#saw an interesting and well intentioned theory related to him but it requires reading everything he says/does at face value which. babe... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

The Good Earth

Spencer Reid x reader

Best Years Season 2 part two | part one | season one

summary: while in oregon, reader suspects somethings up with spencer

warning: normal criminal minds things, minor angst

A/N: based on season 8 episode 5; there’s some JJ x reader moments in here that I love

Y/N walked into the kitchen of her and Spencer’s apartment. Her boots clicked against the hardwood floor as she moved swiftly to make sure she had everything in her go-bag. Spencer had already left to head into work early that morning to work on some paperwork he hadn’t finished that was due.

This was a frequent thing he had been doing lately, and at first, Y/N wasn’t concerned, but he had been doing it for about two weeks now. As a girl would do, her first thoughts as to what he could be doing were anything but good, but then she thought about who Spencer was.

She was muttering under her breath items she had, “Keys, wallet, go-bag, laptop…”

Her routine check she had going was interrupted when her phone pinged.

An email from Strauss.

With an eye roll, she picked up her phone to open it. Strauss had been sending her emails with different options for moves or details about cases they had. It was annoying, really, she was baiting her.

Y/N quickly closed the email and put her phone in her pocket. She grabbed her go-bag and headed into the office.

------------

“What do you mean, he’s not going? Every kid loves trick-or-treating,” Penelope exclaimed to JJ about Henry.

“Henry’s scared,” JJ replied. “One of his little buddies told him Halloween was the only time when all the real monsters come out because they can blend in.”

“Never thought about that,” Rossi shrugged.

“Good monster strategy,” Y/N sang as she walked over to them, hearing the tail of the conversation.

Penelope chuckled, “You did tell him it wasn’t true, right?”

“Of course I did, but he’s convinced,” JJ shook her head as she replied.

“Childhood fears are resistant to adult logic, sometimes you just have to wait it out,” Rossi told JJ in the hope to reassure her.

“For how long?” She asked, leaning on her knees.

“Well, if he’s twenty-three and this still worries you, you may have a problem,” Rossi answered.

JJ, Y/n, and Penelope let out a light laugh.

“Well, see, the thing is, I think I am partly to blame,” JJ confessed as she stood up from her chair.

“How so?” Y/N asked as the four of them began to walk to the round table room.

“Well, the other night Will and I were up late, we were having some wine, talking about some of the cases we’ve worked on-” JJ let out a sigh as she continued her confession- “And at one point, I said I felt like there was no end to all the monsters walking around, and…”

“Henry sneaked into the room to listen to the grownups,” Rossi said, finishing the predictable end to her story.

“Yeah, we need a cone of silence for our house,” JJ said which made Penelope and Y/N chuckle.

They walked into the round table room and took their seat. Y/N took hers in her usual spot next to Spencer.

“Good morning,” He said, for the first time being able to talk to her this morning.

“Morning,” she smiled as she sat in her seat.

“Those of you who like a good mystery, please unleash your inner Agatha Christie, ‘cause this one’s a real humdinger,” Penelope opened before she grabbed her remote and brought up the case.

“Gary Ellard, Barry Deaver, Paul Hicks, Terry Rodgers. Over the course of the last month and a half, these four men have gotten in their cars in La Grande, Oregon, and drove into the never-to-be-seen-agains-Ville. Poof, gone. The latest victim Terry Rodgers disappeared twenty-four hours ago.”

“Forensic evidence points us anywhere?” Y/N asked.

“Uh, point would imply there is evidence, and there is no evidence, at least for the first three victims,” Penelope answered.

“No forensics, no witnesses, no ransom demands, maybe these guys just voluntarily decided to hit the road,” Derek pondered.

“Four sudden disappearances in a community this small-- this isn’t about seeking greener pastures,” Rossi argued.

“And based on last known sightings, we’re dealing with a sizable geographic area,” Hotch added to Rossi’s argument.

“He’s efficient and well organized, not easy to make four people vanish and stay vanished,” Y/N commented as she leaned onto her arms on the table.

“It has been done before, though,” Spencer spoke. “Political kidnappings frequently require holding multiple adults simultaneously.”

“Or they’re already dead,” Rossi countered. “Nothing says ‘can’t be found’ like a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere.”

“Assuming they are alive, how is the unsub controlling them?” Blake asked.

“And for what purpose?” JJ posed her own question to Blakes.

“The time between abductions is shortening with each victim, wheels up in 30.”

------------

“Garcia, anything on the last victim, Terry Rodgers?” Hotch asked as she answered the video call.

“Only that he’s unemployed and lives in a cabin in the woods, but primitive, like no flush toilet primitive,” Penelope answered.

“That doesn’t fit the victimology of the other three. Ellard coached track and field at a local college, Deaver's small business owner, and Hicks is an attorney.” Derek read off the file in his hand.

“All married with young families,” JJ added.

“Another difference-- the first three victims were all born and raised in La Grande,” Rossi added another difference.

“Yeah, Terry Rodgers only moved to town a couple of months ago,” Y/N added as she looked at her file.

“Do we know where from, Garcia?” Spencer asked.

“Rhode Island, though there’s a five-month gap between Terry being in Rhode Island and then arriving in Oregon,” Penelope answered as she looked at the timeline. “Where he was and what he was doing is a big fat blank.”

“It says here that vomit was found in the vicinity of his abduction,” Derek noted as he looked at the crime scene report.

“Mm, thank you for reminding me of that disgusting detail, Dreamy D. Yes, that vomit has been collected and is being analyzed as we speak, and I am very grateful that I have this job and someone else has that one,” Penelope answered with disgust for the topic.

“Rodgers is the obvious anomaly of the four, but there’s no apparent overlap between any of the victims,” Spencer said after he finished an in the head analysis.

“It’s almost like the unsub was selecting his targets at random,” Blake said as she agreed with Spencer.

“Blake, you and Morgan go talk to the families of the victims. See if there’s something that links them that’s not on paper,” Hotch ordered and the two agents nodded.

“Dave, Reid, and I will go to the abduction site. Y/N, you and JJ go to Terry Rodgers’ cabin,” Hotch gave his final orders as the plane was just about to land.

-------------

The cabin was dark and smelt damp. Truely, it was very off the grid style.

“Besides the outhouse, this cabin isn’t really so primitive like Garcia let on,” Y/N said as she began to look through some of Terry Rodgers’ things.

“Okay,” JJ sighed from her squatted position in front of Terry’s books. “Economics, Philosophy...political theory, not exactly breezy, take to the beach reading.”

“Hm, sounds like something Spence would take if he liked the beach,” Y/N laughed as she thought about Spencer at the beach. Looking like a fish out of water.

“He doesn’t like the beach? Why’s that?” JJ laughed as she opened a book.

“Something about sandy food, pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, you know, Spencer Reid reasons for not going to the beach,” Y/N said as she remembered the reasons Spencer told her.

JJ let out a laugh as she continued to look through the books.

“Speaking of Spencer, do you know why he’s been getting to work so early lately? He says it’s paperwork, but you know,” Y/N pried, hoping JJ might know since she’s his best friend.

Without looking back, she could feel JJ stiffen at her question. Clearing her throat, JJ quickly changed the subject, “You know, there’s a lot of material here about global warming, overcrowding, evils of technology.”

“Did you just change the subject?” Y/N asked, turning to look at JJ.

“No, I just found something interesting related to the case.”

Y/N looked at her with a challenging gaze. “You totally just changed the subject. What do you know?”

“There’s no phone, no TV, I wonder what this guy does for fun.” JJ turned away from Y/N to look around at all the different items around the room.

“JJ.” Y/N said trying to go back to the question she was avoiding.

JJ turned back to Y/N with a innocent smile on her face. A smile that showed she was hiding something.

“It’s nothing, Y/N, you don’t have to be worried about it.” She was hiding something, but Y/N decided not to push it too far...yet.

“JJ, come on, he has to tell me soon-” Y/N turned back to a cabinet and began to look through it- “I mean he can’t keep doing this forever, so you might as well just-”

She cut herself off as she smelt a familiar smell. She reached her hand into the cabinet and pulled out a ziplock bag. Holding about ten grams of Marijuana.

“Found what he does for fun,” Y/N said, showing JJ the bag.

--------------

JJ and Y/N walked into the police station about an hour after they left Terry Rodger’s cabin. Y/N tried to pull what JJ was hiding out of her, but ended up having no success and gave up for the time being.

“So did you learn anything?” Rossi asked from a small coffee station as he saw JJ and Y/N walk in.

“Yeah, Y/N tells me Spence doesn’t like the beach,” JJ responded as they walked over to the table in the middle of the room.

“I don’t,” Spencer said, confirming Y/N’s tell.

“Yeah, so Terry Rodgers definitely wanted to live off the grid, he had a small generator for some small electrical needs. Other than that no phones, TV, or Radio,” Y/N answered Rossi’s question with its actual intent.

“And lots of material about the evils of technology, living healthy off the lang, that sort of stuff,” JJ added to their findings.

“Sounds like the Unabomber,” Rossi commented.

“We did find a small stash of weed he had hidden away,” Y/N mentioned the only really significant finding.

“Did you find any evidence that a baby lived there or visited there?” Hotch asked.

“Uh, no, why?” JJ asked, turning to Y/N to see if she had found something. She shook her head.

“We just got the list of the items he purchased at the supermarket,” Spencer said and handed the list to Y/N when she reached for it.

“Four jars of baby food,” JJ read as she looked at the list with Y/N.

The two looked at each other confused. They both racked through their findings in the cabin again to see if there was any sign of a baby.

“A body matching Rodgers’ description was found ten miles out of town,” the Sheriff said as she entered the room with a sigh.

Y/N, Hotch, and Derek rolled up to the scene just as the body was being pulled out of the water.

“A fisherman found him washed up on a bank,” the Sheriff sighed as the body was set down by the crane on the ground.

“Well, other than the ligature marks on the wrists and ankles, there’s no sign of violence and torture,” Derek said as he examined the body.

“There is so much care taken with the killing and disposing of the body,” Y/N commented.

“Sedation and drowning,” Derek agreed.

“We may have to dramatically change who the unsub is,” Y/N said with a surprise of her own words.

“What do you mean?” The Sheriff asked.

“We might be looking for a woman,” Hotch answered.

-------------

“We believe the unsub that we’re looking for is a woman, who is highly organized, she’s thorough, and she’s patient,” Hotch said as he began the profile.

“Based on the complexity and the sophistication of the abductions, we think she is most likely between the ages of thirty and forty,” Spencer said.

“She’s familiar with the rural area surrounding La Grande. Either a native or someone who’s lived there for a while,” Rossi continued on about who the unsub was.

“We think she’s keeping her victims in isolation in the countryside, which means she has access to land or a structure. That is remote, hidden, and private,” Derek added.

“She’s abducting exceptionally health-conscious men, ideal specimens if you will,” Blake said.

“Specimens, for what?” The sheriff asked, shocked by Blake’s terminology.

“Possible breeding,” JJ answered.

“The ability to father children is something we think she’s looking for in her victims,” Hotch said.

“They’re all age-appropriate, and they are all fathers,” Y/N added.

“But why kill the last victim?” The sheriff asked.

“She may have seen him as being flawed,” Spencer answered. “He was the least physically fit of the four, and neglected to pay child support.”

“Making him undesirable,” Blake clarified.

“The victims may be surrogates for a man that she wants but she can not have,” Derek said.

“Because she killed the last victim, we have to consider the possibility that the unsub is engaged in some sort of elimination process,” Rossi said.

“Preselecting a handful of prime candidates and then whittling them down one by one, until she has her ideal breeding partner,” Y/N added on to the elimination theory.

“And if this is the case, then the killing’s just begun,” Hotch said.

------------

“I’m still waiting on the full M.E. report on Terry Rodgers,” the Sheriff said as she entered the room the team was working in. “They say they want to retest some of the findings.”

