#that is why i am even here to update my age in the first place
Text
my petite protégée (bau x reader/spencer x reader)
Y/N is new to the BAU and works under Garcia. she finds herself being able to see something in the case no one else does, impressing the team, including a specific doctor
this is fem!reader but i will try to make my fics more gen later. in requests btw, if you would like to, please specify what gender you would like the reader to be
genre: fluff
word countL 8.7k
trigger warnings: just regular criminal minds stuff
A/N: So, this took a different turn, a fluffier turn. Originally this was gonna be an angst fic but then I was in a cute mood so. Tell me if you guys want me to continue the Techie Reader series because I would be happy too. Also, the reader is around 20, and I’m placing Spencer at 26-27 so there is a bit of an age difference, but not too much. This is around season 3
UPDATED A/N: I wrote this in 2020 and then deleted it when I deleted my old Tumblr. But, I was really proud of this fic, so....here it is.
This system was far more complicated than what you’ve practiced with when you were at the academy, but you shouldn’t be too surprised knowing the kind of equipment that the FBI tended to use, it was all taught to you at The Academy.
“And I’ve developed all the software myself!”
In addition to the fact that the software was designed by Ms. Penelope Garcia herself.
“This is...amazing,” You gawked, eyes scanning over the array of code Garcia so gracefully decided to show you, whether it was for you to study or be in awe at. Either way, you were doing both, leaning forward in order to scan your eyes over as much of the sequences as you possibly could, although you doubt you would remember it all. You were intelligent, IQ of 159 and almost perfect grades throughout all of your schooling, but you were better with making connections and remembering numbers than memory, so even if you wanted to remember all of Garcia’s code, it was nearly impossible
“That’s right, stare in wonder!” Garcia exclaimed in a grandiose tone, to which you nodded intrinsically, the blue hue of the laptop flashing into your eyes as you scanned the computer one last time.
“I am in wonder,” You replied directly, turning around in your rolling chair to look at the extravagantly dressed woman in all of her glory. “But how long did it take you to program this?”
“A magician never reveals her secrets, Y/L/N.” Garcia replied ominously, to which you gave her a deadpan stare before bursting out into a smile and shaking your head playfully.
“You’re the boss.” You whispered back, spinning around in your chair once more so you would be facing the computers, hearing the rolling of another set of wheels as Garcia pulled up an extra chair next to you.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone telling me that, although it feels nice.” She giggled, smiling at me before pulling the keyboard closer to her and entering whatever information was needed in order to pull up the FBI’s security page. As you read through the page, you could see all the requested information pertained to you, and even before you could reply with the needed responses, Garcia began to type.
“Do you have a middle name?”
“Ah--”
“Oh, wait. Never mind, I know that.” She scrolled further down the page.
“Age?”
“20.”
“Oh! You’re a youngster, younger than Reid even.”
You did not recognize that name but decided to not inquire about it.
“Address?”
“3--”
“Oh wait, I know this too. It was on your introductory paper.”
You begged to wonder why she was asking you these questions in the first place if she knew most of the information, but frankly, you didn’t mind spending time with Garcia so you plainly allowed this to happen.
“Alright, all your information is in. You’re now my protege, my little bear.” You giggled at the nickname as soon as it left her mouth.
“Little bear?” You asked, raising your eyebrow amused.
“Cause you’re cute.” She replied, making you pout appreciatively at her. Yeah, you definitely did not mind spending time with Garcia.
“So, what exactly am I supposed to do as your petite protege.” You asked, smirking at her when she raised her eyebrows appreciatively at you for your french,
“Well, mon petit ours, the BAU will be calling into us multiple times for references, further research on specific dates, events, records, anything regarding the situation at hand or regarding a potential witness or unsub.”
“Unsub?” You asked, confused.
“Unidentified subject. The bad guy.”
“The bad guy.” You confirmed, signaling her to continue.
