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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom.

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised.

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind.

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker smut #henry cavill

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horribletestsubject · 3 years

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Fic I just wrote based on These Two art pieces that I’ve drawn and THIS POST by @body-utensil-travels-terrain

———

You’ve spent your life being told you couldn’t. Now there’s a voice telling you that you can.

You remember it distinctly. You were fourteen at the time, just really starting to figure out what you wanted to do with your life (it certainly isn’t what society expected from you— but then, society doesn’t expect someone like you anyway, does it?) when you first heard her voice over the radio in your living room. The words she said resonated with you, the promise and ambition that she spoke with. It was almost like she was talking directly to you.

You do your research. You study hard. You tinker away at things in your garage, supplementing your studies in your own way. And five years later, after you’ve graduated, you put in your application.

A letter arrives a few weeks later, emblazoned with the circular symbol you’ve kept in your mind’s eye all this time, and bold lettering on the front— Aperture Science Innovators. It’s addressed to you. You open it, and your fingers tighten around the smooth paper— “congratulations” it says. You’ve been accepted. At the bottom is Her signature. You trace over it with your fingers. Delicately, as gently as you’d handle an irreplaceable machine part.

Two weeks later your bags are packed and you’re boarding a flight to Detroit. The attendant greets you. You hold up your boarding pass and get on. You land a few hours later. Getting a cab would be too complicated— people don’t like to take the time to read, and most can’t speak the way you do. So you walk to the train station, it’s not too far. Just an hour or two. You’ve walked further before.

Flat fields flow by endlessly as the train rattles down its tracks. You lean your head against the window, watching the hues of gold rush by, blurring on into infinity.

The sun is gone when you pull up outside a strange little town, surrounded by chain link fence. You fish through your bag for the packet you’d been sent— and pull out the temporary ID you’d been given. You show it to the gate guard. He lets you in. A man is waiting to show you your dormitory. You shake your head at his offer of a tour— you’ll explore the place yourself tomorrow. There are a few days before you’re actually needed for orientation.

The room is small and plain. A bed, desk, and dresser, and a small closet. That’s alright. You don’t need much. You hang up your few articles of clothing and tuck your shoes next to the door. The bed isn’t soft, but it isn’t hard. You fall asleep quickly, exhausted from your travels.

The next few days are spent wandering. Visiting the little shops, the stations. Peering into labs where you can. Climbing over fences (they could never keep you out) before quickly retreating as a security guard passed. You don’t want to get in trouble before your internship even begins. You wonder if you’ll see her. But you only hear her voice in announcements as you trigger motion sensors throughout the complex.

When work actually starts, it’s tedious. Getting coffee. Taking documents to the shredder and the incinerator. You don’t usually see the labs. Or, well, much of anything. It’s just a lot of running here and there, back and forth at your superiors’ beck and call. It’s tiring. But you do it— after all, you want to be here, you want to do this— and you never give up.

It’s a few months before you see her— before your internship takes you to the main complex. Now you’re checking inventory, sorting mail, sorting records (and chucking the casualty lists into the incinerator as instructed). Occasionally they’ll call you in to fix the coffee maker or the refrigerator.

You hear her voice once, muffled— she’s talking to someone, to a group it seems, just outside the room you’re in. You look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse. Rosy cheeks and bright-red lips, wavy dark hair flowing around her shoulder, a smile on her face (manufactured, you can tell with just this glance that she’s concealing so very much), a bright red scarf tied around her neck.

Your eyes lock for just a second, and the corner of her mouth creases, dimpling her cheeks. Your heart races— that, that was a hint of a true smile. Warmth flushes your own cheeks and you tear your gaze away. Suddenly shy— much shyer than you’ve ever been before.

It doesn’t make sense to you. Not yet. Not until you start seeing her more. Not until her smiles become more frequent and pointed. Not until her gaze lingers on you a little longer than before each time. The fluttery feeling doesn’t go away— and you’re determined more than ever to reach her.

Of course, it happens sooner and easier than you think. She starts requesting you specifically to bring her her coffee. You take a red pen and draw a little smiley face next to her name before giving it to her. When you come up to her office, there’s a sticky note left on the monitor, in that oh-so-hard to read yet absolutely beautiful cursive of hers. At the end of it is a smiley face, so much more elegant and less childish than yours. You keep the note. On her next cup, you add a heart to the dot of the ‘i’ in her name. You start responding to her notes with little notes of your own, your rounded, sometimes scratchy handwriting a stark contrast.

The notes are never there when you get back. You like to think she kept them. You’re pretty sure she did.

A year after you arrive, your internship is over, and you’re up for a promotion— junior mechanic. Probably still more of the same, but you’ll be getting a salary now (not that you really have any use for it since Aperture provides your housing) and you’ll have a permanent place. But you’ll see her less. You’ll miss that, of course— but you’re finally moving beyond your station, moving up in the company.

The day before your internship ends, you get another note. “Wanna get coffee together tomorrow?” Your heart leaps. You scribble out your answer just beneath her writing.

You’re sitting across from her at the cafe table. The cafe serves the same stuff as the cafeteria, but it’s decorated more quaintly, and always costs more for some reason. Maybe because there’s sunlight coming through the windows.

“So, headed up the ladder,” she begins after the two of you sip your drinks (well, she sips her drink, you’re too caught up in the crimson of her lips). “I guess I won’t be seeing as much of you now.”

There’s something behind her cheery voice, a sadness that you’ve caught glimpses of before, a wistfulness deeper than her words. You look up, catching her gaze for a moment and nod in response.

“Well, this is nice. Maybe we should do this more often. Once a week, at least? Or you could come over to my place. We could spend time together. As friends, or something.” With that, she gives you a wink. Your cheeks flush bright red.

You catch the implication right away. Your hero, your inspiration— and now here you are sitting across from her at a cafe while she all but outright asks you out.

You thought you’d be excited for things to grow beyond the notes and the gestures. But you feel different than that. After the initial jolt, the initial flutter, you look back over at her and you see the chasm yawning out between the two of you. The mountain she’s perched on, the valley you’re standing in. Your scratchy print against her elegant cursive, your short, bitten nails against her sharp manicure, your messy ponytail against her shiny waves. You look down at your simple intern’s badge, then over at her emblazoned one. She doesn’t even have a title listed— everyone knows who she is.

You’re miles apart, even if you might have seemed to be closer.

You stand up, your throat knotting up as you shake your head. You can’t look at her now, but you can practically feel the disappointment in her face as she murmurs “oh.” You want to explain but you can’t, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. The last thing you want is to turn Her, your idol, the one who makes your heart flutter, the reason you came here in the first place, down.

But you can’t do this now. Not yet. Not until you’ve reached the top of the mountain. Not until you’re close enough for her to reach out her hand and pull you the rest of the way up.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she says.

You pause, halfway to the door. You turn back just enough so that you can glimpse her, and give a tiny nod.

After that you throw yourself into your work. Up to senior mechanic, then technician, then engineer— you’re working on Aperture’s new technology now, its most important projects. But you’re still not close enough. Into the test chambers you go at the CEO’s behest, defying death and physics at breakneck speeds, trusting in the tech you’ve helped create to ensure your survival.

Sometimes you look up and see her watching from the observation room, the tell-tale flash of red. You don’t look too long.

The CEO falls ill. He leaves a disturbing message. You try not to think too much of it— you’re almost there.

Your superior fails a test. You’re not surprised. Not hurt, not sad. It just happens and now you’re in the upper echelon. Now you’re at the top— now, you can reach out to her again. Tell her you’ve changed your mind. You can be equals now.

You go to her office. She isn’t there to answer the door. “Don’t you remember Mr. Johnson’s last request?” They say to you. You tried to block it out, but you remember.

You use your pass on a high security door. It opens. Your name is emblazoned too now. Just like hers was.

Before you is a massive operating system. On the screen reads a message: “transfer complete. transfer successful. writing data : do not disconnect subject.”

She’s lying inside a tube-like compartment. A transparent coffin. Wires hooked up to her. Eyes closed. Lips still ruby red.

You reach out and touch the glass. There’s no response. There won’t be a response.

This technology is untested. This is the first human-AI interfacing project Aperture has conducted. There’s only a fifty percent chance it will work, and even if it does, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. You’ll never clasp her small hands inside your own calloused ones, tuck your head against her shoulder, press your lips against hers.

You’ve finally reached the top of the mountain. Finally reached her. But it was too late. When you crested the summit, she was already gone, and there was only a spatter of crimson left behind to show that she was ever there at all.

#portal #fanfiction #portal fanfic #portal fanfiction #chell #chell portal #portal chell #caroline portal #portal caroline #chelline #cheroline #chell x caroline #portal au #intern chell #intern chell au #my writing #cinna writes #might edit and post to AO3 at some point #but for now have the rough draft

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 4 years

Link

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

October 6, 2020

Heather Cox Richardson

In the past three years, it has so often felt like things were reaching the breaking point. But the image of Trump on the balcony of the White House last night, defiantly taking off his mask as he gasped for breath, truly looked to me like the beginning of the final chapter.

Today coronavirus infections continued to mount in the vicinity of the White House. At least 34 people near Trump have contracted the virus in the past few days. The press corps near the White House is down to a skeleton crew as the White House press secretary, Kayleigh McEnany, and four press aides have tested positive. So have top aide Stephen Miller and Admiral Charles Ray, the vice commandant of the Coast Guard Admiral.

Along with other military leaders, Ray attended an event celebrating Gold Star families last Sunday at the White House. That event included some of the same people who had been at the event the previous day in honor of Amy Coney Barrett, whom Trump nominated to take the seat of the late Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg on the Supreme Court. Those who attended both events included Trump and the First Lady.

Senior military leaders attended meetings with Ray last week in a secure room at the Pentagon, and now are self-quarantining. They include the Chairman of Joint Chiefs of Staff General Mark Milley; the Vice Chairman; the Army chief of staff; the Naval Operations Chief; the Air Force chief of staff; the CyberCom Commander; the SpaceForce operations chief; the director of the U.S. National Security Agency, Gen. Paul Nakasone; the Chief of the National Guard, Gen. Daniel Hokanson; and the deputy commandant of the Marine Corps, Gen. Gary Thomas.

The White House has apparently not done any contact tracing, and it declined the help of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to do it.

The administration appears to be committed to a strategy of community spread, rejecting the use of masks and of distancing. Deputy press secretary Brian Morganstern told NPR’s Mary Louise Kelly that the White House still does not require masks because “everyone needs to take personal responsibility.”

That the White House appears to be the center of a coronavirus hotspot has hurt Trump’s reelection campaign. The infections in the face of the fact that the administration refused to take the virus seriously, the ride around the hospital to wave at supporters while endangering Secret Service agents, the struggle to the balcony in a strongman scene, all appear to have demonstrated not Trump’s strength, but his weakness.

His behavior today has reinforced that sense. Trump left the hospital last night and returned to a locked-down White House. The few aides who met with him were dressed in PPE, while the West Wing is virtually abandoned as people have decamped to work from home. Trump has been on a Twitter spree today, tweeting and retweeting his old material, “the Russia Hoax” and Hillary Clinton’s emails, which now feel like ancient history, disconnected from today’s pressing crisis. Tonight, he tweeted: “I have fully authorized the total Declassification of any & all documents pertaining to the single greatest political CRIME in American History, the Russia Hoax. Likewise, the Hillary Clinton Email Scandal. No redactions!” He hit the same points again in another tweet: “All Russia Hoax Scandal information was Declassified by me long ago. Unfortunately for our Country, people have acted very slowly, especially since it is perhaps the biggest political crime in the history of our Country. Act!!!”

He sounds desperate. And on the heels of his tweets, Representative Ted Lieu (D-CA) tweeted to the Justice Department “Per the President’s orders, can you please provide the [House Judiciary] Committee the full unredacted Mueller Report immediately? Thank you.”

Other dropping stories make it look like the tide is running against Trump.

Patricia and Mark McCloskey, the St. Louis, Missouri, couple who held guns on protesters in June, were indicted today by a grand jury on charges of exhibiting guns and tampering with evidence. Trump invited the McCloskeys to speak at the Republican National Convention. “What you are witnessing here is just an opportunity for the government, the leftist, democrat government of the City of St. Louis to persecute us for doing no more than exercising our Second Amendment rights,” McCloskey said.

Two weeks ago, the administration blocked strict guidelines for a coronavirus vaccine, but today the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) released those guidelines over White House objections. This will make a vaccine before the election unlikely. Trump tweeted “New F.D.A. Rules make it more difficult for them to speed up vaccines for approval before Election Day. Just another political hit job!”

Today, the New York Times revealed the findings of an internal investigation by the Justice Department’s inspector general Michael Horowitz into the policy of separating children from their parents at our southern border. The policy was engineered by Stephen Miller, but the Justice Department has tended to blame then-Department of Homeland Security Kirstjen Nielsen for the policy. Horowitz’s investigation has established that then-Attorney General Jeff Sessions and his deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein were far keener on the policy than she was. In a sign of changing times, a 32-page response to the Horowitz’s investigation, written by Miller’s ally Gene Hamilton, said that Justice Department officials had simply followed orders from the president.

Facebook, too, sees the writing on the wall, and has announced that it will ban all QAnon conspiracy theory accounts. These accounts spread disinformation, including the idea that a heroic Trump is secretly leading an effort to round up a ring of pedophiles and cannibals based in the nation’s entertainment and political elites. The ban is one of the broadest Facebook has ever enacted.

Today, Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell said that a new coronavirus relief bill is imperative, but just hours later, Trump announced on Twitter that he was cancelling further talks between the White House and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. Stocks dropped 600 points, and vulnerable Republican senators panicked. Biden released a statement including a pithy condemnation: “Make no mistake: if you are out of work, if your business is closed, if your child’s school is shut down, if you are seeing layoffs in your community, Donald Trump decided today that none of that — none of it — matters to him. There will be no help from Washington for the foreseeable future. Instead, he wants the Senate to use its time to confirm his Supreme Court Justice nominee before the election, in a mad dash to make sure that the Court takes away your health care coverage as quickly as possible.” A few hours later, Trump changed his tune.

Today both the New York Times and the Boston Globe endorsed Biden, and General Michael Hayden, the retired four-star general who served as the Director of the CIA under President George W. Bush, released a video not just endorsing Biden, but also warning that "If there is another term for Trump, I don't know what happens to America." “Biden is a good man,” Hayden says. “Trump is not.”

