, vanished with the same hurry and lack of decorum as the tea. Essek slouched back into the overstuffed armchair like he’d just fought a battle. His expression twitched a few more times, nose wrinkling and lips smacking, aftershocks of the taste of the tea.

"And now?" Caleb pitched his voice low. Essek sighed, eyes closing once more. "I wait for it to kick in. Always slower than I would like."

Caleb said nothing, only waited there, his continued presence itself the question.

One of Essek's eyes cracked open, a sliver of violet picking up the dim light. After regarding Caleb blearily, he extended his arm off the edge of the armchair, palm-up and limp, like it was not attached to him. "Press your thumbs to the heel of my hand, if you like."

A simple task for a clever man. Caleb sat leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees, Essek's hand in his, making gentle pressure points and soothing circles, over and over. Over the next quarter hour, the tension in Essek's shoulders and neck eased, and his breathing slowed, and the wrinkle between his brows ebbed away like a ripple of cloud erased by the wind. At some point Caleb moved his ministrations to Essek's other hand, as gentle as the first. It was quiet in the cottage.

"Stop," Essek finally said. "That's enough."

Caleb stopped. "Better?"

"Yes. A bit." Essek sat up, very disheveled still. He did not untuck his feet. He was a cozy lump on the armchair, like a cat woken from a nap.

"Gut,” Caleb smiled. There was a faint imprint of the upholstery on Essek’s cheekbone. “Now, how would you like a cup of tea that doesn't smell like an alchemical mistake? I have many offerings, courtesy of our friend Caduceus."

"Yes," Essek replied, with a ghost of humor returning. "Please."

#thank you sky for the prompts!#i went with some nice simple comfort vibes #the tea is inspired by the iron supplement I have to take #it's truly godawful and I make faces every time I drink it #tumblr snippets #shadowgast #critical role #op #ariadne writes CR

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rosalinrabbit · 2 years

Text

Forget Me Not

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, JJ, Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan (mentioned), David Rossi (mentioned).

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hanahaki Disease

Summary: After pining for your boss since you joined the FBI, you were pretty sure that nothing would come of it until something happens one night at Rossi’s.

When it finally seems like he loves you back, he tells you that it was a mistake, leaving you heartbroken. The pain only gets worse for you once you begin coughing up petals.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Something you may discover about me and my writing is I live for the drama. Dramatic tropes? My favorite. So here's a hanahaki fic.

Suggestive Themes / Minors DNI

You really thought it was just a cold. Just something you’d picked up from an airport while the BAU jet was unavailable for a few days and you all got on a commercial flight to Ohio.

The coughs were small at first. As though there was nothing but a small obstruction to your day to day life. You thought it would wear off quickly, but after a week of cough drops, special tea with honey from Penelope, and following Spencer’s instructions for how best to get rid of a cough, it wasn’t letting up. It was only getting worse as days went on. Everyone told you to get rest over the weekend, so you did.

The following Monday, when you had come in early feeling okay, Hotch came in to find you nearly choking on water in the break room, desperate to get over a coughing fit that left you struggling to breathe. He dropped his briefcase on the floor and rushed over to you, putting your arms over your head to increase your lung capacity and trying to get you to breathe with him. When he finally got you to breathe normally and calm down, he told you to take the day off, and see a doctor when you got the chance. He looked worried, but you knew better than to believe that…

While you usually listened to Hotch, you didn’t like the doctor. And you still felt too upset with him over what had happened a month ago to listen to any advice for your personal life.

You got various texts throughout the day asking how you were, asking where you were, etc. You responded to them but were too tired to hold up a conversation. Penelope brought you dinner, and stayed to eat it with you so you wouldn’t be alone. You appreciated it immensely. After she left, you coughed up blood onto the mahogany floor of your living room. You called in sick the next day, too.

After bouts of coughing and barely leaving your couch, you asked Emily if she’d make plans after work to take you to the doctor tomorrow. She said yes, knowing how much you’d hate to go alone.

Around two in the afternoon that same day, you coughed up a soft blue petal into your palm. Picking up your phone with your non-stained hand, you called Emily.

“Em?” your voice shook as you spoke. “I think I need to go to a doctor today instead of tomorrow. Is-is that okay?”

You could hear her shuffling paper around, and Spencer’s voice was distant in the background. “Y/n, you’re crying,” she said lowly to avoid being heard by everyone nearby. “What happened?”

You’d barely registered the tears running down your face as you stared at the dainty little petal in your hand.

“I coughed up a flower petal,” you whispered, barely able to believe it yourself.

She didn’t speak for a moment.

“Fuck,” she murmured. “I’ll be right there.”

“Please, don’t tell him,” you begged her.

“I need to tell Penelope. She can get me a fake doctors note. And she’s going to want to help, she’ll want to do as much research as she can on it,” Emily rambled.

“Okay, just make sure she doesn’t tell him either. Please.”

“I know, I know. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

She hung up fast, leaving you all alone with your thoughts. With the knowledge that you would die unless you got the surgery, removing both the infection and your memories of him.

God, you felt so stupid. How could you have let yourself fall in love with him?

You got up to wash your hands in the sink, to get rid of the blood, but as you watched that petal circle the drain, the feeling of dread overwhelmed you as you tried to face the facts.

You had Hanahaki disease.

And he didn’t love you back.

Emily and Penelope were sitting across the table from you in your apartment the following night, watching closely as you took a sip of your warm tea.

The whole day and the day prior had been spent at several doctors offices and pharmacies as Emily and Penelope both insisted on multiple opinions. You ended up with three different medications for the hanahaki, and one anxiety medication to dull the constant state of panic that you were in.

The doctors said that if you kept taking your medication and kept yourself in good condition without exacerbating your emotional distress, you could do fairly well for a while. It’ll be mostly normal, apart from some coughing fits and some blue flower petals.

Turns out your flower is “scorpion grass,” also known as “Forget Me Nots.” Dainty blue flowers that were said to symbolize true love and respect for someone.

You could practically hear Spencer’s voice in your head as you thought about it. Hiding it from him would be tough. Hiding it from profilers in general would be tough. That’s why Emily and Penelope were trying to get as much information out of you as possible.

“It is Hotch, right?” Penelope asked after a long stretch of silence.

“Penelope!” Emily scolded slightly from next to her.

“What? I just wanted to double check…”

“It’s fine, Pen. It’s fine. But yes,” you sighed deeply, looking down at the table. “It’s Hotch.”

“C-could we tell him? Maybe there’s a chance that he-“

“There isn’t a chance,” you spoke quickly, cutting Penelope off. “He told me himself,” you murmured.

“He what?!” Emily raised her voice and nearly stood up from her chair.

“Remember that dinner party at Rossi’s? A month ago?” They both nodded their heads. “Well, later into the night, Rossi decided he was going to go to bed and told anyone still there that they could stay as long as they wanted. The only people left were Derek, Spencer, Hotch, and me. Derek drove Spencer home not long after that, and Hotch and I were trying to clean up to help out Rossi… I don’t know exactly how it happened, but we ended up on the couch…”

Penelope and Emily were both staring at you in shock as you relived that night. His large hands on your hips, his lips on your neck… How happy you had felt in that moment.

It was no secret that you’d been into him for a long time. There was something so undeniably attractive about him. He was stern yet caring, and he knew when to be authoritative and when to be a friend. When you first joined the BAU, you stuck by him for a lot of your first cases, and he was there for you every step of the way. It was all of the little things he did for you that made you notice. The way he remembered how you liked your coffee, or how he remembered to send you home in time to make it to that restaurant you liked so much before it closed. The way he led you in the field, trying to increase your confidence so you could stand on your own two feet. The way he looked at you as if he’d jump in front of a bullet for you.

