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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

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The Undead collab

for @biaswreckingfics the undead collab! such an amazing collab and I am honored to write for Lay.

summary : The world had been destroyed. Zombies. Yes, you heard me right. Zombies took over humanities. They said it was conspiracy, others said it was planned, someone said it’s a bio weapon but you? You said this was fate and this was meant to be. In the middle of the chaos, your last proof as being a human started to disappear. And in times where you wished for safety, you did finally come to find the man who’s been embracing you in your dreams. Your online sugar daddy.

Semi smut (not explained just mentioned), romance, survival story

members : EXO-M

Pairing : lay x reader

WC : 3702

tw : zombies, daddy issues

The world had been destroyed. Zombies. Yes, you heard me right. Zombies took over humanities. They said it was a conspiracy, others said it was planned, someone said it’s a bio weapon but you? You said this was fate and this was meant to be. In the middle of the chaos, your last proof as being a human started to disappear. And in times where you wished for safety, you did finally come to find the man who’s been embracing you in your dreams. Your online sugar daddy.

You’ve lost count of the days. To be honest day and night don’t feel different as you have to stay alert all the time. There’s no time to rest, no time to slack, and no time to worry about what you left behind. It all started as a gas leak in a big biohazardous factory. The company keeps it secret, slowly affecting the workers there who are trying to fix the leak. It’s not a green smoke like what you would see in a Disney villain movie, it’s a nicely colored pink gas that smells sweet but is deadly enough to churn your organs and make you turn into what the society calls “zombie”

The outbreak spreads faster than the plague, with the infected “biting” the human and changin them into zombies. The conspiracy theories maker believe this was planned as how all zombie films look exactly like this. The scientists believed this were an unprepared bioweapon aimed to be released a century from the latest pandemic in 2020. You? You believe this is just fate and that there’s no meaning to hustle about what’s right. You just have three things in your head. Run, Adapt, Survive.

You’re glad you still have your phone, charger, knife, and a radio to contact any bases that have survivors in them. You’ve survived the days by running, hiding, and stealing big cars to help you run over the town. This morning, you got a signal from your radio saying that there’s some group of survivors on a certain latitude and longitude. You quickly take notes of it, and tell them over that you’re going to join them. As you pick your stuffs and put your compass on, you hear your radio static voice.

“How can we ensure you’re human?” one of them with a deep voice asks over the radio and you roll your eyes “Would a zombie be smart enough to find radio signals and communicate?”

You hear a loud laugh on the other end and you note that there’s more than one person there.

“How many of you are there?” you ask suddenly afraid if it’s a too big group and you have to make hard decisions with bigger parties.

There’s a shuffle and a voice comes in “There’s only 6 of us. I am the leader, Kris and you?”

You start your engine, “I’m (y/n). I’ll arrive before the sun sets hopefully.”

“Good luck and stay safe. We hope to see you in one complete piece. Over.”

“Who is it Kris?” The young man with a sweet dimple asks the leader after hearing the short conversation on the radio.

“Oh, from the voice I’m pretty sure she’s a survivor like us.” Kris peeks over the blinds of their hideout and notices how empty the road is.

“Can you reach Suho? I wonder if they survive too.” the same guy asks again.

Kris pats his shoulder “They’ll be okay Lay, don’t worry. I’m sure Suho can take care of the guys. Now, what about we try to find food for tonight?”

Lay sighs “I don’t know. With Luhan being weak today from using too much of his powers, I have to be here to help him heal faster.”

Kris sighs, with the 12 of them divided it was harder to fight the zombies. They are gifted with supernatural powers, but at the moment 6 of them are in another place and its their goal to reunite.

Kris left his radio and went to shower. They call themselves the EXO-M, with 6 members of their own powers.

---

You stop over an abandoned supermarket, after making sure there’s no one around, you quickly hoard all the canned foods and waters. Picked up fires and some warm blanket for you to sleep tonight.

Your journey to their basecamp was not smooth, with you having to walk over some hoard of zombies. With your eyes shut close you hit the gas and just move forward without thinking.

“Hey, hey can you hear me?” your radio suddenly turns on and your ears perk up when you hear the sound.

“Yes?”

There was a sudden pause.

Lay gulps and shakes his head when he hears your voice.

“Sorry, but can you bring us some food supplies?”

You sigh “I already did. You’re lucky but did you know how crazy it would be if I have to go back?”

He groans “You’re a handful aren’t you?”

You were too focused on the road, not filtering your word “I AM. You can say I am a sugar baby at all time, so yeah I am a handful.” you yell that as you strive through some muddy place and you notice there’s a small strong bunker in the middle of the field.

Lay stays silent as he controls his beating heart. Why does something rings a bell in his memory.

He grits his teeth and shake his head “Just come here quick. We have to help our brothers.”

You groan “I am in front of a bunker pretty sure this is where you guys are. How come you can find a place without any infected people?” you ask as you see a man opens the door for you to come in.

“Chen, Tao, Xiumin and Kris go take her foods and keep it safe.”

You yell as the dimpled man grabs your hand into the bunker. You shake it off “Hey, that’s my food supplies!”

“First off my name is Lay.”

“Okay Lay,” you cut him off “Stop robbing my supplies.”

Lay’s eyes turn dark “Hey, you’re the guest here. Don’t you think it’s also dangerous for us to just accept you here?! If it’s not because of Tao’s clumsy hand pressing the radio to give you a signal, Kris won’t bring anyone in.”

You feel offended, “If you don’t want me here you can say that directly. You’re not my master or husband or whatever, i can go if you want that so bad, but let me take all my stuffs with me.”

As Lay was about to spit back words to you, a strong grip separates both of you and you gasp surpsied.

“(y/n) right? Nice to see you come in one piece. I am Kris, sorry if Lay said anything that hurts you. He’s been alert for the last two days trying to heal our exhausted brother. I apologize on his behalf.” Kris, bows at you in a respectable angle and your anger fumes down. He sure is the leader and you’re glad his words didn’t sting.

“Thank you Kris, I like your welcome better. I came here with supplies, I want to share it with all of you but Lay here just robbed my car.” you sneer at the tall man and he just rolls his eyes.

“Lay, would you mind taking (y/n) to the bathroom? She can use some shower and you can check if she needs any medical healing.”

“We’ll take care of dinner. Don’t worry, you’ve had a long day. Good job in arriving here.” Kris sends you off and walks away. You sure like how this Kris manners are

You want to protest for being left with Lay but Lay’s firm grip dragging you into the bathroom left you with no option than to follow him.

“I’m sorry, your voice just reminds me of someone and I was distracted.” he suddenly speak up from the shower stall next to you.

You turn your neck to see him, the shower walls are not that tall for Lay. You can see his head from the side, but it covers your height nicely.

You gulp and continue washing your hair, facing the other way as you always did when you wash your hair. Your back facing the shower so that your eyes are free from the water.

“It’s okay, i am sorry I was just stressed and tired too. I swear I am not a handful.” you blush when you remember the first introduction between both of you.

Lay has a special memory working in his head and he chuckles “You’ll say I am wild but you reminded me of my sugar baby.”

You blushed, feeling a tingle on your naked body “Oh, in what way?”

He turns the shower off and looks at you “I never see my sugar baby, We both don’t know how each other look. We’re just talking and chatting and having fun remaining anonymous.”

Now it’s your turn to gulp and turn the shower off, you grab the towel Lay prepared earlier and wrap yourself in it “Now that’s interesting. Mind to tell me why you suddenly remember her?”

Lay chuckles and looks to the ceiling “We did voice calls sometimes, and when you said “I am a handful” you really sound like her.”

You bashfully stare at your feet. There's a bothersome fact in your head that also says Lay sounds like someone you know.

“Alright, I guess we need to go join the others?” you reappear in front of him with your fresh set of clothes you just took from the supermarket.

Lay nods “Before that, a quick check. We can’t have you bleeding or injured around here.” He twists and turns your body checking and pressing here and there to see if you have any wound or broken bones.

“You’re quiet strong for you to be alone for days. Just wounds but no big injuries! I can heal your internal injuries so the infected at least can’t smell you that strongly.” Lay explains and you just nod.

“How will you do that?” you squeak and he smiles “You’ll discover tonight.” he winks and your heart stops a beat when memories of a voice comes back to your head.

He couldn't be…

Dinner was better than what you have had for the past days. Somehow the EXO-M have their own food supplies here but they are also running out of foods.

"Before we eat, let's thank you our new sister here (y/n)," the man with doe eyes smile at you nicely and make all the rest of the men stare at you.

You shake your head "No problem, I should he the one to thank you for accepting me inside. That's a big trust you have."

The men chuckles and Kris hushes them down "We sure knows because only special people like us can survive this long." He begins to take the foods on the table and the rest of them also joins.

You were sitting next to Xiumin and he helps you to get your foods on your plate.

"We eat from the same pan, so don't worry. We don't plan to kill you or hurt you." He grins "I am the one cooking so please enjoy it."

You chuckle, if this was Lay's cooking maybe you will be careful remembering how your first impression wasn't good. Though something still bothers your mind when you see him take a glance or two at you.

You learn about their abilities, a supernatural power that helps them survive until today. Just like you, the 6 men here have their powers and they have a separated brothers who also own powers. Their goal is to reunite and survive together but as far as you understand their story, they still cannot reach EXO-K and no news know what happened to them.

Kris was able to fly, making him the one to do errands like finding foods and shelters. Xiumin is their frost guardian. Luhan is gifted with telekinesis that's why when there was an attack, he had to work hard blasting the zombies away. You learned that Chen has a beautiful and powerful voice and he is gifted with making thunder. Tao can mess with time but he hasn't master time travel yet and finally lay. Lay has a healing power.

"So the 6 of you are unstoppable." You conclude as you drop your chopstick when you're done with food.

They nod "We're quite powerful now but you see we're getting weaker. And we need to meet the rest of the brothers to become more powerful."

"So what's your power?" Tao, the youngest, blurts out the question and you laugh

"I don't have a power. what are you talking about?"

Tao whines about how you don't need to hide it from them but you really don't know what they're talking about

"I am just a regular human." You snap and that brings an awkward silence to the room. You see kris looking cross at Tao and you can't stand the stares so you excuse yourself to hide in the only place you've been. The bathroom.

You turn the sink on and wash your hands, trying to cool your head down but you cannot focus when you see the small tattoo on your wrist. A tattoo of your family surname. You run your fingers over it. Feeling your tears collect again when you remember how they all died on the first week of the apocalypse. You lost everyone and everything you love. You're forced to run and you're so young to survive because your father reminded you that whatever happen go run for your life and leave your loved ones behind.

You wash your face, trying to hide the tears that fall on your cheeks.

when you hear another footstep coming into the room, you turn the water off. You saw him coming and you expected he'll greet you with a "Stop wasting the water silly" but all you heard was a sweet deep voice you've always heard on your lonely nights. On nights where you feel so lonely and dark thoughts loom around.

"May I little one?" A voice you remember.

You turn your head to face him and shake your head "Are you really who I am thinking?"

Your heart screams "Yes daddy," but that doesn't leave your mouth.

He stops and stares at his feet "Are you someone I am thinking of?"

Both of you don't answer the questions. Instead, Lay sits down on one of the benches there and you lean on the washing table.

"You really remind me of my online sugar baby. I hope she's doing fine. I hope she survived. I cared a lot about her."

You let Lay continue talking.

"She said she likes to shower backway, her face away from the shower head. You did that earlier and I was surprised. But hey coincidence could happen right."

You blush laughing a little "You sound like you really care for her."

He nods "She's my favorite."

You play with your hair "Tell me more. I guess listening to stories like this is better than just getting asked about how my journey here looks like."

Yes you really don't need a reminder on how scary getting chased after a mob of zombies is.

"I don't think I'll ever hear from her again." He suddenly leans back and closes his eyes

"Oh how I wish i ever see her."

You fish your pocket and grab your phone out

"Do you want to borrow my phone and maybe look up her account?" You pass him your phone and he looks interested

"We didn't get the chance to take our phones when we had to evacuate. Silly us right." He brushes his hair back and you caught a glimpse of his abs.

"Will this ring a bell to you?" You clear your throat and calm your heartbeat.

"Sugar sweets here ready for you daddy" you close your eyes ready to feel embarrassed if things didn't go as planned. You can feel your ego crumbling but instead of a laugh or a wtf, you got a reply "Daddy's here sweetie, tell me what you want"

Both of you avoid each other's eyes for a minute. Ears flushing red and stomach filled with butterflies. Both of you suddenly laugh and chuckle

"So, you're my sugar daddy?" You finally ask after realizing how weird this should be but its not that weird.

"And you are my sugar baby!" He smiles "I am glad you are safe and here with me."

You walk to his side and sit next to him "i am sweetcheeks14"

He pinches your cheek "And i am the man behind sinfulwhispers"

The two of you laugh and you exhale a breath to relax

"So. What is it your super power?" You chuckle suddenly feeling stupid for asking that

Lay looks at you seriously "You think we were kidding? I really have a healing power."

Before you can scoff and reply with another power to joke around, he already pulls you to face him and as he concentrates you see his hand sticking out just few centimeters away from the stomach you actually hurt yesterday. Despite your attempt to laugh, you actually feel your stomach ache gone and a warm feeling runs in your body.

"There should be good as new. You're welcome." He clicks his tongue and you still freeze there unable to say anything.

"I- i don't know what to say." You touch your stomach again making sure it is really gone the pain.

He just sits down calmly beside you. Giving you time and space to think what the heck just happened.

“I know it’s confusing, but try to think about this.” he brushes your hair away to see your face. His warm big hand creeps up to reach your chin and holds it there “You’re a wonderful sweetheart and you’ve survived this long by yourself.” he searches your eyes to see if you’re scared of him or not, and when he sees your eyes twinkle, Lay erases the gap between you two.

“You have a super power sweetheart, you just have to embrace it.” he presses his lips on to yours and slowly bites yours.

You give in to his touch, finally tasting the kiss from your sugar daddy and finally just finally you’re not tensed from having to sleep in full alert, not stressed over where to take shelter.

Lay hugs you deep and that’s the time when you realize having someone by your side on hard times like this is the best.

Your tear falls from your eyes and when Lay wants to pull away and wipe it for you, you keep pressing his head to your lips and with one gentle move you flick your tears away only for both of you to jump back in surprise.

“What was that?” he asks suddenly holding your hand that just flick the small tears away and definitely leaves a hole on the toilet door.

You stare at your hands in horror, no way you have a super power.

Lay and you freeze in time, did you have that much power? Is that why you keep on slaying and killin the dead?

“Baby, I have a good feeling.” he picks you up before you can say anything and drags you out into a special room where you see a lot of training equipments.

“Would you mind?” he is already holding a boxing tape and you raise your palm to let him wrap your hands with the tape before he gives you an apple to your hand.

“Okay, now let’s see. We both will throw the apple and see whose will stick to the wall there.” he points to a side and you ask if it’s going to be okay.

Lay chuckles “It’s bulletproof, so let’s see.”

Both of you stand from the same line and throw the apples to the wall, sure enough yours leave a crack mark on the wall but not Lay’s

Suddenly the room echoes with claps and you turn your head to realize that the others are already here.

“We saw you running here with Lay, so we watched the camera.” Kris explained

You blushed, what if both of you were going to fuck, will they still be watching?

“Now, the final check to see if you’re still human is this.” Luhan points to a chair and you look at them confused.

“We’ll take your blood and do a quick lab test, our antibodies will be different if you’re immune to the “zombies” here.” Luhan explained as he already poked a needle into your vein and take a tube to test your blood.

“Go sleep and don’t think or worry about anything. We promise we won’t do anything to you. Take your well needed rest.” Xiumin explains and soon after the brothers discuss, Lay decided to take you into his room.

No one has to know what happens in that four walled space. You’re finally with your virtual sugar daddy and there’s a guarantee that the room is sound proof so both of you didn’t hold anything back.

“I’m glad you found me.” Lay whispers after both of you are done chasing your highs and cuddled nicely under the bed covers.

You yawn “I didn’t expect to finally be in your arms, but I will trade anything in this world to be here. I feel safe. Thank you Lay.”

Lay kisses the top of your head “Love you sweetheart, let’s see the result tomorrow and if you’re totally immune and like us, you’ll stay with us.”

You wonder what if you are not immune, will they throw you out? But before you can ask Lay already hugs you closer and hums a lullaby to your ear.

You settled on not trying to know what will happen if you’re not like them, and choose to sleep trying to think that everything is okay.

After all, you’re glad you find them and that they don’t disown you. Because having one more of the undead in their 12 immortal group is a good thing.

#the undead collab #cosmic collab #lay x reader #yixing x reader #yixing x you #lay fanfic #exo fanfic #lay x you #lay x y/n #yixing scenario #yixing smut #yixing fluff #yixing fanfic #lay scenarios

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notmrskennedy · 3 years

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Professor, pt 1

A/N - so i heard from like four of you which is enough to warrant me posting drafts that weren’t supposed to see the light of day - ANYWAY this was originally written in third person and let me tell you it takes a ridiculous amount of effort to change tenses like holy hell.

(Technically the prequel Friendliness but can stand alone if you really want it to. There’s a part two to this so watch out for that tomorrow.)

Summary - Spencer meets a professor and falls in love for a few hours

W/C - 2k

Warnings - none-ish? there’s a small smattering of violence and horrible changing of the tenses

-----

Spencer can’t help the irony that he’s in a freshman college class for the first time ever while protecting one of the students. Who knew that a tiny club of DnD players could incite so much rage out of an un-sub? So here he was, trying to blend in—even though he’s 25, he still looks 14 and there’s really no real reason why he should be worried about being caught—in order to protect a freshman who was more pimple than male specimen.

Joesph—the poor kid in question—takes a seat in the front row and Spencer’s obligated to sit within tackling distance, though he hopes it won’t come to that. Hopefully, Morgan will have the kid the un-sub goes for and Spencer can just enjoy being in college again. The painfully familiar auditorium seats, the stale air, and bad fluorescents feel more like home than he cares to admit.

College hadn’t been all too unpleasant. High school he’d gotten picked on mercilessly. College, however, had meant getting doted on by hot sorority girls and earning the protection of frat boys—they’d picked up rather quickly that he knew football strategy better than they did after Spencer had hustled a TV and 400 dollars from them. Sure, he didn’t drink, but every single drunk teenager had welcomed him with open arms and lots of ginger ale.

There’s chatter and for the ten minutes before class starts, Spencer is torn between trying to figure out which song is quietly playing around the room and watching for a particularly rage-filled college student serial killer. Instead, he just finds too many bored faces. Most of the kids are drinking coffee like the best of them and he’s itching for his next fix just looking at it.

The first two rows: a terrible vantage point to be profiling, but a beautifully defensible post. He watches absently as one of the TAs, who looks a little younger than him, organizes three stacks of papers on the front desk and flips through several different pages on the podium. His attention is focused solely on you for nearly a minute too long—he can hear the voice in his head chastising him for how often he gets distracted by pretty people.

You look of the fragile sort, the in-the-lab kind of future scientist. There’s something about you that’s captivating. It might be the way you keep reorganizing the papers to perfection or maybe it’s the way you study the room so closely. And while he thinks that you might not be able to physically stop someone, you sure look like the kind of person that could crush him in chess.

He’s 25 and is considering chess as a marriage proposal.

Joesph shuffles his books around in the seat in front of Spencer and you, the beautiful TA in question, hold a watch up as you move to the centre of the room. Class is starting. Class is starting and he’s hopeful the professor never actually shows up.

He notices your watch is on your right wrist—are you left handed?—as you smile widely and clap her hands together. First day jitters seem to keep everyone silent, waiting on baited breath for you to start. Spencer would stay on baited breath for the rest of his life for you. You were utterly captivating after all—he could see the drool from several students’ mouths a few seats over.

“This is Anthropology 101,” you announce. “If this isn’t your class, you’re free to leave. Or stay if you want. Did you guys know that anxiety disorders affect more than 40 million US adults? Or 1 in 5, I guess, if you want the easier pill to swallow.”

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat and he wants to raise his hand just to ask you to marry him.

“Anyway,” you sigh, leaning back agains the front desk, “I spit out a lot of facts. Usually something that begins with ‘did you know’ won’t be on the tests. I try to be fair. Which brings us to ice breakers.”

The class collectively groans. You scoff.

“Oh hush, I’m the only one doing the ice breakers so chill out. Jeez.” Spencer waits patiently for your soft breath and then your further announcement of, “I’m officially Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, but that’s like only if my boss comes in or for any emails you send. You can call me Y/N because that’s like normal. I got my doctorate in forensic anthropology a year ago and I’ve been teaching since I started grad school three years ago. You’re in safe hands, I promise.”