“And sometimes, multiple members will call me at once, I’ll be too popular.” She exclaimed playfully, causing you to giggle again at her antics as you nodded in understanding. “So that is where you step in, my little bear. If I am currently researching a topic or on a call with another one of our special agents and am too busy to respond, they can call you.”
“And I can research the topic as well.” You asked in an attempt to confirm your position, which Garcia affirmed with a single nod.
“Exactly. I’m going to make a copy of my system to a whole new set of monitors that they should be bringing in tomorrow. It probably would have been here today but--”
Suddenly, the door was yanked open, shining a bright light into the relatively dimly lit room, causing both you and Garcia to squint and shield yourselves from the scorching rays.
“Garcia, we have a new case.” You heard a female voice say, one that you were too preoccupied shielding your eyes from to see.
“But there is a new case,” Garcia completed, sighing in relief when the blinding ray of light shrunk away as the female voice closed the door. As soon as your eyes were safe, you were able to unfold yourself from your shielded position and look at the source of the voice and the beam of light, a beautiful, petite blond woman with her arms crossed, a manilla folder in her hand, and an amused smile being the origin of it all.
“Aww, JJ! No sudden lights in the Batcave!” Garcia whined childishly, pouting at the woman, presumably JJ, who was now approaching the two of you with an entertained look in her eyes. She shook her head at Garcia as she leaned against her chair and held the manilla folder up at Garcia’s face. The moment Garcia’s eyes landed on them, they filled with dread.
“Please tell me this is just penny thievery.”
“Serial murders.” The woman replied flatly, causing Garcia to shut her eyes in discomfort.
“That isn’t penny thievery.” Garcia groaned, taking the manilla folder in her hands before throwing you an exasperated sigh to which you sympathetically smiled at. It was at that moment that JJ finally acknowledged you properly.
“Agent Jennifer Jareau, nice to meet you.” She greeted you, taking your hand in a simple shake as you smiled at her.
“Y/N Y/L/N. Techie.” You replied jokingly, to which Agent Jareau seemed to appreciate, smiling at you in a pleased manner.
“She’s my little protege.” Garcia commented, replying in an exaggerated French accent that caused all three of you to giggle.
“How old are you, by the way? You seem young.” She asked you, scanning your face as you politely smiled at her.
“I get that a lot. Contrary to popular beliefs, I can legally drink within a year.” You replied with a small smile, to which Agent Jareau tilted her head in acknowledgment.
“Can you believe it? She’s twenty. A literal baby.” Garcia whispered to Agent Jareau, however, clearly with the intention for you to hear, causing you to roll your eyes at her comment.
“Again, can legally drink in a year. In Europ,e I can do it right now.” You retorted playfully, smiling at Agent Jareau, shyly, who simply chuckled before nodding her head towards the manilla folder in Garcia’s handande gesturing towards the door.
“Come on, we need to talk to the rest of the team.” And with that, Garcia got up and prepared to head to where the team was, you presumed, leaving you perplexed on whether you should stay put in the room or follow Garcia and Agent Jareau, not wanting to intrude in places you didn’t know if you were even invited to. However, Garcia answered that question for you rather quickly, stopping her movements in order to spin around at her heel and point at you definitively,
“You should come with.” She stated, to which you looked back at her with wide eyes and an unknowing stare, baffled to what exactly is taking place. You could see that Agent Jareau had paused and look behind her in the corner of your eye, waiting for the both of you. You gawked at Garcia once again.
“Ahh...am I allowed to?” You asked dumbly, looking between Garcia and Agent Jareau for a concrete answer. Jareau fixated her eyes on Garcia who looked at you as if you were equally the most precious and most ridiculous person alive.
“Of course, you are. But, ah, just for investigation’s sake, why don’t you just sit so that we can give you the information precisely.” Garcia stated, looking back to Jareau for confirmation, to which she nodded and smiled at.