You didn’t expect him to feel the same towards you, and when he kissed you that night at Rossi’s, it felt as though everything fell into place all at once. As though you belonged in his arms, and under him, and against his lips…

That was until he made it clear that you didn’t belong there…

“I don’t know what happened… but he just started staring down at me, and he got up like he was in a huge hurry to leave… and he told me that the entire thing was a mistake and that he was sorry,” you finally finished retelling it, your voice getting progressively quieter throughout.

A mistake. To him, you were a mistake.

You could feel a burning in your lungs as tears dropped onto the wooden dining table, and you started coughing. Penelope got up and came over to you, trying to get you to drink more tea. You didn’t manage to catch the coughing fit in time, and a few petals made their way out of your mouth before you could get a drink and calm down again. Penelope rubbed your back with one hand while Emily stayed staring at you from the other side of the table.

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” Emily said quietly. “I didn’t… I really thought he…” she sighed, not sure how to finish her thought.

“You could still get the surgery,” Penelope offered.

You took a deep breath, not looking at her. “I could, yeah, but… what would that mean for everyone else? Who would I become?”

“There are some cases where people with the disease can come to terms with their feelings,” Emily spoke. “I know you might be hesitant to get the surgery, but the doctor said many choose not to get it until the disease progresses further. You still have time to decide.”

You nodded at her suggestion.

“I have a condition,” Penelope said. “You have to let us help take care of you. Like when you have to take your meds at work, you can come take a break in my office to do that. You have to let us be here for you and tell us what’s going on. That’s my condition.”

“Okay. I will. I have to take one of them four times a day, so… twice at the office, I guess. The others are either twice a day or once.”

“Take the twice a day then, too, it’ll give me peace of mind,” Emily requested. You agreed.

You returned to work the next day. You got in early, and when Hotch arrived, you took a deep breath and went to his office, asking to talk to him for a minute.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said, sitting down at his desk.

“I have a few doctors notes,” you handed him the papers from various doctors stating that you had appointments with them. “The cough isn’t going to go away anytime soon, but it’s not contagious or anything. I’m sorry for missing work.”

Hotch looked at the papers you gave him. “Please, don’t worry about it… but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said half heartedly. You didn’t mean it at all but it was dismissive enough to hopefully get him to drop it.

“You went to three different doctors,” he said in a concerned tone. “I thought you hated seeing even one.”

“I was sick. Needed a few opinions,” You shrugged, trying to play it off.

He was looking at you like he didn’t believe you. Of course he didn’t. But you were giving him a look that told him to drop the subject.

“I’m gonna go get caught up,” you told him, trying to leave.

“Ok. Thank you. I’m glad you’re back.”

You nodded and left, going down to the bullpen while trying to suppress the itchiness of your throat.

Deep breaths, you reminded yourself.

Days passed. You kept your promise to Penelope and would go to her office to take your meds. Emily would usually join you.

The symptoms weren’t getting too much worse. It was relatively easy to hide.

You noticed the weird looks Hotch had been giving you lately, which wasn’t helping with the whole idea of getting over your feelings. He kept looking at you like he cared, like he was concerned, and it was hard to remember that you knew he didn’t.

You knew it was a mistake.

About a week after returning to work, Hotch followed you into Penelope’s office when you went in to take your medications. You didn’t know he had followed you, because he didn’t come in right away. Instead, he came in while you had a number of colorful pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. You quickly downed the pills.

“Hi, sir,” Penelope said hesitantly. Emily was sitting next to her.

“What are you two doing in here?”

Emily and Penelope gave each other the shadiest looks ever, nearly making you groan from how abnormal they were being.

“I have to take medication twice a day, they’re just helping me adjust and remember to take it,” you said calmly.

“Oh, I see,” he said with a short nod. “Is it helping your cough?”

You shifted uncomfortably, unable to look him in the eye. “It’s been mellowing out lately.”

“It’s true, you’ve been coughing less,” Emily said with a fake smile. Penelope nodded next to her.

The tension in the room was so heavy. Everyone could feel it. Hotch knew the three of you were hiding something, and you knew he knew. But he was unlikely to actually ask about it.

Two weeks go by. You go on another overnight case. JJ ends up finding out after you cough up a few petals in the precinct bathroom. There were barely any women working there aside from you, JJ, and Emily, so you figured you’d be fine.

It led to a very emotional talk about how worried she is, and how she hopes you’ll open up to the rest of the team. You tell her that Spencer will probably figure it out soon enough, he’s already been giving you odd looks, but you were adamant on not telling anyone else. You didn’t want everyone so worried. Penelope and Emily were helping. JJ had her own family to worry about.

Aside from not wanting people to worry, you also weren’t keen on everyone knowing that you were in love with your boss, or hearing everyone tell you their opinions.

Another two weeks go by.

You feel like you have made zero progress emotionally. You have to see Hotch basically every day, considering he’s your boss. Working with him was no way to get over him easily, but you didn’t want to quit. What if you lived, and you couldn’t return to the BAU? It was your dream job. You loved it. What would life be without it?

But if you got the surgery, would you even want to work there anymore, or was it all for him? It felt like your mind was trapped in a never ending spiral.

He’d been a bit more attentive to you lately. It’s as if he senses something is deeply wrong with you. On the last case you went on, he did something he hadn’t done in a while, and paired you with him. Everything was professional, as it had been since that night, but being around him was just so difficult. You felt yourself struggling to breathe.

Spencer started watching you more and more closely. You could feel his eyes on you every time you even slightly coughed.

It felt like the meds weren’t doing as much as they were a month or so ago, when you first started them. You coughed quite often, trying desperately not to annoy everyone else in the office. For the most part, it was just the feeling like your lungs were burning. You’d managed not to cough up any petals in the bullpen, opting to head for Penelope’s office if you felt like the coughing was too intense.

During a particularly rough morning, Spencer practically escorted you to Penelope’s office, leaving briefly to get you more water before returning.

He didn’t even look startled when he came back to see blood dripping out of the corner of your mouth and petals strewn across the floor as you profusely apologized to Penelope from the floor.

Spencer grabbed a tissue from a nearby table and knelt down, joining you on the floor. He handed you the tissue and gave you a tight lipped smile. You took it, and cleaned the blood from your mouth.

“How long have you had this?” He asked gently.

“A little over two months… I found out a month after it started.”

“She’s taking medications for it,” Penelope added.

“Who else knows?” Spencer looked between the two of you.

“Emily, because she took me to the doctors appointments, and JJ found out a few weeks ago after I coughed up petals in the bathroom.” You paused, looking at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Spencer.”

“No, it-it’s okay. Hanahaki is one of those things that is difficult to share. But I’m glad I know now.”

You nodded, looking at the petals on the floor and starting to pick them up in case someone else walked in.

“Scorpion grasses,” Spencer noted, just as you knew he would. “Commonly known as Forget Me Nots.”

“They’re meant to symbolize true love and respect,” you said quietly. Spencer nodded.

“Are- um, are you getting the surgery?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I haven’t been able to overcome it naturally, I don’t know if I’ll be able to… but I don’t know who I’ll become if it’s all taken away.”

Spencer didn’t meet your eyes after you said that. “I know it seems scary, but… I hope you consider it further. Please don’t give up on yourself, y/n,” he said softly.

You just kept picking up the petals off the floor.

It’s only a week later that you wake up to a strange sight.

On your upper thigh, a blue flower has bloomed. Dainty green leaves peak out from under it, and the stem goes straight into your skin.

You frantically checked over the rest of your body to see a green leaf sticking out just over your chest.

Fumbling for your phone on the nightstand, you called your doctor.

They told you that you had developed a rare form of Hanahaki. Flowers would grow out of the places that the person you love has touched with their hands.

Your heart dropped. The doctor kept calling your name, trying to see if you were still at the phone or if the connection had dropped, when in reality you just felt frozen in time.