“Did they say why?” JJ asked, curious as to why they would do that.

“No,” the Sheriff shook her head.

“I recognize that scowl Aaron,” Rossi stated to Hotch, who indeed did have a familiar scowl on his face. “What are you thinking?”

“Something Garcia said earlier about not being able to sit on a park bench in this country without leaving a paper trail,” Hotch admitted.

“And…” Y/N said, moving her hand in a ‘keep going’ motion.

“So what if Rodgers wasn’t in the country for those five months?” Hotch proposed the thought.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone crossed borders to get away from troubles,” Rossi said as he agreed with Hotch’s thought.

“Guys there’s something interesting about this grocery list,” Spencer said as he walked across the room to the five at the table.

“What?” The Sheriff asked.

“Look at the items he bought in bulk; garlic, green tea, vitamin D, ginger. All these items are specifically known to boost the immune system,” Spencer said, then set the list down on the table for those sitting to see. “What if Terry Rodgers was seriously ill?”

“What about the baby food?” JJ asked, not knowing how that would fit on the list.

“A side effect of radiation treatment is sores inside the mouth. In fact, doctors advise you to eat the way an infant would eat,” Spencer replied, showing how it fit.

“Chemotherapy?” Rossi questioned.

Spencer nodded, silently saying ‘more than likely’.

“The marijuana in the cabin could have been medicinal,” Y/N said as she thought more into the theory of Rodgers being sick.

“I’ll have Garcia check medical facilities outside the country,” Hotch said and pulled out his phone. “Reid, you and JJ got to the medical examiner to look for a pre-existing condition with Rodgers.”

Y/N watched as the two walked out of the room together, wondering what they were hiding from her.

--------------

“It was Hodgkin's Lymphoma,” the M.E. said as he gave the final report to Spencer.

“Did you find any sedatives in his system?” JJ asked.

“The question is, what sedatives didn’t we find?” The M.E. replied. “Melatonin, Valerian, Marijuana, hops, catnip, kava-kava…”

“Bone meal and kelp,” Spencer finished as he read the report.

“In the victim’s stomach, along with some materials that we’re retesting,” the M.E. said, then stood up as he got excited to show Spencer something. “Take a look at the bottom.”

“Sawdust residue caked in the nostrils?” Spencer read with questions at the finding.

“Not just any sawdust, pure pinewood pellet sawdust,” the M.E. told them.

“It’s usually imported from China. Was it a 0.5% mixture?” Spencer’s question took the M.E. back.

“I don’t know, all I know is it’s not your every day, spread-on-the-floor sawdust.”

The two agents thanked the M.E. and began to walk out of the small office they were in. Spencer called Rossi to inform them of their findings before they got back.

“You know, Y/N asked me today about why you’ve been leaving early for work,” JJ said as the two walked to their car. “To do paperwork?”

Spencer sucked in a nervous breath. “You didn’t tell her anything did you?”

“Of course not, only that she doesn’t need to worry,” JJ replied in a reassuring tone. “But ‘paperwork’ was the best excuse you could come up with?”

Spencer let out a breathy chuckle, “It was a spur of the moment excuse.”

They were quiet for a second as they both buckled their seat belts and JJ started the car.

“But she’s onto something now, and she’s going to dig if you don’t do it anytime soon.”

Spencer sighed, “I know, I just don’t know when yet.”

------------

“Yeah,” Rossi said as he hung up his phone then walked into the sheriff’s office where Derek, Hotch, and Y/N stood. “That was Reid, they found half a dozen natural sedatives in Rogders' system.”

“I don’t get it, the unsub’s drugging victims and trusting that they’ll conk out at the right place at the right time.” Derek’s confusion was reciprocated as Y/N nodded.

“Yeah, why not use a pharmaceutical Drug? Or Poison?” Y/N asked.

“Which would be quicker and a lot more reliable,” Rossi nodded.

“Natural holistic elements must be important to her,” Y/N said as she thought more about it.

“She may have health issues of her own,” Hotch agreed.

As Hotch finished his speculation, he pulled his phone out as Penelope called.

“Go ahead, Garcia.”

“I just hit the trifecta, but with two things instead of three,” Penelope said excitedly. “What is that, a bifecta?”

“Exacta, what you got?” Rossi pushed her to get to the point.

“Well, that-- anyway, two missing vehicles, not missing anymore. Paul Hicks’ car was found by some utility workers an hour ago, it rolled off into a ravine. And Gary Ellard’s car was picked up on a speeding violation in Coeur D’Alene, Idaho.”

“Idaho?” Derek said, confused.

“Stolen by some local kids ten days ago in La Grande,” Penelope cleared up the confusion. “Car was just sitting by the side of the road, keys in the ignition. They made a typical sound teenage decision, decided to take it on a cross-state joyride.”

“Garcia, I need to know the exact spot where the vehicles were originally found,” Hotch said as he moved out of the office into the conference room.

“On it.”

-------------

“All right, based on what we just got, this is the revised best guess route of the victims the days they were abducted,” Y/N said as she pointed to the map for Blake and JJ. Her and Hotch devised this new route together in an impressive thirty minutes.

“Two intersect here-” Blake pointed to an intersection of two of the victims- “the other two here.”

JJ then pointed to a spot on the map. “And this is where Terry Rodgers bought his groceries.”

“Looks like Paul Hicks might have gone there after his doctor’s appointment,” Blake said.

“Now what was at the intersection where Deavor and Ellard crossed?” JJ asked.

“That’s a shopping center with a dozen or so businesses,” Hotch answered as he pointed it out on the map.

“We’re getting a list right now,” Y/N added.

“One of the deputies sighted an abandoned car on the outskirts of town. There was a second set of tire tracks behind it that matched those found at the Terry Rodgers’ abduction site,” the Sheriff said, rushed as she peered into the room.

---------

Y/N stood next to Hotch as he inspected the inside of the car. Looking over all the beautifully wrapped gifts that were tucked into the back seat.

“Vehicle’s registered to Cheryl Winslow, 4801 Davenport Avenue,” the deputy on site told the two agents.

“These are all from a baby shower,” Hotch said as he finished looking at the gifts in the back seat.

“We contacted her husband, she’s due in three weeks,” the deputy confirmed.

“If this is our unsub, taking a pregnant woman is a huge change in her victimology,” Y/N said as Hotch turned to her.

“We profiled she was abducting the men as breeders,” Hotch reminded her.

“But why take someone else’s baby if you’re planning on having your own?” Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Maybe she can’t have one or she lost one.”

“So this-” she moved her hands in a circular motion- “this isn’t about fertility, but the experience these men would bring as fathers.”

Y/N paused as she thought more and Hotch gave her a look, telling her they were now thinking the same thing.

“Is she trying to build a family?”

---------

“That was Hotch,” Rossi said as he hung up his phone. It was the next day now, Cheryl Winslow had been left in the parking lot of the hospital in the early morning, along with her delivered baby. “The doctor told him the placenta was scrapped completely out of the victim’s uterus.”

Y/N and JJ grimaced at the thought.

“Every bit of it.”

“You know the placenta does carry special significance in many cultures. In ancient Egypt, it had its own hieroglyph. And the Ibo tribe in Nigeria considered it to be the child’s dead twin,” Spencer said. His facts were insightful but not helpful here.

“Well, that would be helpful, if our unsub was an ancient Egyptian or Ibo tribe woman, but...” JJ sassed.

Even though JJ’s comment was full of sarcasm and sass, it gave Spencer a thought. He began to mumble to himself as he went through his unlimited knowledge in his brain.

“I can hear the high-pitched whine from your IQ all the way over here, what is it?” Rossi asked. The humor-filled question made Y/N and JJ chuckle.

“It could be placentophagy,” Spencer said as if everyone knew what that was.

“What?” JJ asked.

“Consuming it. In the wild, it’s common for animals to eat their own afterbirth. It’s super-rich in nutrients,” Spencer explained.

“Oh god, I’m going to be sick,” Y/N said as she leaned her lead on her hands at the thought.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait-” Rossi held his hand up to Spencer to stop him before he continued- “so the unsub might have harvested this last victim...for food?”

Spencer lightly nodded his head, grossed out also at the thought.

----------

“It’s about food,” Rossi said as he began to explain what they had deciphered as the motive. “Herbal sedatives, gruel, and now the placenta.”

“Ugh,” Penelope’s sigh was heard through the phone. “And FYI, there’s no record of anyone in La Grande buying that weird kind of sawdust the M.E. found. I’ll widen the search.”

“We still need to figure out how this unsub was able to drug all these men,” JJ reminded everyone.

“The southeast intersect doesn’t get us much,” Spencer nodded to the map. “Laundromat, video rental store.”

“The other intersect is the supermarket, yet none of the employees recognized Paul Hicks, he never shopped there,” Y/N said as she pointed to the spot on the map.

“Garcia, what day of the week were each of the victims abducted?” Hotch asked Penelope on the phone.

“Let me see. Gary Ellard on a Monday, Barry Deaver on a Saturday, Terry Rodgers and Paul Hicks both on a Thursday.”

“Is there anything special that happens in the vicinity of the markets on Thursdays?”Hotch asked.

“Uh...wow, you’ve done this before, haven’t you? Yeah, there’s a farmers market across the street from the supermarket every Thursday morning,” Penelope answered when she got a hit.

“And where is it today?” Hotch continued.

“Pendleton, about forty miles north on Interstate 84.”

“I’m sending Blake and Morgan,” Hotch replied then hung up the phone.

-------------

Y/N threw the paper towel she used to dry her hands away as she pushed the door to the bathroom open. She pressed across the room as she saw Spencer receive something off of the fax machine.

“What do you have?” She nodded to the paper he held in his hand.

He turned back and watched as she stopped in the spot next to him. “Full toxicology report.”

His eyes went down to the paper as he quickly read over it.

“And?”

“Unlike any tox panel I’ve ever seen before,” he turned the page so she could read what he had seen.

“They found gypsum?” She asked after she read the finding.

“Yeah, gypsum’s rich in sulfur, a vital plant nutrient,” Spencer explained.

“I’m sorry, so she’s feeding her captives soil additives?” Y/N asked, slightly grossed out.

“Seed meals, too. Look-” he pointed to a finding further down the page- “cotton, flax.”

“That’s animal feed, right?” Y/N asked Spencer for confirmation.

He nodded.

“Why would you treat a human being like livestock? People raise cattle to eat.” Y/N was so confused now. This unsub’s motives were all over the place.

“The unsub might be using the placenta as food, but nothing in the profile suggested cannibalism,” Spencer agreed with her confusion. “I mean...unless the sawdust they found in Terry Rodgers’ nose…”

“What about it?” Y/N asked when he paused.

“When livestock die, animal carcasses turn into a useful soil amendment through the aerobic biodegradation process--”

“Like compost?”

“Exactly, you need to add a substrate high in carbon to balance the nitrogen. And one of the most efficient substances on earth is pure sawdust,” Spencer explained as he started to piece things together.

“She’s using her victims as human fertilizer,” Y/N muttered as she caught on to what Spencer was saying.

---------------

“Sheriff the surgeon who operated on Cheryl Winslow said that whoever did the c-section might have done one before,” Hotch said as the Sheriff walked into the room.

“If she did, we never heard about it,” the Sheriff responded with wide eyes. “Nothing like this has ever happened in La Grande.”

“Well, we can keep looking, expand the search radius to nearby towns,” Derek suggested.

“What about farms?” JJ’s question made everyone in the room look at her. “My grandparents had a farm in Pennsylvania. Once my grandmother had to deliver a calf by c-section to a cow that was in distress.”

As JJ finished, Hotch’s phone rang.

“Go ahead, Garcia.”

“I have got something, Emma Kerrigan. She runs a small juice and vegetable stand at the farmers market, and she works part-time giving out free samples at the health food co-op. I’m sending you her picture now,” Penelope said as she sent the picture.