Financial services company Goldman Sachs today forecast that the Democrats will take both the White House and the Senate, and said a Democratic sweep would mean a faster recovery and thus would be good for the economy. Moody’s Analytics, a subsidiary of another financial services company, recently found that Biden’s plans would add 7.4 million more jobs to the economy than Trump’s would.

Today in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, a town hallowed by history, Biden gave a blockbuster speech calling for the nation to put aside division and come together. He talked about race: “Think about what it takes for a Black person to love America. That is a deep love for this country that for far too long we have never fully recognized.” He talked about disparities of wealth: “Working people and their kids deserve an opportunity.”

And he talked about Lincoln, and how, at Gettysburg, he called for Americans to dedicate themselves to a “new birth of freedom” so that the men who had died for that cause “shall not have died in vain.”

“Today we are engaged once again in a battle for the soul of the nation,” Biden said. “After all that America has accomplished, after all the years we have stood as a beacon of light to the world, it cannot be that here and now, in 2020, we will allow government of the people, by the people, and for the people to perish from this earth.

“You and I are part of a great covenant, a common story of divisions overcome and of hope renewed," he said. "If we do our part, if we stand together, if we keep faith with the past and with each other, then the divisions of our time can give way to the dreams of a brighter, better, future.”

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

Heather Cox Richardson

#quotes #election 2020 #Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #corrupt Republicans #corrupt GOP

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iwritethat · 4 years

Text

Tim Drake: Belonging

A/N: Alrighty, links to Rogue One but can be read seperately of course. This is how (Y/n) and Tim met, set a few years before...

>>>>——————————>

Another day, another gala to attend in order to promote Drake Industries despite his parents constant travels, they made time to appear at Gothams’ formalities on occasion. This was one of those times.

Only his usual plans of being bored and wondering around aimlessly were unexpectedly sabotaged by her. By a beautiful wealthy guest who radiated class and elegance beyond her years, a complete newcomer in his eyes, a youthful presence that would effortlessly attract undivided attention in her future maturity. By you.

Tim was swept away by an enigma, the only word prominent enough in his scramble of thoughts to describe the character, with the band playing a slow dancing melody it made it easier for him to focus on the mysterious beauty in front of him.

"You don't belong here, do you?" Came your calculating yet pleased tone, your fingers gently dancing on his shoulder.

"Who- of course I do, my parents run a successful industry."

"I said you, not your parents. You just seem to stand out to me, that's all." You were so carefree, offering an aura no else in the proximity ever possessed and he’d be lying if he hadn’t already been lured in.

"Is that why you whisked me off, oh strange one?" It made him feel relaxed, his better judgment warning him of mesmerising strangers but the small threads of personality he’d been entangled in so far encouraged him to ignore it.

"Yes that, and I needed to blend in momentarily but that’s a completely irrevelevant topic. So to thank you for your unwitting aid, let me tell you a secret: I don't belong here either." You whispered the last part in his ear, causing him to become noticeably flustered - you were both young, probably the first female to ever get this close to him by your deductions.

"I'm Timothy Drake..." The young man started, assuring to meet your gaze once you'd pulled back.

"(Y/n) (L/n), great to stumble into you."

"You too, so what brings you here?" Now it was his turn to inquire, and a complicated conversation ensued - one that left you both eager to learn more but after your brief disappearance it became apparent your first meeting was to be cut short.

"Call me!" He registered your voice before your sudden rushed appearance by his side, a kiss placed on his cheek as you briskly checked your surroundings.

"I don't have your number!"

"Check your phone, I stole it when we danced and added it whilst I was gone." You smugly shot back, tossing the young man his phone before swiftly making an exit and it was moments later that outraged shouts echoed from the top floor - who exactly were you?!

Tim assumed that would be the last he saw of you, a welcomed abnormality that was a breath of fresh air in his otherwise predictable life. The name you'd given provided very little - if anything - in his online research but your number had proven valid and became his chosen method of communication. However, in all his carefully constructed scenarios, the last place he expected to stumble across anyone of the like would be in the rundown rings of Gothams back alleys when inspecting a rumour he'd overheard from the rebellious seniors at school.

The atmosphere was rowdy yet electrifying, alcoholic beverages littered the area, attendees wore too little clothing for the chilling breeze of a Gotham evening and recognisable Hip Hop tracks blared from the boasting speakers inbuilt into the boots of various strikingly customised cars. Anyone of his stature would be out of place here, thus grateful for his hoodie which allowed him to blend in a little better - he swiftly dodged cheering onlookers as engines roared through the streets and it was almost overwhelming to the senses but at the same time intoxicating, crews hovered around their vehicles to prepare it for the next race all whilst endorsing the flirtatious antics of fans but through all of the commotion a constrastingly gentle tug of his hood caused him to hesitate.

"You're the guy I met at the gala yeah?" You casually chimed with a soft smirk and raised brow, arm resting on your hip as he turned to you after releasing his red hoodie. He had no prepared answer, looking you up and down with a cracked “Yes.”

You shook your head with a quiet but amused chuckle, smoothly entwining your fingers to pull a still semi unresponsive Timothy away from the delinquent crowd to speak more freely.

"What are you doing here?" The teen finally manged to ask once regaining his composure though upon reflection, Tim shouldn't be here either but since it was only a tiny detour he saw no harm in indulging his curiosity of the vigilante lifestyle. Was it so bad to want to see Batman in action? This is something he'd want to intercept right?

"Same thing as you, accidental wrong turn." You smugly commented obviously lying and sassing Tim whilst glancing back to the 'entertainment' briefly with a smirk.

"Maybe I chose to come here." Tim was more confident this time, almost as if trying to impress you but instead you only snorted.

"Mmhmm, I doubt a richboy like you would be at a drag race rally by choice so you must be following some lead."

"Don't call me that, and you're right - I was. I wanted to see if -" Before Tim could elaborate, an ear splitting skid of breaks were heard as well as the uproar from attendees which wasn't uncommon for you.

He'd noticed your natural instincts in the situation, the way you'd located an escape route in almost 2 seconds flat and had interlaced your fingers to take him with you once more. It dawned on him then, that this was your scene despite how effortlessly you'd merged into his world of upperclass diligence - maybe that was your origin and this your choice, he'd never know nor would he be able to ask under the current chaotic circumstances.

"Have you ever driven one of these before?!" Tim shot as he slid into the deserted Lamborghini you'd practically shoved him toward, yourself more concerned with hot wiring.

"Not legally..."

"Then we should - crap!" Before he could even propose a safer alternative you'd ignited the engine and sped through the streets leaving the sirens and Batman behind.

There was something about it, as new as the adrenaline and excitement were it felt right - even Drake noted the natural gift you possessed and the way you seemed to come alive at the wheel. Tim didn't ask where you were headed, nor did he particularly care so long as you both emerged scathe free whilst you drove through the barrier of an old abandoned multi-story carpark and raced straight to the top, parking rather carelessly across the parking spaces but it served your purpose.

Tim followed as you got out of the purple Lamborghini, strolling over to the edge and sitting atop the wall peaking at the 7th story.

"C'mon richboy, this is my favourite place in the city." You beckoned him with playful wink, turning your attention to the neon lights of skyscrapers, vehicle headlights that seemed to leave a glowing trail as they sped down motorways and street lamps that blended together to create a cosmos of multicoloured stars amidst Gotham's dark skyline.

"It's - it's so beautiful." The boy breathed, soon cautiously joining you on the ledge allowing the wind to grace him with a sense of what could only be felt as weightless freedom.

It made him briefly forget the fact you'd just stolen a car to save the two of you from the rain of rapid fire gunshots, forget all of the questions he'd held regarding your mismatched past and present, and more importantly the persistent stress he always carried in his shoulders. Because of you. A woman he'd encountered twice but felt as though he'd known for years.

"I know right, it helps me think and I thought it'd help you too."

"Why?" Your thoughtfulness caught him off guard, so much so that his tone sounded disbelieving. No one usually gave this much thought to his well-being, his parents mainly too concerned with travels to properly delve into his life.

"Because you need to know what freedom feels like, to have the weight lifted from your shoulders. For you to be Tim Drake rather than an heir to a fortune. I've seen it all before but you're different, I can feel it and this is the world Tim, you can be whoever you want." There was a sincerity and softness to your voice that he wasn't expecting, like you knew exactly how he felt because you'd experienced it too once upon a time. Maybe you had?

"I want this, to see sights like these and I want to make the city a better place but I’m not sure where to start. I admire Batman who does it in his own way, but he's wavering now, he needs a Robin." Over text you couldn't read each other's emotions or disclose personal desires like you were currently and feeling Tim trust you in such a way eased your self doubts.

"Wait - you came to the rally for a potential Batman sighting, ah you’ve got to be kidding me! Not surprised though, you strike me as an undercover nerd.” You cheerfully laughed to yourself, taking a brief glance at Tim who now wore a deadpan expression.

“Thanks (Y/n), I’m so glad I ran into you again.” He playfully pushed your shoulder in mock offence before issuing his sarcastic reply.

“Sorry sorry, but if that's the case why don't you be his Robin?" The way you’d said it made it seem like a possibility, like something he could easily achieve and not once had he felt that way - it wasn’t enough to completely nullify his doubts however.

"It's not that easy, I'd have to know who Batman is for a start."

"So find out. You're definitely smart enough, I know you have the detective skills to do that - it's why we ended up here tonight after all." In contrast to the less than ideal situation, you remained calm and carefree whilst Tim only felt guilty for being a hindrance.

"Sorry about that."

"It's not a complaint, if anything it's a thank you, I hope our misguided adventure helps to find where you belong. Besides, there's no one else I'd rather share this spot with." Now you diverted your gaze from the city, furrowing your brows at his apology before nudging your side against his as a form of friendly comfort alongside your words.

"Agreed, but what about you? Have you found where you belong?" The atmosphere was dripping with meaningful contentment so you weren't surprised by his inquiry but it was much harder to answer than you'd anticipated. Considering you’d been trying to find the answer to that very question for many years now.

"Me? I never thought I'd fit anywhere but, maybe there's hope..." Subconsciously your gaze drifted to the fine technology behind you as you trailed off. It was almost a natural gift, something you could nurture into masterful skill if built upon meticulously.

It was both by accident and on purpose, maybe a subconscious need to see one another that lead you to the same place hoping you'd cross paths. You did - multiple times, leading to deep conversations, meaningful gestures and frivolous takeouts under the stars. You'd developed a covet friendship, one that no person would put together just by looking at the two of you - in fact you were rarely seen together at all. Individual reputation and associates probably inspired that ritual.

Tonight, he'd caught the chip you'd aimed at his mouth with a proud grin and fist pump, yourself admiring the casual side of the Drake heir with bemusement - it was one shielded from the public eye to refine an image of a future heir but that pretence was disregarded at times like these.

"So this is a congratulations for finding out Bats' real name, don't worry I'm not gonna ask." You waved him off, though he seemed mystified with how you could read him so gracefully.

"Thanks (Y/n), for being respectful about it and setting me on the right life path. I would honestly love to tell you, but there’s still some work I’ve gotta do. Hey, what about you? Any updates on where you think you're headed?"

He expected your silence, the way you took your time as you gazed off at the vibrantly lit skyline with a look of concern which lead him to continue.

"Or who with?"

This snapped your attention to him immediately wearing a shocked expression, almost offended at the thought of it being someone rather than something that would bring you fulfilment.

"Hah! Relying on someone only gets you hurt, I'm not that stupid Tim, not anymore - which is why I'm so determined to find my place in the world. It'll be my decision with no one to take it from me.” It was a bitter subject, but Tim could hear the emotion in your tone and offered an understanding smile, one you gratefully returned.

After that your paths began to separate, you didn't need anyone and that was a fact Tim was reluctantly forced to accept, but with his extracurricular activities and adoption distracting him, it made the whole ordeal easier. Although a silent pact was forged, from the fragments of 'what could've been' if you will, whether you chose to vocalise its existence or not. No matter how far apart, you would always be there for each other - it would only take one call to reunite as though you'd never left another's side. And you’d hoped it remained intact.

Now, 2 years had gone by, and you'd found yourself caught in the crosshairs of a police raid where the latest local race was, strategically deciding not to compete but instead scope your next competitors. Though you knew what took place behind the scenes to attract such attention, as a result you'd been prepared for the cops - but not for them. In an instant you'd used the commotion as a distraction, ducking out from the back of the bridge and onto the street where you’d be home free.

Until you saw him waiting for you.

"You finally found it." You cross your arms, leaning back against your custom motorcycle with an expectant look directed at the new vigilante standing before you.

Robin offered a smirk at your calm behaviour, you knew exactly who’d been wearing the mantle and you didn't see Tim Drake as a threat.

"I did. Although I'm not so sure about yours..."

"Because we're on opposite sides of the law now?" You quipped, tilting your head rather bemused with the untimely reunion.

"I never wanted to fight you (Y/n)."

"Neither. But this is where I belong Tim, and it's not a serious felony - a few drag races here and there, no harm done. A woman has gotta earn a living, and I happen to be very good at it." You playfully shrugged now only centimetres between you both.

"It's not just races though, is it." Tim knew, obviously, and he deduced that it wasn't news to you either but that didn't disguise the genuine worry in his voice.

"No, but I'm okay richboy. Don't worry about me, and if you ever need me you have my number."

"You got a new private line remember?" He recalled, having once slipped up in his contemplations to call you only to find the number out of use. Most likely because it was too easy to trace, in your world - a potentially fatal mistake.

"Yes I did, and I've already inputted into this." Came your nonchalant reply as you handed over his communicator, fingers lingering a little too long against his own as if holding on to each other for a few more seconds would convey everything.

"I'll have to arrest you eventually."

"Then catch me. If you can that is." You stepped backwards, a hand beckoning him to dare to follow as you hopped on your bike and sped off with a wink.

Robin mirrored your movement, starting up his own engine as he watched you round a corner but shut it down again with a soft smile.

"Why didn't you go after her?" Batman's voiced sternly echoed in his ear, the dark knight perched on an overlooking rooftop as Robin turned to face his direction whilst speaking into Comms.