“If you’re still there, I know this might be hard news to hear. Just try to remember to keep calm, if you get too stressed the symptoms can worsen. I really think you should consider coming in and—“

You hung up, cried into your pillow for a solid thirty minutes, put on a pair of pants and found a turtleneck in the closet to hide the flowers and leaves, and got to work a bit late.

As for the development, you didn’t say anything.

They were worried enough. You knew the pressure they were putting on you was just out of worry, but it was so difficult to handle. Everyone wanted you to live. Of course, you wanted to live, too. You always thought it was so irrational whenever you heard of someone with Hanahaki choosing to die. But then you knew the changes that those who decided to live experienced. There was a chance that your memories of Hotch might be removed along with the emotions. You didn’t like that idea at all.

Memories are too important to who you are.

So it was as if the choices were: the current you could choose to die and be reborn as someone else, or you could die as yourself, with your memories and your feelings. It’s not as clear cut as living or dying.

So when someone asked why you started wearing turtlenecks to work, you told them that it was because you kept feeling a bit chilly. If they knew about your condition, you told them that the lack of temperature control in your body was a side effect of the medication.

Though it was getting progressively more difficult to hide throughout an entire day.

The flowers kept trying to grow out of your palms, and were progressing to grow from your chest.

Eventually, you coughed up your first full flower.

It was stupidly beautiful. How could something that was killing you be so beautiful?

Maybe you’d ask to be planted in a garden if the plants overtake you. That way, the death wouldn’t be so grim.

Working as a living terrarium was getting progressively more difficult and more complicated. The hiding, the coughing, the medication, the petals that sometimes made their ways out of your clothing…

You were sitting at your desk late one night, barely even registering that everyone else had gone home. Your whole body felt tired from fighting off the plants overtaking your system.

A deep voice startled you from behind.

“Y/n?” You turned around to look up at Hotch, who’s brows were furrowed in concern. “There’s something in your hair…”

“Oh, really?” You asked, brushing the top of your head to get it off.

“Yeah, it looks like a blue piece of paper or something…” Blue? “Here, I can-“

“No!” You quickly covered your head with your hands and moved away as though you’d been electrocuted. “It-it’s fine, I got it. Um… I should really go home. I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.” You quickly gathered your bags and all but ran for the elevator doors, pushing the “close doors” button over and over until they finally shut, leaving you alone in the elevator so you couldn’t see the he hurt expression on his face from you pushing him away.

In the reflective doors, you could see a little blue flower peeking out from under your hair. A tear fell down your cheek.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

It was the middle of the night on Sunday when you got a call from Penelope that there was a case.

Half asleep with your throat feeling like it’s on fire, you call Hotch.

“Hotchner,” he answered in his usual stern voice.

“Hey, it’s me. I know we just got a case, but I’m feeling a bit under the weather and was wondering if I could stay back and work with Garcia.”

“If it’s that bad, maybe you should just stay home.” Even though you knew he didn’t know, the coldness and annoyance that you thought you detected in his tone made your heart ache. Was it time to finally give this up?

You sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” you chuckled sadly. “Good luck on this one. Bye, Hotch.”

“Wait, y/n-“

You hung up before he could finish, covering your eyes with one hand.

A new decision was before you now. Resignation, or unpaid sick leave?

You called Penelope and asked her to get you an FMLA form to send to your doctor to fill out.

Your body was growing far too weak to take such great lengths to hide the flowers.

Days slowly tick by. Penelope would come to visit fairly often, but it was brief enough to hide the flowers blooming all over your body.

Emily and JJ called you nearly every night to check on you.

Everyone was still out on the case. You guessed it must have been a difficult one.

Your form to take unpaid sick leave for an undetermined amount of time, sighed by you and your doctors, was sitting on Hotch’s desk for when he returned.

Penelope and Emily seemed to be increasingly hostile toward Hotch. They kept complaining about his behavior, about how clueless he is, about how upset they are.

One night you got a particularly odd phone call from Hotch.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he spoke, voice sounding a little shaky.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, not really. It was just a rough case. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Your head instinctively turned to the mirror in your bedroom. You studied yourself, sitting on the floor, surrounded by little blue petals and flowers, a few blood stains accompanying them. There were flowers in your hair and petals on your face, small blooms blossomed out of your wrists and on your thighs above your socks.

“I-I’m okay.”

“Y/n,” he sighed. “I know it’s not my place, but you’re really worrying me. You haven’t- I haven’t seen you smile in months. It’s been forever since I’ve heard your laugh. You’re usually so cheerful, you brighten up the entire office with your optimism. There’s obviously something going on, and no one will tell me what’s happening.”

You could feel your airways being blocked as you felt a pang in your chest. He hadn’t heard you laugh or seen you smile. What does he care?

Why would he say something like that? It was as if it was a statement designed to kill you.

“I-“ you were cut off by a flower making it’s way up through your throat. You harshly coughed it out. “Sorry,” you mumbled when you could finally speak again. “I um… I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know what you want me to say.” Your voice was rough as you spoke.

“I just want you to tell me the truth.”

“I’m.. I’m just sick.”

“Is it serious?”

“I-“

“Answer me honestly.”

“…yes.”

“Are you getting treated?”

Flowers were poking their way through the skin of your palms, growing on your wrists as you stared into your own reflection.

“Yes.”

“Is it going to get better?”

You took a long pause, watching as another flower bloomed next to your phone as you held it in your hand, and another appeared in your hair.

“No,” you sobbed lightly. “It’s not.”

He was silent. After a minute or so of complete silence as you held your breath, you just hung up, unable to take it anymore. He couldn’t pretend to care about it, could he? So he said nothing.

You were dying and he said nothing.

Tears streamed down your face as you covered it with your hands, practically watering the flowers growing from within you, letting them take over. You could feel vines and blooms growing on your thigh, up your arm, out of your chest, inside your throat, against your sides…

Slipping down, laying on your side on the hard wooden floor, you wondered who would find you like this.

You wondered if it would be Penelope, scarring her for the rest of her life and dimming the brightness of her soul, or if it would be Emily, adding to her already long list of traumatic events and making her feel more cynical toward the world she desperately tried not to hate. Or maybe JJ, or Spencer, or someone else.

Your breathing became even more hindered as a flower grew out of your mouth. You could still breathe, but barely, struggling against the leaves and stems twisting and growing through you.

The thought dawned on you that maybe you should’ve gotten the surgery, but you push that out of your mind. Too little too late.

Hours pass as you lay there, struggling to breathe and keep yourself alive. The phone rings a few times, just a little bit too far out of reach. Your fingers twitch, trying to find it next to you, but you give up when you realize that you can’t give a response.

The hardness of the floor made you ache, but after a while, you didn’t notice it anymore. The pain was incomparable to how much the flowers hurt.

The room got significantly darker at some point, the sun must have gone down.

Eventually, you close your eyes, far too tired to be concerned about whether you’ll ever open them again.

You are slightly woken by a very loud sound coming from the hall. It sounded like someone was trying to break down your door. Sighing slightly, rattling the stems twisting out of your throat, you let your eyes close again, faintly hearing your name being called.

A few minutes pass until you hear footsteps rapidly getting louder. The door opens, and they come to a stop, pausing there. You wondered who it was, but your body was on the floor next to the bed. Even if you turned around, you wouldn’t be able to see, so your eyes stayed shut.

But then you felt familiar hands on you. Tentative at first, stroking your arm. Then, big and warm, lifting up the top half of your body off of the floor. A hand was placed on your cheek, and you slowly opened your eyes to see Aaron Hotchner looking down at you with tears in his eyes and a desperate look on his face.

“Oh god, oh thank god,” he sighed when he saw your eyes open. “I-I thought you were dead,” his voice broke.

You slightly turned your head to the side, a last ditch attempt to keep him from seeing tears roll down your face.