“Sure.” Jareau simply added, waiting for both you and Garcia to catch up with her. Pushing yourself up from the chair, you adjusted your top before walking towards Garcia, who threw you a proud smile and hum as both of you caught up with Agent Jareau and headed towards the briefing room.
“We call it the Roundtable,” Garcia whispered to you as the three of you started to mount up a set of stairs, your eyes preoccupied with scanning the numerous amounts of desks and workers around you, watching in awe. Even though you strived to work here one day, called even before you fully graduated, you still could not believe that you were now part of the Bureau. All those sleepless nights where you agonizingly worried if you would ever make it, finishing reports and projects on just caffeine alone, striving to be a part of the Bureau, none of it seemed real now that you were actually there. To you, all of this was insane.
“And this is it.” You were pulled out of your internal monologue by Agent Jareau’s voice, quickly fixating your eyes on the glass door that separated you and what seemed to be a round table surrounded by various chairs, propped a few feet away from a large screen and projector. Well, at least it fits the name.
“Come on, we have to set everything up before the team comes in,” Garcia said to you, taking your forearm gently and guiding you inside the room, to which you quickly pushed open and examined your surroundings. Wow, you were actually there.
“Can you two set up the monitors while I inform the team?” You heard Agent Jareau ask, causing you to turn your head around and stare at her with wide eyes.
Holy shit you were going to meet the team.
“Yeah, gotta call everyone in so we can stare at photos of dead bodies like any other Tuesday.” Garcia chirped sarcastically, causing Agent Jareau to throw her a playful, exasperated look while you let out a faint giggle. With that, Agent Jareau left the room, leaving you and Garcia to set up the monitors.
“Alright, mon petit ours, let’s do this!” Garcia instigated with an encouraging exclamation, to which you smiled and replied to with a slightly less optimistic exclamation of your own. Garcia could have told you to be more cheerful, but you were convinced that she saw your nervousness and decided that what you gave was sufficient. “Can you start setting up the monitors while I get the photos together? I’m gonna transfer you the file so that you can upload it to the monitor from your computer.”
“Why can’t we just connect the monitor to your computer?” You question with knitted eyebrows, to which Garcia smiled.
“It’s just basic training.” She stated simply, to which you snickered.
“Doesn’t everyone know how to set up a monitor?”
“You’d be surprised.” She said with an underlying tone of exasperation, making the smile on your face grow larger. Once you connected the monitor to your computer, you opened your account and waited for Garcia’s transfer, which happened immediately after you opened the account. You looked up at her in playful shock when the little ding exclaimed from your computer. “I’ll teach you how to be fast and efficient later.” She said with a proud smirk.
At that moment, the glass doors of the room were swung open, causing you to jump slightly in shock. In walked four individuals, of them only two recognizable to you, them being Agent Jareau and SSA Aaron Hotchner. He was the one who you first spoke to when you walked into the Bureau, and although he was quite stoic and straightforward, he was nice to you. When you two made eye-contact, he gave you an acknowledging nod, and you gave him a respectful one back, smiling quickly before turning your head towards the laptop, quickly downloading the slide-show that Garcia sent to you before projecting it to the monitor. Once you had finished, you looked up and sent Garcia a nervous smile, to which she sent you an encouraging one back.
At that moment, you could feel two pairs of eyes staring at you, belonging to the other two agents you didn’t recognize, one of them being a beautiful, raven-haired woman and the other a handsome, darker-skinned man, both of them looking between you, Hotchner, and Garcia expectantly. SSA Hotchner turned to Garcia, who jumped into action, walking over to your place in front of the monitor, near the table, and placing two hands on your shoulders with a firm grasp.
“My Power-Rangers, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Our new Techie and my petite protegee!” She introduced, making you blush at the sudden attention before bowing slightly, one of which you found embarrassing because who even bows in America before straightening yourself and throwing a nervous smile to the two agents. They both gave you polite smiles, the raven-haired lady coming up to you and holding out her hand.