He almost kicks himself. You’re the professor. How many times had he been nearly kicked out of a classroom when he was in grad school for saying he was the professor? How many times had he been 18 and trying to get an ounce of respect for himself?

You continue, waving your hands about like you could pull your ideas back down to earth. “Um—a fun fact about me is that I am not welcome in certain parts of the world for ‘violating’ what are called exhumation laws, which is silly in my opinion. I had the legal right to carry that head on the plane and—and I hope you did the reading because there’s a first day pop quiz.”

The entire class lets out one simultaneous frustrated whine that alights something almost wicked in your eyes. You wave over two students from the other end of the front row and they begin passing out test papers as you explain.

“You’ll have a total of fifteen minutes to answer ten questions. We’ll start on my mark. If you have any trouble, give me a shout and I’ll help you out. After this, we’ll go over the syllabus and if you’re lucky, leave early.”

Spencer’s passed a test and immediately notices there’s no place for a name. Just a bolded “Student #21” at the top. Another girl raises the question and you snicker. “I like puzzles,” is the only answer you give before the time starts.

Question four: what are the top three songs you’ve been listening to? Please list.

Question six: why are you taking this class?

A: This is a requirement

B: I heard it was easy

C: I heard the professor was hot

D: I really enjoy anthropology! (liar)

Question nine: Creationism or Evolution?

Question ten: Quickly. If you were going to have dinner, would it be with Bill or Hillary Clinton?

Spencer can’t hide the grin he’s got the entire test. It’s all ridiculous get-to-know-you questions. He can tell what merit you’re getting out of them. There’s one judging study habits, one judging religion, feminism, politics—you’ve created her own little innocuous questionnaire. Spencer was sure the students would just think you were strange, but he saw the cleverness.

Spencer also notices that once you notice him, you don’t stop noticing him. He wonders what you see. You’re so obviously profiling him that it hurts. Do you see the FBI agent? The scholar? The doctor? The drug addict? The man in a boy’s skin?

Your timer beeps and you shout for pencils down. Your makeshift TAs are dispatched to collect the papers and you make the stacks perfect when they make it to the desk. You move to the whiteboard, a set of papers clutched in your hand, and lean against it to address the class.

“Test go alright?” your grin is contagious and Spencer can’t help but mirror it. You glance at Spencer, turns back to the class, and tuck your hair behind your ear. You let the class chatter on for a moment, setting the papers down on the table, and readjust the undone cuffs of your white button down. He never thought that a sweater vest and jeans could look so hot.

You smirk and check your watch one more time. “Let’s talk about tests because I know you all have questions. Everything on the test is either written on the board, on the notes, or in the study guide—if you fail after that, come to office hours. I’ve got Advil for the hangovers.”

Thankfully, Joesph is one of those students who has to speak to every single one of his professors. Spencer waits patiently behind the kid, trying to keep the smell from the lack of deodorant just out of range.

He keeps a hard gaze on all of the students moving in and out of the auditorium. There’s nothing to see, just a lot of students with a lot of normal college apathy. No anger, no serial killer, no one to tackle.

“Sometimes the BO is worse than a corpse’s expulsion of gas,” you joke from your place atop the desk. Spencer looks up, and furrows his eyebrows as his brain processes. Your face falls for a split second, but your curiosity replaces it just as quickly. Joesph’s jaw hits the floor, stumbling for some way to explain himself or maybe some half decent way to insult the pretty professor.

Spencer laughs, probably a little more than he should have, considering he wasn’t supposed to out himself as an FBI agent. You tuck your hair behind your ear again and, for someone younger than 25, you are surprisingly wide eyed with perception and curiosity.

“Do you like puzzles, Doctor—“

“Reid,” he supplies, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Spencer.”

You raise an eyebrow, chewing on your bottom lip in contemplation. You turn your focus back to Joesph—a boy worse at talking to those scoring higher than an 8 than Spencer was at the same age. “So, Joesph, why does the good doctor need to be within tackling distance of you?”

Joesph flounders, turns to hide his blush, and yelps like God himself has come down to kick him in the ass. Spencer takes one good look at the 18 year old girl charging towards a pimple of a boy and he launches before he can give much consideration to how much its going to hurt.

But between the noticing and the launching, he makes a list: she’s got so much black eyeliner that Emily’s high school yearbook photos would be jealous; she’s about to inflict about a 9 on the pain scale if she’s left to her plan; there’s obviously no plan other to scratch Joesph’s eyes out; her nails are the size of tiger claws and Spencer desperately wishes he had a better pain tolerance; there’s no weapon.

The tackle takes seconds. It’s a practised movement. Roll. Knee. Handcuffs. The girl is screaming and crying and kicking and biting. His arm’s on fire and she’s struggling enough that it’s taking more than ten seconds to get the handcuffs on.

It’s calculated as he presses his knee harder into her back. She yelps and stills long enough that Spencer closes the handcuffs on her tiny, sliced up wrists. The cutting explains some things…

“Hence the tackling distance,” You sum up, bending down just slightly to look the killer in the face. Your nose wrinkles. “You had very distinct ideas on the cultural value of suicide.”

Spencer shakes his head, hauls the girl to her feet, and beckons for Joesph to follow. The entire world falls out of view as he manhandles the girl into an easy walk. The students step to the side to gawk, and he’s thankful for the wide berth. If someone got hurt, the paperwork alone—

“It was nice meeting you, Dr. Reid!” you call and he glances back over his shoulder. You’re waving around the stack of papers in your arms, utterly ridiculous, terribly adorable. He hopes his smile is more suave than love sick, but the fleeting flirtation is especially over when Miss Unchecked Rage kicks out as Joesph comes into her line of sight.

Spencer throws his whole weight into keeping her down. There’s no room to fall in love after a day. Especially with someone on a college campus halfway across the country from him. There’s even less room to manoeuvre Miss Eyeliner even without Joesph waddling into her eye line every few seconds. Seriously, he thinks, how hard is it to keep behind me?

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #reid #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 5

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, reference to smoking (cigarettes), allusions to NSFW topics

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea

Gettin' sold, second hand

That's how it goes, playin' in a band

It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll

~ AC/DC - It’s A Long Way to the Top ~

Halfway through their first week back on tour, their time in London was slowly drawing to an end. Lizzie couldn’t quite believe how fast the days seemed to fly by, each one a blur of tiredness, boredom and the addictive rush of adrenaline when they were on stage. Every day and night was like the one before and totally different all at once.

It felt like only yesterday that she had stepped from the plane back from America; at the same time, being surrounded by all the familiar faces and living in long established routines, her break from the hustle and bustle already seemed like an eternity away. Lizzie could still feel the last traces of jetlag wearing her down sometimes, but at least her shifted rhythm helped her stay energised during the shows; not that she was getting much sleep afterwards either.

Wrecked from her chronic lack of sleep, Lizzie had missed her alarm this morning. When she arrived at the largest dressing room of the O2 Arena, she found the rest of the band already assembled.

Merula and Everett were sitting at the huge table in the middle of the room, Everett scrolling through his social media accounts while Merula was painting her nails in a dark violet colour. Skye was slumped onto one of the sofas at the back of the room, a magazine spread across her lap. She looked up from the colourful pages as she saw Lizzie enter.

“About time you’re showing Jameson; thought you’d gotten lost somewhere. Where’ve you been?”

Lizzie sat down on the arm of the sofa Orion was sitting on; he lifted his head briefly and smiled before bending over his notebook again. Lizzie tried catching a glimpse of the lyrics he was scribbling down but he covered them with his hand. With a shrug, Lizzie turned her attention to Skye.

“I overslept and then ran into Charlie. Murphy and KC are gone somewhere, ‘having a meeting’ apparently.”

“That’s what they’re calling it these days,” Merula muttered under her breath, making Skye snort with laughter.

“Anyway,” Lizzie chuckled, “they’re not here to show the new pyro girl around. They left the job to Charlie, but apparently she’s late and no one knows how to reach her. He’s a little grumpy about it.” She furrowed her brow in concern. “I hope that doesn’t make for a bad start. Charlie had better behave, from what KC told me the newbie is promising.”

“A female pyro tech, just when I thought I’d seen it all,” Everett scoffed. “I mean, how good can she even be?”

Merula arched an eyebrow at him, her eyes sparkling dangerously. “You have a problem with a woman on the job, or what?”

Everett blatantly ignored her, however. “Hopefully we’ll have something to look at this time, right Orion?”

Orion was trying not to roll his eyes. “What we portray on the outside pales in comparison to what we carry in our hearts; as long as she’s a good person who is sure of what she’s doing, nothing can go wrong.”

“Getting along with Charlie would help, too,” Lizzie added.

A grin tugged at Orion’s lips. “It would indeed.”

Everett looked at him sceptically and shook his head. “Listen to you, as if you didn’t care about looks as well.”

Now Orion finally looked up from his notebook for good and frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Stop acting all innocent, everyone knows you’re getting your fair share of groupies as well,” Everett laughed, obviously finding the thought of someone preferring Orion to him hilarious. “Hotel room walls aren’t the thickest, you know.”

Lizzie almost choked on the bottle of water she had helped herself to. She was trying her hardest not to blush as her eyes flickered to Orion. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before she busied herself with the lid of her bottle, hopefully looking more innocent than she felt. She could tell by the way Orion was trying to keep a straight face that Everett’s remark came just as surprising to him as it did to her.

Clearing his throat, Orion replied levelly “I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s a wonder you’re able to hear anything over the racket you’re making most nights.”

Everett shrugged. “At least I’m open about it.”

“As much as I hate to say it, but Ev has a point,” Skye chimed in all of a sudden. She was waving her magazine through the air. “According to the Daily Mail, you’ve had at least six affairs ever since we’ve been to Spain. They mark you down as quite the casanova.” Same as Everett before, the thought seemed to amuse her to no end.

Merula rolled her eyes at Skye. “Why are you even reading that shit?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Skye shrugged. “And it’s fucking hilarious.”

Meanwhile, Lizzie had regained her composure. “Well, don’t keep us on the rack. What’s the latest news?”

Skye cleared her throat before scanning the pages. “After things got frosty between us in Poland, Lizzie and I have apparently decided on an open relationship. Good for us,” she looked up and blew her friend a kiss, which made Lizzie giggle. “They’re still taking bets when Merula is going to come out of the closet -”

“What is this bullshit with me being gay all the time,” Merula snarled.

“You just give that vibe, I know what I’m talking about,” Skye shrugged indifferently before carrying on. “We already had Orion being a ladies’ man and Ev… “

Skye trailed off as she read the paragraph again and looked up after she had finished. “There are pictures of you with Rita Skeeter in here, what’s that about?”

“None of your business,” Everett answered brusquely.

Lizzie saw Skye’s face darken at his tone and quickly snatched the magazine out of Skye’s hands. Just as anticipated, Skye’s attention immediately went to her as she tried to get it back.

The potential fight being dissolved before it had begun, the mood was gradually calming down again. It was an almost relaxed atmosphere in the dressing room, when the door opened and Ethan walked in. He looked very tense and as the door fell shut behind him with a bang, the muscles around his mouth were tight. He exhaled slowly, his hands running over his lessening brown hair.

Skye was disconcerted to see her father looking so unusually stressed. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

He held up a hand to silence her before producing a crumpled package of cigarettes from his pocket. Flicking his silver lighter open, he held the flame to one of them. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

“You do realise that there’s smoke detectors in here?” Lizzie pointed out apprehensively. “I don’t know about you but I don’t care much about getting soaked.”

Ethan took the glowing cigarette out of his mouth again and put it out against the nearest table. “Fucking rules,” he muttered. “Nobody gave a shit back in my days.”

Orion looked up from his notebook, his dark eyes unreadable as they took in Ethan’s nervous demeanour. “It’s clear to see that you’re agitated, but a pain is shared is a pain halved. What’s the matter?”

Ethan sighed, wistfully closing the packet of cigarettes before stowing it away in his pocket. “I had a few calls back and forth with the label over the last few days.”

“So?” Skye urged him on.

“They’re not particularly impressed with what the press is writing about you at the moment. They’re considering cutting the budget for the next album by half.”

His words went down like a lead balloon in the silence spreading throughout the room; no one could believe what they were hearing.

“Why the fuck would they do that?” Skye finally managed to croak out. “The next album was going to be our biggest production so far.”

“Why are they even thinking about it?” Lizzie agreed. “We’re playing to a full house every night. We’re doing a great job, if I may say so, and the reviews have all been really positive so far. The press has been good.”

But Ethan shook his head. “No, Lizzie, the press hasn’t been good at all. People don’t care about professional reviews in respectable magazines anymore. Everything the public sees is what’s written in those goddamn tabloids.” He was eyeing Skye’s copy of the Daily Mail with a grim face. “And they’re having a field day with you; have been for a while now.”

His look darkened further as his gaze swept the round of musicians assembled in front of him, resting particularly long on Everett, who didn’t budge in the slightest.

“Some of you are taking this whole ‘rockstar’ lifestyle too seriously. What was fun and games in my time doesn’t work today anymore. I’ve been told that the label had to fork out a good amount of money to get some positive stories about you out, counter the negative attention you’ve been getting.”

His words were met with icy silence, none of them feeling personally addressed by Ehtan’s barely hidden accusation.

“Listen,” he continued more placatory, “I know sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll are all fun to do, I’ve been there myself. But these days, people aren’t as easy about diva behaviour and trashed hotel rooms.”

Again, he was giving Everett a hard stare. “Cleaning up behind you costs the label hard cash. Cash they’re now cutting from the production budget.”

“That is very unfortunate to hear,” Orion spoke into the ensuing silence. “Is there anything we can do to make them reconsider their actions?”

Ethan’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Good that you’re asking! I already designed a battle plan for us, we won’t have them compromise our work that easily.”

He placed both of his hands on the table where Merula and Everett were sitting, tapping the smooth surface with his fingers. “I’m thinking about going all out on the charm offensive. We’re going to be doing more interviews, more meet ‘n’ greets, fan events, charity bullshit, more of everything. You name it, we’re going to do it. We have to show the public you’re not some off-hook dickheads but still the old friends with a fucking heart of gold like you were when Equinox started.”

Merula snorted derisively. “Nice thought, but I doubt that will impress the guys from the label. You said it yourself, they’re all about the money, they don’t care about this sentimental bullshit.”

“You’re right,” Ethan said, “that’s why I struck a deal with them.”

The way he was avoiding Orion’s eyes was boding ill on Lizzie. And sure enough, Orion’s shoulders were tense as he spoke, his voice noticeably cooler than before. “What kind of deal?”

“They want to know if your new material is worth the huge investment. We need to prove that we’re still the best horse in their stable and they should place their bets on us instead of the new blood they recently signed, like that Winger guy.”

He ran his hand over his dark goatee as he met Orion’s eyes. “Some representatives are going to come to one of the shows in Manchester, see whether what you’re doing is still good enough for their full support.”

He raised his chin in a commanding gesture as he continued. “And they want to see how the crowd reacts to the new songs.”

Lizzie involuntarily held her breath. Orion was particular about his music; Ethan could have just as well asked him to set down his guitar and never touch it again.

And sure enough, his answer to Ethan’s proposition was simple. “No.”

But Ethan wasn’t about to acknowledge defeat so easily. “Yes. If we give the crowd and accordingly the label a taste of what’s to come, they’re going to see that we only deserve the best of the best once we’re ready to hit the studio again.”

Orion, however, remained unimpressed. “No.”

Ethan blinked, clearly irritated at the refusal to cooperate. “Why not?”

“None of the songs are ready to be shared. You don’t serve your guests a half-cooked meal and neither do you hang a picture missing its colours on the wall.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked Ethan straight in the face, the look in his eyes unwavering. “I won’t have my unfinished work being sold for profit; that’s not what this is about.”

Ethan glared at Orion, but instead of a sharp remark from his side, Everett spoke up. “We could play my stuff.”

Clearly surprised at the unexpected offer, Ethan turned his attention to the singer of the band. “You got songs of your own?”

Everett shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure I do. Just promise me they’ll be featured on the album and they’re all yours.”

Hesitant about giving Everett the confirmation he was asking for, Ethan focused on Orion again. “‘No’ is your last word?”

Lizzie had heard some of Everett’s songs before. They weren’t bad by all means, but they were lacking the finesse Orion’s music brought with it. She knew Ethan would take whatever he was offered, but that wouldn’t be in the band’s best interests.

“I know you're protective of your work,” she told Orion quietly, giving him an encouraging smile, “but you showed me what you’ve written so far, and some of the songs are almost there. They’re the best you’ve ever done, believe me. Everyone’s going to love them.”

Orion held her gaze for a moment, searching for the affirmation he needed to agree to a deal he didn’t want to make, but knew he had to in the end.

When he finally tore his eyes away from hers, he looked at Ethan and sighed. “Fine, have my songs. Under one condition,” he added, nipping Ethan’s victorious grin in the bud. “Until I’m completely satisfied with them, I’m going to sing them.”

“Excuse me?” Everett bristled up, “Am I the singer of this band or you? Get out of my fucking spotlight.”

Orion shook his head. “You misunderstand; I’m not trying to fight you for your place in the sun, my friend. But I wouldn’t know how to explain to you what I want the songs to sound like until they’re really finished.”

Ethan snorted. “Stop being a diva, Orion.”

But Orion was adamant in his resolve. “I’m not. All I want is for the people caring about our music to get what they deserve; and they don’t deserve some unfinished songs that aren’t even played the way they’re supposed to be.”

Both Ethan and Orion were staring at each other for a moment longer, before Ethan threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine, have it your way then.”

Not believing what he was hearing, Everett stood up from his seat. His aggressive energy seemed to fill the room, making it feel a lot smaller than it actually was.

“Are you for real?” he snarled at Ethan. “I’m the frontman of this band, not him! It’s bad enough that his songs are the only ones that get played when mine are easily as good.”

He turned to Orion, eyes sparkling with anger. Lizzie, who was still sitting next to him, tried not to shrink back before him, but Orion met his gaze as calmly as ever. However, this seemed to anger Everett even further.

“You always said you didn’t want to sing, you were perfectly happy with doing background vocals if you had to. Why now all of a sudden? Tell you why, you’re not happy there’s someone else who knows how to write a decent song in this band. Do you consider me a threat to you or what?”

Everett’s voice had risen considerably. Skye and Lizzie were sharing a worried glance as the two male members of their band were glaring at each other, Merula just looking to and fro between them with a bored expression.

Not wanting things to go south even more than they already were, Ethan stepped between Orion and Everett to break their eye contact. “Ev, calm down. There’s no need -”

He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Taken by surprise, it took Ethan several attempts to make the strain disappear from his voice. He cleared his throat one more time before calling to whoever was waiting on the other side of the door.

“Come in.”

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm au #rockstar au #orion amari #skye parkin #merula snye #lizzie jameson #when stars ignite #besties collaborate

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Text

Gone to Plan

(Thanks @janekfan for the inspo and encouragement!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27754072

Jon hates taking days off. The archive’s been in chaos since he took over but not for lack of trying. But he’s in charge, he’s The Archivist, and he needs to prove to Elias that he’s qualified for the job, that his offhand comments and glances when he thinks Jon can’t see are wrong. He’s good enough. He has to be.

So that’s why he’s not called off. He can’t miss a day, even if the thermometer hovered around a high 38 last night. There’s too much work to do and too much to prove to himself to Elias. Jon’s not stupid though, he’s got his scarf wound around his face as not to spread his germs to Rosie as he passes her, or his assistants. (Thank the powers that be that it’s January, and his scarf, gloves, and bundled torso blend in with the other Londoners hustling through the streets.) Jon’ll get there early and leave late so he can minimize the contact he has with everyone else. He doesn’t think he’s contagious, but he plans to lock himself in his office and record statements all day, just in case.

But when have things ever gone to plan?

So here he is, the January chill a welcome relief to his feverish skin as he travels the short block into the Magnus Institute from his usual bus stop. Its not yet 8, and the sun is finally cresting the skyline, a watery grey light reminding the weary man of just how early it is. With shaking hands, he unlocks the glass doors of the humble building with the key Elias had given him all those weeks ago (“I noticed you’ve seemed rather overwhelmed during work hours. If you think coming in early or leaving late will help you do your job better, who am I to stop you?”) and hurries his way into the building and down into the archives, burying a cough into his scarf as he locks himself into his dark office.

It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Jon reckons he can go a day without seeing his assistants; Tim and Sasha are happy to occupy themselves without his direction and Martin—well, with any luck he’ll be too intimidated preoccupied with his work to bother him after Jon rejects his first offer of tea. Tea would be nice though, Jon thinks as he closes his office door and surveys the piles of paperwork and manila folders haphazardly covering and lining the area around his desk. He falls into his chair, the metal legs screeching against the cement in a way that has him seeing stars. Jon hadn’t realized his head was pounding, but god he was sorely aware of it now. He rattles a cough into his elbow that lasted a full thirty seconds; the effort of it left him sweating and he peels off a few layers of his ensemble rapidly, discarding scarf, gloves, overcoat, and two oversized sweaters (one being a What The Ghost sweater he’d stolen from Georgie and had consequently “lost”).