“Y/n,” his voice was soft. “Please, please look at me.” You slowly did as he asked, your eyes meeting once more as he continued holding you. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I told you that it was a mistake to kiss you that night. I didn’t mean it, I’ve never, ever, thought of you as a mistake. I only said it because I thought it was something you didn’t want, that I was pushing this on you. You’re- you’re so much younger than I am, and you’re kind, and beautiful, and extremely talented… You brighten the entire world while I think I just dim it. I thought I would be holding you back from having the life you deserve if I let myself give in, but I never should have said that. It was stupid of me not to tell you how I feel.” You closed your eyes, feeling a mix of relief and of doubt washing over you, and you didn’t know which of the two would win. He leaned down, and put his forehead against your own. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the very first day I met you. Since I gave you a compliment during your interview and your face lit up, and you told me that it meant a lot coming from someone like me, someone who never said anything they didn’t mean.” When you opened your eyes, you saw that he was still crying, just like you were, as he stared deeply into your eyes. “I only ever lied to you once, and it was the biggest mistake of my life, so please believe me when I say this now,” he breathed. “I’m in love with you, and I can’t lose you. I can’t. I’m so sorry it took me this long to tell you.”

With a trembling hand, you reached up to your mouth, and carefully took out the already-wilting flower that had occupied the space there. His eyes didn’t move from yours as you took a shaky breath.

“I love you too,” you whispered, voice rough. The flowers on your palms were losing their luster, drooping as you moved your hand to his face.

He gently leaned in, and kissed you softly. A lot like he did all those weeks ago.

He helps you pull the dying flowers off of your body, and sits with you as you call Emily and Penelope to tell them that you’re going to be okay.

He gets you off the floor and helps you into bed.

He gets you water and orders dinner for the two of you.

He doesn’t leave your side that night. He helps you as your body slowly regains it’s strength, taking care of you until you can stand on your own.

Even then, he’d never let you go again.

One Year Later

You wake up with Aaron’s arm draped over you and your legs intertwined with his.

“Morning,” he mumbles sleepily, seeing that you’re awake. You blink a few times before turning and burying your face in his neck. He chuckled, your nose tickling him slightly.

“I love you,” you sighed happily.

“I love you, too. Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

You pull back slightly to look at him. “One whole year since I scared the hell out of you,” you said in a slightly teasing tone, trying to take away some of the pain that the memory brought with it.

“And the rest of the team,” he adds with his eyebrows raised.

“Well, as long as you’re with me, I don’t think it’ll be happening again..” You giggled and shifted up slightly to kiss him. “Thanks for saving me, sir.”

“Anytime, Princess.”

You blushed and smiled at him before turning your head, hearing a door open. “I think I hear someone getting out of bed down the hall.”

Sure enough, Jack comes bounding into the room you share with Aaron, jumping on the bed and tackling you with a hug.

You and Jack got along so well that after only a few months of dating Aaron, you ended up moving in with him and Jack full-time. While some would say it was fast, you only had eyes for Aaron.

You had never been happier in your entire life than now, spending your days at the BAU and the evenings with Aaron and Jack.

You and Aaron dropped off Jack at school with an extra hug from both of you since he was planning on having a sleepover with one of his friends that night and you wouldn’t see him until the next morning.

Thankfully, the team wasn’t given any new cases, although Strauss and Aaron did have a meeting in his office which made you worry a little. His mood didn’t seem to falter, so you figured the meeting went okay.

The two of you have dinner in a park that evening. The weather was perfect, and the sunset was beautiful. The last flowers of summer were in full force, showing their beauty and color before they wilt.

At some point, when you look over to Aaron, he’s already on one knee, small box in hand. You start crying almost immediately, which doesn’t surprise him in the least, but it makes him tear up a little bit, too.

You can’t even verbalize a response when he asks you if you’ll marry him. You just nod and smile through tears as his face breaks into a huge smile.

Just a year ago, you thought you were going to die alone, becoming fertilizer for the plants that were overtaking your body.

And now, you fall asleep next to the man you were so in love with that it almost killed you, a ring on your finger, and your heart full of love.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #fem!reader x aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hanahaki #angst and fluff #rorabbit

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y2klostandfound · 11 months

Text

New Game Express - Jet Set Radio Future on Game Players magazine Vol.20 (Video game magazine)(Hong Kong)(12/09/2001)

Translation in English:

Game Data

Model: X-BOX Distributor: SEGA Game type: ACT Price: undecided Capacity: DVD-ROM memory: unknown Release date: scheduled for February 22, 2002

JET SET RADIO FUTURE

Graffiti everywhere in New Tokyo

The new release of the action game "JET SET RADIO", which was released on Dreamcast in June last year, will be released on the same day as the X-BOX with the highest performance in Japan. Among them, the In-Line Skate runs in the streets, and at the same time draws patterns (representative patterns of the team) in the city. The stage of the latest sale this time will be based on a different fictional city "TOKYO-TO" in Tokyo.

New Action "Vertical GRIND"

The gutter on the buildings and the handrails of the overpass are all used as fancy props, and this time there will be special effects of sparks when sliding on the handrails. In XBOX, a new action of vertical sliding will be added, and you can slide vertically from the ground to walls, lampposts, etc. at any time.

Run along the wall Be careful of vehicles driving in the center of the road Cross the road above the traffic lights! ? All buildings are fancy props Such vertical gliding does not require a certain speed to do it The soles of the shoes are sparking

Pattern completion for the purpose

The purpose of the game is to draw the symbols of your team in the street. On the one hand, avoid the pursuit of the police who hinder the player from drawing, and on the other hand, you need to use the recovered spray paint to paint patterns on the walls.

When sliding on the anti-collision barrier, etc., be careful of the speed brought by the balance.

Significantly upgraded images

In this episode, the image has been greatly improved due to its function. It can be seen at a glance from the background image, and compared with the Dreamcast version, you can see the scenery farther away.

Many buildings can be seen when looking into the distance, but the range of movement will be very wide

Advanced Techniques

Using various tricks of In-Line Skake is the charm of this game. You can use simple operations to make gorgeous fancy patterns, and you can freely use multiple fancy patterns in succession to form different combinations.

Using turns to increase speed is one of the prerequisites for making fancy combinations

Jump off the flyover to do different tricks, but watch out for vehicles on the ground

#jet set radio future #jsrf #sega #xbox

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social-mockingbird · 1 year

Text

keldabe kisses are the windows to the soul (pt.2)

(tech x reader)

pt. 1 here! pt. 3 here!

hello, lovely humans! i hope you’re doing well! here is part two! i thought this would only be two parts, but it will probably end up being three. it is a slower burn than i originally intended, but i am having a blast writing the Pining™️.

author’s rec: red giant by stellardrone is a gorgeous spacey vibe of a song and fits this part really well :D

________

You really weren’t that surprised Cid let you go with the boys. She’d taken one look at your suddenly watery eyes when Echo told you they were leaving, huffed, and started digging credits out of her pockets.

“Advance pay,” she’d croaked at you. “Don’t be gone too long.”

It had been two months of jobs, sleeping on the Marauder and eating rations, and you’d never been happier. Wrecker and Omega had taken to including you during their game nights, and Hunter had shown you a few basic moves with his hunting knife. You’d had at least two holofilm nights with Echo and he always cried at the sad parts and always pretended he didn’t. It was, despite some hairy missions and sleepless nights, a quiet sort of existence. So you’d had a lot of time to think.

They’d told you Tech’s thing was his smarts–the Kaminoans had blessed him with increased mental capacity and a photographic memory that made him wicked brilliant and a total nerd to boot. He still hadn’t stopped ranting about the beetles you’d found on Kashyyyk three weeks ago to anyone who would listen (you).

But you swore his real talent was in perceptiveness–he noticed everything.

Which was not helpful when you were prone to staring at him.