“Hi, Agent Emily Prentiss.” She introduced, to which you replied with a soft smile before taking her hand and giving it a shake. The male agent followed, holding out his hand as well and throwing you a comforting smile.
“Derek Morgan. Nice to meet you Y/L/N.” He said, smiling as you shook his hand with a slightly more relaxed demeanor now that introductions were essentially over. You pulled away from them and looked at each member of the team, smiling nervously before tilting your head sideways to look at Garcia, who gave your shoulders another encouraging squeeze before you spoke.
“I look forward to working with everyone.” You said politely, to which Hotchner nodded, Agent Jareau smiled, Agent Morgan gave you an amused nod, and Agent Prentiss spoke up.
“Can I ask how old you are? Sorry, you just look so young for someone to graduate from the Academy.” She questioned, looking between Garcia and you for an answer. Before Garcia could explain, you decided to interject.
“A-actually, ah, I didn’t.” You explained, fumbling slightly as you attempt to elaborate on your response. “The, ah, the BAU was looking for another Technical Analyst to help with the spike in crimes, and, ah…” As you felt your words start to lag, Garcia gracefully stepped in and finished the elaboration for you, thankfully.
“And now she works under me, haha! I am the master.” She explained in an overexaggerated tone, one that made you giggle and relax, in alliance with how Penelope’s jokes usually made you feel.
“That she is.” You agreed, pushing yourself to make a playful comment. Agent Morgan gave you a smile for that, and even that slight gesture made your tension lessen.
“Well, we can all get to know each other later. Right now, we have a case.” You heard Agent Hotchner say, and immediately, your demeanor changed, becoming serious as you nodded at him and walked over to the computer you set up near the monitor. Garcia returned to her respective laptop, pulling a chair to sit in between Agent Morgan and Agent Hotchner as Agent Jareau handed out files to each member of the team. However, you could not help but realize that there were two extra files in her hands after she finished giving each agent their file. Neither you nor Garcia needed one.
Shaking your head slightly, you decided to not dwell on the miniscule detail and focus on the case, pulling up the slideshow Garcia had sent you before reaching for the remote near your hand, handing it to Agent Jareau who thanked you politely and gestured towards the empty chair at the table, inviting for you to sit. You took the invitation, kindly, and watched as various images popped up on the monitor. What you saw, what was presented to you, the team, caused you to flinch and divert your eyes for a second, before you realized that you yourself would now have to see these images almost weekly, daily even. So, stomaching your disgust, you turned back to the monitor and laid your eyes upon the images of the bloody and brutal girls presented on the screen.
“Two days ago, 26-year-old Lina Turner was found dead in her own home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Her face was mutilated along with her sex-organs.” You tried to suppress the gag that was coming up your throat when you looked once again at the monitor, photos emphasizing the consequences of the gruesome acts committed flashing before you before the images switched to an entirely new woman, this one with red-hair and of short stature, contrasting the previous woman presented on the screen, who was a slender, yet tall brunette.
“Only thing consistent with the victimology is the fact that they’re females.” You heard Agent Morgan state, his eyes fixating on the two photos of the woman now displaying next to each other on the screen.
“Well, considering the fact that they’re both females and their sex-organs were mutilated,” Emily shook her head in empathy and disgust. “the unsub could be male?”
Your head tilted down as you reminded yourself what the term meant, mouthing ‘unidentified subject’ to yourself before turning and looking back up to the other agents. For a split second, you saw Agent Jareau smile at you endearingly before returning to the table.
“The women were also objectively attractive and fit, coupling that with the mutilation to their genitals, we could most likely have a sexual sadist on our hands.” Agent Hotchner said as he read through the files.
“Well, nonetheless, Philly PD wants us there as soon as possible.” Agent Jareau informed, to which Agent Hotchner closed his case files and stood up from his seat, nodding to Agent Jareau who turned off the monitor and handed me the remote with a quiet thank you. “Wheel’s up in 20.”