“That sounds like our unsub,” Y/N said as she walked into the room, only hearing what Penelope said.

“Where does she live?” Hotch asked quickly.

“Piping Rock Farms west of town, like a hundred acres, belonged to her husband’s family-”

“Wait, she has a husband?” Derek asked, cutting Penelope off.

“Had. Died in a car accident a year and a half ago, leaving her and a ten-year-old daughter,” Penelope clarified.

“Let’s go.” Hotch hung up the phone and rushed out of the room to suit up.

-----------------

The team rolled up to the farm. The sky darkened as it had rolled into the night.

Y/N jogged behind Rossi, JJ, and Spencer into a barn. After making sure the barn was cleared, they lowered their guns and looked around.

Rossi walked up to the one machine that was covered by a green tarp.

“What’s that?” JJ nodded to the tarp.

Rossi grabbed the green plastic-fabric and pulled it back, revealing a grinder.

“Oh my…” Y/N muttered as she looked at the inside that was covered in blood.

They heard through their earpieces that Hotch, Derek, and Blake were heading to another barn on the property next to a garden.

By the time they made their way to the garden, Derek said he found Emma.

They watched as Blake handed her a bag of what looked to be ashes.

“It’s a miracle,” Emma said and kept repeating as she poured the bag on her daughter she had buried under soil next to one of her victims.

Hotch grabbed her as she poured the last bit on top of her daughter and pulled her away. The Sheriff took her away from Hotch and placed cuffs on her to lead her away.

That next day, the team was back in the office finishing up reports from the case and having a day in the office.

Y/N had her feet resting on the corner of her desk, her last report of the day in her lap as she read over it to make sure everything was all good.

It was all hallows eve, and all Y/N wanted to do was get home, watch a stupid scary movie with Spencer and hand candy out to the kids who lived in their apartment building.

She looked up from her work to see Spencer already looking at her.

“Hey, Spence, did we remember the candy for tonight?” She asked, taking her feet off the desk and stood up to walk to his desk.

“We should have a lot if you didn’t eat it all,” Spencer smiled, pointing his pen at her.

“I wouldn’t ever do such a thing,” she laughed.

“That’s a lie straight from the pits of hell Y/N Y/L/N,” Derek said walking up behind her. “You keep a stash of skittles in your desk year-round.”

“And never share, need I remind you,” Rossi added as he remembered all the time he asked for some.

She gasped dramatically and placed a hand on her chest, faking offense to their comments. “Gentlemen, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The three men laughed at her claim with an eye roll.

“Uh, excuse me, everybody. I have an announcement to make,” JJ said as she walked into the bullpen, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

Once she knew she had everyone on the team’s attention, she continued.

“As I’m sure some of you were aware, Henry was a little nervous about going trick-or-treating this year, but he’ decided to go anyway,” JJ said excitedly.

“Great, what changed his mind?” Rossi asked.

“The BAU did,” she responded sheepishly. “I told him that he should go out on Halloween and try to figure out which monsters are real and which ones are not.”

“So he wants to be a profiler?” Y/N asked with a smile.

“Ah-” JJ held up a finger- “he wants to be his favorite profiler.”

On cue, Penelope led in a small Henry, dressed up as their very own, Spencer Reid. Little converse, a sweater vest, a tie, and even his own satchel bag adorned his body to make the perfect Spencer.

“Wow! Yeah!” Spencer said excitedly as he stood up from his chair to meet Henry in the walkway between desks.

“Oh my gosh, JJ this is too cute,” Y/N gushed as she stood next to Spencer.

“Oh, wow!” Spencer squatted in front of Henry who ran up to him. “You look great, Henry.” Spencer fumbled with his I.D. badge and clipped it onto Henry’s sweater.

“Oh, he’s official!” Derek laughed.

“Tell him,” Penelope whispered into Henry’s ear.

“E equals MC squared!” Henry exclaimed his new knowledge excitedly.

The smile on Spencer’s face was unbeatable.

“The monsters don’t stand a chance,” Blake gushed as she looked at JJ who nodded.

Y/N kneeled in front of Henry. “Here Henry let me do for you what I have to do for Uncle Spencer every morning.”

She gently grabbed his tie and pretended to straighten it for him. Everyone laughed at the action, knowing full well that’s what she did every time his tie was crooked.

“He’s gotta have the full effect,” Y/N looked up at JJ.

“Oh, I know, should we go get you some candy?” JJ said as she leaned down to Henry. He nodded his head excitedly.

He took her hand as she led him out of the office and to the candy with Penelope.

“Watch your back, Pretty Boy,” Derek said to Spencer, clapping his hand on his shoulder as he and Rossi walked past.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @justine-en @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore @peterparkersdestiny @bandsandjill @mbowles23-blog @sarcasm-n-insomnia @citrussirus @nerual222 @april-14-blog @reidloversisforever @heavenlyholland @justawildmarebae @sana-li @thesailbells @l0ve-0f-my-life @spencer101reid @spencersdolore @delicateprunecashpony @sader12345678 @dashlilymark @mysticalmagicmoon @onebigfangirlworld @saturn-mp4 @hurricanejjareau @thatweirdo466 @angryknightstatesmantrash @nograciass @danandphilfan6 @la-vie-en-amour1 @squirrellover1967 @reidswords @skyirates @spideyspencer

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds meme #criminal minds imagine #criminal mids fic #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss

315 notes · View notes

teaandinanity · 3 years

Note

Okay I saw you also read and loved A Deadly Education and I wanted to ask if you had any thoughts on Orion? My theory is that he was supposed to be evil and was created by maleficers who wanted a less evil way to gather mana. Sort of like the creations. Anyway my other theory is that he’s some kind of resurrection because on page nine when El mentioned the year Orion was conceived only a dozen students graduated she said they were all evil and called themselves the Hands of Death. The whole Hands of Death thing may be related to necromancy and the whole hands of murderers things. This would make sense with Gwen also realising that Orion is bad news as she was in the year below and would have therefore likely realised the gist of what they were planning. Anyway yeah just wanted your thoughts on the theory Orion was the maleficers’ fail safe to survive past graduation and/or a baby infused with the power to be a little mana vacuum. Or even a resurrection. I don’t know, I just feel the maleficers in that year are DEFINITELY linked to my boy. Thoughts?

I felt like the Hands of Death and Orion were more to illustrate how the principle of balance can work on a more global level as well as the micro level we see with Gwen and El, where El came out predisposed to darker things because Gwen is sunshine and rainbows. This could also just be that I want Orion to be genuinely a good person because I love good characters who stay that way in worlds that are as dark as the one in ADE - and I think it will be interesting to see how he reacts to the injustices El is making him confront, because he’s been so insulated by privilege that he hasn’t had to see them (and on a completely non-story-level, I want him not to be awful because I like him and he was El’s first friend and I am not-so-secretly kind of a dumb marshmallow about friendships).

My personal pet theory about Orion is that - like El - he has a prophesy about him! I think they’re mirrored in a lot of ways and this would be another way to work that in. We’re not really sure how prophesies even work in this universe, but it’s possible that they’re kind of like fairy tale curses, where some part of it is coming true no matter what, but you can change the ‘how.’

Plus, if he did have a prophesy, I can well believe that even someone like Gwen (who wants to believe the best of everyone) would warn El to keep away. Gwen deliberately set out to avert El’s prophesy as soon as she heard it, but if she heard one about someone who sounded like he might be a danger to her daughter, I can well believe she’d try to warn El away. After all, she set out to raise someone who would subvert her prophesy, but it’s entirely possible that people usually lean INTO them, which would make it likely that someone raised with the intention of following a prophecy would WANT to fulfill the requirements even if they involved murdering El before she could do any of the scary stuff foreseen for her.

It’s just SO WEIRD for Gwen - after everything we’ve heard about her - to be so afraid of Orion that she’d use half the only letter she’s ever managed to send to warn El about him! I understand why some people are like, ‘ugh, YA cliffhanger’ but at the same time, I’m quite confident Naomi Novik is too good an author to engage in 'gotcha!’ shenanigans, which means she’s going to actually pay it off at a later date.

Too, El is so disconnected from wizard culture that it’d make sense for her not to have heard any prophecies but her own (and it would feed into him being so grateful to be treated like a normal person; him having an unusual talent and saving people alone doesn’t totally explain the hero worship, although I think some of that is also a more meta deconstruction of the wizarding hero as a trope).

I DO hope we’ll see an exploration of how he gets mana from mals, though, because El EXPLICITLY says it’s malia any time you pull mana from something complicated enough to have feelings about it, and it’s pretty clear most mals are, in fact, complex enough to have some kind of sentience (and I kind of wonder if that’s part of why he can push mana into El and it’s supercharged, because I don’t think he MEANT to give her a year’s worth of mana in the cafeteria after she killed the maw mouth, and it was FASCINATING to me that the seniors were struggling so much more than El was with him throwing mana at them in the graduation hall fight; she keeps saying how easy it would be for her to pull malia, but she never has, so we have no idea how it would actually work or feel for her, and I think it’d be REALLY interesting if Orion was a maleficer but a little to the left, and he hadn’t had someone there like El’s mum going ‘no my dear’ when he was too young to know better for himself.

And this is just a lot of spitballing, obviously, since we don’t know much of anything for sure yet, but he’s a really interesting character and I cannot WAIT to see where things go!

#i-am-person-one #replies #babble tea (blacklist this for less chatter)#A Deadly Education #meta #I guess?#also I hope it was okay to publish this in my out loud blog rather than in a private reply #if it's not just let me know and I'll take it down!#actually on that note I should probably change my askbox header to note that I heed dnp requests #edit: I realized I used the word 'interesting' like fourteen times OOPS

16 notes · View notes

theanimeview · 5 years

Text

The Obelian Royal Family and Magic

This is a topic I’m revisiting after my first theory about the royal family’s magic was shown to be dismally wrong (I said that it might be light and black magic in my post, The Obelian Royal Family: The Heir).

But what is their magic?

Well, let’s review what we know so far:

1. Strong magicians are said to “freeze” their hearts because emotions can cause them to lose control of their magic. We see the image of a pink glowing crystal heart when this is revealed, implying that by “heart” they mean their emotions, not the bodily organ.

2. There is a Magic World Tree (I think the name is the world tree, but I’m not sure) and in Chapter 54 we see that it can provide magic to people via its fruit (Lucas hopes to use it to replenish his magical core). It is also deeply rooted (pun intended) into the nature of Athanasia's world, as random storms can be caused by interacting violently with the tree (another thing we learn through Lucas). It may also have a sort of consciousness as it sweats chibi-tear drops when Lucas threatens it.

3. Everybody has some magic in them, but the royal family is extremely powerful in that respect and displays specific physical characteristics as a result (the jewel eyes). Oh! Interesting note--Claude, despite still being very magically powerful, seems to be slowly losing the jewel feature to his eyes as chapters continue. At least, I've seen a stronger mix of a simpler gradient to his eyes the longer the series goes on with it being most evident after giving Athanasia his magic.

4. Black magic refers strictly to curses thus far. Everything that has been used by or made with black magic has thus far resulted in, or been hinted to resolve in the future with, extremely bad consequences on the intended and the originator. Jeannette, having been created by black magic, is a ticking time-bomb from what we understand (though the person revealing this information may not be reliable). The old book shop owner claims that a being like Jennette’s existence will lead to something terrible and Lucas believes her to be a homunculus, which is a term yet to be clarified by the series but given context is probably a “humanoid creature” rather than a human itself. (Note: In other translations, Lucas refers to Jennette as a something like a, or part, chimera, which is more of a monster.)

That's about all we really know.