He was captivating, and it was horrible. You told yourself it was because of how intent he got on his work, his rare smiles, his gentle hands.

But you knew it was his eyes.

Omega and Kix–God, you missed Kix–were the only clones you knew who ever came close to the particular shade of gold in Tech’s eyes, but Omega’s were too auburn, Kix’s too brown. It was a sharp contrast to the almost greyish-brown of Hunter’s eyes and the bluish tint of Wrecker’s one good eye.

But he noticed every time you started to stare, and you could almost swear he’d started staring back–and that was not something you were prepared to handle. Kix used to do the same, meeting your eyes over trays of meds and bacta, noticing when you got too exhausted or overwhelmed.

But your feelings for Kix were a pretty scar on your healing heart. You mourned him, and loved him, but you knew moving on was what he would have wanted for you, selfless as he was.

And now there was Tech.

You told yourself it was a silly crush. You were lonely, and he was a weird sort of lovely. Gentle with you and Omega, patient, and quietly kind. He’d been the one to let you sit up with him when you needed a night to think, and the one to regale you with the oddest facts about his favorite monsters and animals from adventures to make you laugh and wonder. So you resigned yourself to quiet loving, the kind that didn’t scare people away, the kind that didn’t hurt too much when you had to move on.

And then you hurt yourself during a stargazing trip.

It was the perfect definition of trip, really; nothing more cartoonish could have happened to you than the way you caught your toe on a twisty root and flailed all the way to the ground, making a noise that sounded like a sick Wookie. A nasty flare of pain went up your wrist when it caught the brunt of your fall.

Wrecker laughed first, because it was funny, but he was the first to pick you up and set you gently upright on the ground when he heard you groan. You did your best not to sniffle. They’d all had worse than some stupid scrapes and a tweaked wrist, and you weren’t about to complain.

Hunter assured you your wrist wasn’t broken and took the bandages from Echo’s pack to wrap it while Omega cleaned the scrapes on your chin and palms and knees with something that stung. It was sweet, the way they all gathered around you, a pack of worried siblings.

“I can carry her to the outcropping.”

Tech’s voice was a surprise. He’d silently watched as his sister and brothers tended to you, eyes on your face the whole time.

“That’s sweet, Tech, but I can walk.” You waggled your feet. “Still in tip-top shape.” Your left ankle twinged in protest, and you winced.

____

It made sense that Tech would be able to carry you effortlessly. He was just as fast and strong as his brothers, and one of the tallest in the crew. It was just—he held you like it was nothing. You couldn’t feel him straining, and any shifting he did only brought you closer into his embrace. He’d encouraged you to wrap your arms around his neck to make transporting you a bit easier, and he didn’t seem to mind that you’d rested your head on his chest, eyes closed. There wasn’t much to see until the outcropping anyway.

He had his own scent underneath the regulation soap you all used and it was driving you crazy.

And thinking about it was driving you crazier. You were glad Echo couldn’t see your face because you wouldn’t be able to stand the knowing look he’d give you. Echo’s antics would reveal your feelings faster than you’d ever want.

Faint pink light made you open your eyes just as Tech shifted your weight, setting you down on a flat rock and making sure your legs weren’t folded uncomfortably. He settled next to you and placed a hand over your eyes.

“Tech. What?” You almost pried his hand away but then that would mean touching his hand and suddenly you were overthinking it and twisting your fingers in your lap.

“Wait until everyone gets settled. In approximately seven ticks it will be the optimal viewing time.”

So you sat, trying not to think about how warm his gloved hand was, and breathed out a sigh, focusing on the gentle warmth of the light seeping through Tech’s fingers.

When he drew his hand away everything was new.

Most planets you visited had sunrises in similar colors, buttery yellows and oranges and the sort of pink you loved as a little girl, but this sky was purple, and so clear.

There was faint pink light on the horizon where the sun was starting to come up, lining the few flat clouds with scarlet, but the main attraction was the sky above it, a rich, smooth violet expanse, filled with stars and galaxies like gems on a gown. Even Wrecker went silent after his first delighted shout, and you watched the planets dance in a glassy sky, reflected in the smooth water below the outcropping. You forgot about your aching body during the minutes before the sun broke the bonds of the sea and cast pale, pretty light into your eyes.

There was a glint to your right. You turned just in time to catch Tech shift towards the sun, turning his face into the light.

Where had he been looking before?

It gave you something to think about, for sure, as he carried you back to the Marauder, and you leaned your head against him and prayed that maybe everything was changing.

#the bad batch #the bad batch tech #tbb #tech tbb #tech is adorable #tech x reader #tech x you #star wars #vera writes things

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halofcrged · 2 months

Text

@galaeus sent a meme.

❛ I wish I could say I’m making a difference, but I don’t know. ❜

He watched from the platform over the firing range as one of the dozens of units in training were being drilled through the field stripping and cleaning of their standard issue weapons, fingers twitching unconsciously in time with the motions that had been drilled into him in his youth. To be able to fight, to be able to protect themselves, their units, the civilians of the UNSC, such tasks had to be rote memory, to be drilled over and over and over again so that they could be performed in the most exhausted states, under pressures that most of the cadets in the range below could not even begin to imagine, despite their best attempts to do so.

He wondered if he'd ever been that young. That naive.

Her words drew his attention and his gaze, and brought him turning on his heel to face her, watching her as she tucked the last parts of her fatigues in place. She'd taken it onto herself to add additional hours into her training regimen for the Spartan-III's, and he'd offered to observe and offer suggestions that might further benefit her; he had little else to do in between missions and despite the fact that the Covenant's attacks had only increased in the last weeks, there seemed an ever increasing gap between missions for the already existing Spartans. He'd needed a way to keep himself occupied, and even though he couldn't offer much in the way of hands on training without potentially decimating the upcoming Spartan class, advice he could do.

When it came to skills, and tactics. Moral dilemmas and morale weren't entirely his specialty.

He could've offered platitudes: every marine makes a difference, every soldier matters, but he knew her well enough by now to know she'd see them for what they were. There were mixed feelings in the Spartan-II's about this up and coming 'generation'. These third gens were nothing like them. Most of them were being pulled from already active duty, and sure, their training programs were rigorous and extreme in comparison to standard marine corps, but they didn't have the augments of the second gens, they didn't have the MJOLNIR or the capacity to wear them. What makes them worthy of the name?

"You're putting yourself through the nine levels of hell to come out the other side, stronger, faster, smarter, better, to protect your people, your pack, your home, your family." Maybe not the same levels of hell that he and his had been through, but with all that he'd learned in the last weeks, would he really wish that on anyone? Halsey had convinced ONI and UNSC that he and his Spartans would be the difference between victory and death, and for what? They were still losing. "We fight for the ones that can't, so you have to decide. Are you going to do what it takes, make that stand, make that difference, or are you going to hand that mantle to someone that will."

#IC.#ANSWERED.#GALAEUS #JOHN & ECHO.#VERSE. ( halo. )#lmk if anything needs tweaked i just kinda ran with this based on what we'd talked about!

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starryevermore · 1 year

Text

following orders: the search (2) ✧ tech

following orders ✧ a tech bad batch story | ao3

inspired by: a conversation with @captainsbestgal

pairing: tech x fem!reader

series summary: you don’t want to live in a galaxy where the love of your life, tech, does not exist. but, you can’t abandon your already grieving family. you devote all of your energy to helping hunter and wrecker save omega from the empire and, perhaps, save the wayward crosshair along the way. but the longer you look for the youngest member of the bad batch, the more you suspect that your lost love is not as lost as you once believed.

chapter summary: you all try to figure out what happened to omega.

word count: 5,103

series warnings?: spoilers for “plan 99”, plan 99, canon-typical violence, hurt tech, canon divergent, fix it fic, angst, grief/mourning, torture, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, relationship discussions, mutual pining, clone troopers speak mando’a, depression, suicide ideation, memory loss, brainwashing, jealousy, not proofread

chapter warnings?: grief/mourning, pet name (sen’ika/cyar’ika), not proofread

“Do you have to go?”