Jon rakes a hand through his curls, grossly aware of the thin sheen of sweat on his scalp and opens the first of the manila folders piled high on his desk, just about eye-level. He leaves his fingers tangled in his curls, tugging slightly, hoping the pressure will help him stay focused, and stares at the words on the page. Reading has been a cornerstone of Jon’s personality, but looking at the page now, he wasn’t sure he had ever been literate. The letters swirled and morphed on the page, pulsing slightly to the beat of his pounding head.

He’s not sure how long he’s been staring at the page, this same page of the same folder, the statement of…someone…when he hears a cacophony of familiar laughter outside his door, in the bullpen where the three other desks and three other chairs resided. Sasha is laughing, likely at something Tim had said. Normally, he finds the laughter of his friends coworkers delightful, even calming, but the pitch of Sasha’s voice feels unbearable today, too high and just sharp enough to send a shiver of irritation down his spine. Or was he just cold? God, he’s freezing. He looks around desperately for his discarded sweaters and pulled them back over his head, just managing to pull the second sweater over his torso before an onslaught of shaking takes over his body and he’s quaking uncontrollably in his seat until the shivers die down. His jaw aches from the chattering of his teeth and he kneads it with his thumbs while trying to massage his temples with his other fingers. Jon ignores the knock on the door to his office, choosing on a whim to let them believe he wasn’t here at all, while booting up his laptop. Maybe reading the statement aloud will help him comprehend it.

“Jesus—fuck!” He had made his way, painfully, through the whole statement, pausing through bouts of chills and hot flashes, taking almost an hour to record what would usually take twenty minutes. It had seemed to record on his laptop just fine, but now that he was trying to listen back to it, the audio was nothing but static, though the wavelengths in the audio file would suppose otherwise. How the hell was he supposed to do his job if he couldn’t even trust his equipment to hold up its end of the bargain? Jon slammed his hands against the desk in frustration as he cursed his laptop, cursed Elias, cursed this stupid fucking job, completely forgetting he had decided to pretend not to be here. The low murmur of conversation that had been floating from the bullpen pauses for a moment, before becoming quieter and more intense. Goddamn it, now they would be worrying about him and asking questions and wasting their time and his time and god his head hurt and he was shaking he was cold hewashotandcoldandmiserable-

“…Jon?” Comes a hesitant voice from the other side of the door, mercifully without a knock. “Are-are you in there? Are you alright?”

“’course I’m alright, Martin,” he spat the name like it burnt him to say it. “I’m a grown man, I don’t need babysitting.”

“You sure about that, boss?” Tim. Goddamn. They had the entire cavalry outside his office. “None of us saw you come in and Sash and I were here before nine, which mean you either spent the night or were here way too early, which I’m pretty sure violates Archive rules.”

Jon opens his mouth to respond but his words are buffeted back by a coughing fit that rattles his chest and leaves his throat raw. “Quite sure, thank you. Just—” Another fit, mercifully shorter. “—a little under the weather today.”

“Can you just open the door?” Ever the diplomat, Sasha’s voice was plaintive and serious. “That sounds serious, Jon. We can make you some tea or get you some cough suppressant-“

“I did just buy a lemon tea that’s s’posed to be great for a cough,” Martin adds, voice pitching up eagerly for a moment.

Jon hopes his silence speaks for him as another wave of chills rips through his spine, leaving his entire body aching with the tremors.

“Sims, here’s the deal.” Tim’s voice was serious now, the playful banter gone. “We are trying to be respectful, but the door isn’t locked. We can come in if we need to.”

Jon wants to be angry with them. He feels angry, how dare they not trust him to know his own limits, to treat him like a child, to care for him and love him like family. He opens his mouth to tell them off, but of course, his body betrays him. A cough rattles through him so hard that he bends over involuntarily, doubled over by the force of his lungs trying to eject themselves from his ribcage, and slams his head on the edge of the desk in the process. He groans, the blow doing nothing to ease his headache, quite the contrary, and he knows he’s lost all hope of his assistants leaving him alone.

A chorus of “Jon!” and “are you alright?” come from the other side of the door before he hears a mumbled “fuck it” and hears the door swing open and the cacophony of shoes on his cement floor.

“Jesus, Jonathan Sims.” The archivist’s eyes are squeezed tight, pain and fever overwhelming his senses, hands balled in fists held against to his chest, trying to fight the tremors wracking his body. Jon feels cool hands against his forehead and cheeks. “You’re burning up. Sasha, grab the first aid kit, will you?” They shouldn’t be doing this; they have more important things to right now. They have leads to chase and statements to file and he can deal with this himself he’ll be fine. He opens his eyes, ready to tell the trio off and make a curt rejection of their help, calm and composed, but his vision is swirling now just like the statement was earlier; he can’t seem to focus on any of the faces in front of him. He feels the tremors ease slightly as his body turns hot now, feels his face flush and skin prickle with sweat, and suddenly he needs to be on the floor. The cement is cool and dry and it’ll make him feel better-

“Woah-hey! Jon! Tim-help me…” “We got you, boss man, stay upright for now, yeah? Let’s set him down gently, ready?”

“Thermometer says 39—Jesus. I grabbed some water. Should we call 999?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Jon? Call the ambulance?”

“Don’t…call me Jonathan…”

Jon’s eyes open, wincing, to the harsh ceiling lights of the document storage room. He feels weighted down, limbs heavy, and as he adjusts to the room he certainly wasn’t in earlier, he looks down to see a mountain of fabric covering his body. Sweaters, coats, blankets, scarves, hats, shrugs, every scrap of cloth in the entire institute must be piled on him right now. No wonder he can barely move his arms.

“Oh, hey, Jon.” A cool, soft hand passes over his scalp and smooths out his curls, and Sasha comes into view, hair swinging over her shoulders, expression soft. “You scared us a bit there.”

Jon blinks for a moment, mouth open as he tries to find words and croaks out a cracked, “Sorry.”

Her soft laugh, tinkling like a bell, sounds calming again. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a good day for the archives if the scariest thing is a bit of a fever. Here.” She holds out a water bottle, and he squirms his hands out of his cocoon of layers to accept it, not realizing how thirsty he was until the cool liquid passes his cracked lips. “How does your head feel?”

Jon presses a hand to his forehead lightly, feeling a small square of gauze at his hairline. He frowns slightly, searching his fever-addled memory for what caused it. Right, the coughing fit. “I’ve been better,” he mumbles diplomatically. “Headaches mostly gone, though.” It was a dull throb now that his neck was constantly tensing against the shivers that had wracked his thin frame.

“You can thank Martin for that, actually. Apparently he’s a pro in head and neck messages. Who would’ve guessed, right?” Tim’s voice calls, just out of sight, and Jon sits up on his elbows to see the rest of his staff, sitting on the floor, surrounded by files, laptops illuminating their faces. Martin shrugs shyly, gaze flicking between Jon and his laptop like he wasn’t sure where to look, mumbling something about migraines, or maybe his mum. “We should start a side business. Been trying to think of good names all afternoon.”

“Afternoon?” Jon croaks, glancing fervently for the clock he knew wasn’t in the document storage room. “How long-“

“Like four or five hours. You woke up a couple times to drink some water and take some paracetamol and fever reducers, which is the only reason you’re not in your own private ward at St. August’s.”

Jon frowns to himself. Four or five hours? He’s wasted a whole day, not only for himself but for his staff too. “Right well, thank you all for watching after me, but I feel fine now. You’re all welcome to return to your desks.”

Martin huffs out a laugh this time, something of pure incredulity. “Right, like we’re going to pretend you didn’t pass out with a fever of 39 into my arms and weren’t shaking like a leaf and sweating and coughing so hard you nearly gave yourself a concussion-“ Tim presses a hand to the other man’s shoulder firmly and he cuts himself off.

“Alright. Point made.” Jon’s voice wavered more than he likes, and he watches the two men rise to stand behind either side of Sasha.

“Jon,” Sasha’s voice is soft. “We were worried about you. You’re our boss and our friend, and we don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Especially since you control our pay raises.”

“Tim!” A swat to his chest from two hands, one small and dark, the other larger and pale.

“Why did you even come in today?” Martin’s eyes are softer now, the bite that was in them earlier replaced with compassion. Compassion for Jon.

“I-I really don’t. But…thank you. I see your point.” Jon sits up now, watching the top few layers of bundling tumble off him in a small avalanche, but pulls as much of the fabric as he can over his form to shield himself from his own admissions. No use in putting up a front now. “I suppose I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. Overworked, even. I was worried about the consequences of being behind with all—all the statements and write-ups and supp-supplementals and figured I could get through a day without incident and take the weekend to recover. I was wrong, clearly.”

In lieu of harassing him over being wrong, Tim chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment. “You know, we’re your assistants for a reason. We saw how much you have on your plate right now.” He gestured to the little castle of manila he and Martin had been sitting in. “Half of that is stuff you could have given to us. But, either way, the Archive won’t crumble if Jonathan Sims takes a sick day. Hell, I’ll bet you a round of drinks at Molly’s it’ll still be standing after a sick week.” His eyebrow is cocked playfully, but the impact of his words is not lost.

Jon rubs a hand against the nape of his neck, the miraculous lack of tension reminding him of Martin massaged his head and the thought is so intimate he blushes and suddenly can’t meet the eyes of his assistants. He wishes he could remember it. Perish the thought.

“A compromise,” Jon offers, finally focusing his fever-addled mind. “Two rounds if you trust me to come back when the fever’s gone.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Tim’s hand is the one he shakes, half in jest and half deadly serious, but it’s Martin’s eyes he can’t tear his gaze from.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #fever #hurt/comfort #not really sure what this is tbh #but it was fun #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #fanfic to a tea

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gubesboo · 3 years

Text

That should be me

HEY!! ITS MEEE! I posted quite some time ago that maybe I should post a fic so HERE IT IS FINALLY MY FIRST FIC! I’m in nursing school so it can be difficult to write also I read all of these amazing stories and think I could never so hopefully you enjoy this!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: uhhh cursing, suggestive sexual language, mutual pining, fluff (cause I’m a fluff whor3), maybeeee angst? idk I think that’s it other than pretty bad writing!

Italicized = readers thoughts

Bolded= spencer’s thoughts

Word count: 3.5k

Y/N POV

Working at the BAU is not what you were expecting. Long hours, early mornings, sleepless nights. Don’t kid yourself, you loved your job, but at times it can seem that the bad outweighs the good. Only one thing could lighten you up on your darkest days and it was him. Doctor Spencer Reid. Spencer was everything that you hope for in a potential partner. He’s patient, caring, intelligent, also did I mention insanely attractive. Over the years of working there you and Spencer had become best friends, even rivaling Derek Morgan as his, and Penelope Garcia as yours. See being best friends is great, although completely platonic, the late night movie marathons, weekly coffee meets, along with working right beside him on your darkest days, you have come to love the brown mop of curly hair and hazel eyes that is Spencer Reid. Well, the problem that now is… BEING in love with Spencer Reid.

The bullpen having it’s normal hustle and bustle left you with your thoughts. You didn’t even recognize the man of the hour as he called out to you.

“Y/N…? Y/N... Y/N!!”.

“Oh.. sorry Spence, what’s up?”, you blushed a little, embarrassed that this man could have the power to zoned you out any minute of the day.

“Are you okay? You seem a little out of it.” Spencer so worriedly responded.

It’s the little things like this that could someone so easily make anyone fall in love. Spencer Reid could read you like a book, which is not something out of the ordinary for him. These microscopic gestures is something he knows that you take close to heart.

“What? OH! Yeah I’m fine Spencer this paperwork is seriously getting to me now.”

He let out a little laugh at your response. “Yeah I can see that, that’s why I offered you a fill on your cup of coffee.”

Yeah you know what else you can fill. You thought in your head for the quickest second but just as quickly you could feel the heat rising in your face. With this you were quick to stand up to take the attention off of you. “You know what yeah Spence that would a-actually be great! I’m just gonna...uh… go see Penny real quick, I forgot I was meeting her to give her back her… s-sweatshirt she left at my place!”.

Oh god are you screwed. Dammit Y/N get it the FUCK together. “Oh ha.. You know, that might be helpful” you reply trying to act aloof. Spencer just smiles hesitantly parting your ways as he walks towards the break room for coffee, and you go to Garcia’s to give her the ‘sweater’.

Spencer looked at you quizzically causing you to quickly turn to head that way. Just before you walked out of the bullpen you heard Spencer say “Uh.. Y/N.. do you want your bag?”.

Barging through the door of Penelope’s headquarters, she turns around at you wide eyed like you have just escaped a wild tiger.

“Y/N are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Great. “Penny I am LOSING it here.”

She looks at you worried like you actually have tossed your head off of your shoulder. “Oh this is about boy wonder now isn’t it” she so dubiously recognized.

“Yes Penny I have no idea what I’m doing here, I can’t focus on my work, I’m embarrassing myself left and right, and to make matters worse this whole thing is completely one sided!”.

Penelope looks at you sadly, she wants more than anything for you and Dr. 187 to get together but the stress of seeing you in this state almost breaks her heart. “Y/N, have you tried talking to him about it, we see the way he acts with you. Always going out of his way to make sure you are safe and happy, he doesn’t do that with just anyone…”

You had to give it to her, Penelope always puts on the bravest face for you, that’s why you love her so much. “It’s not just me Penny, what about JJ… or Emily even, he does the same for them… look I’m just trying to be realistic. Someone like Spencer would never go for someone like me. He IS a genius, and I can barely make it through one day where my mind doesn’t get sidetracked.”

Penelope had had enough with your self doubt, she knew you were one of the most talented on the team. “Y/N ENOUGH! First of all, JJ and Emily never stay with Spencer and binge watch Doctor Who til’ the break of dawn. We all notice the longing stares on the jet between him and you, the maybe a tad too long hugs before you guys leave… it’s obvious he’s into you. You know Spencer has a thing for germs yet he shook your hand on your first day here. Let that sink in for a second Y/N. Secondly, you are one of the smartest and talented people on this team. Remember last week when you guys were in Dallas, and YOU pieced together the unsub had a partner.. Y/N there would’ve been so many other victims if it weren’t for you, you have no idea how much everyone respects and values your accomplishments on the team, INCLUDING Spencer.”

Tears had welled up in your eyes, you never knew how much you needed these words of endearment. Sometimes it can be hard to believe this when you are always in your head about what you could've done better or simple mistakes that could've been avoided, sending you into a downward spiral. “Thanks Pen”, you smiled subtly. “I think I’m gonna go to lunch, do you want anything?”

“No Y/N I’m good. Please go talk to Spencer, I have faith that it will really end happily for you” Garcia replied kindly.

“You know what I will, also one more thing…” She turned back in her chair cautiously at what you might say next.

“Yeah?”

“Um.. if anyone comes in here asking what I was doing, can you say I returned a sweater to you?”

“Oh Y/N” Garcia said, releasing a school girl giggle, “You have SO got it bad”.

You laughed out of her office, timid of what the rest of the day had left to offer.

SPENCER POV

Ok that was odd, I hope Y/N is okay. Was it something I said? Oh God what if Morgan spilled the beans on how I feel about her. She’s my best friend, no what Morgan would never do that...well...would he? Just my luck Morgan was in the break room filling up his mug, walking in he gave me the slightest smirk.

“Well pretty boy how is it going with Y/N? Ask her out yet?” he said, taking a sip of his coffee giving him the side eye.

“What!? No.. Morgan you know she doesn’t feel the same about me, she’s never demonstrated anything that could elude to being more than friends. I know it will never happen.” sadly stated, Spencer began filling up the two mugs.

“Oh and you have?” Morgan said chuckling at Spencer’s reply, it was obvious that not even the genius had shown any type of actions that would sway Y/N into thinking he wanted to be more than friends. Spencer of course recognizes this but the simple things must account for something right? The subtle cuddles on the couch, constantly getting her refills on coffee, late night hangouts when Y/N was having a crying breakdown. He doesn’t just do that for anybody, she has to know this right? Maybe it wasn’t too obvious.

“Look Morgan, I’m trying alright? You haven’t told her anything have you, she’s been dodgy around me lately.” Spencer crouched into himself, thinking how he could mess up something that hasn’t even started yet?

“Come on Spencer, I mess with you a lot, but not when it comes to ya girl man. Look if you think something is bothering her just ask her about it, I think you guys are close enough as friends to where you can ask her about something like that right? And if she does know about your feelings then you have your answer, if not, lay it on her Reid. You always miss 100% of the shots you don’t shoot.”

Listening to these words almost encouraged Spencer but the weight of the fact that he might be rejected by the one girl he has opened up his heart to is too much to handle. It is easier to sit on the sidelines and wait for the opportunity to erupt then seize it himself.

“Yeah Morgan you’re probably right. I’ll ask Y/N about it at lunch. Thanks Morgan I’ll keep you updated.”

Morgan chuckled to himself “Well hopefully you don’t have to tell me, you can show me when you get back.”

With that, Spencer walked out of the breakroom with his and Y/N’s coffee right as she walked back into the bullpen looking slightly disheveled. “Hey Y/N! Lunch?” Spencer smiled at Y/N.

“Ummm… Yeah! Sandwiches?” Y/N replied, Spencer realized she usually had sandwiches when she was stressed. Carb loading seemed to make everything better. He mentally noted this to ask about later.

“Sounds perfect.”

With that Spencer and Y/N walked out of the office timidly, overwhelmed with their inner battle tension fighting at them.

LUNCH- Y/N POV

Walking into their go to sandwich shop down the street had a warm and inviting atmosphere. Almost like a hug from your grandma, it never gets old. The smell of freshly baked bread spread through the room and even calmed the nervousness that had surrounded Y/N and Spencer. The girl at the register you’ve come to know as Jessica, noticed her most loyal customers and greeted them with a warm smile.

“Y/N! Spencer! Welcome back you guys! Are we having our usual today?”

Almost embarrassed by the amount of times that they come in that the waitress knows their order. They nod in agreement. A BLT with mayo for Y/N and a ham and turkey club for Spencer.

“Don’t you know it Jessica” you replied, giving her a wink and handing her a 20. “Keep the change” you smiled.

“I’ll have it out to you guys soon!” She replied before going to the counter to assemble the lunch.

Spencer has seemed on edge since he asked you to lunch. Oh no had he caught on? Did he hear me and Penelope.. No he couldn’t have. Just breathe. It’s okay. You noticed Spencer about to say something when you were pulled out of your thoughts by an unfamiliar voice.

“Hi...Y/N?” you turned around to reveal a rather handsome man. What some would consider tall, dark and handsome. His black hair sat wavy on his head. He was cute you had to admit, just the perfect balance of toned without it being overbearing.

“Uh, Hi. I’m sorry I don’t mean to come across rude but...Do I know you?”. There was something about him that was right at the tip of your tongue. He did look familiar but you couldn’t place the face with a name.

“Oh right. Hi um Chase! From Easton Heights? We went to high school together.”

“OH MY GOD! Yes! Chase! We had Biology together right? Wow look at you! You look amazing, how are you?” Wow he has definitely aged well.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably. Maybe it was in his head but he could definitely see a connection between the two of them.

“Oh sorry Chase this is my friend Spencer, we work together.” Ugh friends, even saying the word left a sad tone on your tongue. So much hope and wanting in the word, that the one you hope would notice was completely blind to the idea.

Chase extended his hand for a handshake but was matched with Spencer’s typical skepticism, waving back at him instead of returning the endeavor.

“Don’t mind him, it's a germ thing.” you said to Chase seeming almost offended by Spencer’s action but nodded in an almost condolence type of way.

This brought you back to your first day with the team. After exchanging handshakes with Hotch, JJ, Rossi, Emily, Morgan and a bone crushing hug from Penelope (you knew at that second this woman was going to be your rock), last up was the genius himself. To his surprise along with everyone else's he extended his hand to meet yours to introduce himself. Everyone around gave skeptic looks to the other, but to be honest, it was hard to notice everyone else when looking into Spencer’s eyes. From that moment on, you were hook line and sinker to the pipe cleaner with eyes.

You reminisce about this moment along with Penelope’s words from earlier when you are pulled out of your thoughts by Jessica calling from the counter.

“Y/N, Spencer! Your sandwiches are up!” Jessica shouted from the counter.

Spencer went to grab the sandwiches from the counter while you and Chase continued the small talk. What he walked back in on made his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

“Look Y/N I don’t mean to be forward but you obviously look great. I-I mean you’ve always looked great, I’m just saying adulting looks a-amazing on you. Anyways is there any way you are free tonight? Maybe we could meet up at this great Italian place in the city? Catch up a little?” Chase offered.