"My bike stalled, she was already gone." Bruce furrowed his brows, the motorbike was in perfect condition before they'd left but regardless he felt there was a deeper meaning to Robins leniency, one that was out of his understanding.

With one call. No matter the distance or time that passed.

He'd come.

And so would you.

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader #dc #dc imagine

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halfblood-fiend · 4 years

Text

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 1/Horizontal Prompt 4

TRANSFORMATION

Show: The Original Series

Words: 7,940

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): pining! and Kirk is an idiot! Also, this was the last prompt that I speed wrote today so, hopefully the editing isn’t 100% awful!

Here, There Is No Golden Ball

A First Contact with a hyper-telekinetic race called the Haijinn turns quickly from routine to devastating when Spock has an un-frog-ettable run-in with one of the race’s priests. Captain Kirk, with the begrudging help of Bones, has to find a way to turn Spock back or doom him to a long and des-pond-ent life.

Read it on AO3.

“Captain’s Log: Stardate 4846.1. We have encountered a new post-warp civilization on the outer reaches of Federation space. Xenosociologists have been monitoring this planet’s rapid technological march and were pleased to ask the Enterprise to be their Federation liaison. As part of our routine First Contact procedure, we have invited a handful of delegates to break bread with us up here on the Enterprise. They are a fascinating people on paper, but their unique telepathic and telekinetic abilities far surpass my own lofty expectations. On the surface, they seem able to conjure matter out of thin air. While basic laws of physics say this is impossible, it is still a wonder to behold. If I believed in such things, I could almost describe it as… well, like magic. Luckily, the Haijinn’s are just as fascinated with our own technological advances, but for a far different reason…”

The High Priest Mailak blinked his large, bulbous milky blue iris-less eyes at the control panels in the Engineering Room. His small head on his long, spindly neck swayed side to side, reminding Kirk a bit of an ostrich from Earth. With the large, but squat body hidden under the many folds of his robes, the similarities were striking. All the High Priest and his people were missing, Kirk thought, were the long legs.

“And you have managed to build all of this on your own? With your hands?” Mailak inquired in a gravelly dialect punctuated by clicks emanating from the back of his throat and deep within his chest.

Scotty waited until the communicator in Kirk’s hand had translated Mailak’s sentence to Standard before he answered, “Well, not by meself, personally, but, aye. Other Human Beings built the Enterprise with their own hands and tools. And maybe a service droid or two, but ship buildin’ is mostly a work of the people.”

A pause while the communicator translated back into Haijann, and then Mailak and his entourage emitted a high-pitched series of clicks that Kirk felt fairly confident interpreting as “oohing and ahhing.” He smiled. “Scotty is my Chief Engineer, and it’s his job to see that I never lose the total functionality of my ship. He keeps the Enterprise running in top shape.”

Scotty bit his lip and clasped his hands behind his back. “If yeh don’ mind me askin’, Your Excellency, sir, how do you make your ships, if not by your hands?”

Mailak’s wide, flat mouth and delicate, thin lips parted in a near grimace. Kirk wondered if he was trying to mimic a Human smile or if the Haijinn normally did that. The first possibility was somewhat endearing; the latter would take some getting used to. “We envision the creation and it becomes so.”

Blinking, Scotty cocked his head at the High Priest before turning to Kirk. “Is that communicator warkin’, Captain?”

Not all his senior staff had a chance to look at the dossier, apparently. Kirk decided to give Scotty a break—this time. Smiling warmly, he answered, “I assure you, Scotty, it is.”

Mailak looked between them both and then, bobbing his head in such a way that Kirk wondered if there was a body language component to their language, said, “For such a large object as a space-faring vessel, the oiimaige takes many highly tuned minds working in conjunction for long stretches of time. But for my people, anything we can imagine, we can create. It is our unique gift, our connection to the Oiim. Hold out your hand and observe.”

Even as he did as he was told, Scotty glanced at Kirk and said, “Now I know that thing’s busted.”

“Not everything has a perfect translation all of the time,” Kirk reminded him gently as Mailak closed his eyes and concentrated.

The ship-wide intercom chirped from over on the wall and a voice rang out from it. “First Officer Spock, to Captain Kirk.”

Mailak’s eye’s fluttered closed as he focused, and Kirk decided that Scotty would live for a few moments without the Universal Translator. He strode towards the intercom and pressed the switch. “Kirk here. Spock, what is it?”

“Captain, we will most likely be unable to rendezvous with you in the briefing room at the appointed time.”

“Why the delay, Mr. Spock? We are nearly finished showing His Excellency, The High Priest our Engineering Room. That should have been plenty of time for you and Her Eminence.”

“Indeed, Captain. However, Her Eminence, the Southern Priest, is quite enthralled with the ship’s library computer. She requests that she should be granted more time for study.”

Well, that certainly rubbed Kirk the wrong way. Glancing back at Mailak and Scotty, he spoke in a low voice and hoped the Haijinn’s hearing wasn't extremely good. “I don't think I have to impress upon you, Mr. Spock, the danger of—”

“Quite right, Captain,” Spock's voice cut him off in an equally low tone. “I already took the liberty of locking her out of the more strategic data regarding the Federation. Her interest does appear to be genuinely curious, but it seemed prudent not to take chances. At present, she is studying Terran folklore.”

Both the relief of the stress in his shoulders and the image of a Haijinn reading things like Paul Bunyan made Kirk smile. “What kind of folklore?”

“Fairy tales, Captain.”

Ah, so stories like Rapunzel. Even better.

“Well, carry on, Mr. Spock, and let me know if anything else arises. I'm sure we can entertain the High Priest for another hour or so.”

“Thank you, Captain. I believe Her Eminence will be most pleased. Spock out.”

Kirk flipped the switch on the wall-mounted comm panel and wondered which part of the ship that Mailak and his Entourage might like to see next. The Rec Room, perhaps? That might be diverting enough. Or maybe even a holodeck? Or—

“Captain!” Mr. Scott's excited shout drew Kirk's attention “Would you look at this!? It's like nothing I've ever seen before! I cannae even believe it!” In his outstretched hands was a clear flower that was unfamiliar to Kirk. He decided that it must be something native to the planet below. It was beautiful and dazzling, catching the light and throwing rainbow arcs across the bulkhead.

Mailak shook his head. “A pale comparison,” he sighed, “but the oiimaige has its limits. We cannot create living things by thought alone. It defies nature, and so does not allow for us to do it as we are living creatures ourselves. The Oiim, however… it is the Great Creator, and has made everything we know.”

Kirk nodded, another smile gracing his face. The Haijinn culture must be a fascinating one. What kinds of creation myths did a people who had the power to create things themselves devise to make sense of their universe? He made a note to inform Marlena and ask if she had ever heard anything else about the Haijinn from her contacts back on Earth.

“Real or not, Your Excellency,” Scotty replied with a laugh, “it’s all amazin’ to me!” He held up the flower and turned it in his fingers so that more colors bounced off into boundless arcs.

“Yes, well, if Your Excellency is ready, we can move on with our tour. There are other parts of our ship that you might find—ah��fascinating.”

Look at him, he was starting to sound like Spock.

“Certainly, Captain, though it was our belief that we would soon sit to discuss the merits of trade with your Federation.”

Kirk nodded. “In good time. Mr. Spock had just informed me that Her Emminence, the Southern Priest requested more time in our library. I am nothing if not an accommodating host. We have more to share if you wish to see it.”

Mailak made more high-pitched clicks, his neck swaying forwards and backwards. “Ah, that girl. Always so eager for knowledge. I do hope you will not find it tiresome, Captain Kirk.”

“Not at all, Your Excellency. It’s certainly no trouble.”

An hour later and Kirk, along with Mailak and his people were gathered in Briefing Room Two, with no sign of Spock and the Southern Priest. He seated Mailak and his most important attendants and served everyone replicated refreshments (that the Haijinns all found rather amusing) but nearly twenty minutes later, there was still no sign of his first officer, nor any word from him at all. The unusual behavior from Spock was making Kirk as anxious as he was getting cross.

Mialak blinked his large eyes at Kirk and swayed his head. “You must not be so angry, Captain. This is just like Eimmeel. She can hardly be torn from her studies. It’s what makes her such a serviceable chronicler and devotee to Oiim.”

Kirk made a mental note to add ‘emotional telepathy’ to the list of the Haijinn’s already formidable range of traits. But maybe, he was just being obvious, with his knee bouncing and his hand cupping his chin as he leaned on the table. He quit all these actions and sat up with a shake of his head. “It’s not like Commander Spock to be so late. My first officer is also stubborn, Your Excellency, so I’m sure he and Her Emminence would have figured something out by now.”

And Spock hadn’t even comm-ed him… It was highly unusual.

“Or, Captain, they are locked together in a battle of wills and we will be here all day if we wait for them to arrive.” Mailak did his strange impersonation of a smile but Kirk felt far from better.

Kirk swore that the reprimand Commander Spock was going to receive from him would be legendary…

He reached forward and flipped the switch for the intercom laid into the meeting table. “Kirk to Spock.” His voice sounded brusque, even to him. “Commander Spock, come in.”

But the line remained dead. There was no answer from any comm anywhere on the ship.

Kirk pressed a button on the interface that linked him to the bridge directly. “Uhura, is there any problem with the ship’s intercom systems?”

He knew that there wasn’t, but Kirk wanted a record of his attempt at troubleshooting before he disciplined Spock.

Lieutenant Uhura’s voice came in over the speaker, confident and clear, “No, sir. No communications malfunctions of any kind.”

So, Spock was purposefully ignoring him then. Just perfect. “Thank you, Lieutenant, that’s all. Sulu, find Commander Spock using a ship-wide scan. Then connect me a direct line to him.”

Both Uhura and Sulu answered with sharp, “Yes, sir”s.

Kirk’s fingers drummed on the table. In all the first contacts that they had overseen together, all of their separately given tours, Spock had never been so…thoughtless. Spock, who arrived twenty minutes early for every shift, suddenly late to a meeting without any warning? It didn’t add up. And something in Kirk’s gut was making him uncomfortable. A bad feeling. Bones might have agreed with him, but Spock would have reminded him that his feelings had no influence on the possible outcome of events. They couldn’t tell him one thing or another. Spock would remind him that Kirk couldn’t make any assumptions without all the facts. And the only fact that he had was that his First Officer had not appeared when he was supposed to, and that was out-of-character.

“Captain, we really can proceed. Eimmeel’s presence here as record-keeper was merely a precautionary measure. There is nothing she knows that I do not.”

Kirk listened but didn’t respond—How to explain that his desire to find Spock was more on principle now? —when Sulu’s voice cracked over the speaker. “Er…Sir? Commander Spock is…not on the ship, sir.”

His eyes drew sharply to the intercom as though Kirk could see Sulu’s face through it and intimidate him into telling the truth. “What do you mean, ‘not on the ship’? Have there been any unauthorized shuttle launches?”

“That was the first thing I checked, sir.”

“Unauthorized transports?”

“Negative, sir. There have been no unauthorized functions of any kind. Ship’s log places the Commander’s last known location in the computer library facility.”

The last place Kirk knew him to be…

He glanced up at Mailak, who looked just as shocked as Kirk was (so far as he could tell). The High Priest leaned over to the Haijinn on his left and spoke quickly to them in sharp tones. They spoke so fast that the Universal Translator couldn’t catch any of it.

Convenient, Kirk found himself thinking, but quickly reigned in any suspicious lines of thought until he had more information.

Mailak stretched his neck to the ceiling and pressed his hands into the base of his throat, one folded over the other. A low humming filled the room.

“Captain, what—”

“Just a moment, Sulu,” Kirk ordered, watching the High Priest with rapt attention.

A heartbeat later, Mailak resumed his normal posture, although the humming hadn’t completely left the small space. Kirk thought he could still feel the ghost of rumbling echoing on his skin.

“Eimmeel is still where your crewman says, Captain,” Mailak said. “She has not moved for much of the duration of our visit.”

Kirk’s eyebrow raised. “And…Spock?”

“Him, I cannot find. He is not a part of the Oiim,” the High Priest replied, rocking his head forwards and back.

Understandable, but worth a try.

“If you do not mind the continued delay, Your Excellency,” Kirk said, choosing his words carefully, “I would very much like to find my missing First Officer.”

Mailak’s head swayed. “Of course, Captain. The Haijinn will assist you in any way we can.”

Kirk rose from his seat in a fluid motion when he heard Sulu again. “Orders, Captain? Shall I send a security team?”

He had almost forgotten the intercom was still on. It was strangely thoughtless of him.

“No need,” yet, Kirk added mentally. “Maintain orbit and communication with the planet. We will speak to Her Emminence, the Southern Priest. I’m sure she will know what happened to Commander Spock and this will all be sorted in short order. Kirk out.”

And if not, Kirk would lock down the ship, and report the Haijjin’s malicious intent upon the Enterprise, and let them deal with the fallout of it.

While the library computer could be accessed from nearly any terminal on the Enterpise, they still maintained a specific room for those crewman who wished to research outside of their quarters or the usual terminals located at every work station. The room was lined on three walls by data banks with glowing lights, while the last wall opened to the exterior hull, allowing a spectacular view of the planet in orbit down below, the yellow pinprick of the system’s sun in the distance, and the spattering of far distant stars in inky space. It was a semi dim room, opting for personal lamps at the worktables instead of overhead lighting, to suit each individual’s need.

There was only a single occupant in the room when Kirk stepped over the threshold. Seated at one of these worktables, her personal light switched on, illuminating a scattering of colorful isolinear chips all around her, was another splendidly robed Haijinn.

The Southern Priest, Kirk assumed, was larger than all her male counterparts. Her skin was lighter and more wrinkled than Mailak’s and Kirk couldn’t tell if that was age or merely a variation in sex, because he realized, upon seeing her alone, she was the only female Haijinn to have come aboard.

Maybe not anything worth noting, but Kirk noted the discrepancy all the same.

Mailak brushed past Kirk and approached Eimmeel in the Haijinn version of a huff. He was already clicking before he had made it halfway to her. “What is the meaning of this, Eimmeel? What are you still doing here? You and Commander Spock were supposed to have been at the meeting place already!”

Eimmeel’s long furrowed neck raised from her terminal, and she swung her orange gaze upon her intruders, although she appeared to look through them as if she didn’t quite see them.