Echo looked at you, his shoulders falling. It had been a week since…the incident. It had also been a week longer than Echo wanted to stay. You and him might not have been particularly close, but you knew he was the kind of man who had to throw himself into his work. He couldn’t just sit around and grieve. He had to distract himself from his feelings. He’s lost so many brothers already. He lost his entire batch. He lost the 501st. Tech was another name in the long list of people he will never get to see again. If he stopped to mourn Tech, he would have to mourn them all. And, oh, how Echo would break if he stopped to mourn them all.

He stayed this long for your sake, you think. Hunter had probably said something to him. Ever since that moment on the dock, Hunter had been watching you closely, waiting for you to break. It was almost infuriating. Part of you was grateful, of course. It was nice to know that someone cared for you to. And you knew it was something he needed to do—he’d always had mother hen instincts, which had only increased and become more prominent after Omega joined your team. But, kriff, if you found him hovering outside of Tech’s bunk, where you had taken to spend most of your days, you were going to lose it! You weren’t a fragile little flower. You were a bounty hunter before you joined them, you had lost and lost and lost before you joined them. Yes, losing Tech was different, but you had seen these feelings play out before. You would be fine. You didn’t need Hunter to treat you like you were on the verge of collapse every moment of every day.

(You pretended that you didn’t know he could hear your crying every night, when you thought that no one would pay you any mind. It was the only time you felt safe enough to just grieve.)

Echo couldn’t be pinned down to this sort of life, though. For as long as you knew him, he’d been the kind of man who had to fight the good fight. He couldn’t take injustice lying down. If he could do anything, if he had the capacity to help people, he had to help them. In his mind, there was no question about it.

It just hurt to know that your already downsized family was losing another member. How were you supposed to operate with just you, Hunter, and Wrecker? You all were equally capable of managing separately, so if the three of you worked together, surely you would be fine. But, each of your lost team members had benefits, too. You all were still reeling from the loss of Crosshair. Even after all this time, you all still expected him to be up high somewhere, ready to gun down your foes. You all still hadn’t adjusted to Echo being gone. Now with Tech and Omega…

It just really hurt.

“There’s still a fight I have to fight,” Echo said. He looked over his shoulder, where Rex was waiting on the ship. “Think of it as a good thing—”

“I know, I know. You guys might here something out there. I just…” You looked down at your shoes so that Echo wouldn’t see the way your eyes became glassy. The last thing you wanted him to think was that you were crying so he would feel forced to stay. Of course, Echo was far too much of a gentleman to ever think that. But…well, if you kept him away from his purpose, those feelings of resentment might fester and burrow in his heart. Anything could happen. “Our family is already so much smaller now.”

When you glanced back up, Echo was reaching out, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He gave you a squeeze, rested his head on top of yours. “I would love to stay. But my place isn’t here. I have to help my brothers.”

A bitter part of you wanted to ask, But what of Hunter and Wrecker? Are they not your brothers, too? Is Crosshair not your brother? Is Omega not your sister? But, the truth was, Echo had a point. He could do more good out there, liberating fellow clones. Not only for the sake of granting them freedom from the Empire’s oppressive regime, but also to hear the whispers of what happens when a clone defects. If he stayed here on Pabu, he would be as useless as the rest of you.

“You should come with us,” Echo continued. “Your skillset would be a great help. Hunter and Wrecker, too.”

You swallowed hard. You were willing to fight for Omega and Crosshair, fight to get them back. But you were so tired of fighting. You wanted to reunite your family and be done with it. You were done. To Echo, though, you said, “I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I ask.” He looked back at Rex’s ship, then back to you. “I’ll keep in touch when I can. And if I find out anything—”

“We’ll be the first to know, I know.” You wrapped your arms around his midsection, gave him a tight squeeze. “Be safe out there, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.” He squeezed you back. The hug felt a little too final. It made you feel like this may be the last time you ever see him. Maybe that was the grief talking, though. Maybe it was the reality of the situation, reminding you that nothing was permanent. You could lose Echo—you could lose Hunter—you could lose Wrecker. Still, you hoped. “Ret’urcye mhi.”

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

Maybe we’ll meet again.

Echo unwound himself from you, taking a step towards Rex’s ship. You raised your hand, waving goodbye. He waved, too, before getting in the ship. The door shut, and after a minute or two, the ship rose into the air before leaving you, and Hunter, and Wrecker behind. You stared at the space where the ship had once been for a few minutes.

Echo might be working to try and find information about Omega’s whereabouts, but you knew he had others things to worry about, too. He might not have the time he needs to dedicate himself to the task. And, well, you couldn’t just sit around here to do nothing. Surely, there had to be something you were missing. Maybe there was something Tech had missed? Crosshair had contacted the Batch, after all. Maybe there was something more there? You should go check that…

When you turned around to return to the Marauder, your eyes caught Hunter. He’d been leaning against a building, watching the exchange between you and Echo. When he realized he’d caught your attention, he pushed himself off the wall. He took a step toward you. But you only shook your head.

Not now.

You had things to do.

“Plan 88—”

“How long are you going to listen to that?”

You jumped at the sound of Hunter’s voice. When you turned, he had an arm propped on the back of your seat, staring down at you as you poured over the last message Crosshair had sent. Perhaps it was a hopeless endeavor, but you thought that perhaps, if you listened closely enough, you might hear something in the background that would give away his location. If Crosshair had truly turned against the Empire, he might have been taken to the same place as Omega. Or, perhaps, maybe, there was something missing from his words—a hidden message that you all were meant to decipher.

It, of course, was a fruitless endeavor.

So, too, had been everything you’d done. Ever since Echo had left, you poured yourself into finding answers. An answer. Even a hint at an answer would have sufficed. You went through every comm channel the Batch had ever used. You combed through records, reports, maps—everything. You didn't have the first clue where to start, and nearly two weeks later, you still didn’t know anything. In fact, you almost felt like you knew less than what you started with.

“As long as it takes.”

Hunter let out a sigh. He came around, standing in front of you now. When you didn’t look at him, he reached out, tilted your chin towards him. “There’s nothing there. You and I both know Tech would have found something if there was.”

You chewed on your lip, fighting the urge to snap at him. Doesn’t he realize you understand that? Doesn’t he realize that you know this is all stupid? You might foolishly optimistic, but that did not mean you were blind to it.

Instead, you said, “It makes me feel useful, doing this.”

Hunter’s face fell. That, he understood. You had been holed up in the Marauder since Echo left, but you saw how Hunter was out on the island. He found any and every excuse to be helpful. Helped people find lost belongings, helped with gathering and making food, helped watch over the children of Pabu when their parents needed a break. He didn’t know how to find Omega, didn’t have the first clue, but he did know how to distract himself from the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“But it doesn’t do you any good.”

“Omega’s out there, Hunter. She needs us. I can’t just…sit here and hope that Echo hears something, or that a big piece of the puzzle falls into our lap. We don’t have anything going for us.” You ducked your head, wiped at your eyes. You weren’t crying, not yet, but you could feel the tears on the verge of leaking. Even if Hunter would hear the tears welling up, or smell the saltiness of them, you didn’t want him to see you cry. That wasn’t fair to him. “This is the only thing in my life right now that I can control.”

Hunter’s hands fell from your shoulders, trailing down your arms, stopping when he reached your hands. He held them tightly, and tugged you out of your seat. You wobbled slightly as you stood. You’d been sitting there for hours. You could hardly feel your legs. Hunter pulled you into his arms, squeezed you hard. You could hardly breathe, but it was a nice distraction from the way your mind was racing.