You had to hand it to him, he knew how to play his cards. As much as you wanted to hold out for Spencer, it was a stagnant relationship. No pull or tug anywhere as much as you wanted to, you didn’t want to set yourself up for heartbreak if you didn’t have to. You looked over at him. His face seemed unbothered by Chase’s actions. If he cared about you in more than a friend's way this would have bothered him right? If it did, he didn’t show it so you know what? Fuck it. Maybe it is self sabotage but, maybe this would be good for you.

“Uh, you know what? Yeah that would be nice. Maybe we can meet up around 7:30? Today is paperwork day at the office so I should be off at 5, gives me enough time to go home and change. Unless a case comes in of course.” You said handing him a card with your name and number on it, usually for business, but why waste time writing it down anywhere else right?

“Great I’ll see you then. It was nice meeting you Spencer.” Chase said with a warm smile before making his way out of the shop leaving you and Spencer in a limbo.

Well… THAT just happened. You thought to yourself as you walked out of the shop. Spencer seemed awfully quiet the walk back to the office only nodding and responding to your thoughts when absolutely necessary. Not even so much as the facts that you found completely endearing. You tried to brush it off as the midday lag, the sleep deprivation finally catching up to him, but that didn’t seem like the whole story. But at this point, you were tired of trying to read Spencer. Bigger and better things were waiting for you besides the man walking next to you. Or at least you hope there were.

THAT NIGHT- SPENCER POV

After an afternoon full of methodical paperwork, coffee, and self deprecation. Spencer goes home to his empty apartment, something that seems so full of light when Y/N is there.

If he had to admit it, this is something that Spencer had nightmares about. He knows it’s no one's fault but himself but he was right there. At lunch he was finally going to grow some balls and tell Y/N just how much he liked, probably loved her. But Chase happened. What if you fall in love with him, leaving Spencer in the dust. There is no way there could be time for a best friend AND a boyfriend. Especially not when Spencer wants to fill both rolls. He wants to be the one whose arms you wake up in. Who tries and horribly fails to make dinner for. To possibly get married and have kids with.

He ponders this while staring at you contact information on his phone, finger hovering over the call button. It is now or never. Spencer thinks.

“Fuck it.” Spencer says before grabbing his keys and coat, heading out the door.

YOUR APARTMENT- Y/N POV

Walking though your door and shedding your coat, you walk into your barren apartment thinking about the day you had. The rest of the work day had trudged along unbearably slow. You couldn't help but feel guilty accepting the date in front of Spencer. Sure, you guys were friends but on the way back and the rest of the day in the bullpen, Spencer had been avoiding you. When you looked over your eyes would meet, Spencer would clench his jaw and look immediately back down. He stopped the coffee refills, which was fine, but at some point he walked in on you pouring coffee just to do a straight 180 to walk out the door.

Ultimately feeling blue you decide to pick up your phone and text Chase to cancel the date. Not that you want to, but your head just wasn’t in the right place to go out. Even through the guilt of saying yes to Chase to get over Spencer, you thought this would be good for you, but it has only resulted in disappointment. Spencer should be happy for you! But it is obvious that this has affected him negatively. But why? Unless… no it can’t be.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. Checking your phone it read 6:17 p.m.

“Huh?” you thought out loud.

Looking through the peephole you notice Spencer at the doorstep. Albeit sweaty like he ran a marathon, curls sticking out each and every way, you answer the door.

“Spencer? What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

Bending down to put his hands on his knees he holds up a finger to catch his breath. Finally waiting for a beat he straightens up.

“Don’t go.” He puts simply.

“What? Spencer.. What are you talking about? The date?” you say heart hammering against your ribs. This is actually happening right?

“Yes the date Y/N. Don’t play dumb. I can’t sit here and know you're going out with him Y/N. I… I love you. And I know it has taken me way too long to admit it but I thought about the future you could have with him, and to be honest that should be me there in that image, not him. I’m sorry if this is bad timing or if I’m too late, but I don’t care. I had to come here and tell you before I lost my nerve. I love you Y/N.”

You sat there mouth gaping open, staring him in the eyes. It felt like you just jumped into a freezing lake. Body frozen and heart hammering in your ears. Apparently this is the wrong move because Spencer noticed this reaction and turned to walk out the front door.

“SPENCER WAIT!” you called out to him. It was now or never too.

“I cancelled the date.”

“What?”

“Spencer, I cancelled the date. After I saw how you were acting, I.. don’t know… I felt guilty? Maybe it's because I’m trying to get you out of my mind. And I felt guilty for using Chase because Spencer, I am hopelessly in love with you. I mean unfathomably so. I just didn’t know you felt the same that’s why I never said anything. And I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought of the future with you in it Spence. I love you Spencer.” you say walking over to him grabbing his hands, intertwining fingers.

You never even noticed the tears in your eyes while you stared into his. The world seemed to melt around you as he leaned in locking his lips with yours. Salty tears mixed with the taste of him and everything felt right. It felt safe and normal.

You pulled away both of you smiling ear to ear as you wiped away the tears on his cheek. Leaning back in to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“So what you’re saying is you have no plans for the evening?” Spencer so cheekily replied.

“Only with you.” You grin back with a soft chuckle pulling him to your couch for a long overdue Doctor Who marathon filled with cuddles and soft kisses.

#first fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #new writers corner #matthew gray gubler #mgg #female reader #im so soft #fluffwhore #derek morgan #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner

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redladydeath · 3 years

Text

compiling all my male consorts ideas/headcanons into one post bc yeah

this is kinda disorganized but w/e

If you’re going to completely miss the point of the show and gender swap the queens in Six, at least do it “right” and make a brand new show about Geoffrey of Anjou, Guildford Dudley, Philip of Spain, William of Orange, George of Denmark, and Prince Albert

i don't have a name for this au. so far i have 'battle of the simps' and 'how to be a better ally the musical'

They’re here to raise money for their wives’+Elizabeth’s new musical “Seven” and yell at you about loving your spouse. They sing about their wives, beg the audience for money, and share one braincell and That Is All.

Geoffrey: Energetic, hype-man, respects Matilda’s hustle, fighter, says absolutely savage stuff sometimes, loud, doesn’t do things halfway, doesn’t stop to think much Guildford: Complainy, still mad about the beheading thing and blames Jane for it, is like 15, kind of out of his element, lil bit belligerent, wants the others to pay attention to him/take him seriously, holds a grudge against Philip for basically being the main reason he was beheaded Philip: Stoic, distant, thinks a lot of himself, still hung up on the religion thing, Do Not mention Elizabeth’s defeat of the Armada, doesn’t want to talk about Mary, doesn’t take criticism well William: Cool, kind of low-key, likes to humblebrag about taking over England, respects and deeply cares about Mary and wants to be better to her than he was the first time around, likes to troll Philip, cannot stand George, “I thought you were gay??” “What does that have to do with loving Mary” George: Himbo, dumb as fuck, doesn’t know what gay people are, absolutely adores Anne, pretty relaxed and unambitious, always seems to be slightly buzzed, Respect Women Juice™ Albert: Fair, pretty nice, intelligent, pretty chill, usually in possession of the one braincell, has a lot of Feelings about Victoria, tries to keep the peace, likes making plans and is organizing the majority of the show

“Sure, Mattie and I were never in love per say, but you’ve gotta respect her hustle!” “This is all Dad and Jane’s fault” “Mary is...... so, anyway-“ “Maisey is a fine, wonderful lady” (let’s just call mary stuart maisey so we don’t get her and mary tudor mixed up) “Oh, Anne’s lovely! Although, she did tell me one time that she was a lesbian. I could’ve sworn she was English...” “sdcxzsfggvdrtgc I love Vicky so fuckign much”

albert is a normal functioning adult who gets Stressed sometimes; geoffrey, philip, and william are adults most of the time but can veer off into dumb petty shit in a moments notice; george has his moments but most of the time is kind of a liability; and guildford is a literal child. their coordination/communication is. not the best

(some of this is predicated upon this interpretation of the Sixverse) Guildford does not want to be here, and by be here I mean existing. He’s really bitter that, just because he got caught up in his father’s stupid plans to put Jane on the throne, he can’t just have a normal afterlife/has to endure this awful quasi existence where he’s completely alone except for all these super important royals that he can’t relate to at all. All he “is”, as the physical embodiment of the legacy of a once-living person, is just an immortal manifestation of a teenager’s unjust murder, and he’s really hung up on how unfair that is. Anonymity is a blessing in his eyes: he’s jealous of his siblings who got to lead normal lives, disappear from history, and be at peace.

Phillip’s stoicism is partially due to the fact he doesn’t feel like he belongs here like. at all. He’s a Spanish king and all his actual accomplishments happened over there, so why does he have to mix with all these figures important to England? He’d probably be a lot happier back home with the other Spanish/Hapsburg monarchs.

William’s trying very hard to be a better person this time around. He recognizes that he didn’t love Mary half as well as she deserved the first time around and wants to rectify that. He’s making an effort to be less stiff and austere and would really like to be able to look back on this life, whenever it finally ends, with more satisfaction than he could the first time around. He still can’t really bring himself to respect Anne and George though, even though he’s aware/slightly guilty about the fact George was always a much better husband than he was.

Geoffrey’s got a bit of a feral/nihilistic immortal thing going on because he’s so damn old. If you’re going to continue to exist as long as people remember your name, might as well have some fun while you have the opportunity.

George has kind of a Seymour thing going on where he was/is happy just standing by Anne; staying faithful to her, respecting her authority as queen, and not wanting anything from her other than her love/companionship. It’s kind of a barebones way of living, but he’s okay with that and doesn’t really want anything more. Anne really does love him, it’s just her sexual orientation makes things a bit more complicated, as it did/does with William and Mary.

Geoffrey has kind of adopted Guildford as a younger brother. Despite the personality clash, Geoffrey’s usually the one Guildford’s the least hostile towards.

shit that happens at writing meetings https://youtu.be/0WD9pA2376k?t=29

the rehearsal process is straight out of “band geeks”. albert may have had to break down in tears in order to get everyone back on track, idk.

i don’t want to just completely lift the ending of Six. but it’s tempting. everyone realizes that the whole concert/competition thing was predicated on a bad idea and that by telling their wives stories for them and centering themselves in said stories they've actually just been talking over women rather than uplifting their voices and everyone feels bad and apologizes to the audience for wasting their time and then reveal that this whole thing has actually been a long-con and pull out the money tin, sing-begging the audience to donate so the queens can get their own band/musical off the ground and tell their own stories...or hell maybe the queens themselves actually come on for the final number

the whole concert is actually just an attempt at helping raise money for their wives’ new musical “Seven”, so instead of having an “I Don’t Need Your Love” number, they just do that scene from Avenue Q where they pass around a money tin and beg the audience to donate through song

“your money doesn’t come with you when you’re reincarnated! help a guy help his wife out!”

01 “Lord/King/Prince” 02 “Hustlin’” 03 “Nine\teen” 04 “Incendiar” 05 “Good Queen Bess” 06 “Die Mad” 07 “Stand By” 08 “Now and Forever” 09 “the money song” 10 “love your wife or we’ll steal your teeth” “Hear”

you know how six has the issue where like half the queens have the same names? these mfs have the opposite problem. they all have different names, but different native languages, so each person is referred to by like six different names depending on who’s addressing them english / french / spanish / dutch / danish / german geoffrey / geffroi / godofredo / godfried / ? / gottfried philip / philippe / felipe / filips / filip / philipp william / guilaume / guillermo / willem / vilhem / wilhelm george / georges / jorge / joris / jorgen / georg guildford also gets called some variation of godfrey a lot since it’s the closest thing to his actual name. albert’s the only one free from it because his name doesn’t vary much between everyone’s languages.

GD: “Make some noise for Robin!” GoD: “Big ups Eric!” A: “And show some love for Charlie!” GoA: “And Monsieur François!” referring to elizabeth i's main suitors: robert dudley, eric xiv of sweden, charles of austria, and francis duke of anjou

there may or may not be an attempted haus of holbein number/royal tindr sequence about elizabeth that gets interrupted halfway through because the theater loses power. liz has no interest.

William III: "Imagine being married to the rightful queen of England and being told that you can't share her power and keep ruling after her death. Can't relate." Philip II: "Because you weren't married to the rightful queen?" Geoffrey of Anjou, eating popcorn in the background: "Oooh, burn." Albert is tired of having to put up with this shit and wants everyone to get along so they can finish the musical.

“loserwhocouldn’tevenconquerorenglandsayswhat”

Random headcanon: the six version of Philip II of Spain is one of those guys who genuinely try to respect women and be allies but also brag all the time about how feminist they supposedly are. He's like "I respected that England is my wife's kingdom so I didn't interfere during her reign and I also supported Elizabeth." And all the other male consorts (specially William) are rolling their eyes in the background.

you have no idea how much william bullies philip. george is too nice to bully him, so william picks up the slack

thinking about just making it like the studio cast where everyone’s in their casual clothes and aren’t color coded. i really like color coding tho. geoffrey - yellow bc plantagenet? blue bc of the coat of arms? purple bc of vibes+royal dynasty? guilford - grey’s the only color that i vibe with, but jane’s already got grey as her color. a lighter/darker shade of grey tho philip - red/orange is what i vibe with, but mary’s already got that as her color. black also might work, but idk. william - orange. like. how could it be anything else. george - some kind of shade of orange bc i vibe with it? pale green and pale blue would also work albert - i vibe with purple, partially since i have prince as his insp. can’t really think of anything else.

although, the lack of color coding could just be another point of chaos. albert told everyone to come in different colors and called purple for himself, but william and george both show up in orange on the night of the show and geoffrey insists that he’s actually the one who called purple. george: “oop, i’m sorry will! i guess you’re going to have to get changed” william: “...my name is william of orange you fuckwit”

albert: okay kings, i know rehearsal has been a bit taxing on all of us, so i brought this new medicine that helps with fatigue! william: oh wow thanks al. hey, what is this stuff anyway? albert: cocaine :) william: william: ALBERT I'M FUCKING ASTHMATIC so is george. victorian cures! everyone trips balls while william and george go to the hospital. albert still insists it works. “well you're not tired anymore are you!” as geoffrey vibrates into another dimension. at least they got the opening song written.

*during a very long and tedious rehearsal* william: ...you guys wanna learn some dutch curse words? geoffrey: HOLY FUCK YES PLEASE

art by @spooner7308

picrews here here here here and here

Noah Thomas, Josh Baker, Nuno Queimado, Arun Blair-Mangat, Ryan Pidgen, and Shiv Rabheru

#redlady speaks #six the musical #peyton's six posts #six oc hell

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double-daredevil · 4 years

Text

folklore ; chapter one

din djarin x reader (no y/n)

words: 6.2k

rating: T for swearing i guess. its a slow burn there isnt anything sexii yet lol

themes: slow burn (like y’all its so SLOW lol), eventual angst, no Y/N, eventual smut, eventual EVERYTHING this is like the establishing shot of a movie its gonna be a FIC lmfao. dont get attached the end is already planned.

notes: set before the tv series. canon doesn’t exist anymore. i make the rules here pals. yes it is named after the tswift album so that gives you some fuckin HINTS

Accident.

Pretty much everything that happened to you happened by accident, but you weren't one to complain. Without much control over your life for your adolescent years, seeing as you were raised as an Imperial trooper and just followed orders, you happily let yourself float along in life whichever way the forces led you.

That doesn't mean you don't have, say, a moral guideline.

It's difficult to explain to people once they get to know you better and eventually squeeze out of you that yes, you were trained Imperial. Details are not awarded to most people, in fact— you’re not sure anyone except one of your commanding officers in the rebellion knew that you were a clone.

You have spent countless hours trying to transition from regret to simply shame. After all, how is it your fault you did what you were told? If you didn’t, you would have been executed. Tossed to the trash like a faulty toy. The greatest decision in your life was the first decision you, personally, got to make— to run. It took you a few years to plan the scheme, but you defected successfully. Your moral issues were simply too strong to subvert, and you had to leave. So you did. That's all. You don't like to talk about it much.

After you mustered up some vengeance by joining the rebellion, you had to find a living once the major fighting died down for a while. With your particular skills— too deadly to be a simple security guard, or any occupation that doesn't involve tactical warfare, you settled on hoarding money through bounties. Not quite professed in the field of bounty hunting, you would latch on to more experienced hunters and offer to split rewards 20-80 for your help. The meager money filled your pocket enough for food and lodging while you learned the ways of the trade and, subsequently, your new way of life.

That's how you met your first Mandalorian.

A mutual acquaintance from the Guild had a heavy quarry, a difficult one that he had trouble passing off. Too complex and detailed for just you, your acquaintance told you that when he found a suitable hunter to take the lead, he'd hail you to tag along. A week after the quarry was first put on the table, a renowned bounty hunter— this Mandalorian, rolled into town to collect the tracking fob. Part of the agreement was to take you along. The Mandalorian agreed. A brief encounter mediated by your mutual acquaintance and you were following the beskar-clad hunter to his ship, which you’ve come to know as the Razor Crest. A dingy, huge hunk of metal that could use a good list of upgrades, but you quickly grew accustomed to the flying garbage can.

And somehow, after that singular bounty hunt, where you actually got to assist in the capture and the shoving of the unruly quarry into the carbonite, Mando offered you constant refuge aboard his ship in return for some pay and help on his harder bounties. That conversation, so far, has been the longest exchange of words between you and him, and it only lasted maybe five minutes. That’s all. You’re not one that aches for human interaction, having been commanded all your life by others, so you almost welcome the silence.

Almost.

—

Officially, you have been a part of Mando’s crew for nearing six months.

You hear metal clanging against metal, and you glance over your shoulder to see him climbing down from the cockpit. “Are we headed to the next quarry?” You ask.

“Yes,” comes through the vocoder. “Carajam.”

“Oh lovely,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm as you focus on polishing the trigger of the blaster in your hands. “Another desert planet in the Outer Rim.”

“Our favorite,” Mando deadpans as he walks over, sitting across from you at the janky table.

Once you were an official employee of his, you spent your first few payday collections on your own blasters. In all honesty, weapons never made you nervous, as you grew up in a space station that was literally just a giant weapon, but owning your own seemed… different. Blasters are weapons made just to kill, and you are allowed to have that power again. But, anyway, most of your money goes to savings so you can buy a house to retire to one day. One day.

The Mandalorian rolls his shoulders back to adjust his cape out of the way of his hands as he starts to dismantle the blaster that’s usually holstered at his hip. Piece by piece, he sets his blaster on the table like a new jigsaw puzzle, and you’ve just finished polishing the little blaster you’ve decided to keep stashed in your boot.

“How long until we arrive?” You ask.

His visor is focused downwards, at the metal pieces on the table, his right gloved hand hovering over the pieces like an excited child in a candy shop trying to pick his favorite one. “Not long,” he replies, picking up the barrel and beginning to wipe it clean with a cloth. “We will arrive once it becomes night on the planet. Cooler temps.”

You nod, letting out an appreciative sigh. That meant you had a night’s rest before the hunt began. As he finished up with the barrel of his blaster, you removed your longer, daily use blaster and began dismantling. You two stay like that, at a dimly lit table cleaning the blasters, until the ship notified that it was about to drop out of hyperdrive.

Mando quickly reassembled his blaster, slipping the completed gun back into its holster as he stood and hustles over to the cockpit. Following suit, you dusted off any last specs of dirt on yours and planted your feet firmly against the floor, as the ship dropped out of its easy glide through the stars and into the gravity pull of Carajam. The Razor Crest isn’t the smoothest rig, but you’re still very appreciative. And, you like to think you have good balance, so it’s not a hard task to stay stable.

You want to say that Mando is a good pilot, and you really think he is, but you can’t help but miss the sheer amount of credits that the Empire was able to spend on simple luxuries to make their lives easier, like enhanced stabilization in and out of hyperdrive, cleaner hyperdrives, even, and—

The Razor Crest lands and you shake those dark thoughts out of your head, reassembling your blaster but with clearly less finesse than Mando. Stars, are weapons actually part of his religion, or was that a joke as well? It’s quite the challenge to pick up on the subtleties of somebody who wears intense armor literally every waking moment, but you’ve grown accustomed (more or less) to the separate circles of things that Mando talks about. Those circles are: one, things he says and means, two, things he says as a joke, and three, the gray, shadowy area where those two circles meet and you’re still deciphering what brief conversations and quick remarks belong there.