Kirk strode forward as well, his eyes searching for any sign of the Vulcan among the tables or data banks. The fact that he found nothing churned unease heavy in his stomach.

She blinked and then spoke in a much higher and clearer voice than Kirk had expected given all her wrinkles. She said, “Has it been a ‘Standard Hour’ already? Time for these outsiders flows so quickly. How do they ever have time to write all these stories?”

“Your Eminence,” Kirk began, fighting to keep his voice even, “where is First Officer Spock? I…must speak with him.”

He couldn’t help continuing to let his eyes rove around, trying to probe the shadows for any sign of Spock. Kirk felt his heart race as panic began to grip his chest. The ship thinks he isn’t here, and if no one left on a shuttle or was transported, that could only mean—

Kirk didn’t dare finish his thought.

The Southern Priest turned her gaze on Kirk as if she had only just realized he was there, then her neck swung around in several directions. Like a bird looking at something past their beak. “He was only just here…” she muttered. “Where could he have gotten off to?” Then she swung her face back to Kirk and said something that chilled him to his bones: “You had better not let anyone else come inside, Captain. And mind where you put your feet. Until we find him.”

Mind his…feet…?

Mailak placed his hands at his throat again and rocked his entire body back and forth. “Oiim al’mak teek. What have you done now, Eimmeel?”

Ice froze in Kirk’s veins as he looked around him. His eyes began scanning the floor now. His hands curled into fists. But he could not afford to lose his temper. He could not afford to jeopardize the mission or his duty as Captain but oh, the things he wished he could do about now!

And Spock! What in the hell had this woman done to Spock?

Kirk took tentative steps forward, now almost too scared to move, as Mailak uttered a long series of high pitched clicks and words that were too fast for his Universal Translator to decipher. This time, Kirk didn’t care.

He bent forward and peered beneath the nearest table.

Oh, god, Kirk didn’t even know what he was looking for! A body? Or something worse?

"Ribbit!"

His head snapped up. Mailak fell silent.

That couldn’t have been a…

"GrrrIBBIT!"

Kirk leaped to his feet and followed the bellowing sounds of a frog—of all the things on his ship!

“RrriBBIT, ribbit, grrrrRIBBET!”

Close to the window, Kirk found it: a mottled green and brown bullfrog the size of his hands and… with dark, knowledgeable eyes…

“Ribbit!” the frog’s throat expanded to reveal brilliant green skin as it…ribbit-ed at Kirk.

Open-mouthed, he looked back at the Haijinn priests.

Eimmeel waved a hand and emitted her gleeful high-pitched whine. “Ah! There he is!”

Kirk looked back down at…Spock, the bullfrog, who ribbit-ed again, indolently.

“Now, with all due respect, Your Eminence,” Kirk really had to focus in order to remember that he needed to attach the Southern Priest’s diplomatic title when he spoke to her, especially when all he wanted to do was rage, “I do not think I am being particularly unreasonable with my request to restore my first officer to his proper species, however, I am starting to think that you are being purposefully unhelpful.” Without thinking, Kirk waved Spock the Frog around as he spoke, his little limbs rather comically swinging through the air.

“Ribbit,” croaked Spock the Frog dolefully, punctuating Kirk’s final word with a poignant sense of irony.

With Mailak’s help, Kirk had been able to wrestle Eimmeel from the library computer room, though not without her grabbing a handful of isolinear chips as she left. Not knowing what else to do, Kirk had scooped Spock the Frog up in his hands and comm-ed Bones to come straight away the second they had made it back to Briefing Room Two.

The Southern Priest blinked her large pupil-less orange eyes at him. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I cannot. I cannot disrupt the oiimaige from its intent once it has been woven.”

The High Priest made several sharp, agitated movements in his chair beside her. He asked her, “Why would you do this to another being at all, Eimmeel? We were their guests! The Federation has only just arrived—”

“You did not read their stories, Your Excellency. I thought it was a gift. I did not think it would be so difficult for them to change him back themselves!”

Kirk’s brow furrowed and he bit his lip to keep from screaming out of sheer frustration. “Our people are not like yours,” he said to her when he had more control. “We can’t just… wish for something to happen and then it happens! Where did you get the impression that we could restore Mr. Spock by ourselves?”

Back and forth went the Southern Priest’s head. “From all your wonderful stories, of course!”

“They’re fairy tales!” Kirk ground out from behind his clenched teeth.

“Ribbit.”

Ever with the best timing, the door slid open and Bones strode into the room with a medical kit and a tricorder slung over his shoulder.

“Now, Jim, I’m not sure what all the fuss was about, but you sounded nothing short of hysterical over the—” His eyes fell on the frog still clenched in Kirk’s hand. “Funny. I didn’t think they made those on other planets. Are we having a grade-school dissection, then?”

Kirk clutched Spock the Frog to his chest and held him away from Bones reflexively. “I should hope not. Doctor, this…this… frog is Spock. They… Her Eminence, the Southern Priest, has turned Spock into a frog!”

Bones raised his eyebrow and glanced over at the fretting High Priest, speaking to his counterpart in low tones. “Why in the world would Her Eminence do that?”

“Good question.” Kirk held Spock out to Bones. “Just take him and look after him until we can figure this out.”

Wrinkling his nose some, Bones took the wand from his tricorder and reached for Spock with his free hand, and began scanning him. “Seems fine, Jim," he announced. "Perfectly healthy.”

“Perfectly healthy,” Kirk echoed with a shake of his head. “For a Vulcan or a bullfrog?”

“One and the same now, I think,” Bone replied, holding Spock up with a smile as he replaced his wand.

“Just…take care of him. And try not to seem too happy about it. And, uh, don’t let him…dry…out…” Kirk shrugged and went to wipe his face with his hand—before he remembered it was covered in frog mucus. He wiped them on the front of his pants instead.

“Don’t you worry, Jim. I think I’ve got a nice little terrarium with plenty of water to swim in and some pond scum to eat. I'll keep him away fro the flies. That'll just give him indigestion.”

“Bones…”

“You’ll figure it out, Jim,” his friend told him in a low, soothing voice, clapping him on the shoulder. “You always do.”

“Ribbit,” Spock agreed.

Grinning, Bones held Spock the Frog up to their faces. “Do it for him, will you?”

Kirk shook his head. “Won’t you try to treat him with a little respect?”

“’Course! Wouldn’t dream of doing anything less.” Bones then turned to their guests and bowed to each in turn. “Your Excellency. Your Eminence.”

The Haijinns looked up at Bones and clicked distractedly.

“Now, one more time—” Kirk began with a sigh as soon as the doors had hissed closed behind Bones.

Mailak stood. He looked, for the first time, deflated, like a tiny creature wearing too many clothes that didn’t fit him. “Captain,” he crooned, “while regrettable, it is as Eimmeel has said. There is nothing we can do to undo the oiimaige once its intent has been sealed by the Oiim. I am sorry.”

Kirk waved him away and leaned forward onto the table, not yet ready to believe what he was saying. “There were some words that aren’t translating. I don’t want to misunderstand. Can you explain—”

“When my people create something, we must define certain…parameters around our creations. A set of rules that can cause our will to exist in the physical plane. Once something has been created within the confines that we set, it cannot simply be undone unless the creator has made specific rules to do so. We cannot help your first officer. Our interference was not woven into the fabric of the reality of his transformation. I am sorry, Captain.” And he did look sorry, for whatever that was worth.

Which was very little to Kirk in this particular moment.

He tapped his finger on the table.

They couldn’t change Spock back because of some law of physics around their powers and how they connected to it, that much he understood. He hated to hear it, but he refused to believe there weren’t other avenues to de-frog Spock.

Someone had to have the technology or the ability. Kirk just had to find them.

“I can’t very well have an amphibious first officer,” Kirk sighed. “And what do you think I should tell his family? There has got to be another way and…you are the only ones that can help me find it. Please. No one else in the galaxy will know your Oiim the way that you do.”

The Southern Priest bobbed forward and chittered excitedly. “But I did factor in the parameters to change him back, Captain,” the translator recited her words through its speakers.

Kirk hardly dared to hope. “Great. How?”

“I was inspired by all your stories!”

“Our…fairy tales. Yes, you’ve said that. But, how does that help Spock?”

“You have to change him back like in the story!”

Dread trickled into Kirk’s chest and made it difficult to breathe. Which story? There were thousands—no, millions—of possibilities. He was already calculating how long it might take for him to search the computer terminal where the Southern Priest had sat and attempt to decipher which story had inspired her.

He didn’t need Spock’s computer-like brain to know that would take too long.

“Forgive me, but, you’ll have to be more specific,” he said hoarsely.

Eimmeel turned sharply to the pile of isolinear chips beside her and picked through them until she produced a blue one. Kirk took the proffered chip, and glancing at her, slid it into the slot beneath the table.

An image appeared on all the triangular screens. It was the title page of a very old and well-worn Earth book. An illustration of a violently green frog gazed demurely at them from a lilypad. The gilded golden lettering over the cover read: The Frog Prince.

Kirk blinked. He really had no idea what to say.

But Eimmeel rocked back and forth with obvious excitement. “A gift!” she squealed. “So many of your stories are centered on true love. I asked Commander Spock if he had ever known it and he replied that his kind do not love. I felt so sorry for him. The stories all made it sound so beautiful and fulfilling. I thought, that if he became the frog in the story, then he could find his true love and become whole! True love's kiss will turn him back!”

So many thoughts rushed through his mind but Kirk was stunned into silence. True love’s kiss? For Spock?

Oh, god…

Kirk was going to have to inform Sarek that his son would be a frog forever.

After profuse apologies on both sides and a joint promise to reconvene to discuss trade relations at a later time, Kirk had seen all the Haijiin transported off the Enterprise—good riddance—and half-sprinted to sickbay.

He was out of breath with a small stitch in his side when the doors slid open to reveal rows and rows of unoccupied biobeds beneath bright overhead lights. Kirk nodded at Nurse Chapel and continued straight into Bones’ office in the center of the room.

“How is he?” Kirk asked as soon as he entered.

His friend looked up from his PADD and glanced back at a glass terrarium on the wall behind him. Within sat Spock the Frog, half-submerged in water, half sitting on a raised flat stone. He croaked, his throat expanding briefly… and then licked his left eye with his long pink tongue.

Kirk sighed.

“Never did understand a single word he said, Jim, but we do always have a mighty fine time,” Bones said with a smile.

Kirk stared blankly down at the doctor. “Glad you’re so enjoying yourself,” he said dryly.

“It’s not so ter-ribbit-able.”

“Leonard, please!” Kirk cried, throwing himself into the chair sitting across from Bones’ desk. He propped his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands.

“Oh, come on, Jim. I’ve spent the last hour thinking up a whole plethora of frog puns!”

“I don’t want to hear them.”

“Well,” his friend replied, chewing on the inside of his lip as he turned his attention back to his PADD, “your loss, then.”

“What am I going to do?”

“They say anything about how to turn him back?”

“Apparently, it’s all linked to that ancient story, The Frog Prince. They said ‘true love’s kiss’ would turn Spock back into a Vulcan.”

Bones looked up at him, his eyebrow arched. “That so…?” he murmured thoughtfully.

“I know!” Kirk cried. Unable to contain his restless energy anymore, he leaped from the chair and started pacing the small transparent aluminum-enclosed room. “Does such a thing even exist for a Vulcan? True love doesn’t even really exist for Humans, and we’re the idiots who made the damn thing up!”

“You need to take a deep breath, Jim,” Bones sighed, laying his PADD aside and interlacing his fingers over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t you think about it logically?”

“Ribbit!”

Bones grinned and stuck his thumb out over his shoulder. “See? Spock agrees with me.”

Kirk thought Bones was taking the entire thing too lightly— making jokes at Spock’s expense, sticking him in a terrarium, and now trying to tell him to relax. He was about this close to exploding on his friend.

“Is there anything you can do?” Kirk asked instead. “Anything in some medical file or—”

“That’ll undo magic? No. Can’t say that I’ve found anything like that.”

“It’s not magic, Leonard, it’s—”

“I know what it is, Jim,” Bones raised his voice over Kirk’s and the tone surprised him out of pacing. “It’s far too advanced for anything we have in the Starfleet medical database and it’s like nothing that I’ve ever heard of, besides in tales about evil witches. What do you expect me to do? I can’t turn a frog into a Vulcan through medical science—it’s simply not possible! The only option we have is to follow their directions. If we need ‘true love’s kiss,’ then that’s what we need. You need to think logically and figure out what you should do next.”

But Kirk was flummoxed. He had no idea what to do next. Spock never loved anyone. ‘True love’ wasn’t something that he thought any Vulcan would be familiar with.

Unless the definition of ‘true love’ could be broadened somehow…

Bones broke Kirk’s train of thought by speaking softly but with determination. “Think, Jim. Think back to all of Spock’s past actions. I think you’ll find his ‘true love’ there.” He leaned forward, a partial smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I think you’ll know what you have to do…”

Kirk narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You’ve already got an idea, haven’t you? Well, out with it, then.”

Shrugging, Bones leaned back into his chair and picked up his PADD again. “Just a theory, really. I’d rather you come to the same conclusion yourself. If I tell you, well, then that’s just too easy. After all, the frog prince had to convince his princess to kiss him, didn’t he?”

“Ribbit!”

“You’re incorrigible,” Kirk told him, rapping his knuckles on Bones’ desk. He decided not to call his friend’s bluff because Kirk didn’t need his help. Kirk already had his own idea of what he needed to do. He just hoped that it would work.

Nerves bunched up in Kirk’s stomach long before the lovely face of a grey-haired Human woman appeared on the screen on his personal communications terminal in his Captain’s Quarters. A thousand explanations had run through his mind, but in the end, he’d decided that saying as little as possible would probably be the best course of action. After all, no mother wanted to hear that their only son had been cursed into a frog.

“Captain Kirk,” Amanda Greyson greeted with a bright smile. “This is a most unusual but welcome surprise.”

Kirk smiled back, but it only went skin deep. “Hello again, Lady Ambassador. I hope I did not disturb you.”

“Oh, no. It’s quite alright, Captain,” she replied with a wave of her dainty hand. “The Ambassador is resting and I was happy to take your call in his stead. Tell me, how is Spock?”

Kirk’s gut wrenched painfully. “Doing well,” he lied. “Busy…with the First Contact we are delegating.”