If Tech was here, he would have an answer. If Tech was here, he’d know just the right systems to look at to determine where to begin looking. He’d have a grand plan about breaking into Imperial facilities, about how to retrieve any information that could be gleaned from the circumstances. He would know what to do. And if he didn’t, he would figure it out.

“I don’t want to disappoint him, Hunter,” you whispered. Your voice was thick with tears. It wobbled, teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “I don’t want his sacrifice to be for nothing. He sacrificed himself for his family. He sacrificed himself for her.”

“He sacrificed himself for you, too, sen’ika,” he whispered back.

The term of endearment tugged at your heartstrings. Little bird. Oh, if you were a bird, you would have flown down and saved Tech. If you were a bird, you all would have never needed the railcar. You would have flown your family back to safety. You would have never lost Tech. You would have never needed to go to Cid’s. You all would never have been sold out to the Empire. You never would have lost the closest person you had to a daughter.

“I can’t rest until my family is together again. You, me, Wrecker, Omega…Crosshair.”

Hunter sighed, muttered your name. It was a touchy subject, to be sure. Honestly, you were fairly certain that Hunter was the only one who hadn’t been gung-ho about the potential of Crosshair betraying the Empire. After all, it was Tech who was insistent that the message had not been a trap. It was Wrecker who was the most vocal about how much he missed his wayward brother. It was Omega who kept insisting she wanted her family back together. And it was Echo who probably understood what Crosshair was going through the most—

“He sacrificed himself for Crosshair, too.”

“We’ll worry about him another day, sen’ika. Omega, too. Right now, you need to rest,” Hunter said. “When was the last time you even ate something that wasn’t a ration bar?”

You shrugged, your shoulders rising then falling. Truthfully, you didn’t know the last time you even ate a ration bar. You had been so wrapped up in finding an answer, you neglected yourself. Was it healthy? No. But what part of your grieving process had been? Working yourself to the bone, working until your mind felt like goo, hardly did anything for you.

Hunter repeated your name with a shake of his head. Ever since Omega had joined the Batch, Hunter developed and perfected the disappointed dad look. You found yourself looking away again, if only to not have to see the worry in his eyes. But you knew he could hear the way your stomach gurgled, practically begging for something—anything.

“I’m sorry,” you said. And, you were. At least, you were sorry that you were only adding to the weight on Hunter’s shoulders. He already had so much on his plate. He shouldn’t have to worry about making sure you were taking care of yourself.

“C’mon, Shep invited us all to dinner,” Hunter said, unwinding himself from you, ready to walk out of the Marauder, expecting you to follow. When you remained where you stood, he turned his head. “Everyone misses you. You can’t stay in here forever, sen’ika.”

“I’m not gonna stay in here forever. Just until I find out where Omega is.”

Hunter’s jaw ticked. He hated every reminder that she was gone. He hated every reminder that he had been completely powerless to stop Hemlock from taking her. He hated every reminder that there was nothing he could do.

“She’s our family, Hunter. You made a promise to her.”

A low blow, to be sure. Hunter had sworn that Omega would never have to go back to Kamino again. He had sworn that Omega would never be experimented on again. He broke the first promise months ago. And…Well, neither of you could be certain that the second one had been broken, too, but neither of you would be surprised if that was the case.

To throw that back into Hunter’s face now, it was a real shitty thing to do. There was no doubt in your mind that Hunter had already thought about that a thousand times over by now. Hunter would never let anyone in his family know he was struggling, but…Well, even without enhanced senses, you could hear him at night when he thought you and Wrecker were asleep.

He turned more fully, his eyes narrowed at you. “Don’t do that.”

“At least I’m doing something.”

“There’s nothing we can do. Not right now. The facility was already impossible to find. It’ll be even harder now that Hemlock’s got what he wanted. He didn’t spend so much time trying to get Omega just to let her be taken back by us.” Hunter took a step forward, using every inch of his height to tower over you. If you were anyone else, you would have been intimidated. But this was Hunter—he wouldn’t hurt you. “We got lucky with the summit, and we all know how that ended.”

Okay, he might not hurt you with his fists, but he certainly could with his words. Which, you supposed, was fair. You’d started it, after all. Don’t dish out what you can’t take, and all that. Still, your bottom lip quivered at his words. You knew that. You knew how it ended. That’s why you were doing this. That’s why you were doing all of this.

“Quit fightin’,” came an all-too-familar voice.

Your face fell when Wrecker’s looming form came into view. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes downcast. He was worse for wear, much like you. Except, unlike you, he showed it in a more obvious way. Wrecker had always been the sort of person, at least as long as you’ve known him, to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Oh, Wrecker,” you sniffled. It was harder to keep your emotions controlled around him. Where you didn’t want to add to the weight Hunter carried, when it came to Wrecker, you hated for him to feel alone his grief. You stumbled forward, throwing your arms around him. “We’re not fighting. We’re just…We just don’t know what we’re doing.”

“I don't know what I’m doin’ but I ain’t pickin’ fights with my vode,” Wrecker said.

Behind you, you heard Hunter sigh before walking up to the two of you and joining the hug. Wrecker squeezed you and Hunter tight as Hunter said, “I’m sorry, sen’ika.”

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re right. We can’t just sit around here anymore.”

You lifted your head, eying hunter. Surely he wasn’t suggesting…? “What are you saying?”

“I think it’s time we do something.”

It felt strange, piloting the Marauder. Tech had been the one to fly the ship most often. If he for any reason couldn’t, Echo took over. Now that Echo was with Rex, and Tech was…gone, the remaining three of you kind of felt like you were drawing straws when it came to deciding who the new de facto pilot would be. Eventually, though, you volunteered. Wrecker was a bit too accident-prone for your liking, and you knew Hunter could better use that time by making plans. So, you slid into Echo’s co-pilot chair, grit your teeth, and bared through it.

It almost would have been relaxing, if the situation arose under any other circumstances. There was something calming about flying through hyperspace, looking out at all the stars whizzing by. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever flown. How you left the planet you called home for the first time (and never went back). How, even though you were just barely an adult at the time, seeing all those stars made you feel like a little kid again. Even all these years later, you were as mesmerized now as you were then.

You also felt as alone now as you had then.

Deciding to sit in Echo’s co-pilot chair had been something of a mistake, you realized when you made the jump into hyperspace. You found yourself looking over at Tech’s chair, imagining what he would be doing if he were still there. Probably telling you about the planet you were traveling to—its history, its native animals, its people. Maybe you would ask him about the system, about the planet’s moons, about its neighboring planets. He would answer every single one without hesitation.

When you look over his chair now, it hits you that you’ll never get to hear him talk again. That you’ll never get to hear his voice again. How long had it been since you heard it? Edging onto the third week? You could hardly remember what he sounded like. When you shut your eyes, tried to imagine him talking to you, his voice became more and more garbled, became more like the voices of his vode than his unique tone.

For a moment, you squeezed your eyes shut. Now was not the time to be thinking of how much you missed him. You had a job to do now.

Echo was waiting when you landed the Marauder at Rex’s secret base on some far off planet in the Outer Rim. He offered a small smile as you, Wrecker, and Hunter exited the Marauder and approached him. You knew he was probably glad that you all had decided to join the cause, but he was well aware that you all wouldn’t have joined if there were any other options.

“Long time, no see,” Echo joked, but his tone lacked any mirth.

It was hard to joke around nowadays. What was the point of being happy, of sharing laughter, when you couldn’t share it with those you’ve lost? Even Wrecker, the usual ball of sunshine, seemed to find less and less to laugh about. At least, that’s what you assumed. Wrecker, by and large, still avoided you, still worried that you blamed him for what happened. When he was around you, like now, he only wore an uncharacteristic sullen look on his face.