As the ship starts to rest, expelling various airs and sighs itself as the sheer weight settles on the landing gear, you clear off the table and slip your smaller blaster back into your boot, and your other into your holster that’s banded to your right thigh. The Mandalorian comes down the cockpit ladder soon enough and goes to stand at the main ship door. You hop up from your seat and stand next to him, as he punches something into the control pad on the archway and the large door hisses and starts to lower. The first glimpse of the planet you get is the peak of the spectacular night sky, and eventually the ramp meets the sand on the ground and you see it all. Mando struts down the ramp to go and meet the landing dock manager and pay for the spot here in this spaceport Danan Karr, but you wait aboard still, leaning against the open doorway and gazing out into the night. Planets are always easier for you at night, as they were calmer— at least, those that don’t have an avid nightlife. A few that you and Mando have stopped at have been busier in the dark hours than the light, but it was always fitting.

The breeze of the desert planet comes sifting around you, caressing your cheeks with warm air and particles of sand, but you don’t mind. Raised in space, you have an affinity for the ground and real, non-recycled air. Although it’s never any trouble for you to stay inside a ship for however long, there is always something alluring about fresh air. Plus, this planet in the Outer Rim isn’t exactly prime vacationing, so there is nearly no light pollution. It was almost hard to wrench your eyes away from the bright stars speckling the dark blanket of the sky.

You almost don’t notice when Mando comes walking back up the ramp, too busy basking in the breeze to notice the beskar-clad hunter. He stands at the top of the ramp, slightly in front of you, for a good few seconds as you look straight over his head.

“Hey,” he calls for your attention, and you look down at his face. Or, well, the specific area in the T of his visor where you’re pretty sure his eyes are. He tilts his helmet to the side and you know he’s begun to worry about you.

So you flash him a smile. “I just love the air here,” you say, and turn around to step back inside the ship. Mando walks the rest of the way up the ramp and inside, pressing a button to raise the ramp.

“Rest tonight,” he starts. “Tomorrow we go on the hunt.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, going back to sit at the janky table to clean one more blaster before retreating to your bunk.

The Mandalorian sits at the table as well, after having taken his ambam rifle out of storage for a quick clean. In silence you two work on your respective blasters, caring for them as they are just as important to the job as the tracking fob. Perhaps an hour or so went by, and as you were putting your blaster back together piece by piece, the comfortable silence was broken. But this time— not by you.

“What did you say about the air?”

You look up from your blaster and see that Mando isn’t looking at you, but still at his rifle. The fact that he’s trying to start casual conversation accidentally makes a smile appear on your face. You quickly look back down at your blaster, but your smile still remains.

“I said that I loved it,” you reply. “Because the air here is very fresh. Even though there’s like, no trees, there’s almost no people. No pollution.”

He hums in understanding and continues cleaning.

Back to the comfortable silence.

—

The Razor Crest looks large from the outside, but it’s pretty cramped inside. The majority of its bulk is for it’s engines and practical components— hyperdrive, fuel tanks, cooling systems and whatnot. It was once a gunship, and that fact does put you on edge. Ships like this used to transport troops and drop them in combat. So, there is a large portion of the ship’s cargo bay that remains unused, as Mando doesn’t usually transport large quarries. The living space, or at least that’s what you’ve called it in your head, consists of an open area with a small but sturdy table, a few stools to sit on, and various crates that contain meal rations and tools and various trinkets. You’re almost one hundred percent sure that this ship was never meant to be lived in. You estimate that maybe four or five people could stay on the ship before everyone felt claustrophobic.

There used to be only one cot hidden in the walls, you’d knocked against one of the panels and the door would swoosh away, revealing a simple bed and just enough room to roll around to attempt to be comfortable. The night after the first bounty you helped Mando with, he let you sleep some in the hidden nook as he piloted you two back to Nevarro. While you were standing outside the ramp and helping unload bounties, the Mandalorian inquired whether or not you would want to join him on future bounties. With an assurance that you would get your own cot, you obliged.

—

The bounty that you two are hunting on Carajam, the lovely desert planet, is hiding somewhere in the caves and cliffs a few klicks east of the space port that you are staying in. From the info you’ve picked up talking with a few locals, the quarry likes to hide in the sand caves because he has no friends. Well, actually it’s because he’s murdered about a person per household out of everyone who still lives on the desert planet. You thank the locals for their information with a few credits and a jug of desirable water.

You make your way to the only cantina on the planet, and by cantina you mean what is quite literally a bar top and six stools outside the shop of a local mechanic. The Mandalorian is sitting, waiting, on the last stool, facing the expanse of the desert that is a mere fifty feet from the edge of the little star port. You swiftly occupy the stool next to him.

“So,” you start, and he swivels in his stool to face you. You brace your elbows on the table. “About seven klicks east towards the main expanse of cliffs, and then about two more klicks north to the caves. One of the caves will look obviously occupied, trash and debris and whatnot. That’s what I’ve gathered.”

“Good work,” comes through the vocoder. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yes, sir,” you smile, adjusting the straps of the small backpack you have. “After your lead.”

He swivels again and hops off his stool, and waits a moment until he hears you following him before beelining to the edge of town. You follow, obedient, as he weaves through the sparse crowd to another shop, lined with speederbikes and a few larger landcrafts. The Mandalorian walks up to the shop owner and exchanges a few words, and a few credits, and then moves to two of the speederbikes.

“You know how to ride?” He asks you, as you stand beside one and he the other.

“Yes, actually,” you say, always having a soft spot for fast land vehicles. You briefly wonder that, if you had said no, would he have made you sit behind him on one bike? The thought makes you smile, bashful, and you wait until he mounts his bike before climbing onto yours.

“Seven klicks east,” Mando says, repeating your earlier words and firing up his bike.

You turn yours on as well, and grab a pair of goggles from your backpack. You pull up the bandana you keep around your neck to cover your mouth, and then put on the goggles. You give a thumbs up to Mando, who was glancing over his shoulder to wait for your cue.

And then he zooms off. And you diligently follow.

—

You two reach the caves in a quick hour, specifically saving some hours of daylight just in case this job takes a turn. The two of you park your speederbikes about half a klick downwind of the cave, just in case. You keep your goggles on and bandana over your mouth, as the wind out here doesn’t seem to want to settle. Dust and sand weave around your feet like a clingy pet as you scale the short cliffside after your Mandalorian, following him quickly toward the cave.

You hover around the mouth of the cave as Mando stalks in, somehow still quiet despite his sturdy boots against the rock. To see down inside was near impossible, even as you took off your goggles. You hear some sort of scuffle, a few clatters, and then Mando is shoving a handcuffed quarry your direction. You reach up and steady the quarry, your hands on the man’s shoulders. Stars, he was a large man, so you assume that Mando only managed to shackle him due to surprise.

“Let go of me, you kriffing bitch,” the quarry seethes at you and aggressively shrugs his shoulders to loosen your grip. Mando takes a step towards him, you imagine he’s reacting to the derogatory term thrown your way, but you beat him to it—

You release your grip on the quarry, and while he’s stunned for a moment from it, you kick his foot out from underneath him. He falls hard on his ass and plops to the side, unable to stifle his fall due to being cuffed. With a slight smile, you watch him struggle on the ground.

“F-fuckin’ bitch,” he groans out, trying to roll over to a kneeling position. Once he manages that, Mando comes and grips the man’s shirt— lifting him inches off of the ground towards his helmet.

“Watch your mouth.”

And then Mando drops him.

The quarry gasps at the contact back on the ground and groans, almost falling over again. You go up behind him and grab the cuffs, wrenching him upwards and forcing him to stand. You grip the cuffs tightly in your left hand, and hold your blaster to the quarry’s back with your right.

“Let’s go, then,” you say.

The Mandalorian leads the way back towards the speeders.

—

After tying up the quarry to transport him on the back of Mando’s speederbike, you settle nicely back inside the Razor Crest. Mando already froze the quarry after he wouldn’t stop blubbering about how sorry he was for mindlessly murdering the people in port— he couldn’t help himself, apparently.

“Nobody is born a killer,” the Mandalorian tells the quarry before freezing him.

You avert your gaze away from him once the carbonite process is finished, allowing him to believe he had privacy with the quarry during their discussion. You had tucked yourself around a corner to avoid letting him know you like listening to the Mandalorian’s stern and assertive remarks to unruly quarries. You take mental notes on the way he talks, mostly to figure out what he believes in. A Mandalorian follows a creed, and your Mandalorian hasn’t mentioned a single thing about it since you’ve met him. By now, after half a cycle, you’ve figured out the basics. And the bottom line is that Mando is generally a good guy— a moral guy, you guess. Kind of like a vigilante who upholds his own justice, but a good guy nonetheless. If Mandalorians picked sides besides their own people, you think he would’ve joined the rebellion.

“I’ve set us on course back to Nevarro,” you offer as Mando walks back through to the main area of the ship and raises the ramp. You lean against the metal wall in one corner, watching him fulfil his routine.

“Good,” he says, appreciative in his own way that you know that he likes to be constantly on the move. “What’s the ETA?”

“Only a few hours,” you say, pushing yourself off of the wall and going to the ladder to the cockpit. The ramp closes as you grab the rungs, looking back to Mando as he shadows you at the ladder. “You should get some rest before we arrive,” you offer.

He’s silent a moment while you face back to the ladder and start ascending. You hear him mutter a ‘okay, thank you,’ through his helmet before you climb your way fully into the cockpit. Once you’ve ascended, you don’t hesitate to go and sit in the pilot’s chair. Although you’re not the best pilot, favoring studying combat and languages instead of flight and mechanics, you manage.

You settle in the seat and grab the flight controls, and hear Mando stepping onto the floor of the cockpit. You flick up a few switches and start the ship, letting her rumble to life while you look back over your shoulder at your Mandalorian.

“Sleep well,” you say with a hint of a smile.

He gives you a nod, hesitates, and then opens the door on the wall behind the cockpit, leading to the captain’s quarters. Once you hear his door swoosh close after his retreating footsteps, you let out a breath and encourage yourself, grabbing tightly onto the handles.

Just get it into the sky, and the autopilot gets you there, you tell yourself, forcing the Razor Crest into the air. She succeeds in ascending, and you raise the landing gear and disarm any land security protocols. Following a mental list, you do exactly as you’ve seen Mando, and get the ship into space in no time. A little shaky, sure, but you don’t think it was enough to stir the captain out of bed.

—

One cycle.

You two take a brief break. There aren’t any bounties worthy of your time, anyway.

The smoke crawls up your wrist, wrapping around your forearm before dissipating into the air. You hold the ornate stem of the smoking pipe to your lips, inhaling shallowly, and let your arm drop as you try to breathe the smoke in deeper. A heavy sigh and the smoke passes back out of your lungs, past your lips, forming a cloud in front of your face. You wait, still holding the pipe, and look expectantly at your hosts.

Upon landing on this planet, at what seems to be the only one semi-decent town, the Razor Crest was surrounded by the inhabitants. Seemingly human-esque, you and the Mandalorian walked out of the ship with no weapons in your hands, ready to barter for some fuel and lodging for the night. The people of the planet, through an interpreter, were more than happy to allow you to stay.

Under one condition; uphold their welcoming traditions and take a huge hit off of the pipe the dude who seemed to be the chief was eagerly thrusting towards you two.

Startled at the proposition, and more so by the growing ruckus of the onlooking crowd the longer Mando tried to deny the offer, you grabbed the pipe. The chief smiled widely and the crowd calmed, but Mando whipped his head towards you.

“Don’t smoke that,” he said. “You have no idea what it is.”

The interpreter tried to reassure you that it was safe, it was fine, a common plant that everyone on the planet enjoys. The longer you held the pipe without smoking it, the smaller the smile of the chief was and the more and more the rest of the people stirred. Eventually, it did devolve into a shouting match between Mando, the interpreter, the chief, and a few people in the crowd who were brandishing weapons.

So you smoked it.

You’ve smoked a few things before in your experience, not a lot. Drinking was always more your thing, knowing that once the liquid passes through you it will be gone from your system. Inhalants? You could never be sure. But you would be a bad sidekick to the Mandalorian if you didn’t sacrifice your lungs for ease of service.

After the first inhale, the chief smiled again, and gestured for you to smoke some more. Ignoring the verbal protest of Mando, you brought the pipe back up to your mouth and puffed again. A bit bigger of a hit this time.

Well, much bigger, judging by the size of the cloud you just breathed out. Surprised, you let out a chuckle, but the irritation in your throat causes your laugh to turn into a hearty cough.

And the crowd cheered.

The chief took the pipe from you and draped his arm over your shoulders, guiding you and Mando behind you into the town. It’s a little town tucked into a small clearing beside a freshwater river and a thick grove of forest, tall and green trees that seem to tower over everything— perhaps the tallest trees you think you have ever seen. On this planet, there are three suns, and they are constantly setting in succession. So, it’s never really nighttime.

And it seems like these people take advantage of that.

As the chief leads you and your Mandalorian through the stone streets lined with dark, muddy brick houses, your head starts to get light. Like, the tension in your neck loosens and your shoulders go slack. It’s nice— well, it would be, if you didn’t quickly associate it with whatever the chief insisted you smoke. The chief’s arm was still draped over your shoulders and he excitedly explained, in his native tongue, what you assume to be a detailed history of the town. All you could do was feign a smile, probably looking a bit dumb considered you don’t know if your cheeks are numb or just used to your wide grin by now, and nod in fake understanding. The Mandalorian is exactly three and a half paces behind you.

The interpreter is walking beside Mando, re-explaining everything the chief is saying. You aren’t able to listen to both the chief and the interpreter, somehow lacking the mental capacity to focus back and forth between the two, now. The crowd of people disappeared once you smoked from the fancy pipe, save for a handful that you assume are the chief’s servants, so the little troop led by you and the chief eventually hits the end of the main street.

The chief removes his arm from your shoulders and gives you a nice, hard slap on the back. He says something, while gesturing to a small cottage that bookends the houses lining the road. You’re too busy staring off in the distance, past the green grass that traces the treeline and river. One of the suns is setting, casting a mesmerizing red haze over the tips of the trees, painting the freshwater of the river golden.

You hear the Mandalorian call your name, and turn to face him.

And he’s standing there, at the door of the cottage the chief is letting you two use for the night, practically glowing with how the setting sun is glinting off of his beskar.

“Are you okay?” He asks, a second time, but you didn’t hear the first.

You cannot help the unabashed grin that swallows your face, and stumble over to the door. “Never better. Everything is great. You should’ve smoked that shit, too.”

You hear him sigh and he opens the door for you, stepping back so you can walk in first. So you meander in, hand lightly following the wall because you’re suddenly doubting your balance. You find a seat at the small table that’s placed in the middle of the room, and you still can’t stop yourself from smiling.

The Mandalorian drops a bag at the foot of one of the cots that he must’ve gone back to the Crest to get, but you don’t remember him doing that. And then he drops your night bag at the foot of the other cot, and you wonder when he went and got your bag.

“Thanks,” you croak out, still smiley, and brace your elbows on the table. “D’you have any idea what I smoked?”

“No,” he admits, voice monotone as usual through the vocoder. He pulls out the second chair and sits across from you. The cottage, small but spacious enough for two people to not knock elbows, was alight with soft sunshine filtering in through the numerous windows. Who needs light on a planet that is constantly day?

“How do you feel?” He asks, visor intent on staring you down.

“Spectacular,” you reply, staring back at the visor. You used to wear a gaudy helmet when you were a trooper, so you’re pretty damn sure you know exactly where his eyes are behind that mask.

“You look drunk.”

Your smile, instead of faltering, is drawn a little wider and your elbows slip forward on the table until your chest is pressed up against the wood, your chin almost touching the tabletop but your cheeks are squished by your hands, keeping your head up. “I feel like it, too. But, different at the same time, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know,” the Mandalorian says as he leans back in his chair. His hands are flat against his thighs, and you’re 99% sure he is simply watching you. Out of worry or annoyance, of course you can’t tell, but you’re leaning towards annoyance.

So you tilt your head to the side, staring back, trying your fucking hardest to stifle the stupid smile on your face but you just can’t. “Want me to tell you what you’re missin’?”

Surprisingly, the Mandalorian tilts his head as well, mimicking you. “Enlighten me.”

“Have y’ever got so drunk that you just had to sit there and wait ‘til the booze gets filtered out of your system?” You start, letting your head— so heavy— fall further to the side and land on the table, a nice foundation to ground you. You’re so slumped in your chair your legs are straight, sticking out of the sides underneath the table as you stretch your arms to dangle off of the table. “And yet it’s like, the best part of bein’ sloshed is comin’ up so you don’t want to sober up and y’just— just— sit there, stewing.”

He lets out a hum, letting you know he’s still politely listening to your ramblings.

Any thoughts in your head blur, images and words swishing around behind your eyes as you try to focus on what you were saying. “And nothin’ hurts or aches and you get to forget ‘bout everything bad you did that day and just look at the stars. Y’get to look at them, and for the first time you see them, see the life they hold and foster and you feel special knowin’ you’re a part of it all.”

There is a moment of silence, or— you think so, but your breathing is a little heavier than usual. The moment draws out, longer, and you’re beginning to wonder if you actually said that stuff out loud or if you simply thought it.

You bolt upright in your chair, cheeks red with embarrassment— but the fucking smile is still on your stupid face.

“I don’t know what’s up with me right now,” you admit, eyes focused on one of the windowsills off near the door, so you don’t have to look at that helmet and feel the stare behind it. “The chief said that they smoke this stuff all the time and don’t sleep a wink, but I feel super tired.”

In your peripheral vision you see the dreaded helmet glint in the sunlight. He’s looking at you, quizzically. “What do you mean?” He asks. “The interpreter didn’t say that.”

“No,” you agree, looking back at him. You try to focus where you know a face is behind the helmet, but you can’t get the image to clear in your head. It’s all a little blurry at the edges, and your Mandalorian is all edges. “I said the chief said that.”

“He didn’t speak any Galactic Basic. When did you hear him say that?”

The edges blur some more. “He said it when we were all walking, I dunno. He just said it.”

The Mandalorian looks toward the door, thinking.

“It must be the ganja,” you offer.

He looks back. “The what?”

“The offering. That’s what the chief called it. But, well, I dunno if that’s what it’s actually named or what they call it,” you say, unable to look at the sharpness and crisp lines that make up the beskar armor. What’s going on with you? You weren’t concerned until now, reaching a hand up to trace your bottom lip and finding that you have control over your face again. No more creepy smiling. “I feel fine, though. From smoking.”

You steal a glance at him and find that he is still, predictably, staring at you. Your cheeks grow hot again, suddenly feeling like a burden to your employer. He is not a babysitter, and you don’t want him to feel like he has to watch over you as you ride this high.

“Really,” you add. “I feel fine. Things look weird, right now, and my head is fuzzy, but it feels good.”

He stares, and you bitterly wonder if that’s all he’s good for.

So you stand up, eyes scanning the room and you notice the heavy curtains tied neatly above each window. “Guess we should sleep,” you say, stepping towards one of the windows to let the curtains down to block out the never-ending sunlight.

But, your ankles feel a little weak, and your balance falters.

Before your hazy head even registers that you’ve lost your footing, the Mandalorian is at your side, his right arm tucked behind your back, his right hand firmly on your right hip. His left hand is grasping your left upper arm tight enough to bruise, but without his strong grip, you would have crumbled to the floor like a tossed blanket.

“Are you okay?” He asks immediately, and holds you tighter and hauls you up back onto your unsteady feet. Once the words finally registered in your brain, you briefly thought that he really did sound concerned— masked voice a little higher in pitch than usual.

Your fuzzy head decides the best thing to do in response is laugh as you stood up back on your own. “I’m okay,” you assure, a hint of laughter still in your voice, and you raise your hand to lightly shove him away, not needing his support anymore.

But, since he’s solid as a fucking rock, your hand just brushes against the beskar chestplate uselessly. That causes you to laugh a little more, and he lets go of you once he’s sure you can stand solidly on your own.

“Are you sure?” He asks, still with that higher pitch that the vocoder almost hides. He’s hovering close to your side, ready to catch you again if he has to.

Curious, you raise your hand and tap your knuckles against his chestplate, and the resounding thud thud makes you smile. “Fuckin’ hardcore, Mando. I’m so jealous of your armor.”

“Yeah, you’re not okay,” he says, but you swear you hear a lilt in his voice, as though he finds you amusing. “You should try to sleep it off.”

He gestures towards one of the beds but you don’t look over to it. Instead, you tap your knuckles against one of his pauldrons. Tink tink.

“Really,” he insists, and you for sure hear the smile on his face in that one word. “You need some sleep.” He grabs your shoulders and turns you around, slowly, so that you’re facing the bed.

“Would you close the blinds?” You ask, stumbling forward to the bed. You flounce on top of the blanket, as this planet is quite comfortably warm— or are you just warm? — and let out a heavy sigh. A real bed.

“Of course,” Mando replies, strutting to each of the five windows in this small, quaint cottage and letting down each of the curtains. In the back of your hazy mind, you know he can see in the dark with the HUD in his helmet. The thought makes you slightly jealous, and you wonder if, as you turn to lay on your back in the blackness, if he may be looking at you. You blame the ganja for the fuzziness that overtakes you at the thought.