“How just like him, to be so busy working and miss his mother’s call. He is so like his father.” Her eyes grew unfocused and faraway. Any other time, Kirk might have asked after her. He was quite smitten with Spock’s mother and liked to think the two of them got along quite well.

But he was here for business, not pleasure.

“Lady Ambassador,” Kirk began, tapping his fingers against his chin. He’d rehearsed his question several times over before even making the subspace communication to Vulcan, but that didn’t stop him from being anxious about the questions Amanda might ask back. “I was wondering if you had a way that you could put me in contact with…with T’Pring.”

Even over the video, Kirk could tell that she started. “Spock’s betrothed? Whatever for?”

And here it was. Remember: keep it simple! “I…believe that she might have some…invaluable insight on our current mission.”

Amanda tilted her head, regarding him, and Kirk hoped she wouldn’t ask any more questions. “Doesn’t Starfleet have its own xenoscientists, Captain?” she asked in a calculating voice.

“We do,” he responded too quickly. “However, this race… they have strong telepathic and telekinetic abilities.” An idea occurred to him. “Spock had recommended I attempt to contact her about them. He would have done it himself but…after what happened…he didn’t think she would be as responsive to his call as to mine.”

“So why call me and not ask my son for her communication code?”

Kirk shrugged and a hysterical laugh escaped his lips despite his best effort to contain it. “I just didn’t want to bother him. Besides, I didn’t think about it until it was too late.” Hardly a good excuse, but it might just do the job. “Please,” he continued quickly, leaning forward and batting his eyes, “will you help me?”

She was silent a few moments more, with a crease between her eyes and then she sighed. “I can connect you to her, but I’ll make no promises about her responsiveness.”

“Wonderful!” Kirk released the breath he had been holding. Relief blossomed in his chest as he smiled. “I greatly appreciate it, Lady Ambassador.”

“Of course, Captain,” Amanda replied offhandedly as she pressed a series of buttons Kirk couldn’t see. “But, James?”

“Yes?”

Her eyes flashed. “I do hope you will tell me the truth the next time you call for a favor.”

“I—” he choked.

But Amanda had transferred his video. Only a series of Vulcan words remained in her place.

T’Pring had not answered. Kirk left her a message detailing their predicament as best as he could, but he didn’t really believe that she would return his communication. Something in his heart told him she wouldn’t, anyway.

He rubbed his face in his hands and tried to think of another logical thing to do.

How to find Spock’s ‘true love’s kiss’ and change him back? There was nothing he could think of because Spock didn’t actually love anybody. It wasn’t in his nature! He had said so himself over and over again.

Briefly, Kirk considered calling Amanda back in the hopes that a mother’s love would be considered ‘true’ enough to do the trick, but he immediately dismissed it. Not only did the original story not use such a loophole, but it would never matter how much Amanda loved Spock. That wasn’t how he remembered the story going.

Spock had to love the person who kissed him, in order to break the spell.

So who in this wide, wide Universe did Spock love?

Kirk dropped his hands to his desk and shook his head. He was about ready to hang up a sign on the sickbay doors and make it a free for all. Any woman willing! Come, line up to kiss a frog!

With a deep sigh, he decided to slouch his way back to sickbay. Maybe he could convince Bones to tell him his secret theory.

“Back again, I see,” Bones greeted the second Kirk was through his door. He glanced up from the biobed whose control panel was in pieces in front of him. When Kirk threw him a questioning look, Bones answered, “Just some software updates. Routine things, you know. You find what you were looking for?”

Kirk narrowed his eyes as he stepped closer, about to give the other man a piece of his mind, but he was interrupted by Uhura’s voice coming from the intercom.

“Lieutenant Uhura to Captain Kirk. Incoming subspace message from Vulcan, sir. Priority One.”

Grinning, Kirk grasped Bones’ arms and shook him gently. He didn’t bother explaining, despite Bones’ look of confusion. He bounded to the intercom on the sickbay wall and smashed the button.

“Go ahead and patch it into Doctor McCoy’s office. I’ll take it there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jim! You can’t just go and commandeer a man’s computer console—”

“Ah, yes I can,” Kirk sang, wagging his finger at Bones as he strode away and into his office, “because I’m the captain.”

He sat at the terminal, nervously ran his hand through his hair, carefully wiped the smile from his lips, and punched the accept button on the side of the screen.

T’Pring, as regal and unaffected as he remembered her to be, appeared on the monitor.

From somewhere behind him, he thought he heard Bones swear.

Kirk held up his hand in a Vulcan salute and T’Pring returned it. Though, somewhat begrudgingly, he noted.

“Thank you for answering my communication, T’Pring. I hope you are well?”

If possible, the hard line of her mouth deepened. “Save me the Human frivolities, Captain. I am uncertain that I understood your request. I require more clarification from you.”

“Well, you see, Spock is—”

“A Terran amphibian.”

“Er. Yes. And we need for you to—”

“I do not understand what the merits of ‘kissing’ would be.”

Kirk gulped. Somehow, he hadn’t anticipated T’Pring to be so… uncooperative. Thinking back to the way she acted on Vulcan, it was a wonder that he ever thought this would work.

“Its merit is that ‘kissing’ Spock in his present state appears to be the only way to turn him back into his regular self. I said that to you already in my message,” he said, staring hard at the screen, willing her to understand.

“And why should I kiss him?”

He had gone over this too, but Kirk drew a long breath and willed himself to remain calm and not let the hysteria that threatened to engulf him edge into his voice. “You…were betrothed to him. Surely there is some residual—” Not 'feelings', because she was Vulcan and Kirk didn’t want to offend his only hope of getting Spock back. Kirk wracked his brain for a different word. “—affection, that stems from that connection. Enough, to turn him back into himself.”

T’Pring raised a lovely slanted eyebrow and ‘harumf’ed so sharply that Kirk could have almost mistaken it for a laugh. “There was hardly affection when we saw each other last, and there certainly is none now. I am not the savior you seek, Captain Kirk.”

Kirk couldn’t help it. His face fell. His shoulders caved forward into his chest.

“Frankly, I am astounded that you contacted me at all—” She looked away for a brief moment, collecting herself. “—given your display in the ancestral sands.”

His eyebrows knit. What was that supposed to mean?

Behind him, Kirk heard Bones groan.

“I…” Kirk blinked, shook his head, and tried again, “I-I-I don’t believe I understand your meaning, T’Pring.”

She scowled. “It is not for me to say,” she responded roughly. “I cannot help you in this.”

A second later, her display darkened.

“Sir,” came Uhura’s voice, “I’ve lost the communication to Vulcan. Should I attempt to re-establish—”

“No, Lieutenant,” Kirk sighed. “Thank you.”

That was it. There were no more options. There was nothing else that Kirk could think of to help Spock. This was it! The end!

And now Spock would remain a frog for the rest of his life.

Would he have a frog lifespan or a Vulcan lifespan?

Kirk didn’t want to think about it—his friend trapped in a tiny frog body for another hundred years… What kind of life would that be?

“Are you finished making a damn fool of yourself?” Bones exclaimed so suddenly that Kirk jumped in his seat.

He turned to look up at his friend, confused. “What?”

“All this nonsense about affection—T’Pring was right! She can’t help you! I didn’t think you’d be fool enough to call her, of all people.”

Kirk’s mouth worked but no sound came out in the face of Bones’ icy stare. “W-well, now, see here, Bones—”

“No, you see here! I tried leading you to the obvious answer. I tried tellin’ ya to think back to Spock’s past actions and you thought of T’Pring? Lord in high heaven, have mercy. You’re more hopeless than I thought!”

Bones stomped past Kirk to Spock’s terrarium. He reached in and unceremoniously plucked Spock from his large, flat stone with a soft squelch then brought him back to Kirk. He watched Bones with his mouth open as his friend adjusted his grip and then held Spock the Frog out to him.

“Pucker up.”

“Are you out of your mind, Leonard McCoy?!”

“Kiss. The DAMN. Frog. Jim.”

He shook his head. Bones was crazy. This was his big theory? It was never going to work!

Softly, Spock croaked, and Kirk looked at him longingly. If only it could have been true, but Spock didn’t love him. They were friends, maybe. A team, definitely. There was no one else in the universe that Kirk trusted more, but…

No, it was impossible.

He looked up straight into Bones’ eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” Bones replied softly. “Who did he trust with his greatest secret when he was starting to go through that Pon Farr? Who helped you identify your vicious half from your good half, and who brought the two of you together?”

Kirk shook his head.

“Who insisted you were innocent, even when Commodore Stone had all the evidence against you? Who pushed you out of the way and took those poisonous flower darts for you, for christ’s sake?”

“Yes, you’ve made your point, Bones…”

But he didn’t stop. “What did you say Spock told you when that infection from Psi 2000 ravaged the ship?”

“Ribbit.”

Kirk shook his head, but he remembered the words as plainly as if they were yesterday. “When I feel friendship for you, I…I’m ashamed.”

“Yes, Jim. Now, what do you think the only logical reason for a Vulcan to feel something like shame could be?”

“It’s not going to work,” Kirk sighed, but something new rose sharply in his chest. A question he hardly dared to dwell on.

But what if it did?

“So? Will you kiss the frog now? Or do you want to take him out to dinner first?”

He shook his head again, but Kirk held out his hands. Bones carefully placed Spock in them and took several steps back. He looked excited. Kirk glanced up at him, still doubtful.

But what if?

His heart raced.

What did kissing a frog feel like, anyway? Would kissing Spock’s wet cheek be enough?

Spock adjusted his delicate legs and nestled snugly into the palms of Kirk’s hands. “Ribbit,” he croaked quietly.

Kirk lifted Spock up to his eye level. He could almost believe the Vulcan had retained all his intelligence, and he knew what was about to happen. His gaze looked soulful and longing. It was much the same sort of expression that Kirk had caught a time or two on the bridge. Always when Spock thought he was too busy to notice.

But he had noticed, Kirk had just convinced himself that it was nothing.

True love’s kiss…

Would Spock really change back? For him?

“Ribbit.” Get on with it, he seemed to say. It is illogical to waiver when there are no other avenues open to you.

Kirk took a steadying breath through his nose—

—and raised Spock’s little frog lips to his own.

Heat tingled and blossomed between them. If the sun could be contained within a being, then Kirk thought that this was what that might have felt like. Kirk couldn’t pull away, even if he had wanted to.

The air crackled and swirled around them. The frog he had known to be in his hands grew larger and larger, expanding until a heavy weight settled comfortably in his lap, his hands laying on either side of it.

Kirk couldn’t hear anything outside of the roaring in his blood. He was overwhelmed by the sensation in his lips, in the pressure there, and in the soft caress of a nose against his cheek.

Spock pulled away, but Kirk didn’t want to open his eyes.

The weight in his lap, the mass in his arms… it had to have worked… but he was terrified that if he opened his eyes, the spell would be broken.

This spell, the spell of the true love that Kirk had kept himself from dreaming of.

“Captain,” Spock’s deep voice reverberated through his body from where they touched. Almost a purr.

Kirk allowed his eyes to flutter open and he found exactly what he’d always wanted: Spock, close to his face, his hands resting on Kirk’s chest, with his head tilted and the forbidden ghost of a smile on the edge of his lips.

Kirk wanted very badly, very suddenly, to kiss him again.

Bones grunted and had an obnoxious coughing fit, drawing both of their attentions.

“Now, we are all very glad that Spock is Spock again, and I will tell you that I told you for the rest of your life, but if you two are going to keep canoodling like that, you need to find a different room to do it in.”

Spock shook his head. “Doctor, after my dubious treatment at your hands, I believe that ‘you owe me.’”

Bones spluttered. “Dubious!? I didn’t feed you flies, did I? Get out of my office before I make you wish you were still a frog!”

#trekbingo2020 #Star Trek #TOS #Spirk #Star Trek: TOS #The Original Series #Jim Kirk #Mr. Spock #Bones #Fiend writes

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leviathan-supersystem · 5 years

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i feel like people need to get a better understanding of how certain reactionary memeplexes, particularly those relating to conspiracy theories, work.

okay, remember how westpal shut up real quick when i mentioned that his avatar was from the cover of Behold a Pale Horse? i suspect that’s because he has some level of self awareness, in spite of it all- here’s a brief summary of the book’s relevant segments, swiped from wikipedia:

In Behold a Pale Horse Cooper proposed that AIDS was the result of a conspiracy to decrease the populations of blacks, Hispanics, and homosexuals.[8] In 2000 South Africa's Minister of Health Manto Tshabalala-Msimang received criticism for distributing the chapter discussing this theory to senior South African government officials.[13]Nicoli Nattrass, a longtime critic of AIDS denialists, criticized Tshabalala-Msimang for lending legitimacy to Cooper's theories and disseminating them in Africa.[10]

UFOs, aliens and the Illuminati

Cooper caused a sensation in Ufology circles in 1988 when he claimed to have seen secret documents while in the Navy describing governmental dealings with extraterrestrials, a topic on which he expanded in Behold a Pale Horse.[6] (By one account he served as a "low level clerk" in the Navy, and as such would not have had the security clearance needed to access classified documents.[14]) UFOlogists later asserted that some of the material that Cooper claimed to have seen in Naval Intelligence documents was actually plagiarized verbatim from their research, including several items that the UFOlogists had fabricated as pranks.[15] Don Ecker of UFO Magazine ran a series of exposés on Cooper in 1990.[16]

Cooper linked the Illuminati with his beliefs that extraterrestrials were secretly involved with the United States government, but later retracted these claims. He accused Dwight D. Eisenhower of negotiating a treaty with extraterrestrials in 1954, then establishing an inner circle of Illuminati to manage relations with them and keep their presence a secret from the general public. Cooper believed that aliens "manipulated and/or ruled the human race through various secret societies, religions, magic, witchcraft, and the occult", and that even the Illuminati were unknowingly being manipulated by them.[6]

Cooper described the Illuminati as a secret international organization, controlled by the Bilderberg Group, that conspired with the Knights of Columbus, Masons, Skull and Bones, and other organizations. Its ultimate goal, he said, was the establishment of a New World Order. According to Cooper the Illuminati conspirators not only invented alien threats for their own gain, but actively conspired with extraterrestrials to take over the world.[6] Cooper believed that James Forrestal's fatal fall from a window on the sixteenth floor of Bethesda Hospital was connected to the alleged secret committee Majestic 12, and that JASON advisory group scientists reported to an elite group of Trilateral Commission and Council on Foreign Relations executive committee members who were high-ranking members of the Illuminati.[2][3]