In theory, the more refined the magic is the cleaner and less noticeable it appears, rather the more integrated it looks. For example, Lucas’ magic is very natural to him. He uses it with ease and manipulates the world around him comfortably. With Claude too, we see very gentle magic as he passes memories to Athanasia making them appear like dreams to her rather than intentional magical influence. Heck, until Claude started physically attacking Athanasia in chapter 53/54 we never even saw the protection spell upon her, meaning that it is well hidden from the eye. Moreover, day to day magic appears rarely in the work so we can probably assume that despite being present in almost all people it is either rarely used or used in very small situations like moving objects or protection or something that is mundane enough not to gather Athanasia’s attention. (Sort of like how characters in current comics will rarely comment on the wonders of a cellphone--while older ones might show a group surprised that their friend has one. It becomes natural and therefore uneventful to mention. Since she mentions everyone having it once, and we rarely see people besides Lucas use it, if ever, we can make that assumption.) However, Athanasia’s magic is newly stabilized and, to our knowledge, appears unskilled. Moreover, in this unskilled and newly stabilized state, her magic seems to be very active and raw. When we see it, it is only in extremely emotional situations and like a force of nature, such as the electricity when the guards move to take her outside or the whirlwind when she escapes Claude in Chapter 54.

I write “unskilled” because these magical attempts look very raw, matching the emotional state she’s in and because she is using natural elements, like the whirlwind, to perform her escape rather than the refined teleporting we see from Lucas. I think also that unlike almost every other subject Athanasia has studied or had lessons for, she has never been taught magic. I have a few points to reason this:

Firstly, her magic was really unstable in the beginning. Lucas mentioned separation from her spirit animal to avoid transferring the magic in said animal back to her body because it was so detrimental to her health. One might think then that spending that magic would help relieve her of the problem, but given how unsteady emotions are that a young age and how we are told early on that magic can be dangerous if passion overtakes reason, she might have been kept from doing so.

Second, it's never a lesson Claude seems to require of her. As we have all read, when something arrises like Athanasia nearly drowning or her having trouble cutting a steak, Claude assigns her lessons and tutors. In the two examples I gave, Claude had her learn swimming and then etiquette. She might even be a semi-skilled martial artist, given that Claude mentioned it before. We know she has some teachers, she mentions them once as a child, after showing Lily and the maids she could read, and mentions them again with Claude (her dancing instructor, for example). However, since she doesn’t mention it once or hint to it, I assume she hasn’t had any training with magic yet. More than likely, Claude and Lucas were waiting until Athanasia was older with a stable magical core before attempting lessons in the subject.

Third, everyone in the hall at Claude’s birthday celebration appeared surprised by Athanasia’s magic. I doubt they were surprised that she had magic, I mean her eyes and bloodline tell us a lot, but they might be surprised at her lack of control or use in that particular moment. (Like, they might think, ‘The Emporer nearly executed you and you’re going to use magic against him?!’ or maybe it was more like, ‘Oh no, she’s an emotional teenager who potentially has a lot of magic and could kill us all!’) While rumors were kept low with Athanasia’s isolation from the court, surely a magical tutor would have been mentioned or theorized or asked about by Athanasia’s young lady friends if there had been one, right? Or the author(s) would have mentioned it? I mean, unless they’re going with the “don’t explain the magic” mentality... but who knows for sure?

Since Athanasia’s use of magic is so new to the story, we can’t say for certain that this is correct, but that’s the theory I’ve held recently. The particular magic of the Obelian Royal Family relates to control over natural elements.

If everyone has magic, and we know some semblance of its usage, like passing memories, picture taking, applying images to stones (it's mentioned in an earlier chapter) and putting emotions into stones. We can assume that these uses are things a man can make in other ways but don’t because of magic. Using the same examples I just mentioned, the man-made equivalent might be like taking pictures, films, money production, etc. But control over nature is an entirely different element, which we do see with both Claude (in the alternate timeline/story of the Lovely Princess) and Athanasia.

Claude, for example, in the alternate timeline/story of the Lovely Princess, is seen collapsed before Jennette while a storm is raging outside. In point two I mentioned how the tree can cause freak weather disasters so maybe Lucas is the culprit here too, but I doubt it. Since Claude is normally very composed, even when angry, it would make sense that in moments like that he starts losing control in other ways. We see a nature element again with the present timeline as Claude attacks Athanasia in chapter 53, starting off with a few bolts of electricity. No one else in the series, even Lucas, shows this (though Lucas has many other cool magical abilities).

That electricity is like a more angry version of what Athanasia does during the birthday party.

To conclude, my theory is that the Obelian Royal Family’s specific magic is one which controls elements of nature. In addition to that, I theorize that the more control a person has over their magic, the more the magic will integrate and appear natural in the world around them.

What do you all think?

#who made me a princess #어느날-공주가-되어버렸다 #suddenly i became a princess on day #one day became a princess #lovely princess #analysis #theory

251 notes · View notes

evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

Text

Unexpected

A/N: Yet another RP with @arin-schreave :)

Life had gone back to normal for the most part since I had left Clemence’s room four nights ago. I had settled back into my routine as if nothing had happened. Wake up early, run, shower, breakfast, read, lunch, study, dinner, relax - wash, rinse, repeat. The monotony of it all was kind of comforting. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed the ever-changing atmosphere of the palace at all since getting here, but there was a familiarity about having time to myself, to get done what I needed to do. To think.

I had a good bit of thinking to do, and yet, here I was, procrastinating on thinking by working on some summer readings for my fall classes. I had gotten the go-ahead from all of the professors of the classes I had planned on taking to complete their classes online for as long as I was away. The only issue that had arisen was the laboratory portion of my biochemistry class, but the professor had informed me that she was going to reach out to Proctor and see if she could get the lab work I had done under Proctor’s supervision to count for the lab work I was missing out on while I was here. I had thanked my professor profusely for offering to do so, though I didn’t have high hopes that she would succeed. I hadn’t spoken to Proctor since leaving, hadn’t even heard her name since my last phone call with Lukas, but from what I had gathered, she was still rather unhappy with my decision to come here, as well as my decision not to assist her in reaching her non-academic pursuits.

That was one of the things I was trying not to think about. The other was the proposal that each of the Selected were going to have to submit by the end of the week. I had a topic, thanks to my conversations with Itzel and Safiya in the gardens not too long ago, but I wasn’t content with the feasibility of my proposed plan yet. I would’ve felt more comfortable if I could somehow have gotten access to the royal budget, just to see the numbers, but there was no way that was happening. It was for good reason, but at the same time, it was a mild inconvenience. I didn’t want to look like a fool if there weren’t nearly enough funds for my proposal. There was also the fact that I wasn’t sure my proposal was nearly as impactful as it could be. Again, having access to official numbers would have helped me to conceptualize it a bit, but I’d have to go without, I was afraid.

I put down the black pen I had been using, switching to an indigo color to signify a different carboxyl group in my notes as the next song started to play through my earbuds. The light, airy tones of a violin floated through my ears as I finished writing, looking down at the page in front of me. I took great pride in my notes. They were like an art form for me - a way to express myself and organize my thoughts on one neat, lined sheet of paper. My siblings had always joked that I could sell my notes for money, and maybe they had a point - the extra money would also certainly help fuel my caffeine addiction, I was sure - but I didn’t plan on ever following through with it. They were my notes, after all. I was the one who had put in the time and effort. Yet, it was nice to know that other people saw and appreciated that.

I smiled down at my notebook, satisfied at the quality of my work so far today, before sitting up and twisting in my chair, cracking my back. Only fifteen more pages to go by the end of the week! Done with stretching, I reached over for my water bottle, finally looking at the library around me as I took a sip. It was empty, for the most part. The majority of the people living here must have decided to take advantage of the nice weather and spend some time outside. I couldn’t blame them, but I had work to get done, and the peace and quiet was a welcome change.

My eyes narrowed as I looked to my right. I wasn’t alone, after all. There was Arin, emerging from the stacks with a book in hand. His footsteps were light - almost silent - as he walked towards the door, like he didn’t want to be seen.

I frowned. Would it be worth it to say anything? What good would come of it? If he didn’t want to be bothered, me saying anything would likely just put him in a bad mood, and yet, that possibility in and of itself sounded kind of entertaining to me. He had made it pretty clear when we had last spoken that he didn’t want us Selected girls here, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy myself while I was here.

I took out one earbud, intent on keeping my voice quiet, as we were in a library, after all. “Hello.”

His shoulders tensed up at the sound of my voice, despite my low volume. Did he think someone was going to attack him in the library, or something? Why would a potential attacker even greet him to begin with? Any good assassin would stab first and ask questions later, in my opinion. It only seemed rational.

His shoulders fell as he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of me. “Hi, Evalin.”

His startled expression set me laughing for a brief moment. I’d never seen him caught off guard like this, even when I had literally collided with him in the hallway. It was kind of refreshing, actually - like it made him more human, somehow.

Composing myself once again, I paused my music and took out my remaining earbud, gesturing with my free hand towards the book he was holding. “Doing some light reading?”

He paused for a moment, sizing me up with his eyes, as if he was debating whether or not to respond. I had to admit, that stung a little bit. After a few seconds, though, he lifted the book he was holding, waving it through the air in a small motion. “A bit.”

“Anything in particular?” I put one of my pens in the spine of my textbook, which was sitting open on the table, to mark the page. I could come back to biochemistry later, I supposed. Turning to face him, I swung my legs towards the side of my chair, crossing my left leg over my right.

He hesitated for a second, but then took a few steps towards me. Why was he acting so cautiously? Is he afraid of me? The thought almost had me laughing again, but maybe I was on to something. I could understand if he might think that I was upset over what he had disclosed to me in the hallway when we had last seen each other.

That was one of the other things I had been trying not to think about.

“Systems of Necessary Authority and Power by Ian Mondeli,” he answered, glancing down at the book in his hands.

“Ah, I see,” I replied, nodding slowly and pursing my lips. The name of the book was familiar, though I was certain I had never read it. It sounded like something off of the syllabus of a political science course, but I had never taken one, so I didn’t know for certain. Sure, we had to take two social science classes as a general education requirement at my university, but I had elected to fulfill that requirement with history courses. History was almost straight memorization, which I could do well. Plus, it was more interesting to me than most other social sciences, and didn’t encourage the same level of introspection as a course like psychology.

Still, maybe I could use this as a talking point. I had been telling the truth when I had told Arin that I would like to get to know him better. “Are you a fan of nonfiction, then?”

He nodded slowly, taking a few more steps towards the table. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Me too,” I responded with a sheepish smile. I enjoyed some fiction, sure, but even as a kid, I would beg my father to buy me books about topics such as dinosaurs or marine animals, instead of just reading one of the many fiction novels my siblings had offered me. Political science was quite different from dinosaurs, though, I mused as I glanced back at my notebook for a moment. Maybe he did have an interest in other topics, though. The only way to find out was to ask. “Though I assume you tend to stick to the social sciences?” I looked up at him, inclining my head slightly to the right, bracing my right arm on the back of my wooden chair.

“It depends. It’s good to know about different subjects.” He set the book on the table, taking care to make sure that it didn’t make any noise, and that the edge of the book was perfectly lined with up with the edge of the table. It was oddly particular. So he likes things done a certain way, then. Maybe.

The fact that he had other interests outside of political science and its related fields shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. He was human, after all. It was only natural for him to have a wide variety of interests and hobbies. However, every time I had inquired as to what his other interests might be, he had brushed me off. I hummed thoughtfully, looking at the book and wondering if this might be my chance to finally get to know something more about what he was interested in. I turned my gaze upwards, meeting his eyes once again. “Such as?”

He shrugged. “Anything. Everything.”

Okay, so, my mission had been unsuccessful after all.

I rolled my eyes at his non-answer, still smiling at him, though. Maybe a joke would work, then. “Mm, somehow, I have a hard time picturing you reading about math.” I picked up one of my other pens, tapping it lightly against my chin as I attempted to imagine him reading Fermat’s Last Theorem. The mental image fizzled out before it ever focused, though, like even my subconscious knew there was no way it would happen.