“Thank you,” you call into the darkness.

You hear his friendly hum somewhere in the room, and hear him sit down at the table again. Truly, the inhabitants of this planet know how to utilize the sun, and how to hide from it, as you open your eyes to stare at the ceiling and see nothing. It is completely pitch black, and you’re impressed.

The feeling of the mattress underneath you is almost too soft. You can’t remember the last time you were able to sleep on a real bed— if you ever had the pleasure. It reminds you of floating in deep salt water, the effort of staying afloat taken away from you as you just let it happen. Currently, you’re not sure if your eyes are open or closed, as it makes no difference. Your breathing is stable, and the haze in your head is tolerable. You must be coming down from the peak, and it’s making you tired.

Quietly, you hear the Mandalorian’s gloved hands grasp metal, but you’re not sure what. You hear something slightly heavy placed on the table.

He calls your name, softly, and unfiltered.

“Yes?” You reply, breathless. Did he take his helmet off?

“Go to sleep,” he says. His usually gruff voice sounds gentle without the vocoder.

“Okay,” you say, and you do indeed need to close your eyes. The blackness behind your eyelids seems almost darker than the darkness of the room. Unbeknownst to you, you must’ve been extremely tired, because you pass out almost immediately.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #reader scenario #din djarin scenario #mandalorian scenario #well i guess we're doing this pals #hmu with any feedback PLEASE #also yes i have this fic planned #and it will not be happy so dont ask LOL #or do #yes i did NOT have a title until taylor swift dropped her album #have fun #my writing #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader

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hannjunkyu · 3 years

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hello! i’m peyton & i’m going to be writing for han junkyu aka the cookie skeleton aka the cringiest man on either of the islands, probably (but he doesn’t believe in cringe culture so it’s okay!) go ahead and leave a ♡ if you’re interested in plotting with us and i’ll send you an im!

𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓.

twenty-one and clueless. do not ask him about his future.

very artistically-inclined. his parents (especially his mom) placed greater emphasis on self-expression and creativity than education while he was growing up, which greatly shaped the man he is now. he’s been painting for longer than he’s been reading, so you could say it’s his most ~refined~ skill

but he’s also been dancing and acting for a while, too. initially trained in contemporary dance, but he’s more interested in hiphop now! also super into singing... i’ll just say this: if it’s creative/artistic, he’s into it! does have a tendency to spread himself too thin and has always been this way, so while he has various skills, he lacks a specialization.

used to be really promising. claimed that he was going to be a star and everyone believed it. unlike most kids, he had a very clear plan and was headed in the right direction. plus, he was well-known in the community, well-liked. very respectable kid

perhaps his parents gave him the wrong impression bc he ended up dropping out of high school and he was like “haha you told me education wasn’t that important” and they were like “we didn’t think you’d drop out??!?!”

and then things started going downhill because he kept traveling to auditions and participating in online auditions as well for all kinds of companies (modeling agencies, acting agencies, idol agencies bc mf didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do, still kind of doesn’t) and most of the time he was able to pass the blind round but every time agents found out he’s a hs dropout, they put a strike through his name.

ended up FINALLY getting an offer in early 2020-ish but was told he’d have to relocate to seoul and, as it turns out, junkyu’s a fuckin coward. didn’t want to leave his people so he turned it down much to..... Everyone’s dismay

now he’s working part-time as a cashier / sales associate / whatever at graciegrace! wants to work full-time, but atm he’s stuck begging his coworkers to give him some shifts and upselling like crazy to try to prove that he!!!! deserves to be a full-time employee!!!!

yes it’s the most expensive store on the island... yes he only works there because he needs that employee discount... yes he wears exclusively graciegrace clothes while he’s on shift and nonchalantly strikes poses like he’s a fuckin model while he’s supposed to be cleaning the shelfs and organizing displays... mind ur business!

his parents don’t really like him atm because he had Such A Bright Future and now he’s a retail worker, so he’s living on his own which means he needs money even more bc he doesn’t have his parents to leech off of. if not to feed himself, then to feed his trio of hamsters. so he sells artwork as a side hustle

mainly commissioned stuff bc if he just painted what he wants to, it would be anime girls sipping lemonade by the pool and no one would buy any of his pieces, so. gotta give the people what they want..... he likes to work in a ~dreamy~ kind of style with pastel color schemes, but he’ll rly do whatever if he’s getting that coin

junkyu’s obsessed with anime. started watching it shortly before he dropped out of hs, got really into it as a method of escapism after he dropped out and realized that life is hard. 9/10 times, if he’s meeting someone for the first time, he’s going to compare them to some background character from a niche anime that only nerds like him would know. i’m Personally not an anime fan so i can’t provide examples but jus take my word for it

kind of speaks japanese? he’s been studying it for a few years because he wants to watch anime without subtitles and he’s...... decent, but not fluent by any means

currently has hot pink hair because (1) he wants to and (2) he’s matching with an anime girl he likes atm.... guess who she is

obsessed with all things pretty/cute. buys a lot of sweets simply for the packaging which he REALLY needs to stop doing because he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, so they usually go to waste. collects stuffed animals, not afraid to admit it. will go crazy any time he sees a cat, dog or any other soft animal that will let him pet it.

his wardrobe’s full of pink, his home is full of pink, his phone case is pink, his favorite pair of sneakers is pink. kind of shocking to anyone who’s just getting to know him because who the fuck can see SO MUCH of one color and not get sick of it... junkyu! that’s who!

still wants to be involved in the entertainment business, kinda too scared to leave so these days he’s planning on opening up a theater in town. except apparently there are certain qualifications you have to have and..... Money’s Involved..... so he’s currently working towards a ged, don’t ask him about it

has a ton of random luggage and packed boxes in his house bc he’s lowkey always thinking about leaving, just doesn’t really have the guts to actually do it.

doesn’t believe in cringe culture, which on one hand is good for him but on the other hand, bad for everyone else. kinda hard to handle sometimes because you want to think he’s joking when he acts the way he does, but he never is.

seems like an ~elegant artist~ when you see him from a distance, which is admittedly very intentional. dramatic, always thinking that people who might happen to spot him should fall in love with him immediately so he tries to be Oddly Mesmerizing in everything he does. the illusion always breaks when he opens his mouth.

goes for a run every single morning! if you live on starden island and happen to be an early bird, you’ve probably seen him far more often than you’d ever want to.

aesthetics: rose petals on the floor, exaggerated confessions of love to distant acquaintances, muted cartoons in the middle of the night, strawberry icecream, sunny days, the feeling of a stranger’s dog coming over to greet you, clicking immediately with new people, the smell of fresh laundry, sunrises, 90′s anime, knowing you’re going to regret something and doing it anyway, neon shutter sunglasses.

#intro.

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streetlites · 4 years

Photo

“Stick a couple of bills here,” I hear Amber’s voice through the din of the dressing room.

“What are you guys doing?” Sherry asks from somewhere behind me.

“Stormy said people are more likely to tip you if they see that you’ve already got some green on you,” Savannah answers, stuffing a couple of twenty bills in Amber’s top, pulling it down to reveal the pasties Amber’s glued on.

“Stormy’s full of shit,” I chime in. Stormy was a psychology undergrad and often believed she could use her classes to hustle a few extra dollars out of our guests.

“Well, it can’t hurt to try. Some asshole totaled my car and my insurance is only giving me a grand for it. Tell me what kind of car I can buy with that? Fucking HOA bitch breathing down my neck saying that it’s against the rules to have Suber driving through the gates.” Savannah says, pulling her own top down.

“What you should do is talk to Chianti when she comes in tonight,” Luxe answers, swiping her lips with bright red lipstick. “She’ll give you E for free if you take it in front of her.”

“Why would she do that?” Sherry asks.

“Because you’ll want to talk to the guys and let them touch you when you’re rolling. They end up staying longer and drinking more which means more tips for her.”

“And Mike is okay with it?” Savannah asks, doubtful.

“He must be, because she’s been doing it for months. Trust me, you’ll come out with a lot of money.” Luxe says, adjusting what appears to be a diamond choker around her neck. I watch as it catches the light in the dressing room, glittering. It doesn’t look fake.

I’m not the only one who notices; Sherry is also watching the other woman through her mirror. “You’re looking more dolled up that usual – What's the occasion?” She leans forward, smiling conspiratorially.

“An ex of mine is supposed to come in today and I want to remind him of what he’s been missing.” Luxe turns and makes sure that her skirt is short enough to show her thong underneath.

“Oh? You’re not holding off for you-know-who?”

I frown, “you-know-who" was clearly Bobbie Dominguez. The guy was a frequent visitor and had a running fling with several of the girls in the club, myself included. Not that any of us cared, he spent a lot of money on us and was very generous with gifts but he didn’t want you to see anyone else. We’d had a fight last night because he had moaned Luxe’s name while in the private room with me – he had sent me a pair of red-bottoms I’d been eyeing as an apology. So, I’d forgive him, for now.

“Over my ex? Oh, God, no.” Luxe laughs. “My ex makes that guy look broke as fuck. Like, there’s not even a contest between the two.”

“Oh damn, for real?” Amber asks, squeezing in beside Sherry to check her make up. “Does he have a brother?” she jokes.

“Two of them,” Luxe laughs. “If you want, I'll ask him if he'll bring the one that lives here the next time he comes out.”

There's a knock on the door, “You all decent in there?’ comes Mike’s voice from the other side.

I snort indelicately, we’re all strippers at his club; he sees us naked almost daily and still knocks. “Yes, Mike, we’re all dressed.” I answer.

“Good morning, Mikey,” Amber purrs but the man isn't paying attention. Instead, he's looking around the room and making notes of everyone that came in to pay house fees later.

He flips to the next page on his clipboard and looks to where we've gathered, “Good morning, ladies.” We all murmur our hellos, impatiently waiting to hear if we have any special assignments for the lunch shift. “I've already told the waitresses but, if any of our guests ask, you really love the steak today.”

“Any VIP reservations?” Luxe presses.

“Uh, yeah. One for Vegas. The guy booked three rooms at three hours each.”

My head swam, that was over five thousand dollars after the houses cut! “All for me?”

Mike shrugs his shoulders, “That's what he said.”

I could feel all the eyes in the room on me. “He knows that I don't have to do anything but dance if I don't feel like it, right?”

Mike holds up how hands, “I told him. I even told him that we don't do refunds and he said it was fine. I'll have Bruce outside the door in case he doesn't respect your choice.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, relieved. Bruce was 6’8” and built like a brick wall; men who felt like fighting quickly settled down when he approached. Nine grand was a lot of money to drop and not expect some sort of reward.

“That's it? Nothing for me?” Luxe tries, her pretty face scowling.

“Nope, that was it.” Mike says, adjusting his papers. “Okay, ladies-“

“What's the guy’s name? The one with the reservations?” She asks, her eyes narrowing at me. I narrow my eyes back at her, preparing to square up if need be – that bitch isn't going to come between me and my money!

“Luxe, you know I don't release that kind of information,” Mike sighs and starts for the door.

“Is his last name Volkov?”

Mike stops and turns to face the other woman, “You got a restraining order on the guy?” he asks, concern on his face.

“Can we talk? In private?” she asks and follows him out the door.

“Um, what was that?” Amber asks, hands on her hips. She's been trying to get Mike's attention ever since she's started here.

“Looks like Vegas bagged a rich one. Who is he?” Savannah asks, excitedly.

“I have no idea,” I shrug, “and I don't care either, but if that bitch thinks she's going to step in and take those reservations from me, I'll drag her ass out into the parking lot and make her eat the curb.”

“I bet it's her ex,” Sherry cackles. “She was just saying how rich he was.”

“Oh shit,” Amber joins in laughing. “You really don’t know him?”

“I really don’t.” There are so many people in and out of the club – it’s possible I have met him but the name ‘Volkov’ didn’t ring any bells. Whatever was going on between him and Luxe would have to wait until after his appointment.

“Uh, Vegas?” Mike’s voice comes in and the other woman struts by, a triumphant look on her face. “Change of plans, I’m taking you off of the VIP rooms.”

“The fuck you will!” I roar, slamming a fist down on the vanity table, makeup clattering to the floor. The room is silent. I whirl around, knocking my chair over and grab the other woman by her hair, yanking down as hard as I could. Luxe stumbles backwards but catches herself and turns to face me. I let go of her hair and slap her, the noise of the contact is lost in the gasps throughout the room.

“LADIES!” Mike yells.

“Did you think I was going to let you come in and just take my money? Huh?! Think I was just going to sit back and do nothing?!”

“You don’t know anything about who you’re dealing with,” Luxe says, almost threateningly.

“Who? You? Please! What I do know is your little boyfriend doesn’t want you. He wants me. And, because you’re such a little bitch, Imma fuck him in the room – you can watch in the back. He’ll ask for me every single time.” This earns me the rise I want out of her. She reaches back to strike me but she’s slow and telegraphs her moves. I dodge back and spit in her face, making the other woman recoil and snarl in anger.

We grab each other’s hair and grapple, both of us trying our best to topple the other over. The room erupts in a chorus of laughter and squeals. “VEGAS! Please, this is for your own safety!” Mike tries again to stop our fight through words alone, but I’m not going to stop until the other woman is on the ground, motionless.

“She’s not doing it for me, dumbass! You think she’d really stick her neck out if he was dangerous?” I go to grab for her neck and she knocks my hand away – to her big earrings. I take the gold hoop into my fist and pull, the other woman screaming and being led forward to save herself from having it pulled through her lobe. “I’ll show you who you should be scared of!”

“Goddammit!” Mike swears and pushes between the two of us, using his body to break up the fight. “Stop! She says the guy’s heavy in the Russian Mob. I could only find articles from 50 years back, but it’s the same last name.”

“So?! Who you think he’s going to be mad at when she comes in instead of me? Think he’s going to pay the $9000 for the rooms? This bitch is trying to take money from both of us because she’s upset her boy don’t want to spend it on her.” I point at the other woman who doesn’t meet my eyes, rubbing on a rapidly bruising cheek.

Mike looks away, thinking it over. I use his distraction to kick at Luxe, knocking her to the floor. “Aw, hell – Vegas!” He wraps his arms around me, pinning mine to my sides so I can’t take a swing. I try to kick at the woman to get one last shot as he drags me away. “This is why I was going to give it to her, I can’t trust you not to start shit.”

“I’ll definitely start shit if you give it to her. Give it back to me, I’ll be sweet as sugar.”

#ts4 #sims 4 story #fault lines #fl: aftershock #fla chrono #tumblr won't keep the formatting when I paste it in and I don't want to go back and italize #I did my best to blur out any female presenting nibblybits #you're welcome tumblr #ts4legacy

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detroitbydark · 4 years

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Crossed Connections

Tech x Togruta!Reader

No warnings yet

Summary: Tech discovers that the net is a very small place and that he doesn’t know everything.

A/N: So this is based off the assumption that a galaxy far far away has their own form of internet dating. It’s crack. id love to write for these two in the future but It’ll likely just be scenes and things I find fun as me and fully functioning works of fiction just don’t mesh well.

This should be the calm before the storm, the time of preparation and meditation before the next mission. For most of the Bad Batch it is.

Crosshair, feet propped on the ships console dismantles and reassembles his sidearm before moving on the more formidable sniper rifle.Tech sighs loudly as his fingers dance over the datapad in his hand. He’s been doing it since they jumped to light speed. Usually he’d be rattling off a steady stream of facts on the planet they were heading to, its inhabitants, dangers, precautions needing to be taken. Now he was silent and that was not the clones default.

“Alright, I’ll bite '' Crosshair grumbles from the co-pilots seat. Tech looks up, shrugs and then sets the pad down, relieved his brother had finally taken the bait. The sniper continues to slowly work the oiled rag over his rifle.

“It’s nothing…”

“You're a fragging awful liar”

Crosshair didn’t care. Really. But...of all his vods he was least annoyed by the team's resident engineer/translator/tech genius. So, here he was, digging at the other clone in an attempt to get him to talk.

“It’s her-“

“Wait” Crosshair sets the rag and rifle down on his lap. His eyes narrow. “You mean to tell me you're still messing with that GalaxyMance stuff?”

Tech runs a hand over his closely cropped hair rubs roughly as the partial hawk. “Yeah, maybe… yeah.” He admits, avoiding the snipers focused stare.

“And you’re still hung up on that anonymous nerfherder.”

“She’s not a...” Tech defends trailing off as he narrows his eyes. Rutababy was not a nerfherder.

He was sure of it.

Yeah, pretty sure.

Mostly sure.

He was trying to play it cool, choosing not to do the digging he was more than capable of. He’d matched with Rutababy a few days after he’d set up the (very much against regulation) GalaxyMance account for fun. He’d just wanted to see if he could do it. If he could stay ahead of the brains at the GAR.

It was boredom, really. He wanted to play with routing his activity and bouncing his signals through different channels. It was just supposed to be a bit of a challenge.

And then he’d gotten a match.

He didn’t even have a profile picture up, for kriffs sake, just a picture of a scrawny Loth Cat he’d pulled from the Holonet. Apparently she liked Loth Cats.

They’d been sending messages back and forth since, he’d even talked to her over comms once. Her voice had been soft and smokey. She’d apologized and said it was often like that after work, that she talked so much at her job that she often found herself borderline hoarse afterwards.

She’d been a good listener. When he rattled on and on she seemed to even like it, asking questions that only fueled his descent into random, obscure subjects more.

Of course, some things they didn’t talk about. She didn’t know he was a member of the GAR and she sure didn’t know he was a clone. She didn’t press him for more than he’d give and he respected that about her and didn't press her for more either.

Tech huffs.

She was definitely not a nerfherder.

He picks his datapad back up and refreshes the screen. Still nothing from her. This was the longest he’d gone without hearing from her since they’d matched weeks ago. He wondered if she was-

Crosshair barks out a laugh that startles the younger clone from his thoughts.

“Yeah, Tech-vod, I’m sure she’s not” the sniper quips out the entirely unoriginal profile name his vod had chosen. Tech seems to relax and Crosshair smirks as he goes in for the kill, “she’s probably Trandoshan. You like lizards right?”

Hunter steps onto the bridge and it’s only because of his heightened senses that he barely misses the screwdriver flying toward his head as he steps between his men. It’s snatched out of the air, his face slowly turning toward Crosshair. The sniper gives him a lazy grin.

“Good timing Sarge”

Hunter’s eyes trail back to Tech. He looks flustered. His skin was paler than most clones, including the rest of the Bad Batch, and it only accentuated his reddened cheeks more. It was an uncommon sight for, arguably, the most level headed of the small unit. An eyebrow arches above heavy tattoos.

“I’m fine Sarge.” Tech tries to explain.

“His girly friend is ghosting him”

“SHE'S NOT-“

“Enough!” Hunter's voice is sharp. “You’re excused” he growls over his shoulder toward the sniper.

Tech can hear Crosshair grumbling as he gathers his rifle and supplies.

“...ruining all my fun”

Hunter waits til the soft whoosh of the bridge door before he says anything.

“You know nothing good can come of that” he points to the datapad. The usual growl of his voice tempered. “We’re different Tech, but we’re still clones and clones don’t get happy endings”

Tech’s jaw tenses as he nods, “there’s nothing wrong with pretending, Sarge”

Hunter nods, “is that what you're doing? Pretending to be excited when you get the new notifications? Pretending to walk on air after you talked to her? Was it pretending when you let Cross gaude you into chucking a wrench at him?”

“It was a screwdriver” Tech corrects, petulant with arms crossed tightly over his armor.

“Yeah, ok, you know best, don’t you? Smartest of all of us. Incapable of making a bad decision.”

Tech feels something akin the shame twist in his belly. Hunter was just trying to look out for him. He wasn’t poking like Crosshair, he wasn’t out right laughing like Wrecker had done.

“I hear what you’re saying.”

Hunter looks less than impressed, “Yeah? We’ll see”

------

You're running late.

Again.

You hurriedly button your shirt as you skitter around the corner, your badge swiping you through locked doors as you go. The laces of your left boot flop against the duracrete.

It was the third time this week and your CO was going to have your head. You push through the medbay door just in time to see your CMO, Slash, a serious looking clone with a permanent twist to his mouth, begin the morning meeting. Your jaw slams shut, incisors clicking together as you find a chair at the back of the assembled group. You ignore the looks that get flicked your way.

“So, we’ve got some new assignments coming our way.” He begins, his gaze traces over you and you cringe when he raises a brow in your direction. You mouth ‘sorry’ and hear the scoffs and smothered giggles of a few of the other civvie medics. Slash doesn’t waste another look your way and you feel insanely lucky that he must be feeling lenient this morning. You couldn’t handle another dressing down like you had received a few days ago.