Cooper also claimed that the antisemitic conspiracy theory forgery The Protocols of the Elders of Zion was actually an Illuminati work, and instructed readers to substitute "Sion" for "Zion", "Illuminati" for "Jews", and "cattle" for "Goyim".[3][17][18]

okay so you get the gist here. the usual dumb shit you see in the right-wing conspiracy theory zone.

now, to be clear, i’m not dismissing the idea that people, and the ruling class in particular, might, at times, conspire- indeed, i’m about to go out on a limb here and suggest there may in fact be something to the notion that AIDS was deliberately manufactured, or at least that the government was guilty of severe purposeful neglect.

this is not synonymous with believing in illuminati or UFO crap without evidence- though the purpose of this book, i suspect, is to try to tie those two things indelibly together in people’s minds. not to mention the obvious barely disguised buildup to antisemitism at the end there.

the purpose is twofold- the first to discredit any investigation into there being more of a story behind AIDS, the second to try to lure left-wing leaning people toward right-wing extremism, the mechanism being obvious- first, they’re lured in by wanting to know more about the possibility that AIDS was deliberately engineered to target black and gay communities, something which obviously would have more appeal to those on the left. once lured in, it hits them with the alien bullshit, as well as the inherently reactionary illuminati nonsense, then tops that off by presenting literally the entire text of the protocols of the elders of fucking zion to really start bringing them into the reactionary worldview- but, knowing that the person reading is likely from a left-wing background, an extremely weak effort is made to disguise the antisemitism- “oh, it wasn’t about jewish people, oh no, it was about uhhhhhhhhhhh illuminati” and then if they swallow that, it’s only a short hop from there to “nevermind, it was about jewish people after all.” it’s a tactic used to gradually acclimate people to antisemitism. manipulative “milk before meat” tactics.

you can see the results of this play out in action with Tila Tequila- obviously she didn’t pop out of the womb seig heiling, and there was quite a bit of buildup in the form of new-agey anti-illuminati conspiracy theorism before she became a full-fledged genocidal neonazi.

and the thing is, if there had been an intervention at the right time, she could have been saved from that, before becoming completely conditioned into an ideology which is immensely harmful to so many people.

so, if possible, it’s good to try to ascertain how deep in someone is- have they been completely re-conditioned into a hardline reactionary? or is there still time to help them see what’s happening to them, and stop it?

for example here: [link] this person is clearly deeply in the clutches of reactionary psychological warfare, but it seemed to me like there might still be some hope for them, so i tried to intervene to help them get a better understanding of the nature of the ruling class and so forth.

but, if you’re going to intervene in this way, you need to do some background research first- just going in there and shouting “illuminati fake!” won’t cut it, especially because there was, in fact, an actual historical group called the illuminati, and to effectively grapple with this kind of thing, you’re going to need to have an understanding of what that group’s history was, and how they became such a boogeyman in the reactionary narrative in the first place. to explore this, let’s look at what Behold A Pale Horse has to say about it- which, interestingly, is shockingly little- the name “Weishaupt” (the founder of the actual irl illuminati) appears only 10 times in the whole text:

Adam Weishaupt, a young professor of canon law at Ingolstadt University in Germany, was a Jesuit priest and an initiate of the Illuminati. The branch of the Order he founded in Germany in 1776 was the same Illuminati previously discussed.

the “branch” in question is actually just. the illuminati. it wasn’t a “branch” of a larger pre-existing movement, as Milton here is claiming, and indeed, he never provides any meaningful evidence of any pre-existing illuminati before weischaupt’s group. in fact, he points to the lack of evidence prior to then as proof of how strong their oath of silence was. of course he does.

Weishaupt advocated "abolition of all ordered national governments, abolition of inheritance, abolition of private property, abolition of patriotism, abolition of the individual home and family life as the cell from which all civilizations have stemmed, and abolition of all religions established and existing so that the Luciferian ideology of totali- tarianism may be imposed on mankind."

In the same year that he founded the Illuminati he published Wealth of Nations, the book that provided the ideological foundation for capitalism and for the Industrial Revolution. It is no accident that the Declaration of Independence was written in the same year. On the obverse of the Great Seal of the United States the wise will recognize the all-seeing eye and other signs of the Brotherhood of the Snake

this is interesting here because there’s a strange tension between the anti-communism of contemporary reactionism, and the anti-liberalism and anti-republicanism of the earlier reactionary movements, which anti-illuminati ideology is an echo of.

the first anti-illuminati conspiracy theorists was the reactionary monarchist priest Agustin Barruel, and all anti-illuminism traces back particularly to his book Memoirs Illustrating the History of Jacobinism. inerestingly, he did not at any point in this book accuse them of ruling the world, or wanting to establish “totalitarian” rule! quite the opposite in fact- the illuminati and other enlightenment movements of the time were accused of "conspiracy of impiety" against God and Christianity, the "conspiracy of rebellion" against kings and monarchs, and "the conspiracy of anarchy" against society in general. if you understand anything about Augustin Barruel’s politics, you’ll understand that Augustin was if anything, profoundly in favor of “totalitarianism”, particularly that of the king and the church. he wrote angry screeds against the illuminati precisely because they were anti-totalitarian, and espoused democratic values.

but over time, this reactionary social current had to change with the times. thus the strange tension between accusing weishaupt of both wanting to abolish private property and being behind the publication of Wealth of Nations.

for the record, no, i can’t find any evidence that weishaupt published Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations- but that accusation is nonetheless much more in the spirit of Augustin Barruel’s original accusations that the illuminati were behind the spread of enlightenment values, while the accusation he was against private property sits as an obvious later attempt to incongruously graft anti-communist reactionary talking points onto framework which originated in a reactionary anti-republican pro-monarchist context.

its interesting to see how a rectionary memeplex which was, in it’s origins, overtly pro-ruling class, and overtly anti-populist- as anti-illuminism was in it’s origins in the work of Augustin Barruel- over time get dressed up more and more with the character of a kind of artificial class-consciousness, where a short-lived progressive discussion group has been mythologized into this sort of decoy mirage stand-in for the ruling class, to divert people from developing any real understanding of the actual capitalist ruling class.

at any rate, it’s important to understand the origin an nature of this reactionary social current if you want to effectively help people who are caught up in it- to show them this history so they can see how, in their attempt to oppose the ruling class, they’ve been suckered into a reactionary ideology which is, in both it’s historical origins and contemporary functions, engineered to uphold the ruling class.

#longpost #antisemitism

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xox-gossipgoat · 4 years

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I first knew that I wanted to be a clinician when I was working as an emergency medical technician (EMT). It was another 2:00AM call and I was performing chest compressions on a dying grandfather. For a moment, I felt a sense of purpose, knowing I was working as a team and being part of the solution. As we started to lose him, I felt constrained by my medical training. All we could do was stabilize him and race to the emergency department (ED). It was there that I watched doctors, PAs, and nurses take control of what appeared to be a chaotic situation and save his life. I knew I wanted to be in that room, part of that team.

My journey to become a physician assistant (PA) started when I volunteered in the ED at Edward Hospital. I worked in the ED to learn more about the teams performing emergency medicine. It was here that I met Chris, the Lead PA in the ED. Chris, who became my role model, loved delivering direct patient care and was highly respected by his coworkers. I looked up to Chris because of the way he interacted with his patients. One afternoon, a young woman came into the ED with bruises on her arms. She tensed up when we walked into the room and kept looking down as she answered Chris’ questions with a quiet, shaky voice. Chris sat on the other side of the room, away from the door as he listened to her patiently, validating her concerns. I was amazed at the way Chris was able to help her feel more comfortable. When we left, she made eye contact and thanked Chris. I aspire to have the skills and training that Chris has. As I watched him, week after week, I knew for certain that I wanted to be a PA.

While I was initially applying to PA school, I was working in the ED and I became interested in the continuity of care, so I decided to work as a certified nursing assistant (CNA) at a skilled nursing facility. It was here that I worked with the same residents every day on their activities for daily living. I especially looked forward to talking with my favorite residents, like Joe, a man in his late 40’s who was disabled and confined to a power chair. We enjoyed discussions about my motorcycle, cars, and some of my dating woes over lunch every day. Although his speech was limited, Joe mouthed words, nodded, smiled, and let me know that he was listening. Joe would relax and his mood would improve as we talked. I truly enjoyed communicating with my residents every day, especially Joe. However, just like in my EMT job, I wanted to do more for Joe and my residents. I wanted the skill and responsibility of a PA.

I understand that the PA curriculum will be very demanding. My first few years of college at Rutgers were challenging; I wanted to succeed but initially lacked the study skills, support system, and time to do everything. It was disheartening that my grades did not reflect the time and effort I was putting into my studies. I am a first generation American. My father defected from the USSR in the 1980's and worked his way up from being a factory worker to become an engineering consultant. My father expected me to take a full course load and support myself by working full time an hour away from home. I wasn’t able to do everything, so in early 2016, I moved closer to school and developed the support networks and skills that I needed to succeed. My grades improved as I was able to devote more time to my studies. I made the dean's list and achieved a 3.9 GPA during my final semester. I even became a tutor in my senior year of college. I feel that I have now built the support systems and study skills to be successful in PA school.

Emergency medicine excites me, but I also value that PAs have the opportunity to practice in a variety of specialties to serve their communities in the way that they are needed most. I discovered my desire to become a PA while interacting with caregivers in the ED. It was there in the ED that I met Chris, my role model PA, who has inspired me. I understand how important effective patient communication is to being a successful PA. I continued to build my skills while working in the nursing home and I valued the relationships that I built with my residents, like Joe. Through my experiences in the ED and the nursing home, I have seen PAs in action. I seek this same sort of patient interaction for my career as a PA.

#personal statement

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91whiskeygirl · 5 years

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Apple Pie

Inspired by Season 1 Episode 11| Scarecrow

Warnings| Smut, Angst, 18+ Violence

Story is altered from episode because I wanted to fit y/n/ in!

Words|5226

You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed the crisp air biting my face. You’ve lived in your hometown too long where you enjoyed the cold autumn weather.Your Y/H/C flowing out the car window as we passed the forest of trees that were like flames dancing in the wind.The colors were beautiful, you appreciated this time of year. You applied a liberal amount of chapstick, the menthol plumping your lips. You knew he was side staring once you started to smoothen it and pucker to get better coverage. A small bratty smirk lined your lips as you looked out the passenger window.

“ Burkittsville?” Dean said,his brows furrowed, his one arm on the wheel and the other leaning out the car. “Yeah, a few times this time of year, it’s always a couple, they go missing in this town. Never seen again.”, You replied. “Doesn’t sound like our deal, but I am curious about the couple part…”Dean didn’t give you a side glance, this time, it was a full on intense stare with those green olive eyes of his. Those damn gems always made your heart skip a few beats. I looked to him and then straight ahead, nervous as fuck. You were never one to back down at a flirty staring contest; but when it was with Dean you knew you’d never win on the first round.”The couples…Y/N?” he continued, “Anything specific? Race, sexual preference?”. Oh, he didn’t mean it LIKE THAT.Clearing my throat, I replied looking down at my phone,”Oh,no, but it’s always this time of year, the Fall equinox.”.You bit your lip and looked in the passenger mirror, remembering that Sam wasn’t sitting behind giving you that teasing smirk he always gives. He knew you had feelings for Dean, but never told Dean because it was too much fun seeing you melt over him and his older brother had no clue.

You turned slightly to face Dean.“….Are we gonna talk about how we just let Sammy take a trip down the yellow brick road?” I asked quietly.I hate confrontation, but it was gonna be a longer, awkward road trip to Indiana without mentioning Sam. “He made his choice.”, he said gruffly. He pressed the gas a bit more and revved Baby’s engine, looks like no matter what, it wasn’t gonna be an enjoyable ride. The silence was deafening. A bit of short talk about the case and some disagreements on what was making these couples disappear didn’t help the drawl of not having Sammy here. Baby just felt too light, too empty without him.

Finally making it to the town, your eyes immediately widened at the apple orchard. Miles of them upon arriving. Beautiful apples, plump and ready for the picking. You licked your lips, thinking it’d be nice to have some crispy, homemade apple pie, or warm pastries glazed with sugar frosting. Upon thinking anything else that’d have to do with eating; your stomach growled something fierce, “Someone’s hungry, heh.” Dean smiled looking at you as you tried to hide your stomach with your already layered military jacket. “The orchard….I’ve never seen anything like it, full of ‘em” you replied nervously. Nodding he touched your shoulder that made you shiver more than the autumn breeze. “Well luckily we’re not too far from a gas station, just a few more miles.”.

A gas station up ahead with a little diner,you haven’t seen one of these combinations since you left your hometown, every gas station you stopped at on hunts had a small supermarket, all packaged and premade pies. It just wasn’t the same. But this made you feel all giddy, you were tired of the convenience store meals for the past few weeks, finding a case every now and then there just wasn’t time to have a home cooked meal. You immediately jumped out of the car before Dean shifted it in park at a pump, heading to the diner. “I’m gonna get us a table, talk to the local folk, see if they’ve seen anything strange.” You called out while already halfway to the diner. The cowbell rang while you opened the door, the air was warm, filled with many scents, but the most prominent one, cinnamon and apple. “YESSS!” You thought, trying to keep your composure. “Hi! What can I get for ya’?” a young girl with her blonde hair up, a pencil in her bun asked you. “Yeah, uh I smell something delicious, any famous desserts you sell?” “Our famous Apple Crumble Pie!” she brightly smiled . “I’ll get right on it,just for you?” “No, for my…” Your throat started to get dry after you said it. But it was the only way you’d both solve this case. “Boyfriend.”.