“Well, it’s a graduation requirement at all schools, so…” he trailed off, rocking back and forth on his heels.

So he actually did his assigned readings, then. I raised my eyebrows at him, before I realized that him doing the readings for classes made a good deal of sense, assuming he did actually enjoy reading nonfiction. Course syllabi must be like a free list of book recommendations to him, then.

“True, but most math classes tend to focus on problem solving instead of theory. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course! It’s a useful skill.” And problem sets are more fun than memorizing theories, anyway. My eyes were drawn once again to the book he had set down on the table, and my curiosity got the better of me. “Dare I ask what that’s about?”

He hesitated once again, looking down at the book as he answered. “It’s about the caste system.”

Ah, so maybe that was why he hadn’t wanted to be seen then. What was he doing reading about the caste system, anyway? Proctor’s parting comments to me nagged at the back of my mind, but I tried my best to mute them, raising my eyebrows a bit at him. “Oh, neat!”

I probably sounded way too intrigued for my own good. I was tempted to explain myself, but I nixed the idea, deciding it was better to stay quiet. How many times had my mouth gotten me into awkward conversations since I had been here? I had lost count.

He didn’t seem to notice or care, though, simply nodding as he shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at my books. “What are you reading?”

Ah, that. I laughed once lightly, my head angled down as my eyes peered upwards at him. “My biochem textbook.” God, it sounded so lame. Who read textbooks - besides me, apparently? “Pretty dry content, I’m afraid.” I bit my lip, more curious as to why he was reading out the caste system than I was willing to explain glycolysis to him. My own curiosity began to mingle with Proctor’s words in my mind, but still I kept my mouth shut. It was too dangerous of a topic. I shouldn’t.

“Ah, well, you’ve got me there.” He nodded again, a slight frown forming on his face as he continued to look at the textbook.

I nodded once. I couldn’t take the awkwardness of this conversation anymore. If it was going to be tense, I might was well make sure my own yearning to know more was satisfied, for the sake of me being able to sleep at night without the questions lingering in my mind. I gestured towards his book, asking, “So, what made you choose that book in particular?” An innocent question. Nothing more. Nothing treasonous about it. Yet, I could feel my heartbeat picking up.

His gaze shifted from my book to his as he considered my question for a moment. “The author has some very interesting opinions - but I’ve read it already.”

“Interesting,” I mumbled under my breath, furrowing my brows as I studied the cover of the book again, making a mental note to look into reading it at some point. It looked pretty innocuous - plain cover, typical fancy lettering - and yet the book seemed to give off a sinister air. I had to be imagining it.

I looked back up at him again, smiling. “It’s nice to re-read books sometimes - to look at them again with a different perspective.”

“Yeah, it can be,” he answered with a nod, watching me for a moment before looking away.

Don’t think I didn’t notice that, Arin.

I followed his gaze, narrowing my eyes slightly as I turned my head. I had been expecting to see someone else coming our way, or at the very least, something of interest, but the library appeared to be empty, besides the two of us. What was he looking at then?

I felt his stare on me once again, and looked back at him in time to see him blink once. Right, it’s my turn to speak. “So,” I began in a ploy to buy myself some time to think of something to say, of what direction to take this conversation in. Clearing my throat, I considered my options. The caste system or biochem appeared to be my only two choices, judging off of what was on the table. Biochem was familiar to me. I didn’t need to hear his opinion on that. I brushed my hand over my notebook and looked back up at him, my mind made up. What was life without a little risk, anyway?

Less stressful.

“Do you ever wonder why the caste system formed in Illea, but not in other countries?” Was this too far? No, calm down! I looked down and shook my head, as if I could knock my fear right out of my brain. It was clearly something he was interested in, which should make it fair game. “I mean, maybe it’s only crossed my mind because my grandparents are from Swendway, and they’ve never really understood it, but…” I trailed off, unsure of where I had even planned on going with this.

He sighed, and immediately something in my chest fell. Maybe he hadn’t been that interested in it after all. However, he then came around to the edge of the table, leaning back on it as if he wanted to take a seat without fully sitting down. Looking down at me, he stated, “It’s a complicated issue.”

“Right.” Was he talking down to me? Bold of him to assume that I was incapable of wrapping my head around anything that wasn’t a science. I avoided social sciences and humanities because other topics interested me more, not because I couldn’t comprehend them. I looked up at him, tapping my pen against my chin again one more time. “I’ve gathered that much from the history courses I’ve taken.”

His head tilted towards the side as he watched me, considering what I had just said to him. “And what did they teach you? Other than that it’s complicated.”

I looked to the side, trying to dredge up as many details as I could from my memory before looking at him again. “I know it started after the first war with New Asia.” I could remember nothing after that, though, and not because I had forgotten it - I was sure of that much. I frowned. “Professors never really explained much beyond that. They were always pretty vague about it. To be honest, I don’t even know how my grandparents were -” I searched for the right word “- assigned, I suppose, their caste when they immigrated here. I would assume it was based on occupation, but…” I didn’t want to finish my sentence. Maybe he had been right - not in talking down to me, but in recognizing that this really was something I knew very little about.

Maybe I should’ve listened to Proctor a little more closely.

The thought sent chills down my spine.

He raised his eyebrows at me, unfazed by any visceral reaction I may have had to my own thoughts. “Well, we have a lot of good history books in here.”

I hesitated for a moment. Between him and Reggie, I might just have hit the book recommendation jackpot. “Can you recommend a few?”

He peered over at my textbook as he nodded. “If you want.”

“That would be great thank you. Of the social sciences, history was always my favorite.” I was still looking at him, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all, completely enamored by whatever had caught his attention in my textbook. Surely he wasn’t that interested in protein synthesis.

He nodded once more at my words, squinting at the small font of my textbook. Was that genuine curiosity I saw on his face? I followed his line of sight, trying to figure out what part, in particular, he was reading. Did he find my biochem textbook more interesting than me? I wanted to laugh, but I cleared my throat instead. “If you want, the notes I’ve taken might make more sense than the book itself.” I gestured to my notebook, my color-coded molecule drawings seeming to smile back at me, surrounded by little blurbs of text with the necessary facts and formulas, any words that required definitions highlighted.

“I’d…” he paused, looking at me and frowning a little, “appreciate that.”

Well, it was something. I pushed my notebook in his direction, offering him a small smile as I did. This was certainly not how I had ever pictured my note-taking skills coming in handy. My siblings were going to have a field day with this one.

He picked it up gingerly, as if it might break under his touch. Good. I had worked hard on those notes. He had better not wreck them. I watched as he began to read, a look of genuine interest plastered on his face. We sat like that for a few minutes, him flipping through the pages and me just watching him do so, until he eventually paused on one. Turning the page to face me, he pointed to one of the drawings and asked, “What does this mean?”

Well, this was my time to shine! I took a quick glance at the diagram he had pointed to, my smile growing immediately. “Oh, okay, so that parts about DNA mutations! This is actually related to what I used to work on in the lab.” This could not be more perfect! I began to explain each diagram, pointing to them one-by-one in turn. “That first one is insertion or deletion, which is basically when one or more nucleotides are added or subtracted within a sequence of dna. The second one is point mutation, which is one when nucleotide is changed - like if an adenine turned into a thymine. The third is translocation, which is the movement of one segment of dna from one chromosome to another. That last one at the bottom of the page is inversion, which is essentially just a 180 degree flip of the DNA, so it’s basically reversed to what it was originally.”

He blinked, and I could see through his eyes that the wheels within his brain were turning in overdrive as he tried to process what I had just said. “You’re really smart.”

I looked down at the table, my face turning red as I tried to keep myself from laughing at his oh-so-intelligent response. Fidgeting with my hands in my lap, I waited until I was sure I could speak without snickering, and then looked up again, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

He turned back to my notebook, continuing to read through the pages. I couldn’t help but wonder what in particular he found so interesting. He seemed a tad confused by the science, so was it the notes themselves then? Did he like my handwriting, or maybe the care I put into each page of notes? My organizational skills were definitely on good display, at the moment. Maybe he was impressed with that. God, I wished I could read his mind as I peered over at each page he scanned over, my focus alternating between that and his face, searching for any sign of recognition or questioning.

“Aren’t you usually the one who asks me why I’m staring?” Ah, crap, he had caught me. He was looking right at me, in fact.

“Yes, I am.” I let out a breathy laugh, feeling the tips of my ears turn red. “I’m just a little surprised that you’re interested in this, is all.”

“Why's that?” There was no malice in his words or face, just genuine curiosity.

I frowned as I considered his question. “I guess it’s just never come up before. Plus, most people I try to explain this to tend to blank out once I start talking - you know -” I began to gesture with my hands as I spoke “- the whole, blank face, glazed-over eyes look.” I laughed lightly, even though the more I thought about it, the more upsetting the truth became to me. Most people just didn’t care to hear what I had to say on the topic. With people outside of my major, the complaint was that I was showing off, or that I made no sense. When dealing with other biology students, I found that I was very rarely taken seriously, or had to justify every thought and idea I voiced aloud, and at that point, everybody had already moved on to some other task.

He ran his fingers over a line of words I had written. The gesture felt intimate somehow, and had my stomach doing cartwheels, as if he was touching my arm or something, instead of only my notebook. Why? “And did I do that?”

“No, not at all.”

He blinked, his eyes widening for a fragment of a second. “Well then, maybe I'm not as bad at acting as everyone said, because I didn't understand a word.”

Oh. Ouch.

I laughed it off, trying to rationalize what I had seen from him with what he had felt. “Understanding and listening with interest are two different things, and the fact that you didn’t understand probably reflects more on my poor teaching skills than anything else.”

“Evalin.” I could’ve sworn my name was accompanied with a sigh. He looked over at his book, and then back at me.

I looked right back at him. “Yes?”

He opened his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, when my notebook slipped out from his hands, tumbling across the floor.

“Smooth,” I teased, laughing at him as I stood up. Within the span of a few seconds, I had walked over to it and picked it up, my eyes on his as I made the walk back to my chair. “You were saying?”

“Thank you,” was all he said as he took the notebook from my hands. Not done with it yet, then. Interesting. Before I could retake my seat, he added, “You didn’t do a bad job.”

“Oh.” The corners of my lips tugged upwards in a small smile. That was oddly nice of him to say. My thoughts lingered on it as I smoothed out my dress beneath me, taking my seat again and recrossing my legs before looking back up at him. “Thank you.”

He stared at me again, his expression similar to the one that had frustrated me with its elusive meaning every other time we had interacted, but there was a little something more to this one. It was as if he was seeing me for the first time - all of me. It was like I was finally more than just an unwanted guest in his home, more than just some girl invited here for the sake of tradition, from his point of view. I followed his eyes as they moved from my hair, to my own eyes, and then down towards something a little lower on my face.

My lips? Oh, God.

Suddenly I was fifteen years old again, sneaking my brother Gabriel’s friend out to our backyard, leading him behind the oak tree by the shed, and asking him to kiss me. He had been my first kiss. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but it really hadn’t been a very good kiss. It had been sloppy, and rushed, but absolutely exhilarating at the same time. It was a part of my teenage years that I’d always looked back on with nostalgia.

I was eighteen years old again, attending my first college party, a little tipsy for the first time ever, the warm August air mingling with the heat of the bodies around me. June and I had moved to the back deck of the house, an empty beer bottle in her hand. A few people followed us, including a few rather attractive boys. I spun the bottle. I lost track of how many times I had kissed and been kissed that night, more drunk off the rush of someone else’s lips on mine than on actual alcoholic beverages.

I was nineteen years old again, at a Christmas party in the lab. Lukas and I had walked in together, as we almost always did. Someone had hung a piece of mistletoe over the doorway - a trap laid just for us, I was almost entirely certain. “Kiss!” they all yelled at us. Lukas had shrugged, his eyes fixed only on my lips as he had closed the distance between us faster than I could even think. I had allowed him a little peck on the lips before I had jerked away. I had felt nothing, except embarrassment. It had meant nothing to me. I had never told anybody about it.