You were a good medic. A damn good one but, by the force, the rest of your life was a mess. You’d always felt that leaving Kiros was the right choice but the loneliness you felt had only become more acute during your time in Coruscant. Where you’d once stood out too much amongst your tribe, you seemed to not stand out enough amongst the swell of people and species. Togruta were not wild about individualism and you stood out just enough to be off putting.

On Coruscant, your pale pink skin and montrails did very little to make you stand out in the hustle and bustle of daily life at all. It was hard for you to make friends, hard for you to connect. It was the same problems from Kiros all over again. It was you, not them.

It’s why you’d bit the blaster and signed up for GalaxyMance. It felt silly and ridiculous, but you were desperate to feel a connection to somebody, anybody. You’d been on a few dates too but nothing ever panned out. Some of them had loved your “exotic look” while others had taken one look and decided they’d pass. No one tried to get to know you.

Until Tech-vod.

You’d clicked on his profile after an awful day in the bay because of the silly Loth kitten he’d chosen as an avatar. Without much thought you read through his profile and sent off a cursory introduction and then thought nothing of it until he’d sent you a message back a few days later. It was funny, less of an introduction than a vomiting if facts on the Loth cats. It was cute. You’d never seen him but you were sure he was too. Pretty sure…

“Y/N”

You startle as CMO Slash barks your name.

“Sir?” You greet. Someone to your left snickers. Slash pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You’ve missed everything I’ve said, haven’t you?”

You don’t respond. You both know the answer and there’s no use lying. Your hand strays to one of the lekku hanging over your shoulder, fingers toys with it the way you’d done since you were a child, a tell to your parents about the state of your nerves.

“You’re being reassigned off world”

His words catch you by surprise. Your jaw gaps but nothing comes out. Sure you’d been late a few times and, yeah, maybe you hadn’t clicked with your team so well, but reassignment?

“Sir, I-“

He holds his hand up, “it’s not for discussion. This comes from higher than the likes of me. Transport leaves at 1600.”

You swallow hard, “where too?”

“Fort Anaxes.”

#tcw #tech x reader #the bad batch #tech #crosshair #hunter #id love to write more if there's interest #crossed connections

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heathered-beinn · 3 years

Text

BTS American Hustle Life Ep4

Ep 3 recap: BTS are in LA to learn about hip hop. During that episode they met their dance teacher, Jenny Kita. She set them a few challenges including a solo demonstration, a dance battle against professional dancers, and the task of choreographing a dance routine in small groups. J-Hope’s dance skills shone the brightest throughout which was both a surprise and a delight! Jin, despite being the least proficient dancer in the band, tried really hard and it paid off in the final challenge – he and J-Hope were deserving winners.

We also started to see the friendships between the band members more, which was quite lovely. I really hope this continues in the series.

On to Episode 4!

Holy cow, that dorm is an absolute pigsty. Ewwww! The amount of water bottles alone makes me want to cry.

Lol, I wonder how RM and Jimin ended up having to clean the dorm up?

They did a good job with it though and somehow managed to find some fun in between. The bathroom scene was hilarious!

Like last episode Jimin appears to have dropped some of his mask. Maybe I’m just seeing things but in this ep he just seems a little softer around the edges - more playful rather than loud and over-the-top. I think RM is good company for him. I’m not sure how to word it without accidentally making it look like I think the other lads treat him poorly (which I don’t believe they do!!) but I think RM is quite respectful to Jimin? As the leader RM’s attention will be pulled in many directions and when he can give spare undivided attention he probably spends it more on his elder bandmates as they are closer to his own age. However, I get the sense that when he does focus on Jimin he does it with the kind of patience and gentleness that the others are maybe not quite so liberal with? That’s not to say he won’t tease Jimin or joke around with him (he does) but so far it comes across as a little warmer than the others perhaps because he’s naturally gentler in nature? I’m probably talking out my **** here but that’s just what I’ve sensed.

One final thing: Jimin’s English is really improving!

So while Jimin and RM are cleaning the dorm, Suga, V, and Jungkook are on laundry duty. LMAO how is that fair? I was thinking that the “chores” were punishment for losing the challenge in Ep3 but Jimin and RM were so close to winning and yet seem to have been given the worst chore?

LOL, how can those three lads make laundry seem so complicated??

They really are big kids – I’m glad they can find ways to have fun though. But ewwwwwwwwww Jungkook, the 3/5/7/10 second rule is a myth, don’t eat things off the ground – particularly in a foreign country!!

Woah!!! they licked each other’s ice creams without hesitation!

To be honest I think it is more of a reflection on my own culture rather than theirs that this seemed so surprising to me. Generally sharing food without the ‘ew that’s got your spit on’ and other hang-ups – particularly between boys - ends around 8-10 years old here.

Jungkook sweetie, I really doubt you’ve put on much weight – are you sure you haven’t just grown another few inches? It certainly looks like you’ve grown. At this point you might end up towering over Suga and Jimin.

Ah so Jin and J-Hope are food shopping. So maybe these chores are not punishments for losing the challenge. I’d still like to know how Jimin and RM got the short straw to clean the dorm lol.

Oh good grief, BTS cooking – after their challenge in the first series I dread to think what poor concoction they’re going to come up with.

OK so J-Hope’s cheese sticks verdict… V = X, RM = XX, Jimin (so cute as he bounded over like an excited puppy) = too polite to use his new English word “disgusting”

Jin’s ham on toast concoction: LMAO at Jin blowing on the forkful before feeding Jimin. No comment on Jimin’s tongue action though…

It seemed to taste okay judging by Jimin’s reaction. RM does not agree lol. It was cute how Jin was feeding the rest of the toast to Jimin and Jungkook like a parent feeding infants.

After what I wrote earlier about RM it’s nice to see the other lads interacting with Jimin more. I wonder if some of the impatience that occasionally comes across is simply down to the editing?

So we move on to a new day and the whole group are heading to Long Beach by foot. Crikey, Jungkook looks like he’s grown another inch over night!! Why on earth is he wearing two layers in the LA heat???!!

It’s great to see that BTS are still ‘star struck’ by celebrities. I guess, back then, the band were not that well known – at least not like they are now. They certainly did not cross my radar – not like 1D did.

LMAO – V randomly saying he drooled when he saw Warren G. What?????!!!!

Warren G seems a great guy; very chill and calm with the band. *Again I’m going to say it but I love how BTS have the confidence to say another man looks handsome like they did when admiring the photo in the record store*

Yeah Warren G is a really decent guy.

There’s something fundamentally poetic in the way that Jimin said of Warren G, Snoop Dogg, Nate, (in a tone of amazement and disbelief) “They were just elementary kids but became legends”. I mean, BTS were once ‘elementary school’ kids and while, in that moment, Jimin did not know how big the band would get, the same sentiment applies to BTS.

So their new challenge is to write lyrics based on their own lives to Regulate.

Good boys; slapping on the sunscreen – thumbs up for skin care!

Oh good grief Jin, if the American dorm is slowly becoming like your Korean dorm then I shudder to think what state your Korean dorm is in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oooh so the band are opening up a little about their lives in order to make lyrics for their rap.

After a bit of travelling by bus and making friends with the locals, Jin and J-Hope settle down in a park to talk. We learn Jin started off acting and not singing? Now that’s interesting! Not all of BTS had joining a band or even BTS’ music style in mind from the beginning. Jin also has a brother and he was into hip hop so Jin had some knowledge of it before joining the band.

J-Hope’s turn and he admitted when he first joined the band everyone was a rapper and he was the only dancer which made him feel remote.

This, again, is really interesting to learn as this was the scenario I was pinning on Jimin – unless there were different BTS members back when J-Hope joined? I really don’t know how the band was formed so I hope at some point they talk about this. I liked how Jin admitted he was surprised to hear about J-Hope feelings. They should talk like that more often.

RM and Jimin travel to another part of town – near the school/college that some of the most famous rappers in the music industry attended. I really like the motto of the building “Enter to learn go forth to serve”. I’m not American so I don’t know it’s true connotations but to me it’s simple and strangely compelling. Like; ‘We don’t care who you are either come in and learn and repay by using it to serve the community - or travel forth on down the street and sign up for the army and serve that way. There’s a purpose for everyone.”

RM and Jimin talking <3

Jimin’s answer to what he found difficult when he joined the band is fascinating. While the translation felt a little off, it reads as he cares a lot about what others think of him and doesn’t want to let anyone down or let any of his (self-perceived) shortcomings hold others back. In order to achieve this he spent a lot of time trying to catch up or improve so that no one could easily spot his weaknesses. Ultimately, he wants to care less what others think of him so he can lose some of the pressure? I really think there is a lot more to this “want to care less about what others think” than the vague answer he gave (or was edited in). His starting phrase “I should live quietly for the sake of my team” was quite a loaded sentiment and didn’t quite follow what he said next – definitely some careful editing there.

RM’s sentiment echoes this. He talked about seeing a very over-weight man walking around LA topless and admired the man’s confidence to not care what other people thought. RM wants some of that confidence to stop constantly watching out for what others thought about him. This is the type of pressure many celebrities talk about a lot. In my opinion, any one remotely “famous” are seen as role models (rightly or wrongly) and society holds them to ridiculous standards. Make one mistake and that’s you cancelled like you are some item in a shop that can be returned for a refund. I personally think people have a very skewed idea about what makes a ‘role model’. For me, a role model shouldn’t be perfect but when they do make mistakes they should own up to it, apologise, and attempt to fix or make up for any hurt caused. We, as their fans, need to relearn how to accept an apology, forgive human errors, allow people to learn, and move on. Min rant over.

Moving on: Suga, V, and Jungkook are down near the beach front discussing their lyrics. The way V instantly thought of his Dad tells me he’s quite family orientated. It was touching the way he said he made him the person he was today.

Jungkook’s thoughts where based more on his internal thoughts of himself as a person and a musician. It was very honest of him to admit that back home he’d been pretty confident of his talent but once he joined (BigHit?) he quickly realised there was a lot of people with as much, if not more, talent than him and it knocked his confidence. I wish Suga had spoke more about his own thoughts rather than just write the lyrics.

Challenge Day:

To be fair, all three groups rose to the challenge and not only had some great lyrics but sounded polished and rehearsed. We only got snippets of the songs but from what we did hear I would struggle to pick a winner. I guess, for me, it would feel like picking one’s persons’ struggles over another’s. Hard to judge.

Lol at Suga oversharing about being in the toilet when he was writing *crying with laughter face*

Awww, Suga, V, and Jungkook won. They definitely tried harder with this challenge than the one in ep 3 so I felt it was deserved.

Final musings:

Another interesting episode. I think the band learned a lot more about hip hop this episode and Warren G was a real gent. We also learned more about each band member in terms of their thoughts and experiences when joining the band. We (I) also learned more about their personalities which hadn’t been so clear in previous eps and series. I think the editing can misconstrue some moments so I’m probably going to re-evaluate my musings on each band member from time to time – this is a good thing though!

Looking forward to ep 5!

#bts #American hustle life #heathered beinn musings #suga #jin #rapmonster #j-hope #jimin #v #jungkook

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duhragonball · 4 years

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The 10 Best Episodes of Dragon Ball and DBZ

Back in October I wrote up a list of the ten worst episodes of Dragon Ball, and I always meant to go back and do a ten best list to go with it. Well it’s the last Sunday of the year and I got nothing better to do, so I’m gonna knock that out today.

Honestly, I’m not sure which one of these was tougher to do. The main reason I made a worst list was because I noticed a small handful of episodes I just didn’t like, and I realized that even with a show I like this much, there had to be at least ten stinkers, so I liked the challenge of picking them out. On the other hand, picking the ten best episodes is like finding really good pieces of hay in an awesome haystack. And I’m a horse, so I’m already super-into hay. This analogy is getting tortured, so I’ll just move on.

Honorable Mention: Dragon Ball Z Episode 125.

I think the fandom has unanimously agreed that this is the all-time best episode of Dragon Ball, but it didn’t feel right putting it in my list. I don’t know if that’s because I sincerely believe it’s the 11th best episode, or because I just don’t want a predictable choice taking up space on my list. That’s how Dragon Ball rolls sometimes. Past a point, you can’t tell if you’re liking something ironically, or just plain liking it.

Without question, this is the all-time best filler episode. We all know the tale: Goku and Piccolo are busy training for the upcoming Androids battle, but Chi-Chi is sick of them not helping around the house, so she wants them to take driver’s ed so they can drive her to the grocery once in a while. Well, mostly Goku, but Piccolo somehow gets roped into it too. Honestly, I don’t think he really needed to go through with this. He pouts like Chi-Chi made him do this somehow, but she was clearly only interested in getting Goku licensed up. I think he just sort of invited himself into this situation because he wanted to feel like part of the family.

Anyway, the boys dress up in stupid/awesome civilian clothes, and somehow manage to be great at driving and terrible at driving at the same time. It’s a very zen kind of show. Also there’s a smidgen of Vegebul goodness, and Icarus shows up for no apparent reason, so there’s something for everyone.

10. Dragon Ball Z Episode 120

This the one where Future Trunks kills Mecha Frieza. There’s no shortage of fans who think reviving Frieza in the 2010′s was worth it, but for my money, nothing they do with the character can possibly top his (first) death scene.

Leading up to this episode, everyone just assumed that Goku killed Frieza on Namek, but he survived, got rebuilt as a cyborg, and invaded Earth for revenge. The implication is that Goku will have to fight an even stronger version of his greatest foe, except he’s nowhere to be found, and no one else stands a chance of holding the line until Goku can arrive.

But then the story ups the ante again by having a totally new character show up, turn Super Saiyan, and shrug off Frieza’s attacks like they’re nothing. When he finally attacks Frieza, he whips out a cool-looking ki blast, and that turns out to just be a feint. No, his real attack is a simple swing of an ordinary sword, which cuts Frieza in half like he’s made out of butter.

Meanwhile, all the major characters are standing on the sidelines wondering what the hell is going on here. There’s a Super Saiyan besides Goku? Aren’t all the Saiyans extinct? Where did this new guy come from, and how did he even know to be here?

It’s a brilliant episode, because it serves as a coda to the menace of Frieza that loomed large over the previous 119 episodes of Z, and it also serves as a prelude to the next 75 episodes, which promises a crisis far beyond anything that’s come before. But it also works as a stand-alone story. Frieza’s body tells the story of why he wants revenge on the Super Saiyan, and when Trunks reveals that there’s more than one Super Saiyan, he completely self-destructs. He goes from the tyrant of the universe to just another corpse in a matter of minutes. It’s amazing to watch.

9. Dragon Ball Episode 67

Strictly speaking, Goku’s assault on the Red Ribbon Army base is three episodes, so maybe it’s gauche to include one and not the others, but this one is the climax of the Red Ribbon’s downfall, so I think it stands out.

By this point, Goku’s already entered the RRA headquarters, and is just having his way with the place. Episode 66 was full of guys trying to shoot him, but he just kicks all their asses and moves on. Staff Officer Black has finally realized what they should have accepted from the beginning: that Goku is too strong for them to defeat by force. But Commander Red can’t quite bring himself to give up the fight. Maybe it’s because so much of his identity is tied into the Red Ribbon’s supposed invincibility, or he just can’t fathom how a small boy can do all these things.

I think what really hurts his pride is when his soldiers start deserting en masse. Before, he could keep them in line because of the Red Ribbon’s fearsome reputation, but that’s over now, whether he believes it or not. When Colonel Violet loots his treasure vault, not even bothering to disable the security cameras, he has to know that it’s all over.

Then we find out that he only wanted the Dragon Balls so that he could make a wish to become taller, and Black is horrified. He wasted all those lives and resources for something as petty and selfish as that? What makes this episode so great is how the world around them is crashing down, and they’re arguing over a plan that’ll never happen anyway. And Red absolutely doesn’t get why Black would think his wish was stupid. He’s like “Um, you need to check your tall privilege?” And Black shoots him in the face because he’s just done.

But this episode’s not done, because once Red is out of the picture, Black sort of loses it and tries to fight Goku for possession of the Dragon Balls. It’s really amazing character development, because Black was the calm, collected center of the Red Ribbon Army, but then he just flips out, forgetting all the lessons his comrades learned the hard way. The lure of the Dragon Balls is just too seductive for him to give up.

Also, Colonel Violet is super cute.

8. Dragon Ball Z Episode 135

A few episodes before this one, Vegeta debuted his own Super Saiyan transformation, and kicked the shit out of Android 19. It was a big deal, because up to that point, Goku and Trunks were the only Super Saiyans, implying that jerks like Vegeta couldn’t do it. It was also a big deal because it was assumed up to that point that the androids might just be unbeatable, and Vegeta clobbered one of them in a single episode.

But that episode didn’t make the list, because this one is far more important. Here, Vegeta tries to press his luck by challenging the even stronger Android 18, even though everyone else tries to tell him this is a terrible idea. What follows is one of the coolest fights in the series, and the best classic Dragon Ball battle to feature a woman. For a while it looks pretty even, but then 18 reveals she was hustling Vegeta the whole time, and defeats him with no trouble at all.

Why is this such a big moment? For one thing, it’s the next step in deconstructing the Super Saiyan Legend. Vegeta had already proven that you don’t have to be a good person to turn into a Super Saiyan, and that it’s not just a once-in-a-millennium thing. Here, he proves that Super Saiyans aren’t as invincible as he liked to believe. We’d already seen Goku lose to Android 19, but he was sick at the time. Trunks was no match for he androids in his own timeline, but those battles had happened off-screen. This is a much more visceral demonstration. You’ve got the Saiyan Prince, in perfect health, fresh as a daisy, comfortably transformed, and it doesn’t do him a damn bit of good. 18 breaks his arm like it’s not even hard.

For Vegeta, this was a big deal, because it finally cemented the fact that there is no finish line. From his first appearance, he seemed convinced that he could become the supreme being in his universe, simply by killing Frieza, becoming immortal, or transforming into a Super Saiyan. Here, he thinks he’s finally pulled it off, only to lose even more decisively than ever before.

7. Dragon Ball Episode 99

I debated whether to go with this one or Episode 101, where Tien finally beats Goku to win the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai, but I think this episode deserves the nod. The Goku/Tien championship bout spanned several episodes, but this is the one where Tien finally decides that he’d rather win the title than avenge Tao Pai Pai.

Let me back up a bit here. Goku (seemingly) killed Tao in a prior episode, and Tao was the brother of the Crane Hermit, Tien’s master. So going into this fight, Tien was planning to defeat Goku, win the championship, and then kill Goku in front of the live audience, just to get that extra bit of revenge. But once the fight actually got rolling, Tien began to develop a begrudging respect for Goku’s talent, and then this episode happens, where Tien starts winning, and Goku accuses him of cheating. Tien doesn’t know what he’s talking about at first, until he realizes that the Crane Hermit is using Chiaotzu’s psychic powers to paralyze Goku at key moments.

Once he figures it out, he tells them to stop, since he wants to prove his own superiority, but Crane just wants Goku to die, title or no title. He orders Tien to stop clowning and kill Goku at once, but Tien refuses, and turns his back on the life of an assassin. Chiaotzu does the same, since he was enjoying the match before all the interference started. Crane flips out, but Roshi Kamehameha’s him out of the stadium, allowing Tien and Goku to finally fight without any outside interference.

Tien’s first order of business is to let Goku have a bunch of free shots, in order to make up for all the hits Tien got in while Chiaotzu was cheating. Then he grows four arms, because he still wants to kick Goku’s ass, even if he doesn’t hate him anymore.

Tien’s reform isn’t unique in the series, but I think his particular transformation is very neatly accomplished, inside this one episode, during a single epic battle. Like so many other characters, he figures out that revenge, power, and bloodlust are hollow pursuits compared to the thrill of pushing your own limits through the sacred art of gonzo anime violence. Being a bad guy isn’t just morally shameful, it’s downright boring. Piccolo and Vegeta would eventually learn the same lesson, but it never gets spelled out quite as eloquently as it does in this episode. Also, Launch tries to kill Chiaotzu with a giant cartoon mallet.

6. Dragon Ball Episode 147

On the other hand, you’ve got this episode from the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, where Piccolo doesn’t learn a damned thing, except how to take an epic beating.

This episode is just wall-to-wall nuts. Piccolo blows up the entire city where the tournament is being held, and that’s just for openers. Tien uses his Ki-ko-ho to make a foxhole for the others to hide in, and Launch kicks Kami into it when he doesn’t jump in right away.

Piccolo’s city-busting blast was intended to finish off Goku, but it doesn’t even scratch the lovable bastard, and it just gives Goku and opening to pound the ever-loving crap out of Big Green. Goku just goes sickhouse on him, in one of the most satisfying and well-animated sequences in the whole series. And to add insult to injury, he continues to play by the tournament rules. Once he has Piccolo laid out where the ring used to be, he asks for a ten count.