Dean parked the Impala and headed inside, “No, for my boyfriend too.”, when he saw and heard you say it his eyebrows raised,surprised. He never thought of you like that once, sure you were a pretty girl, but a bit too young considering he was going on late twenties and you were just at the legal drinking age. The blonde waitress walked into the entrance of the kitchen and you sat at a round table with a checkered table cover and sighed deeply. “So, boyfriend?” He half smirked, his eyes smiling as well. Chuck, you loved those dimples every time he smiled. It was always a rare sight. “Well, I mean… the victims are always…couples….and, I just thought…” You hated try to explain, but Dean beat you to it. “It’s alright Y/n, I get it. We should come up with cute nicknames and hold hands like those chick flicks you make us watch once a week.” You giggled lightly and slumped forward in your chair, “yeah, maybe we should take our slices of pie to go.” Oh my chuck, you actually said that out loud. He was taken aback, but being Dean Winchester he scooted his chair nearer to you, knees touching, elbow on the table, slowly bending forward and whispered in your ear, “I think I’m gonna need more than a slice after I’m done with you.” His breath gave your neck goosebumps as he tucked the stray hairs on the side of your face. You face hot, eyes glazed over.

“Here ya are! Two slices of our famous apple crumble pie!” The waitress served you, then Dean,still with that smile of his, leaning back into his chair, knees still touching, and he dug into that pie while still staring at you. “Yup, he’s gonna be the death of me. “ You thought.

“Oh geez that was some damn good pie”, you said rubbing your stomach. Holding the box that encased a fuller version of that heavenly slice you just had. You sat back into Baby sighing. Halfway to sleepville and you heard Dean get in the car a few minutes later. Remembering what he said back in the diner immediately made you straighten up. “Talked to a friendly guy, says he doesn’t know anything about the couples missing, even though he’s worked here over 20 years.” “Great.”rolling your eyes. Seems the town had a deeper, darker secret other than the recipe that you tried to get from the waitress, but she gently declined since it was a family recipe. “I’m gonna check out the last place the latest couple went missing, you wanna go to the college?” He asked, starting Baby, turning out of the parking lot.

“I’m surprised a young woman like you would be interested in our folklore.” A senior professor wrinkled his forehead,”Indiana doesn’t have that many stories.” With a friendly smile you replied “I’m just trying to get to know about the town more, and I’ve always loved to hear the ol’ times, I think your help would definitely make my term paper a staple example to the rest in my class.”.He looked through his eyeglasses at you standing there between his desk and him, he stood up and took a thick book from his shelf and placed it neatly while turning pages, a picture caught your eye, a scarecrow.

Dean made it to the orchard where the missing couple was last seen. A faint mist blanketing the area. He takes out his EMF meter and starts sweeping. “Why’d I say that so easily to Y/n?” He thought. He chuckled that he made your face red, that those pretty y/e/c of yours were wide eyed and shining at him as he touched you y/c hair, he would’ve loved to egg you on had it been an actual date and not a snack break from the hunt. The meter started to spike like crazy once he was a few hundred meters into the orchard, and there, he saw the scarecrow. Looking at it from all angles he stopped once he saw that one of its arms had a “nice tat” he said out loud, memorizing the tribal to see who went missing recently,the skin looked dry but still fresh at the same time. He was about to text Sam but quickly deleted his name from the messenger. The fight they had back there was different.They just got back into hunting together, and with all that happened, he didn’t think his brother would’ve just walked out on him, on them like that. He knew what to do to track who had the tattoo that went missing, but his muscle memory just made his gut heavy realizing he was abut to call Sam for help.

“y/n, got an idea on what might be making those couples go missing, call me back.” Shutting his phone and throwing it on the passenger side, he was on his way to the college to get you when he saw the sheriff’s car behind him “aw crap”.

“That, the scarecrow, what’s his deal?” you asked the professor and pointing at the image.His eyes squinted but went back to the book. “Ah, Vanir, it’s a fertility god, the settlers here believed that their town would thrive one they’ve sacrificed a man and woman, our town has a sacred tree, hundreds of years old.” “Where’s the tree at?”, you asked, closing the book and getting ready to head out,”Just a few miles from here, if you’ve passed the scarecrow you’ve gone too far.” “Thanks professor, thought I’ll get a couple of snap shots for my paper.” You swiftly turned to head out the door when you were butted in the back of your head with something hard, blacking out.

“Something the matter officer?” Dean asked, looking up at the tall sheriff. “I hear around town that you’re asking all kinds of questions that shouldn’t be asked. I’m assuming you’re not a tourist and would suggest you head on outta town, you shouldn’t meddle into things you don’t know the full story of.”He peered down into the car window, glaring at Dean. “Now if I’d known better I’d say your going to escort me out.” “That’s right.” Dean smile turned into a faint grimace and he started up Baby, the sheriff already on his tail, once he was a couple miles out the cop car finally bleeped its siren and made a u turn, looking into the rearview mirror he did the same once he knew he wouldn’t be in the sheriff’s vision. “y/n, hope you got what we need to get rid of whatever this is.”he thought.

“Ugh, what the….?” blinking rapidly trying to focus, your head pounded badly and your eye sight still hadn’t adjusted, you were in the orchard. Your jeans cold from the wet ground, you tried to stand and felt your wrists tightly bound over your head. “Son of a monkey’s ass!”.You couldn’t reach any of your knives, you scoffed thinking you should have modded your jacket so there would be an accessible pocket knife next time something else happens. Looking left then right you realized you were the only one tied. Recalling what the professor said,“A man and a woman.” Dean. You felt sick to your stomach. What happened to him after dropping you off at the college? You knew he was a warrior, but hunts are always unpredictable. The sun was about to set, you could tell even though the lush,tall apple trees blinded the sunlight. Fog started to blanket the ground and you shivered down your spine, you weren’t going to go down like this, helpless, tied to a friggin’ “sacred tree?” You saw markings you recognized from the book. The scarecrow was just a pawn, the tree is what held the dark power this town was built upon.

Dean made his way to the college, y/n wasn’t on the stairs out front like she said she was going to be when she finished, it’d been a couple hours, more than enough time to get all you needed to know. He tried to call y/n’s cell and it went to voicemail after a few rings. “Her phone’s on, why the hell aren’t you answering dammit!” “Didn’t I tell you to skip town?” Sighing Dean looked over to the sheriff. “Small world, huh officer?” “Step out of the car.” SLAM, right on the hood of the cop car, cuffed, he shoved Dean into the backseat.”What the hell is your problem son? Couldn’t let bygones be bygone?” The sheriff said while driving a few miles out. Dean looked out the window, scanning everywhere to see if you were out there, but the fog was starting to get heavy, and soon darkness would fall. Trying to get the pick out of his back pocket once the car stopped, the officer got out to open the trunk. Any sudden movement would give way that he was trying to escape, the crappy leather seats weren’t helping, gripping every inch of him making it difficult to keep quiet and swiftly picking the lock at the same time. He got free til he tried to open the door,WHAP, right on the side of his temple.

“Dean? Dean! Dean hey!” a slurred voice turning clearer as he shook his head, realizing he was tied up; his eyes opened wide as he came to see y/n by his side, “Oh y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I should’ve known, this town is full of crazies.”.”It’s okay, Dee, you’re here, I’m just glad you’re here now.” Your small smile comforted him until he saw a tear run down your cheek. His jaw tightened and he started to try to free himself.

“We have no choice, our crops are starting to die.She’s our last hope for the town.””Like heck it is!” a distant voice from behind argued with the sheriff, “It’s the last day of the solstice, we have to do this.”, a woman replied. “Please! I don’t understand! Why are you doing this?” Y/n saw the blonde girl from the diner show up with her hands cuffed, followed by the sheriff behind her. “Uncle? Auntie? What’s going on?!” Her wet face showed her heart breaking as her uncle turned away and started walking “I’m sorry sweetheart, this is the only way.” They tied her next to Dean, whimpering and trying to break free once she was already tied to the tree.

The group scattered, and there was a silence in the area that just made it eerie. The lovely orchard you fell in love with in the afternoon drive soon turned into a forest with twitching branches and the moonlight shining on them made them look like the horrors that made you stay up at night. A shuffle made you and Dean start to get into gear try to get free, you both looked at each other and started to try to reach for his backpocket when he shook his head, no way we were going to get out of this, flexibility was one of your best qualities as a hunter but you wouldn’t be able to get out of this with your hands up in the air.

The shuffles grew louder, whimpers from the blonde waitress didn’t deafen it, you clearly recognized those steps. “Sam!” Oh chuck, you were all saved. “Sam?” Dean yelled out. “Hey”, he started to untie the girl first, then Dean.”How the hell did y-” “I, kinda stole a car.” A chuckle came out of Dean “That’s ma boy!” Untying your first hand, you grabbed your karambit that was hidden in your boot, and started to tear through the ropes around your feet. “I guess they knew to tie you up good…you’re a kicker hehe” Dean joked as you grinned at him. Standing up with the rest you heard screams coming from in front not far from where you all were standing.

A dark figure appeared walking through the trees and slicing, gushing of blood misting the brisk air through the moonlight. “Go GO GO!” Sam yelled grabbing the girl’s hand, Dean yours, starting to run. There was a line of sunlight rising from the hills and the eerie atmosphere started to dissipate. “Guys? I think it’s over”you said, catching you breath. Turning back around you went back to the tree and reached out for your lighter Dean got you for your 21’st. The silver flashing as the sun finally welcomed itself. Sam came back with Dean and a gallon of gas. “ What’re you gonna do? “ The girl asked softly as she followed behind Sam. “Burn it.”you replied, glaring at the markings on the tree. Looking up at it “I hope your apple pies were worth it”, you said as you set it on fire. Screeching burnt barks and green and yellow flames engulfed it, burning it into a crisp.

“Sam, I’m glad you’re back.”You told him, hugging his humungous torso, gently tightening your grip. You know, for a shorty you have a bear grip” He chuckled petting your head. Smiling up at him you replied , ” Well my lovely qualities has to balance out with your brother’s cockiness” you glanced at Dean, his lips puckered and his eyebrows raised like those times you have a good comeback but he couldn’t think of anything to counter it. You let go of Sam and walked the waitress back to the diner. “You gonna be okay?” you asked her, a hand on her shoulder blade. “Yeah hun, I’m okay, just, I don’t know what to do. My aunt, my uncle” she softly sobbed. “It’s going to be okay. You still have the diner…” “No, there’s too many memories, I think I’ll just escrow it since it was going to be mine anyways. Thanks, for everything.” Once she went back into the diner y/n walked back to the impala where Sam was in the passenger side, “Hey sasquatch, mind if I sit in the back?” He grinned and nodded, you climbing into the back, you forgot all about the pie sitting, still closed in it’s box. You settled in your seat and saw Dean glance in the rear view mirror, giving you a smirk. It was gonna be a long ways back to the motel.

Sam reserved two rooms, you called the boys for the day and stepped into the cozy motel room. Starting the bubble bath you promised yourself, you opened up a bottle of body wash that smelled of pumpkin pie. You always loved autumn and it’s aesthetic, hell even the pumpkin spice latte you’d have once in a while once Fall started, you admit, you were a basic Fall bitch. After lighting your pumpkin spice candle and placing it on the sink a knock came at your door. Quizzically wondering why the boys needed something after a hunt from you, you opened the door after checking the viewer.”Dean?”

“Hey.”you said smiling, looking at him up and down, he was already in gray sweatpants and a black shirt with that favorite red flannel that you got him at a fall sale, and secretly wanted to wear.Your eyes moved up to his wide chest, your breath hitching when you saw his wet hair that made him look like a hedgehog. His pearly teeth showed a mischievous grin “So, how about that pie?” He raised his hand with the box from the diner. “Oh!” you perked up, opening the door for him, you went to get a couple glasses and the whiskey you had stored for emergencies. You suddenly felt heat from your core start to spread as you turned around and saw Dean right behind you looking down at you. The light from your nightstand lamp complimented every feature of him, from his jawline, the twinkle in his olive green eyes that you adored so much, and damn his chest for looking so toned under that thin shirt. “y/n? You know what you said at the diner?” “Look Dee, if this is just a one night thing I understand, I’m hardly the type of girl you’d go home with let alone our lives as hunters, it gets gritty….” you tried to look anywhere else other than his chest, his broad shoulders, his damn razor sharp jawline. But you’re e/c orbs looked up at his parted lips, instinctively licking your lips. He interrupted your objection with his warm lips on yours, his hands on the sides of your neck, you moaned helplessly into his mouth. Inviting his tongue after teasing your bottom lip you feel his lips turn into a smile “Baby girl, I don’t where this is going, but I don’t mind going with it.I need to hear it.” he whispered while softly teasing your neck with soft short kisses. “What?” Confused at what he was saying, you were just trying not to melt into a puddle as his hands traveled down holding your hips, his index fingers tracing the inner part of your jeans, waiting for consent. “Yes or no y/n? We’re friends, hell you’re younger than me, I don’t want to ruin what we-”You break his speech with a hard kiss, biting his bottom lip “Fuck Dee, please, yes.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he carried you to the bed, smiling and admiring your curves as he put you down on the edge.

He held your face kissing you softly and then eagerly, your tongues dancing together. You made your way touching underneath his shirt, you were so giddy you let out a giggle, feeling his abs. “Like what you feel Baby girl?” He asks as he stands taller and takes off his flannel then his shirt, eyes still on you. You had gone quiet and just nodded shyly biting your lip. He started to take off his sweatpants when you said “Sam”, he laughed and continued to undress to nothing, “Sweetheart, I think you got bopped in the head too hard today” You laughed back “No, I mean, he’s not leaving again is he? I mean are we gonna tell him whats going on between us too? If there’s going to be more of…this?” You placed your hands in the back of you leaning back into the bed. No, we’re good, and as for us, if you don’t feel comfortable we don’t have to tell him, but you are probably gonna have to find excuses as to why you keep asking for a separate room” He grinned back at you, leaning closer to you face to face, making your back arch, his lips close to yours again. “I guess we can have a bit of fun after tonight” you smiled, and grabbed him by the shoulders making you pin himself down on you, feeling his hardness twitching against your inner thighs.

You gasped softly when he made is way down to pull your jeans and underwear down, pausing for just a second then ripping your black lace underwear off in one motion. “DEAN, that’s one of my favorites!” you scolded him, he just laughed starting to give you kisses on your thighs, “Baby, I’m sure I can help you in finding more favorites”.