I was twenty years old, and the prince of Illea was looking at me like he wanted to kiss me.

I tilted my head slightly to the side, smiling back at him. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe I wasn’t. Either way, I couldn’t get enough of the way he was looking at me. I wanted to capture this image in my mind like a photograph and hold on to it forever, a memory in a shoebox that my grandkids would find one day.

I stared into his eyes. “What is it?”

His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “What’s what?”

So we were playing this game again. I leaned forwards a bit, placing my arms on the table. “Nothing,” I answered, shaking my head, my smile growing every so slightly. Maybe I had been imagining it, but I still wasn’t so sure of that.

“You’re staring at me.”

Indeed. I raised an eyebrow at him, retorting, “You’re staring at me, too.”

“Am I?”

Very much so. “You are,” I informed him, chuckling lightly and nodding once.

“You don’t seem annoyed by it this time,” he mused, his eyes still on my face.

I had to laugh a little at that. “A very astute observation. Are you bothered by it?”

“Hmm?” He moved a little closer, clearly at least a little spaced out.

He was staring at my lips again.

“You’re hopeless,” I informed him, chuckling. Clemence had been right when she’d said as much, but I didn’t think she had quite pictured this scenario when she had called Arin hopeless.

“About?” His eyes met mine again.

Now I was the one looking at his lips, my one-track mind useless as all of my brain power was channeled into imagining what it might be like to kiss him. I had a gut feeling he’d be a good kisser. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was the look of his lips, or maybe it was my own naivety that led me to believe that - I didn’t care. I had to conduct an experiment to draw a conclusion on the matter, if he would let me.

I laughed, meeting his eyes again. “Are you going to make your move, or are we just going to sit here?”

His eyes went wide at that, his mouth fluttering open and closed like a fish out of water. “Evalin, I -” He didn’t finish the thought. Fuck, maybe I had read the situation wrong.

I raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling. All my doubts dissipated as he leaned in closer, keeping his eyes on mine for only a moment before looking at my mouth once again. The anticipation was killing me, but I refused to be the one to make the first move. I had to know that he wanted to do this, to kiss me, not just to be kissed by the first girl he had happened to run into. God, did I want him to kiss me, though. I leaned in a bit, my eyes focusing only on his mouth as the distance between us shrunk with each passing heartbeat. So close. So fricking close.

He finally closed the distance, leaning down and planting his lips on mine as he placed one of his hands on the back of my head, the other still braced against the table. His lips were just as soft as I had imagined them to be. The realization filled me with no small amount of satisfaction, but that was washed away as I closed my eyes, kissing him back, moving my hands to his shoulders, my fingers resting against his back. My mind shut down, my body going on autopilot for moments that seemed to last an eternity in the best way possible.

He pulled away first, lingering for a few seconds before leaning back a bit. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me breathlessly, a smile growing on my own face as I watched him in return. I knew my own breathing was a little heavier than normal, but I didn’t care. That - that kiss - had been amazing, indescribable, really. It had left me at a complete loss for words, my mind still empty as we held each other’s gazes.

This. This had been what I hoped for when I had filled out the application for the Selection.

I had never been more glad that I had.

He leaned back a little further, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t yet form the words. “I-”

I exhaled lightly, my smile only growing. “Yeah.”

We sat like that for a few more minutes, simply drinking in the sight of each other, attempting to reboot our own brains and form a coherent sentence. I had never been great with words, but they had never been this elusive, either.

I leaned back now, the gears in my brain turning once more. “I, uh…” I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.

“I should have asked,” he stated with a frown, leaning back even more.

I wanted to agree, but I had also clearly invited him to kiss me. Or at least, I had thought I was pretty clear. I shook my head. “No, it…” He’s right, though. He should have asked. “Don’t worry. Sorry if I didn’t make it clear enough that I was okay with it.”

“Don't apologize.” Right, we had talked about that a few night ago. Now it was his turn to shake his head.

“Right, well…” I trailed off, narrowing my eyes at him as I tried to find the right words. “Don’t you apologize either, then. No apologies are warranted in this situation.” I let out a single laugh, my eyes searching his face for any clue as to what he might be thinking. Did he not enjoy it?

He kept his eyes on me for only a brief moment longer, and then pushed himself off the table, bending over to pick something up. Oh, we must have knocked something over when we were kissing. That was only mildly embarrassing. At least there was nobody else here. When he stood up, he had my notebook in his hand, which he held out in my direction wordlessly.

“Oh.” My cheeks were flushed red at this point, and a nervous laugh accompanied my words. “Thank you.”

“Here you go.”

A little late to the draw there, Arin.

“Right, thanks.” My fingertips brushed against the bare skin of his hands as I grabbed my notebook back from him, my cheeks flaring red again as I slowly pulled my arms back, pulling my notebook into my chest. What to say in a moment like this? “So, uh,” I tried, clearing my throat, “that happened. Nice.” Another nervous laugh escaped my lips before I added, “Um, we could do it again, sometime - if you want to, of course.” The words left my mouth in one rapid-fire jumble, a succession of waves quickly crashing over each other as they raced to leave my mouth.

Earth to Evalin! Get your shit together!

He looked lost in thought, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He began looking around then, though for what, I had no clue.

I couldn’t control my face from falling. Had it been that bad, for him? I didn’t think that was possible. Worse, if he didn’t realize where he was, was it because he was picturing someone else, in another place, when he had kissed me? What had I done?

“Right, well,” I began, fidgeting with my hands in my lap as I looked down at the table, “I uh, didn’t mean to keep you from your reading. Though, this was a very welcome study break.”

“Evalin?”

So, he knew who I was then, at least. That was good.

I looked up at him, a small close lipped smile on my face. “Mhmm?”

His smile was nothing short of shy as he said, “Thank you.”

I blinked. “You’re welcome?” I had never been thanked for kissing somebody before. That must be a good sign, right?

He quickly stood up then, straightening his tie and walking around to the other side of the table. I followed suit, gathering up my own books and pulling my backpack out from under my chair. How many times had I run into Arin when I had this backpack on me now? Twice? Once was random, twice was a coincidence. Were we aiming for a third? I kind of hoped so.

“That was nice,” I said earnestly, looking up at him as I zipped my backpack. Then, pushing in my chair, I decided to go for it. “So, see you around, I guess?”

He nodded. “I’ll see you around.” He walked towards the door of the library then, pausing in the doorway to give me one more nod, before exiting completely.

A few seconds later, I left as well, my thoughts still an incomprehensible, garbled mess of emotions and exclamations. Had that actually happened? I must be dreaming. Yet, if I wasn’t…

This might have just been my best day here so far.

#selectionoc

7 notes · View notes

familyagrestefanblog · 5 years

Text

Mayuras and the peacocks appearance and thoughts and little details

Alright, seems like I was wrong about my assumption that Mayuras appearance looks so different from every other miraculous holder because of the broken peacock. Actually it seems like beside her getting sick and weaker and weaker after detransforming, it doesn't show much affect on anything else.

I gotta be honest, that was kinda a hard pill to swallow for me because I was so SURE that the brokenness would show itself in something else too besides just her well being afterwards. But frankly I have to accept that this has never been a set in stone requirement in the first place and I kinda just assumed that. So I was wrong, Thomas astruc and the rest of the crew decided to not let the brokenness of the miraculous affect Mayuras appearance.

Alright, I can perfectly respect that. If this is not how the miraculous work than who am I to say otherwise?

But let me show you what made me think otherwise and what other things I found in the meanwhile ^^

Okay let's start with these tweets from Winny.

Here Winny says that the peacock miraculous, in the safe behind Emilies portrait, is one of the fake miraculous from Gabriels and fair enough

"Volpina" introduced to us that this is actually a thing in the miraculous universe. Lila goes into a jewelry store and buys the fox necklace. (the implications of this is a topic for a whole other post)

So meaning this

Isnt real but it's INSPIRED by the actual miraculous. This I know because for 1. we saw the unpowered peacock at the end of "Mayura" (just on the wrong place but that's just an animation mistake. The viewer couldn't see the place where Mayura wore her miraculous in the episode so the animators/people responsible made a little mistake. No big deal, it happened once with reason and never again)

And 2. In the trailer we got with Mayuras transformation we actually see how the miraculous changes

Look closely you will see that the peacock starts with 9 tail feathers and then gets turned into one with only 5 when powered by Duusu. (also nicely transitioned with the feather explosion :D)

So the way the peacock miraculous looked like in the safe is how it looks in its disguised Form, Allright. But that doesn't mean you were wrong with your assumption that the brokenness of the Miraculous changes Mayuras appearance I hear you say but yeaaaaaaah, I was wrong

Let me get to it

Reading some theories here on Tumblr and rewatching "The collector" let me see that, at the end where we see that Gabriel, beside owning the actual Grimoire, also digitalized the book, we already got a picture of the powered up peacock and, well, it looks like the one Mayuras wearing

This is actually another pill hard for me to swallow, and by God it's probably the worst one. xD because the color scheme is deep blue-pink.... and peacocks aren't pink whERE IS THE PINK COMMING FROM PEACOCKS ARE BLUE-GREEEEEEEEENKSKDJJFJFJRJDJJKAJXJJDJDJDMSKNNFNDKWLOSOWIRUDNDNNCNCNCNKDXKFNDNNFNDNDNDFJRJDJFJRJD WHYISTHEPEACOCKTHEONLYMIRACULOUSWHERETHEHOLDERSDONTHAVETHEACTUALANIMALCOLORS?????? AKJDJFJRJJFJDKDJFKDKKFKDKFNFKENNBBXBYBYVABSNAKAKLWLEKDKDJFJJEJJFJDJXJCJDJKEKDKEKKEKDKDKKDKDKIEIFIZCZZZZZAAAGAGAGGAGAGAGAGAGAGGAGAAGGGA

Anyway, back on track :)

So yeah, Mayuras pink isn't the product of the broken peacock as I thought. I thought so because pink is the complementary color of green and if it were Duusu herself who were sick/broken then her sickness could have very likely been shown through a color change (and therefore also changing Mayuras colors) but it just seems like that's not the case.

BUT

Since I don't want to end this on a sour note I'll show you something really nice I found while checking for hidden forshadowing in Mayuras design and look and behold, there actually was something! :DD When you put Mayura and Emilie in a "color to negative" reserver you get this

They fit each other like a glove. Like, PERFECTLY

I do think this is something of greater meaning. Remember that Marinette and Adrien themselves were also designed so their color scheme complement each other

And both Natalie and Emilie are not just any random people who have complementary color schemes. They are both Gabriels love interests. In relation to Gabriel and even to Adrien and the Agreste household situation they can function as parallels when you think about it

This is now based on my personal opinion on Emilie.

While I think that she, by God, is no Saint and has some huge sceletons in her closet, I still think she is a good person with good intentions and heart. If she weren't Adrien would neither think of her so fondly nor would he be such a kind hearted person himself. Also, the way the show itself portrays the scenes concerning Emilie Im getting out of them that Emilie is good and worth this fight in Gabriels eyes. He wants his wife and his "happy" family back so I never get the feeling that it would be right if she were evil or bad at least.

ANYWAY BACK TO EMILIE AND NATALIE BEING PARALLELS!