And that turns out to be a huge mistake, as Piccolo has enough juice left to zap him with a mouth blast at the last second. The attack leaves a baseball-sized hole in Goku’s pec, and Piccolo just starts stomping on the wound. Worse, he’s still strong enough that no one else can come to Goku’s rescue.

And then, just when Goku looks to be finished, he gets back up anyway, still looking to win this battle. Is he overconfident or just stupid? Neither actually, as he has the whole fight under control, as the next episode reveals.

5. Dragon Ball Z Episode 281

Oh mannnn, this episode ruuuules. One of my pet peeves with this fandom is people crapping on the Buu Saga, simply for coming at the tail end of this franchise. It’s bullshit, just like how Star Wars purists act like Empire Strikes Back is the best movie ever made and Return of the Jedi is a cinematic bowel movement. They’re both good, you just lost interest before the series ended.

The Buu arc isn’t my favorite, but it’s balls-to-the-wall awesome, and when I was making this list I had a hard time picking a favorite episode from the Kid Buu fight. It’s just such a beautiful battle, packed with story and character development. I can’t blame viewers for getting burnt out on Dragon Ball if they watched the preceding 433 episodes first, but to say these episodes are bad is just flat-out wrong.

Anyway, I went with 281, which features the tail end of Goku’s solo effort against Kid Buu. Vegeta steps into give Goku a pep talk, and Goku admits that he can’t gather enough power to blow Buu away. To do that, he’ll need a full minute to charge his ki, and Vegeta offers to buy him that minute, even though he’s weaker than Goku and doesn’t stand a chance against Buu by himself.

What follows is a solid ten minutes of Vegeta getting clobbered, but he keeps getting back up and forcing himself to find new ways to play for time. He doesn’t try to beat Buu, because he knows he can’t. Instead, he keeps him busy, and psyches him out so he won’t bother Goku while he charges up.

What makes this work is that it’s the counterpoint to Episode 133, seen earlier on this list. Then, Vegeta thought his Super Saiyan form made him a guaranteed winner. Now, he’s using Super Saiyan 2 in a desperate bid to just hold the line until an even stronger fighter can make his own last-ditch effort to win. Vegeta’s fighting for a chance at victory, and it’s a slim chance at that. One of my favorite things about this episode is how tragic it is. By Episode 282, it becomes clear that Goku’s plan was never going to work, so Vegeta’s efforts were in vain. But he doesn’t seem to mind much, because at least he got to throw down against Kid Buu and see exactly how long he could hold out.

4. Dragon Ball Z Episode 184

This is the one where Gohan finally snaps and turns into a Super Saiyan 2, but when you put it like that, it seems so pedestrian.

From his first appearance in Episode 1 of DBZ, Gohan was shown to have hidden potential, which was gradually brought out over the course of the series. By the time the Cell Games rolled around, it was sort of implied that he had finally realized that full potential. Goku trained him to be a Super Saiyan like himself, and how much higher could he possibly get than that?

But Goku’s secret plan was for Gohan to fight Cell, and if he got in a pinch, Gohan would then tap into the same hidden potential he used to turn the tables on the Saiyans and Frieza. Goku’s theory was that if he trained Gohan to be a Super Saiyan, then any power boost Gohan experienced during the fight would rachet him up to an even higher level never seen before.

This suited Cell just fine, so he pooped out an army of mini-Cells to torture the Z-Fighters until Gohan’s rage pushed him into this higher level. And that’s what this episode is all about, except it doesn’t really work. The Cell Juniors clobber the heroes from pillar to post, but Gohan doesn’t change, and he doesn’t know how to make himself change. Then Android 16 has an idea to talk him through it, and he convinces Mr. Satan to toss his severed head over to Gohan to he can make his speech. Cell stomps on 16′s head in an impulsive act of cruelty, and then then “Unmei no Hi - Tmasahii Vs. Tamashii” starts playing.

This is a huge moment in the series, not only because of the advent of Super Saiyan 2 and the turning of the tide in the Cell Games, but also because it marks the fufillment of the promise of Gohan’s character. We all knew he would become something great, and now it finally comes into focus.

But this episode also gets high marks for how all the other characters are handled. Goku’s “foolproof” plan collapses, and he’s forced to apologize while they all get beaten down; Android 16 sacrifices himself after already losing his body; Mr. Satan does what little he can, proving that he’s more than just a gloryhound; and Cell seems to have second thoughts once he finally gets a glimpse at Gohan’s hidden power.

3. Dragon Ball Z Episode 94

Maybe it would make more sense to pick the episode where Goku turns Super Saiyan for the first time, but I think the false-finish that precedes it deserves the spot. I’ll try to explain.

There’s really three things going on in this one. First, Goku’s trying to assemble a Spirit Bomb powerful enough to kill Frieza. In the previous episode, Frieza finally noticed what he was up to, and he decided to kill Goku before he could use the bomb. But the bomb still isn’t big enough, so Goku needs more time.

Second, Piccolo has jumped in to keep Frieza busy long enough for Goku to get the time he needs. Much of this episode is Frieza beating up on a defenseless Piccolo, and then Krillin and Gohan jump in too. It’s just awesome seeing all these guys throw everything they can into this effort.

Third, there’s a filler subplot featuring the dead Z-Fighters on King Kai’s planet fighting the dead Ginyu Force members. It’s goofy, and kind of inconsequential, but it’s fun. I just like seeing the whole gang getting to worth together in the same episode.

So when Goku finally deploys the Spirit Bomb and Frieza finds himself overwhelmed, it really feels like a team effort. King Kai reports that Frieza’s been beaten, and this inspires Yamcha and the others to put the Ginyus away for keeps. On Namek, only Krillin and Gohan are left standing after the Spirit Bomb explodes, and they wonder if Goku and Piccolo could have survived.

I won’t sugar-coat it, a lot of DBZ episodes go pretty light on plot points. So when you get one like this, with so many things going on all at once, and so many characters joining in, and so much suspense and drama, it really clicks. This would have been a brilliant finale to the Frieza Saga, and the icing on the cake is that it’s all for naught. Frieza’s fine in the next episode, which is all-the-more frustrating because of how satisfying this episode was.

2. Dragon Ball Z Episode 179

Huh, I got a lot of Androids/Cell episodes on this list. It’s almost like the Androids/Cell arc is the best one and it rules over all. Nah, that can’t be it.

This is the high-water mark of the Goku/Cell fight, which the whole series had been building to since Cell was first introduced some thirty-odd episodes earlier. Here’s the new big-bad final boss, the next Frieza, essentially, so naturally it’s going to be up to Goku to put him down in a 19-episode brawl. Only that’s not what happens. Goku goes into the Cell Games admitting that he’s no match for Cell, but he wants to fight the guy anyway. No one understands what he’s planning, but he seems pretty upbeat for a guy who expects to lose.

The fight itself only goes four episodes. The first is a feeling-out process, the second is mostly Cell showboating, but in this third episode, they really go at it. The animation is beautifully handled by Keisuke Masunaga. He’d supervised a handful of episodes before this, but this one is the first action-heavy episode, truly serving as a demonstration of what he could do.

Plotwise, there isn’t a whole lot to say. The battle goes pretty evenly here, and the main appeal is that all the other characters are still trying to figure out what Goku’s strategy is. He said he couldn’t win, and yet he’s hanging in there with Cell, so what’s the deal? You might think Goku’s aiming to win on a technicality, using Cell’s own rules against him, except Cell enjoys the fight so much that he blows up his own ring to prevent any chance of an out-of-bounds finish. From here, the Cell Games can only end by surrender or death.

So then Goku goes up into the air and tries a Kamehameha, similar to the one Cell used earlier in the battle. Cell thinks it’s a bluff, since he knows he can dodge it, and from that steep an angle, Goku would just end up hitting the Earth and destroying it. But Goku doesn’t blink, and just when Cell isn’t sure what’s going to happen, Goku teleports right in front of him and unloads the Kamehameha into his face at pointblank range.

It’s another false finish. Cell survives, but he has to grow back his head and arms first. But for a moment, it looks like this was Goku’s big plan. He knew he couldn’t outpower Cell, so he out-finessed him by using the Instant Transmission to get past his guard. And you know, if the ring hadn’t been destroyed, maybe this would have worked. Goku could have tossed Cell’s decaptitated body out of bounds and Cell would have regenerated to find himself outside the ring. I always wonder what he would have done in that scenario. I mean, Cell’s kind of a sore loser, but he seems to respect clever ploys, and the tournament was his idea.

Anyway, Cell rules, this episode is wall-to-wall action, and the Warp Kamehameha is the best move in Budokai 2.

1. Dragon Ball Z Episode 31

Personally, I find the Saiyans Saga to be slightly overrated, but dammit, this episode has just about everything. I’d go so far as to say that when people praise the Saiyans Saga, they’re really only thinking back to this one episode, or maybe five of the best episodes that include this one.

Here’s the deal: Vegeta has invaded Earth and all of the Z-Fighters are dead or badly hurt. Only Goku is left to stop this guy, and he’s armed with the Kai-o-ken technique, a power multiplier as effective as it is risky. King Kai warned Goku never to go beyond a double Kai-o-ken, because anything more than that could cripple his own body. But he tried that in the previous episode, and Vegeta laughed it off. So in this episode, Goku reluctantly goes for a Kai-o-ken times three.

And for a few glorious minutes, Vegeta gets completely wrecked. Goku just picks him apart with hit after hit after hit. It’s enough to humble Vegeta and it’s enough to draw blood, but it doesn’t actually put the guy down. Instead, Vegeta becomes so outraged that he flips out and tries to destroy the entire planet with his finisher, the Galick Gun. This leaves no choice for Goku to keep using the Kai-o-ken times three, and he’s gotta fire a Kamehameha to block Vegeta’s shot.

And when that turns out to be too weak to push back Vegeta’s attack, Goku is forced to turn it up even higher and use a four times Kai-o-ken. So now we’re beyond anything King Kai had imagined when he taught him the technique. It works, and Goku manages to shoot Vegeta into space, but his body is terribly banged up from the effort.

Which is a real shame, because Vegeta manages to save himself from being blasted into space, and he’s still got enough juice to pull his own trump card: turning into a giant ape! Saiyans need a full moon to do this, and Piccolo helpfully destroyed the moon before Vegteta’s arrival, but that doesn’t matter, because Vegeta can make his own artificial moonlight with a special ki technique! So the episode ends with an exhausted Goku staring at a hundred-foot tall Vegeta-ape.

And hopefully I’ve made my point. You’ve got three big BIG moments in the series here. Goku’s Kai-o-ken X3 offensive against Vegeta was what made their rivalry. Before that, Vegeta never came close to sweating Goku, and afterward, every time Vegeta thought back on their battle, this was the part he remembered. The Galick Gun/Kamehameha beam struggle was an iconic moment all by itself, and it’s the standard by which all other beam struggles are judged. And then you’ve got Vegeta using the fake moon trick and turning into a giant ape, setting the stage for the final leg of the battle. Any one of these things would earn a spot on this list, but DBZ #31 has all three. It’s gotta take the top spot. It’s just gotta.

There’s a lot of really great episodes I didn’t cover. I’m a big fan of the Pikkon episodes, and the one where 16 fights Cell is a personal fave, and the Vegito episodes are awesome too. But there’s only so much room at the top. I bet I could have a completely different list in a couple years’ time. In conclusion, Dragon Ball fucking rules.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #top ten best episodes #frieza #goku #piccolo #trunks #vegeta #cell #perfect cell #gohan #majin buu #tien #android 18 #commander red #staff officer black

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adamwatchesmovies · 4 years

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The Worst of 2019

I had to follow-up my “Best of 2019″ list with its opposite universe counterpart but before I give the movies that made me suffer another lashing, let’s make a couple of things clear. I’m not a paid professional and even if I was, all I would be is a film critic. Making movies is hard. Nobody in the industry aims to do a bad job - there are much easier ways to make a living. Even though I might’ve hated these films with a passion that still smolders now, I’ve got mad respect for anyone who decides to put themselves out there and put together a movie. At the end of the day, your work is going to live on. You made something millions will see. Me? I’ll ultimately fade away. Take this into consideration as we single out the movies that tried and failed, sometimes spectacularly.

10. Cats

Cats is the kind of movie that doesn’t come around often. It’s actually kind of fascinating to watch, or it would be if it weren’t so boring. Rebel Wilson (who was destined to have a movie on this list when she starred in The Hustle) plays a cat who unzips her skin to reveal an outfit… above her skin again? She leads a choreographed troupe of singing mice and cockroaches that fill you with terror and confusion. It’s as if they’ve been scaled so the actors could scoop them up and swallow them whole - as cats would do - but because human proportions are so different from cat’s the objects and other animals they interact with change size from scene to scene. Meanwhile, Idris Elba is prowling around with his coat all open, his non-existent junk exposed to all who want to see. Our main character is so bland and unmemorable she makes no impact on you whatsoever. There’s magic in a plot that’s composed almost entirely of introductions - which might make it accurate to the broadway show but not entertaining as a movie -, dodgy special effects in every frame, lame jokes coming from the left and the right… and yet, I don’t hate this film like I do the others on this list. In fact, a part of me even admires Cats.

The thing is, had this movie worked, it would’ve been hailed as genius. It didn’t so it’s being ridiculed but I have to give it points for its ambition and willingness to take chances. That means a lot in a year in which every single one of the top ten grossing films were sequels, remakes or expansions of already-existing properties.The gamble didn’t pay off, but Cats had the guts to walk up to the plate.

9. Dumbo

I was tempted to lump The Lion King and Aladdin along with this tale of a baby elephant that learns to fly while a family of circus performers learn that the big circus tycoon played by Michael Keaton is a meanie. Few of the Disney “live-action” remakes do anything to validate their existence. They’re just feeding you what you can already watch at home for free because you probably already own the originals on home video or you have Disney+. I’m going to single out Dumbo as the worst because it actually tried something different and failed spectacularly. This means we can expect all future Disney remakes to take as few chances as possible.

8. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot

There are other movies I could’ve put in this spot (see the Runner-Ups section below for examples) but I had to consider the experience as well as the movie itself. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot is an unfunny comedy that walks into the room as if it’s going to marry your mother and be your new father. It makes fun of the very thing it’s doing. This might make it appealing to members of the “View Askewniverse” cult but not to me. Whether you’ve been brainwashed by Kevin Smith or not, it’s impossible to sit through the painful bonus material which follows the film, particularly the interviews conducted by Jason Mewes. The actor displays no charisma whatsoever while asking questions you don’t care about to people who obviously don’t want to be on camera. I get what Smith was doing; he was trying to give his fans more than just the movie but anyone in their right mind should’ve seen the bonus footage and burned it.

4. Dark Phoenix

What a disappointing way to end the X-Men franchise. Dull until the very end and then interesting for just enough time to make you realize you didn’t just dream it all, the movie was a bad idea from the start. We haven’t known the young version of the X-Men long enough for this story to mean anything and the choices made to make this story more faithful to the comics makes you wonder if you stepped into the wrong movie. Even before seeing Dark Phoenix, I thought people were being too harsh on The Last Stand. They did a lot of things wrong in 2006 but they had the good sense to leave out the aliens. It’s not great but it’s been somewhat redeemed since because its plot advanced the series and meant something in the end. Even if Disney had considered keeping this franchise alive while it was acquiring Fox, this is such a mess they now have no choice but to reboot the whole thing.

4. Jexi

Jexi feels like it just escaped from a time capsule. Even when it would’ve been new, it wouldn’t have been funny. This had no business appearing in theatres and watching the trailer again reminded me of why I hated it as much as I did. If you suspect you have mutant powers that just need to be unlocked by a traumatic or life-altering event, barricade your doors and start playing this movie. You’ll want to escape so desperately, you might suddenly develop the ability to bend space and time.

6. Rambo: Last Blood

This 5th entry in the Rambo series didn’t even have the guts to commit to being a proper conclusion. The titular character appears to succumb to his wounds as the picture closes… only to get up and go find medical attention during the end credits. Senselessly gory and violent, its depiction of Mexico leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

5. Shaft

No one was asking for this movie, not even fans of the original Richard Roundtree films or the 2000 Sam Jackson reboot. It tired story attempts to introduce a new version of the classic blaxploitation character to a new audience. In the process, it makes you hate the two “heroes” we follow through a generic plot filled with offensive humor. The only good thing about Shaft is that it prompted me to check out the originals.

3. My People, My Country

The Farewell made me think a lot about how we should view other cultures, particularly China. In it, Awkwafina’s Billi is caught in a moral dilemma when she learns her beloved grandmother is dying and that her family is keeping the secret from sweet Nai Nai. You go in thinking the American-raised woman is going to do the right thing by tearing the charade apart but it’s not long before you realize this scenario isn't that simple. When it comes to My People, My Country, I am going to judge. What’s the moral of this movie again? Give up your life, your dreams, your family for the sake of a country that sees you as nothing more than an expandable pion? If that weren’t bad enough, the movie’s so dull it’ll be an epic struggle to stay awake. Whose idea was it to have an entire segment of this anthology dedicated to the engineers who ensured the mechanism that would raise China’s flag in 1949? It’s as exciting as it sounds.

2. ¡Ay, mi madre!

The worst part of this list is that I know how few people reading will be able to relate. ¡Ay, mi madre! wasn't released theatrically in North America, but movies release “Straight to Netflix” have become such a big deal I’ll make an exception to my usual rule of disqualifying direct-to movies from this list. In terms of filmmaking, this is the worst movie I’ve seen in a long, long time. It’s more technically inept than anything else on this list by far. The comedy is so unfunny it’ll make you question your life, the actors are not convincing even before they open their mouths to speak and the ending might as well be a big middle finger towards the people watching. It ha no ending, almost as if they cobbled together the few salvageable strands of footage someone scooped out of the trash into something vaguely related to “coherent”. Remember the name so you know never to click “play” if you happen upon it like I did.

The Runner-Ups

Simmba

I was deeply offended by this Bollywood film but technically, it’s a 2018 movie so I decided to only include it here. It’s loathsome but admittedly, my hatred for it has somewhat subsided since I saw it. Don’t ask me why. This movie sucks.

Playmobil The Movie

This is what we thought we were going to get when they announced “The Lego Movie”. Terrible songs, a lazy plot that makes terrible use of the property it’s advertising, unfunny jokes, and a lack of imagination guarantee this film is destined to make everyone involved regret the day it was released.

Hellboy

Yet another failed superhero movie that enthusiastically sets itself up for a sequel when it’s so obvious to everyone watching that there isn’t going to be one. The one thing it’s got going for it is a pretty cool scene towards the end where demons escape into our world and begin tearing civilians to pieces. To get to that, you must sit through endless scenes that bash you over the head with a mallet marked “Rated R”. Gallons of blood and intestines spilling onto the floor, doesn’t mean the movie is meant for adults. This was written by a teenager disguised as a grown-up.

Gemini man

They waited all these years for the de-aging technology to get where it is now… for this story? Someone should’ve pointed out to director Ang Lee when he was getting ready to film that training doesn’t alter your DNA. Why waste millions cloning Will Smith when you could just raise a normal kid and train them to be an assassin? Ultimately, the movie isn’t really all that bad. It’s watchable but it’s such a big disappointment it needs to be taught a lesson.

Replicas

I’m giving this one a break because no one saw it. I also think it’ll play better at home, where you’ll be free to make fun of it or verbally abuse the loopy plot aloud while your friends listen. If there’s a movie this year that was “So bad it’s good”, it’s this one.

After

At least “Twilight” had its original take on vampires and some danger mixed into its romantic triangle to keep things theoretically interesting. This film started off as - I kid you not - a “One Direction” fan-fic. The drama it serves up will have you howling like a werewolf flying through laughing gas. On the upside, a sequel is coming. In fact, the teaser is scheduled for today!

1. Unplanned

This was the most uncomfortable movie experience of 2019. Most of the Christian propaganda films don’t seem to put much effort into their production - they’re preaching to the choir so why should they? - but 2019 had Breakthrough, which was quite good. It showed these movies don’t have to appeal solely to the churches who will buy tickets en-masse. This movie is ridiculous, gory like a horror film, misleading, and phony. It did have what is undoubtedly the most outrageous and unintentionally funny dialogue of the year, however. “Fast food outlets look to break even on the hamburgers they sell. That’s all they do is break even ... Do you know where they make all their money? The french fries and soda. Low cost, high margin items. Abortion is our fries-and-soda.” Are we sure this was based on a true story? If so, I don’t know why the director decided to edit out the scenes in which Cheryl (Robia Scott) takes the buckets of aborted fetuses home to cook them. I think it would’ve really driven home how evil her character is. I felt dirty sitting in the theater next to people who ate this up.

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