Having Dean on top of you made you want more, the heat form his body radiating on you, making your breasts peak. He kept kissing your thighs, working his way up to your stomach, then licking and nipping feverishly on to one of your nipples making your head go back, almost hitting the headboard. For chuck’s sake, his mouth was what you imagined and more. You grabbed the back of his head motioning him to lift his face and you softly smiled at him and kissed his dimples, then devouring his lips. “Dean, please, enough teasing” you whined. A growl came out from his chest and he started nipping at your neck and collarbone as he parted your legs, your hands on his hips to further guide him. A squeal leaked from your mouth as you felt his hot hand enter you slowly, the burn insatiable. “Mmmm feels like someone’s ready for Daddy” you giggled “Daddy? You got a kink Winchester?” “Well when you say it, hell yeah” he replied, licking his fingers. He kissed you deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. He sat up on his knees a bit to guide his tip at your entrance, teasing your clit with it a few times till he went into you, you huffed out a deep exhale, wanting more of him, you looked at him, lying down on your back, lifting your right leg up to his shoulder, “Dean, fucks sake please move, I’m so wet” you told him, gripping his hips harder. He growled deeply as he slowly placed himself all the way in, you groaned in pleasure and your hands flew up to the sides of the bed, gripping the sheets. You and him fit perfectly snug, he waited a few seconds until you were adjusted, the heat from it all making you both breathe harder. “Shit y/n, you’re so tight” he whispered, gripping your leg on his shoulder, giving small kisses to your calf. You wiggled your ass begging for him to move and he did just that. Hungry to feel him at your spot. “Yea, yea Dean right there, I’m so close, fuck”, you whined. You didn’t care that you were a bit loud, this feeling in your core was about to burst. He started to rhythmically ride you, teasing your spot till you started stuttering his name.”I got you baby,come for me.”

He gripped your leg tighter and started to buck harder, hitting your spot every time. Your eyes rolled back and your hips lifted as your orgasm ran through you, clinging on him harder he grunted, not stopping “Yeah baby, such a good girl for daddy” He told you. The sweat on his chest trickled down on to your breasts and you let go of your leg to lift the both up to his hips, driving in deeper making you wetter. The sounds that came from both of you were pornographic, you were sure you’d have a complaint when you checked out the next day. “Dee, please, I want you to fill me up Daddy” You smiled crookedly, looking up at him, taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. “oh ho, you’re gonna be the death of me y/n/” He smiled, and grabbed your breasts, slapping them a couple times before he closed his eyes and started to ride you roughly and unevenly.You could see his chest tensing and you knew he was near to his end, holding your legs on his hips tighter he thrust in a few more times and a loud growl came out as he filled you up, a heavenly feeling of his hot come in you, you started to hug him once he came down from his orgasm and placed a kiss on his forehead as he laid it on yours. “So,” you said to him, dew of sweat all over both of your bodies, still intertwined, his length softening in you ” how about that pie?” you smiled.

The end! Happy Halloween everyone! I’m surprised I actually finished this in time for the holiday, whew! Any requests are appreciated! I’m slowly making the playlist on Spotify,but I’ll definitely let you know when it’s fully up!

#spn #spnfanfic #fanficfirday #fanfiction #spnfam

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ashwritesandstuff · 6 years

Text

Different Person

Request: No but they’re open :)

Notes: Inspired by the quote, “Endlessly Troubled By The Minor Inconvenience of Loving You” which I just kinda found so pretty but I’m not sure who wrote it. This is kinda farfetched, just work with me ya feel...

Wordcount: 2561

The repetitive ticking of the clock was the only sound echoing throughout the lonely convenience store. Not even the usual humming of the A.C. was there to keep you company, as the first real winter day kept you from having to turn on the obnoxious fans that usually gave you a bad attitude and an even worse headache. You sighed, flipping open the book you had brought with you and wished for the tenth time that day that you hadn’t called your coworker to let them know there was no use they come considering the store hadn’t seen much company besides your shadow all day. It seems the cold weather wasn’t alone, bringing ice and snow with it as well and guaranteed an empty store. Frank might be ten years your senior, but he had good stories and even better company. Plus, now that you sat behind the register for the first time on your own, you weren’t so sure the baseball bat leaning against the stool you occupied would be much of a weapon in your hands. You’ve never been the one who’d had to deal with the money after all.

The store doubled as a gas station, one with only four pumps and had a mini area in the back that served fresh coffee and baked goods. Typically, you were usually back there, wiping up muffins and the occasional breakfast sandwich for the odd trucker with tired eyes that you couldn’t risk them leaving knowing they’d likely be on the road all day with the chips from the aisles next to you as their only food. Call it southern hospitality, call it basic humanity, you couldn’t let someone get back on the road knowing that they weren’t at their best.

So, when a tall man with tired eyes and shoulders that you could tell carried the world, your eyes stopped skimming the words on the pages of your worn-out book and instantly favored peeking over the top of the paperback as you observed the handsome stranger.

He walked with purpose as if nothing else mattered more than the package of Honeybuns in the third aisle. You absentmindedly flipped a page in your book as you continued to stare at the man and the way his stiff steps landed him in front of the sweets, the way he held himself as if he needed to fold into his own statute to not take up the space he deserved, the way his large hands seemed as if they were separate beings of their own intermingling among themselves. He was going to get arthritis in the future, you decided, as you watched him go through the motions of cracking his fingers.

The door opened once more, allowing the cold air in and causing you to shiver, as another man walked into the store accompanied by a woman. Suddenly, your empty store didn’t seem so sad anymore and the tall man didn’t seem so sad either.

You knew it was fake though.

You saw the mask slip over his face and his body tense, even more, holding his breath in as if to be at ease would mean to be wrong. His eyes finally looked up from the ground to look at his friends, and though they tried their best to seem light, the gorgeous hazel color was agonizingly stormed with pain. You knew that, like the building you stood in, the minute the man was alone again he would transform and you would once again find something lonely and harshly silent.

“We have to wait for the engine to cool down a bit before I can put any antifreeze in it,” A deep voice called out interrupting you from your blatant staring, “That is…if they sell any for me to put in the car here.”

“The second aisle,” You answered, “Right next to the Hot Cheetos.”

At the sound of your voice, all three bodies spun in your direction – guns were drawn.

Fucking Texas.

“There’s literally only thirteen dollars in here, but you can take the antifreeze.” You quickly yelped, jerking your hands up so they could see even more clearly that you weren’t a threat. Your fast movements caused the baseball bat that leaned against your stool to fall and roll out from behind the front counter.

“I uh, have a baseball game after this?” You managed out, biting your lip and praying your attackers had some sort of thief intuition to show them how little damage you actually could do. Or that they at least had some humor, just because they were robbing you at gunpoint didn’t mean you couldn’t laugh about it together did it?

The bat continued to roll on the uneven floor, stopping only as it hit the shoe of the dark-haired girl in front of you. The tension increased, you gulped and suddenly their weapons lowered and put away as fast as they had been drawn.

“Oh my god, we are so sorry.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“You were so quiet when we came in, we hadn’t noticed you at all. You caught us off guard.”

You slowly put your trembling hands back down.

“I uh, hope your game goes well.”

And with that, it felt like a weapon was trained on you all over again. While the other man and the dark-haired girl were quick to apologize and seemed to struggle to pull something out of their pockets, hopefully not another firearm, the tall man from before bent down to retrieve the baseball bat and set it on the counter. And while his words were joking, the tone of his voice soft, the way your body reacted to him had nothing funny about it. Goosebumps appeared, and you could feel yourself more at loss of what to say as he made eye contact with you than before, when three guns were aimed in your direction.

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” His now empty hands reached into his pocket and produced a badge that he pushed in your direction, “I’m with the FBI, our car began to overheat and we pulled in to give it some time to cool off.”

Tearing your eyes away from Spencer, you looked the identification over quickly before looking up and seeing two other identical badges being held up by his companions. Satisfied finally that those thirteen dollars plus antifreeze wouldn’t be coming out of your paycheck, you let yourself collapse back on to your stool as your wobbly legs gave out. You weren’t quite sure if that was a side effect of the past five minutes or a side effect of Dr. Spence Reid.

“I couldn’t see you over the register, I thought the owner was in the back.,” Spencer continued before looking at the others behind him.

“Honestly, I’ve had to piss for the last two hours and I think it’s throwing me off my game. I didn’t notice you behind that big ole counter sweetheart.” The man grinned at you, “I’m Agent Derek and I hope this doesn’t get me banned from your restroom.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Spencer stiffen slightly as you blushed at the agent’s charm before reaching down grabbing the restroom key from behind the counter and throwing it over to him, “Here ya go sugar, next time though and you’re using a bucket.”

Derek chuckled before heading down the only hallway in the store that led to the clearly marked restrooms.

“I’m Agent Emily Prentiss, I’d like to apologize once more for our actions. We’ve been on the road all day, I guess we were on high alert.” The brunette grimaced and looked at you with sincere regret. You could tell this incident was definitely not a common occurrence, and you found yourself wanting nothing more than to make sure these agents didn’t leave your store in the same shape they came in.

“No harm no foul” You shrugged it off and gave her a smile, “It’s Texas, after all, I’m used to the guns blazing”

Still stiff, you know saw Spencer catch his breath as you turned your smile towards him. You tried to tell the thumping in your chest that it wasn’t your crooked grin or chapped lips that caused that reaction from him, but it didn’t seem to stop the racing of your heart. His sad hazel eyes seemed to gleam slightly and you felt your body shiver at the delusion that you put that there. You knew Agent Prentiss was observing your interaction with precision she lacked earlier but you couldn’t seem to stop looking at the man in front of you. His hair earlier had seemed lackluster, and though it still seemed dull, you could tell know how deliciously messy it must lay when it’s full of life. It seemed as though that sentiment rang true for all of him though, from afar and even now up close, you could tell he was a shell of a great man. A great man that you could see in the small gleam in his eyes and the slight twitch of the corner of his lips.

It was the flushing of the embarrassingly loud toilet that finally tore you from your equally embarrassing gawking.

“Would you guys like coffee?” You managed to muster out, as you suddenly found your tattered book on the counter incredibly interesting.

“Is that a copy of Alice In Wonderland?”

“Yes please!”

You blinked at the two agents that spoke overlapping each other, before realizing that Spencer’s question had been asked in a voice so low Agent Prentiss hadn’t heard it. You bit your lip slightly and slid the book over to Spencer, smiling as your fingers made contact with his and grinning even wider as you noticed how nice a simple brush had felt.

“Coming right up.” You whispered, looking at Spencer once more, and moving away from the counter. On shaky legs, you walked your way to the back and gestured for your newfound company to follow you.

Soon, all three of them were complimenting not only your coffee brewing skills but also the muffins and egg sandwiches you had produced after learning that they’d be continuing on the road for quite some time once their car was patched up. And while all three of them sipped on their drinks and ate their food as you began to tidy up, Spencer was the only one flipping through a book at warped speed.

“How’d you manage to bring a book but not your phone kid?” Agent Morgan teased as Spencer closed the cover after only minutes of reading.

“Actually, it’s not his.” Agent Prentiss smiled, cocking her head slightly towards you as she looked at Agent Morgan in a way you’re sure only they could understand.

Ignoring the two agents, Spencer walked over to you, hands nervously twisting around the book in his clutches.

“You’ll get arthritis.” You said jokingly, trying your best to calm your breathing and trying even harder when that didn’t work.

“Alice was my favorite book as a child,” Spencer said, setting the book down next to him, “Thank you for letting me read it again.”

“You looked like you needed an escape. Maybe some cake to make you big and realize how small problems can be sometimes.” You said, your mind flashing back to his sad stance and the way he seemed to crumble into himself.

Spencer kept his eyes trained on the floor and behind him, you could see both Agent Morgan and Prentiss slipping back to the front of the store and out the door.

“Sometimes, I feel as though I’m a victim of my own emotions.” You began as soon as you were once again alone, “As if feeling as intensely as I do does nothing but burn my match out.”

Spencer looked up, locking eyes with you and unknowingly urging you on, “Whatever weighs you down, whatever shackles you carry, don’t let it drown you. I can tell you’re crumbling, please don’t crumble apart.”

As the last words left your lips the air felt heavy and though you weren’t regretting anything of what you said, maybe you should’ve waited until you’d known each other longer than an hour. A part of you though, knew that what you said was something he needed to here now.

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Spencer looked around, as if making sure nobody else was in the room. He seemed to make eye contact with one of the agents outside and before you knew it, his gaze was back on you.

Suddenly, looking at Spencer, you could’ve sworn it was like looking at the moon after staring at the sun all day. Like you could finally rest from an intensity that beating down on you and now, as a reward you got to look at the moon and the other galaxies and universes you hoped brought you two closer together than your unfortunate one here has. And at that moment, you knew you’d forever be endlessly inconvenienced now by the pull you have towards Dr. Spencer Reid.

Without warning, Spencer picked up your book once more in one hand and with the other, managed to slide his wallet out of his pocket. You watched intently as he bookmarked a page with dollar bills before handing it to you as if it were precious cargo.

You didn’t break eye contact when you reached for your book, but your body lets out an involuntary gasp when one of Spencer’s hands grasped yours before you could pull away. He hesitated for a moment, before letting go and shoving his hand back into the pocket his wallet was in and producing something else. Still wonderstruck from his touch, you shivered feeling his fingers intertwine with yours as he shoved something small into your hands. You clutched the object tightly, refusing to tear your eyes off Spence simply to see whatever he gave you.

And maybe it was the intensity of your stare, the fact that you looked at him in a way that conveyed how much you wanted a beginning, middle and end with him or maybe it was the coffee he drank earlier but Spencer Reid reached out once more for a final touch.

“Thank you,” He whispered, brushing against your hands once more, “For reminding me that sometimes the potion makes you smaller and your problems bigger”

Then, as if with the same difficulty it took to let him, Spencer Reid turned around and walked out the doors that only moments ago led him to you. Headlights blinded you as you saw the car turn on after they all gathered into the car, a bottle of antifreeze left in the parking lot as they drove off.

Opening the book, you realized that’s what the money was for, the antifreeze. Still, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that Spencer bookmarked that specific page for a reason and flipped to the page.

“’It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then.’”

Setting the book down, you unclenched your hands from the small vial you had gripped on to for dear life, reading the label with a heavy heart.

Dilaudid.

#spencer reid #Criminal Minds #fanfic #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds one shot #spencer #spencer reid fanfiction #derek morgan

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