They are parallels to each other when you concider that:

Emilie kept Gabriel in check when he acted out (Jackady) vs Natalie supports Gabriels actions as Hawkmoth

Emilie seems to be a good influence on Gabriel in everything but how he treats Adrien vs Natalie is a bad influence on Gabriel in every but his treatment of Adrien

Emilie kept Adrien inside vs Natalie is the reason he got out

Emilie (very likely) used the peacock for good vs Natalie clearly for evil

Emilie seems to be an emotional, "sensitive" and open person as civilian vs Natalie only really seems to let her emotions out when she's Mayura

I can't imagine Emilie as anything else than an equal "Master of the house" vs Natalies partnership with Gabriel and his trust in her slowly but steadily are getting her there too

Emilie and Gabriel seemed to be equals and will probably stay such once she comes back vs We already know that Natalie will overthrow Gabriel one day, becoming an even bigger evil than him

That's it everyone. I've spend way too long on this today and it ended in another already half done thought out post about Gabriels miraculous jewelry line in “volpina” because I got distracted like a dumbass. I hope this makes sense because I'm sick and I honestly can't tell xD

69 notes · View notes

purewhitepages · 5 years

Photo

Desert Heat Chapter 5

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 |

A/N Hello friends am back i swear. I lost a lot of momentum on this fic due to personal reasons / school / life, but I think I’m back for good this time. I promise.

Digging had halted at the House while further notes and sketches were taken of the lower level. John had come up with another handful of papyrus he’d found buried in the corner. These were much more fragile than the ones he’d inherited, and Claire immediately set to work preserving them in the resin of Lamb’s own recipe. She remembered spending many painstaking hours of her childhood making this same thick, sticky brown substance. The bottle she was currently working out of had the stylized “QLB” in the corner of the label, signified it was made by Lamb himself. Perhaps it was one of the last ones to be so. Her eye kept catching the letters in the bottom corner and she smiled a bit every time she saw it. He was still helping in his own ways.

She was sitting hunched over the table that functioned as John’s desk when a book being placed next to her elbow made her jump nearly clear out of her skin.

“Och, sorry lass.” A strong hand had found her back and she looked up to see the voice belonged to Mr. Fraser. Was it night time already?

“What have you got there?”

Claire blinked and shook her head slightly. “Papyrus, John found it under the House.”

“Preserving it are ye?”

She nodded.

He chuckled. “I can sympathize, manys an hour I lost to painting over bits of paper and paint.” He examined what she was doing even closer. His arm was still in the sling she had applied and she took a sort of pride knowing that he had listened to her advice to rest. “How is it that ye’re applying the resin?”

She held up her pinky finger to show how red and dirty it was. “After nearly destroying one with a brush, I found a more delicate touch did the trick.”

He looked impressed at least. “How many have you done?”

“Five, this is my last one.” She took a moment to stand. “It’s all the standard cartouches, at least according to my eye. I could never do much without Lamb’s notes to guide me.”

He smiled secretly at her. “Funny you should mention that.” He tapped the book he’d set down on the desk and Claire looked at it.

It was strange, the things you remembered. A stack of books delivered to the house when she was a child; people approaching at the museum with a sparkling look in their eye, a tome tucked under one elbow; the plain black spine with gold lettering sitting in a pile in her own tent. Mr. Fraser traced the letters on his copy of Path to the Ancient Ways by Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp with familiarity and reverence.

“It’s a pity you couldn’t have met the author,” she said. “He was always happy to meet his audience.”

“Ah weel, ‘tis probably best this way. I dinna think I could bear to see my idol as a mortal man, ye ken?”

“Idol?”

Mr. Fraser met her eyes and nodded. “Aye.” He tapped the cover of the book. “When I was a lad, I was hungry for knowledge.” He gestured broadly. “No doubt ye ken the feeling. I was determined to read every book in my parents’ library.” Claire settled into the chair. She’d always loved a good story. “Now, that’s well over a thousand books, Sassenach. My family has been building that library since before they built the house.”

“I see your family has their priorities in order, then.”

He glanced up at her and nodded with a proud grin. “Aye, always loved a good book, my father. Anyway, I read and I read. Books about animals and philosophy, the latter of which I dinna understand a lick of, and then I came upon this book.” He tapped the cover once again. “And I stopped looking at anything else.” He opened up the cover and thumbed through a couple of pages absentmindedly, lost in memory. “Ye could barely catch me without it in my hands or my bag, damn near ruined my copy.”

“It looks alright to me,” Claire said, inspecting the book. Other than a few wears and tears, the book looked to be in good condition.

Mr. Fraser smiled. “This is my second copy. Damn nuisance trying to find it, too. I scoured every bookshop, old and used, looking for this book.”

Claire snorted. “You should’ve contacted us, we have probably a hundred copies.”

He nodded. “I never understood why it didna sell so well. Ye’re uncle was a genius.” Claire nodded and smiled. “Yes, he was. They just didn’t understand him.” Her smile turned sad as she looked back up at her companion. “And I saw what it did to him, how it stifled and disheartened him. I knew what he was.”

Mr. Fraser nodded. “As do I, Sassenach.”

They were soon interrupted by John coming back into the tent.

“How goes the preservation?” he asked.

Claire showed him the papyrus and explained her progress and theories. John nodded and smiled when he saw Mr. Fraser’s book.

“Thanks for the sentiment, Fraser, but you should’ve known we’d have a copy of our sacred text or two.” John pulled out his own copy of Path to the Ancient Ways. “Wouldn’t be good followers, if we didn’t.”

They shared a laugh.

“I do appreciate the help, though. And you have mine should you ever require it.”

Mr. Fraser nodded. “That is related to what I have to tell you all today.”

Claire remembered his outburst the day before, having nearly forgotten about it.

John nodded. “Yes, you’ve had your 24-hours, and then some by my watch. What do you have to say?”

Mr. Fraser looked as if he was choosing his words very carefully. “I would like to, first, apologize for my behavior from the day before. Ye have to understand, this Season has been very strange. We had been all set to dig at Dashoor, I had prepared everything for excavating the pyramid there, including bringing on Miss MacKimmie. And we get to Shepheard’s and Dougal tells me that we are going to Behribu? I was in shock. I was completely unprepared for this excursion, and I’ve found myself quite idle ever since we started digging.”

“So you have no idea what MacKenzie is hoping to look for?” John asked.

Mr. Fraser shook his head. “If there is a plan, he hasna shared it with me. That, in itself would not be such a change, I’ve gone behind his back to Column a time or two to get things I needed and he is none too pleased by this. But this is different. He’s planning something.”

Claire and John looked at each other and back to Mr. Fraser. “What does that have to do with the writing we saw yesterday?”

Mr. Fraser ran his good hand through his hair, the russet curls standing on end in his frustration. “Ye’ll think me daft.”

“We already do,” John pointed out. “Out with it, already.”

“Before we left, Dougal had made the... acquaintance of a woman very interested in Ancient Egypt religious practices. Not in an academic sense, mind you. She believed she was a Pharaoh’s wife reincarnated.”

“Which one?” Claire asked with a laugh and John scowled.

Mr. Fraser shook his head. “I didna ever listen to her long enough to find out. But I did catch enough to hear her hypothesis about-” He stopped himself, as if once he spoke the words, they would legitimize whatever daft theory this woman had in mind. “ Time travel. ”

He glanced up at the two other adults, who were staring back at him intently.

“Does Dougal believe her, you think?” John asked. “That’s why he took the site, that’s why the writing we found in the House scares you?”

Mr. Fraser rubbed the back of his neck. “I dinna ken what to believe, if I’m being honest. I just feel, somewhere deep inside me, that this canna be a coincidence.” Mr. Fraser had always looked so put-together, Claire had noted. But now, he really seemed to be questioning his very sanity. And though the notion seemed quite extraordinary, he said it so incredulously that she couldn’t help but believe him. Or, at least, believe that he believed it.

“But it could be,” Claire stated. Both the men looked at her with startled expressions. “I do not doubt your story, Mr. Fraser. But, well, you yourself think this woman Dougal knows has crazy ideas. Maybe the writing is graffiti like John said. It could be a coincidence.” Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “Afterall, are we really debating the existence of time travel?”

“I think what we should do is assume everything is alright until we have something better to go on,” John suggested. “Fraser, what did your team find recently?”

Mr. Fraser looked up to John. “How did ye ken we found something?”

“We guessed,” John said, looking over in the corner where Fergus and Miss MacKimmie were engaged in their own deep conversation.

He nodded. “Another stone, in the very middle.”

“Quite the find.” Claire nodded with John. Claire had predicted as much in her own research. In many circles around the world, there was a middle stone.That should’ve been my discovery, she thought with a snarl.

“As Claire says, it could be nothing. We’ll gather any info we can and regroup. Fraser, I’m game to start on these papyrus tonight if you are.” John moved to the desk, moving one of the chairs from the table so that he and Mr. Fraser may sit side-by-side.

“I think I’ll take that as my cue,” Claire said. “Good luck to you both.”

“I’ll see ye to the door, at least.” Mr. Fraser did and they paused in the entrance to the tent.

“What’s troubling ye, Sassenach?” he asked, no doubt from the look in Claire’s eye. She had always had a hard time keeping her thoughts to herself. The moonlight stretched across the desert and illuminated Mr. Fraser’s face. He looked thoughtful and slightly worried for her, stranger as she may be to him.

“Things are not turning out like I had anticipated this season. First Lamb and now-”

He nodded and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Ye’ll get through this, I ken it. Ye needn’t be worried or scairt, so long as I’m with ye.”

“And what about after?” she asked. “I don’t even know what is after this.”

“One step at a time, Sassenach.”

"You keep using that name, what does it mean?”

Even in the moonlight, she could see him blush, as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “Och, just a wee nickname is all. It just means ‘English’ in the Gaelic, ye ken? Seeing as we’re pretty much divided according to Hadrian’s Wall here in the middle of nowhere.”

She chuckled and moved to go to her tent. “Goodnight Mr. Fraser.”

“Goodnight, Miss Beauchamp.”

#claire/jamie #jamie x claire #outlander #outlander au #outlander fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #Jamie Fraser #jammf #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #claire randall #claire beauchamp #Claire Fraser #jamie x claire fanfic #claire x jamie #jamie x claire fanfiction #jamie x claire fic

43 notes · View notes

rainbowravioli · 7 years

Note

HEY RITA!!! AN INTERVIEW OF SAYO YAMAMOTO IS OUT!! PLEASE CHECK IT OUT IN FULL AND TELL US YOUR THOUHTS OR IF THERE'S ANYTHING DIFFERENT!!

I love your enthusiasm so much! :D Ok, this is long overdue, let’s get to it!

So this first part (x) was actually the first time I read a post-finale interview and didn’t feel sad, angry or frustrated. I would love more of this, please. Sayo is just way more professional than Kubo. She also didn’t mention any of that “Yuuri was going to lose from the start” stuff which pleases me, I would hate to have Sayo lie to me.

It’s nice to finally have Sayo herself talking about YOI though, you can really tell it’s her passion project.

I can think about the outline of a story by myself, but I wanted to create it with someone who would be able to add punchy and impressive dialogues that would actually make the characters come alive.

(...)

I first came up with an outline of the full series, and talking with Kubo-san about that we decided the details and she drew the manga storyboard for episodes 1-5. (...) Then we discussed the story more in detail and decided the elements and scenes we absolutely wanted to insert and the position of lines. Even so, when I translated this into the anime storyboard it was still too long, and editing required an exorbitant amount of time.

Confirmation that Sayo was heavily involved in the writing of the series and that Kubo was hired mainly for dialogue. I find the “making characters come alive” part interesting though, considering Kubo has admitted more than once that she doesn’t really understand the characters all that much. But really, what’s important here is that Sayo did as much of the writing as Kubo, if not more. And she did storyboard work as well. Good to have confirmation on that. That’s Sayo’s specialty, I always thought it weird that she wouldn’t do it for her dream project.

The voice actors always performed even better than we expected, so it happened that we changed the animation based on the acting. They were all subtle things, but that’s actually difficult. Anyone can easily be affected by a powerful line, so when a character says it you already get an impression of them, but a fine performance is what makes the difference and makes you feel that the character is really there, not just “a character inside an anime”.

This is really no unusual in animated productions (see how Disney animators incorporate voice actor’s mannerisms into the characters, for example). I find the emphasis on how she wanted YOI to feel “real” vey interesting.