“I was almost expecting you all to be slumming it out here,” you mused, looking around the base. It wasn’t spectacular—paled in comparison to the former Republic forces or an Imperial fleet. But it was a larger operation than you expected. “Senator Organa must be quite gracious in his donations.”

“Not as gracious as he’d like.” Rex walked up from behind Echo, smiling at you and his brothers. “But we make do with what we’ve got.”

“It is impressive,” Hunter said. “So, what do we got to do around here?”

“Well, we just got confirmation that of some defected clones being held on Cato Neimoidia that are looking to join the cause, if you’re up for it.”

“Do we get to blow anything up?” Wrecker asked.

Rex let out a chuckle. “Probably not for this mission, but maybe the next.”

Wrecker’s shoulders deflated a little.

“We’re in,” Hunter said.

Rex nodded. “Echo will take you to the briefing room. Most of the plans have been made, but we could always use your…unconventional flair.”

While the others walked off to the briefing room, you remained in the hangar, looking around. This was everything you all wanted to leave behind when Phee brought you to Pabu. The plan had been to never fight again, unless absolutely necessary. You thought you all might be lucky enough to not have to fight for months, maybe even years. You never expected for the necessary moment to come so soon.

“You doing okay?”

You jumped at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. When you turned your head, you saw Rex staring at you, his familiar but oh-so-different brown eyes searching yours.

“Just thinking about how everything changed so fast. We went from fighting for the Republic, to fighting to survive, to fighting to save our family in the blink of an eye.” You looked away, out at another ship that was landing, clones exiting the ship. Though they were far away, you could see their solemn expressions. A failed mission, you were sure. More lost brothers. “I’m glad to be here. I’m glad to be doing something to help. I’m glad to be in a position where I can find out where Omega has been taking…But, Maker, Rex, I’m sick of fighting. Aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Rex said. “But I can’t rest until I know my brothers are safe. My brothers deserve more than being exploited by the Empire.”

“But what if it never ends? What if there’s always a fight? Won’t there come a time when you’re too tired to carry on?”

“I don’t know,” Rex admitted. “I don’t know what the future will hold. But, I do know that I could never forgive myself if I stopped fighting for what I believe in.”

You nodded, glanced back at him. You hesitated, just for a moment. Could you say what you felt? Would Rex judge you for it? You were sure he wouldn’t. Even if he did, you don’t think he would make you feel any lesser for it.

“I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

But Rex didn’t meet you with any judgment, no harsh words, no withering looks. Instead, he only offered a sad sort of smile. “I felt the same when Order 66 was executed. Having to fight my brothers, then lose my brothers all in the same day…It was devastating. I was lost for a while.”

“How did you find yourself again?”

“I remembered something that the Jedi used to say, about the Force woking in mysterious ways. While I hated that I couldn’t save my brothers then, I knew that because I had my chip removed, I could use that freedom from the Empire to save my brothers that were still being influenced by the chip.”

You nodded.

“The Force works in mysterious ways,” he repeated. “Even if you’re lost now, you will find your way again. You’re too strong not to.”

But what if you’re tired of being strong?

“C’mon. We better make sure those boys stay in line, yeah? Who knows what insane plan they’ve concocted while we were gone.”

“Hey, give ‘em credit though. For as insane as it’ll be, it’ll be equally fun.”

It was not equally fun. In fact, it was probably the exact opposite of fun.

“So much for no explosives, eh?” you asked, firing your blaster at a trooper over Rex’s shoulder.

“I said I was sorry!” Wrecker shouted.

Cato Neimoidia, it turned out, was crawling with Imperials. It had the whole operation far more complicated than it needed to be. You all had been expecting Imperials to be there, but it seemed like you guys couldn’t walk more than two feet without nearly running into the very people you all were trying to avoid. You all managed well enough, sneaking through the planet, trying to make it to the rendezvous point. That is, until Wrecker dropped his blaster and it fired at some sort of cargo the Imperials were transporting that immediately exploded on impact.

Now, you all were engaged in a shoot out. Maker, you wished Crosshair was here. This fight would have been over long before it started if he was around. You almost said as much to Hunter, but it felt a little too callous. You were sure he was already thinking the same thing. But that didn’t mean that he would change his mind about rescuing his brother.

You ducked into an alley, trying to find a way out of this mess. And you found one. Or, rather, a way out found you. A door you hadn’t noticed before opened and a hand came out, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you in.

“Hey!” you shouted, throwing your elbow on your free arm back. It connected with hard plastoid armor. You whipped your head around, ready to bite whoever grabbed you, when you saw the familiar brown and cybernetic eyes of Wolffe.

“Easy, cyar’ika,” Wolffe said, letting your arm go.

“You’re the one we’re supposed to be getting out of here?”

Wolffe hummed. “Boost and Sinker are trying to get the others in here, then we’ll talk. You all make quite the mess. Surprised Crosshair hasn’t taken the Imperials out yet.”

You looked away. He didn’t know. Why would he? “Crosshair is, was, I don’t know—it’s complicated. His chip activated, while the others’ didn’t. He decided to stick with the Empire.”

Wolffe raised a brow. “That doesn’t sound too complicated.”

“We think—I think he defected, but got captured. He sent out a message on one of our old comm channels, said Plan 88. Hunter thought it was a trap.”

“And you think different?”

“The Empire was after Omega for as long as we’ve been on the run.” At his questioning look, you explained, “Omega is your sister, a female clone. She’s a pure genetic replication of Jango Fest. Anyways, the Empire was after her and…then they captured her.”

“Which is why you think Crosshair wasn’t setting a trap.” Wolffe nodded, looking off in the distant. After a moment, he said, “Makes sense. It all does.”

“What do you mean?”

Boost and Sinker arrived with the others before Wolffe could answer. The door slid shut after Rex, the last one to enter, came inside. Sinker locked the door once he made sure everyone was there. For a few moments, everyone just stood there, staring at each other, trying to collect themselves after the fight they just endured.

But you still had your questions, so you looked at Wolffe and asked again, “What do you mean?”

Wolffe glanced at Boost and Sinker. Then he looked back to you. “The three of us resisted the Order when it was given. We didn’t understand why we felt the urge to kill our buir, didn’t understand that it was a chip, but we knew we couldn’t follow through with the Order. We’ve been stuck here ever since. We tried to get through to our vode, but they were still being influenced by the chip. Eventually, the 104th was taken off this planet. We tried with the vode that took their place. They were more willing to hear us out, but…They were scared.”

Your brows pinched together. You looked at Hunter and Wrecker, wondering if they had the same questions as you.

“The effects of the chip started to wear off. Our vode started to question the Empire,” Sinker said.

“We know that already,” Hunter said.

“But do you know what happens when our vode start questioning orders?” Boost asked.

“They get taken away. We don’t know where, we don’t know what for,” you said.

“You hear a lot, when you’re in hiding. If you know what to listen for, that is,” Wolffe said. “When we realized that our vode was scared of something more than just being decommissioned, we got curious. It’s all just rumors, nothing confirmed. We don’t have any idea of where our vode are being taken, or even if the rumors are true.”

“They don’t all go there. And they don’t all go there immediately,” Boost said.

“But we’ve heard it enough times to think it’s credible,” Sinker said.

“Oh, just tell us already!” Wrecker said.

Wolffe looked at you, trying to gauge your reaction. Finally, he said, “The rumors are, they’re experimenting on decommissioned clones. The Emperor’s interested in cloning, but we aren’t sure why.”

When you looked to Hunter, you saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands squeezed into fists. This wasn’t good. If that was true, if Omega was being experimented on so the Empire could learn more about the cloning process…That could spell for a world of trouble. You needed to save her. You needed to save her yesterday. Oh, how could you all have sat around, waiting for a clue to drop into your lap, when your daughter was being tortured by the Empire?

“Well, that changes everything,” you said.

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