What made me realize that this anime would become something amazing is Victor’s skating scene in episode 1. When we were editing this part, I was convinced that this would become an animation work no one has seen before.

Same Sayo, same. Stammi Vicino in episode 1 was the moment this series stole my heart and I was sure it would be amazing.

—The fireworks scene in the ED is also impressive.

That was Hayashi-san’s idea. The three of them weren’t actually together in Hasetsu in summer, so that scene is not something that happened at a certain time, it’s more like an imaginary world.

I kinda appreciate the confirmation that the fireworks scene never happened because...I kept waiting for the point in the series where the trio would reach a relationship level that would make it believable for the fireworks scene to happen but I never got it. Imaginary world where Yurio got character development and skating family is actually a thing outside of fanon :’)

—Could you tell us about the reading play that is going to be performed at the April 29 event?

Kubo-san and I conceived the basic ideas, and I was able to order the script from Kimiko Ueno-san, who among the people I know is the one who can write the craziest stories. I worked with Ueno-san in “Space Dandy” (2014) and I heard that she enjoyed “Yuri on Ice” until the end. I think it will be pretty crazy (LOL).

I’m so anxious over this whole event, it’s bad for my heart.

—What about the future of the anime?

I’m being told “let’s continue as soon as possible” (LOL). I’ve already decided what to do next. I came up with it while doing the video editing for episode 10, but what I’m thinking is something grand, and I’m wondering, what will happen if I really do all of that…? At this moment, my intention is to continue “Yuri on Ice” as long as I can.

Look, a season 2 was obvious since the finale. I don’t believe for one second that they aren’t actively working on it right now. They probably have been for a while.

Though really, coming up with a sequel around the time of editing episode 10 just gives more weight to my fav conspiracy theory of the finale being changed to accommodate a season 2.

Something grand better mean olympic champion Yuuri and on-screen Victuuri wedding.

It’s possible that the relationships between the characters too might look different in some instances. Therefore, if you are unsure about buying the volumes, I would recommend that you do.

This is so intriguing and ideally, IDEALLY, it’s talking about fixing the mess that was Victuuri in episode 12 but let’s be real. At this point, it’s probably Yurio related T-T

Now for this part (x)

....I’m concerned.

—Please let us know more in detail about how it was created.

First of all, before drawing the storyboard for Yurio’s EX, I thought about how it was created. It’s a story I came up with thinking about Yurio’s feelings when he was going to skate the EX after winning the GPF.

Oh Sayo why do you have to go and lie to me after I said I was glad you didn’t? Ok listen. Welcome to the Madness doesn’t make sense in a universe where Yurio won the GPF. It just doesn’t. So this whole thing about coming up with the concept for it based on Yurio winning the GPF...is pretty much bullshit, sorry.

And he comes up with the idea of creating a new program the night before the EX.—Is it possible, in real life, to create a program for the EX the day before?

You might think it’s not, but actually it has happened. The athlete Misha Ge from Uzbekistan has done that before. (...) I saw and heard about it, so I know it’s rather normal.

I’m...gonna stop your right there Sayo. Don’t, please. Just don’t. I’m just going to link @vctryr‘s post here (x)

How do you keep pushing for realism and then add this? Everything about this ordeal in unbelievable.

Also...so Yurio can choreograph now. In a matter of hours too. I thought he couldn’t get more Victor 2.0 but here we are. Yurio is perfect, he has peaked.

—Who is the other key person beside Yurio?

I thought that even though we created a “DJ” setting for Otabek we couldn’t really show it in the anime…

This whole DJ thing with Otabek is weird. I’m not opposed to it, but it’s very clearly a recent addition to his character I think. All secondary characters have extra bits to them that we don’t get to see in the anime. Like how JJ does a lot of charity work, or how Emil loves to do extreme sports in the off-season, or how Seung-Gil has no fashion sense. Except all of these things have been part of their official character profiles form the start. DJ Otabek came out of nowhere. This, combined with how Sayo says he uses the SNS a lot, even though one of the first things we learned about Otabek was that he hated SNS, leads me to believe that he got some recent changes done to his character. Probably a result of his popularity.

Yurio has become friends with Otabek, so of course he thinks he would take him with him. However, since he’s still 15 and cannot enter clubs, Otabek turns him down. Yurio tails him to a place where he sees him coolly doing the DJ, and thinks “I could have him choose my song”…

Bless Otabek for being super aware of Yurio’s age and being responsible. Yurio though...

—So basically, in the GPF Victor joins Yuuri Katsuki’s EX and Otabek joins Yuri Plisetsky’s!?

Otabek doesn’t skate with him. I believe the way he appears is something no one would have imagined.

So is he gonna DJ on the ice or...Thank god he doesn’t skate with him though!

Some subtle parts have been fixed too, therefore it’s possible that the relationships between the characters might look different in some instances. There was a small change in the scene before Yurio goes to perform his FS, I’d like you to pay attention to that.

YEP IT’S ALL ABOUT YURIO. This is probably about the Victor scene, since so many people saw it as manipulative.

I don’t know guys...I’m still just super conflicted. I’ll reserve judgement until the final DVD comes out but it’s still really upsetting for me that Yurio is getting all this love and attention while Yuuri and Victor get...narrative and character derailment. Also half a poorly animated duet with credits on top.

Why Sayo? Why don’t you love them anymore?

*sigh*

#replies #yoi critical #ah I made myself sad at the end there #Anonymous

14 notes · View notes

vanquisher2099 · 7 years

Text

Part 28: A Valuable Service Industry

Arken Ovarov coughed himself awake, as he did almost every morning. It was, he had been told, due to a defect in the mechanical lung he’d had installed. Something to do with how it interpreted signals from the brain in the transition to consciousness – he hadn’t been paying much attention, having stopped listening the moment it became clear that it wasn’t life threatening and the company had no intention of paying to replace it. Certainly he did not have the funds for such a service. His brother had mentioned that he knew someone who could hack the firmware, but Arken thought it wasn’t worth the risk.

Arken lived in a small studio apartment that also happened to serve as his home office. The nature of his work was such that he only required an internet connection and a place to dock his computer – a good thing too, as his job also did not make enough money to afford anything much larger than a small studio apartment – particularly not when there were student loans to pay off, along with the credit card bill he’d run up getting the equipment to start his job in the first place. The company had, of course, provided some reimbursement, but the rates had been set five years earlier, before the most recent economic recession drove the cost of technology through the roof again. Arken didn’t complain, though. He was one of the few people in the world who believed his job to be important enough to merit a little sacrifice.

His workstation screen flickered to life as he sat down with his breakfast. He ate slowly, taking his time and waiting for the company’s system to authenticate his connection and give him access to the client list. Most people would take this opportunity to watch the news and get caught up on world events – but for Arken, news and world events were his job, so he tended to stay away from the news when he was off the clock. Instead he flipped idly through an old history book which catalogued several close calls with Armageddon caused by poor communication. It relaxed him to know the world had come close to destruction so many times and managed to pull through, somehow.

A soft chime indicated that the authentication process was complete and he had access to the client list, which was a veritable who’s who of the rich and occasionally famous. It was Arken’s job to make his clients look good – give them a cause to fight for, since the very rich and occasionally famous did not want to have to look at all the terrible things happening in the world, nor did they particularly want to do the research required to find organizations combatting the aforementioned terrible things. That was where Arken came in – his job was to read the news, find particularly awful events, and generate comments for the very rich and occasionally famous to make in the event they were questioned on them. He was also given control of bank accounts with funds for the purpose of making charitable donations to causes which, based on a profile filled out by the very rich and occasionally famous person (or an assistant) matched up with the beliefs the very rich and occasionally famous person had (or wanted to appear to have, at any rate).

Most importantly, however, was the fact that in return for a small fee, clients could go about their lives without having to stay informed about anything at all that could potentially make them feel uncomfortable about being very rich and potentially famous. There had, of course, been an outcry about this at one point; one particularly scathing polemic had referred to people like Arken as “Digital Sin Eaters” (aka DSEs) and implied that, much like the original sin eaters, they did not actually make their clients better people.

This had the effect of driving the business slightly more underground, meaning that part of what Arken’s firm offered was discretion – the guarantee of confidentiality, so that clients could pretend they had these ideas on their own, based on their own research and beliefs. Arken had, of course, thought about blackmailing clients before – most DSEs thought about it at one time or another – but the penalties were severe enough that any such breach of confidentiality would see perpetrators blacklisted and paying hefty penalties that they, obviously, would never be able to afford. So Arken convinced himself every morning that yes, he was doing good in the world – charities were getting funding to do good work, after all – even though the people he worked for were, more often than not, donating money to solve problems they were directly responsible for causing.

So it was that Arken picked a client and began to read the news. As this particular client wanted to be seen to be active in their community, he stuck to local news at first. The current hot story seemed to be centered around the murder of two police officers by an unknown assailant which police claimed was linked to a brawl in a nightclub earlier that year. The assailant was currently at large, after causing the destruction of at least one police assault craft and disappearing in the ensuing chaos. A rather hefty reward for information was being offered, and Arken wrote up a quick statement from his client extending their sympathies to the families of the deceased officers, prayers for those injured by the crash, and donating an extra sum to boost the reward for information even higher.

It should have ended with that, but Arken found himself reading more about the incident. An electromagnetic pulse had effectively scrambled records of the incident, along with destroying what seemed to be millions of dollars’ worth of electronic equipment which, as it turned out, was on a barge that had the ill fortune to be coming into dock at the same time. Theories abounded as to the motivation of the mysterious assailant, particularly in relation to their earlier recorded activities. Some were arguing that the police had been corrupt, others were vehemently disagreeing, and nobody knew what the truth of the matter was, which was more or less how everything Arken looked into was.

Still, a donation to support the upholding of law and order was always an easy PR win, and in light of the city’s recent unrest it felt like an even easier win than usual. It seemed unlikely that there would be much backlash – one of the things which clients expected would be carefully considered when donations were made in their names was that nothing would be considered to be overtly political or controversial. The whole point was to become – or remain – well-liked by the general population.

Satisfied that he had made a good decision on behalf of his client, Arken browsed through several other news stories – a head in a box mailed to a major corporation, an update on the investigation into the explosion at a downtown apartment building (authorities had determined it was caused by a combination of a gas leak and faulty wiring, which nobody believed for a moment), and a small note about the number of murders per capita nationwide falling year over year, although the article also mentioned Chicago was having a particularly unpleasant start to the year.

National news covered continuing efforts to track down the perpetrators of the latest terrorist bombing of a refugee camp – a group calling themselves the True Sons of America had claimed responsibility, claiming they were there to drive out the impure invaders from their homeland. In response, the majority of news stories were walking back their terrorist language and referring to the organization as a group of disturbed individuals who nevertheless were acting in what they saw as the country’s best interests. A series of polls and panel debates seemed to indicate the topic was a bit too partisan for any of Arken’s clients, so apart from writing a few statements blandly denouncing violence in any form, he paid it little mind.

Other stories included one article on rising cybercrime rates, although nobody seemed particularly inclined to create a firm definition of what constituted a cybercrime so it was meaningless, a few articles on yet another breakdown in settlement talks with the Russian government regarding some past war atrocity that was better off not thinking about, and the news that Manhattan island had now been completely evacuated following the latest hurricane and the introduction of a bill to formally recognize climate change as real which was being bitterly contested.

Hours later, another chime sounded, letting Arken know that his workday was over. He disconnected from the company server, closed down the various news sites he used over the course of the day, and left the apartment for the nearest bar, where he would spend the next several hours drinking heavily and seeking various ways of escaping all the terrible things he read all day. The burnout rate for DSEs was immensely high, and Arken had stuck with it for much longer than most.

Part 29

Part 27

#science fiction #serialized fiction #noir #cyberpunk

0 notes