“Where are Reid and Rossi?” Agent Prentiss asked, causing your ears to quirk up and your eyes to land on her in confusion before glancing back at Garcia, who acknowledged your confusion with a smile.
“At the Academy. They’re giving a lecture.” Agent Hotchner informed, pushing the leather through the latches of his satchel before heading towards the door.
“Oh boy, Reid trying to talk to a group of young adults, that’s gotta be fun.” Agent Prentiss joked, snickering at Agent Jareau, Agent Morgan, and Garcia who all seemed to share the same opinion and knowledge on a subject you were completely oblivious to.
“At least he’s got Rossi,” Agent Jareau sighed, cradling her files in her hand before catching up with Agent Prentiss.
“Hey, Y/L/N, shouldn’t you be in class now too?” Agent Derek said as he turned towards you, a playful smile on his lips that you internally, greatly appreciated, but externally, you still donned a look of surprise.
“Ah, yeah.” Confidence, Y/N, confidence. “Should probably tell my professor I won’t be able to finish my programming project by tomorrow.” You joked, earing various laughs, chuckles, and snickers from the present agents in the room, causing you to feel accomplished.
“Hope he’s not angry,” Morgan added, leaning against the door.
“Ah, he might be, but I’ll just hack into his computer and delete all his files.”
“You can do that?” Agent Prentiss asked, slightly alarmed. “Those are files secured by the bureau.”
You grinned leisurely and shrugged your shoulders. “It wasn’t too hard.”
“Wasn’t?” Agent Prentiss gawked.
“Uh oh, with her you two are double trouble, mama.” Derek exhaled, to whom you assumed to be Garcia, who let out a chuckle before walking over to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, which you easily relaxed into, feeling quite comfortable with her now, already.
“Apparently all you have to do to get a government job is hack into the government,” Garcia added, leaning her head against your shoulder, causing you to giggle.
“What a simple task.” You replied, sarcastically, causing Agent Prentiss to shake her head in disbelief before smiling at you.
“Oh, I like her.” She commented before pushing open the doors and heading down towards her desk, Agent Jareau laughing at the whole interaction before catching up with the dark-haired agent.
Agent Morgan looked between you two, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before letting out a quiet chuckle in content. “You two are gonna completely destroy the office,” he said before pushing open the door with his shoulder and turning outward. “See ya later, Baby Girl. See you later, Pretty Protegee!” He called as he walked down the hall and towards the stairs, leaving Garcia smiling and you with a slight blush on your cheeks, a grin plastered over your face as well.
“Pretty Protegee?” You asked, turning towards Garcia with a wide smile.
“Ah, he does that with a lot of people. Although, I will admit—well, gloat,” You snickered at this. “That I have the most nicknames. But yeah, he does that a lot. Its one of his endearing qualities.” She explained, causing you to nod in understanding.
“They’re really nice,” You commented, before remembering something that irked you earlier. “Who are Rossi and Reid, by the way? There names were mentioned before and Agent Jareau had extra files in her hand so, I assume they were for them.”
“Ah!” Garcia exclaimed, wrapping her arm around your bicep as she placed her computer under her arm and started to lead you towards the door, your laptop and file already in your hands.
Rossi is this, like, super-rich author who was actually one of the original starters of the BAU. He kind of retired to work on his books, which are like uber-famous, by the way, but came back not too long ago.” You pouted in acknowledgement as she fed you the information, walking across the catwalk with her and towards the elevator. “And Reid—he likes to be called Doctor Reid, by the way.”
“Is he a Doctor?” You inquired, pressing the elevator button corresponding with your floor.
“He has like, 3 PhD’s and can read a bazillion words per minute. He’s super smart, like Einstein smart.” She ranted, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke.
“Einstein discovered the theory of relativity, Garcia.”
“Well, Spencer has an IQ of 187!”
That shocked you, the piece of information donning on you as you both ascended to your chosen floor, your mind trying to rap around the thought.
“Jesus Christ…” You gawked, looking at Garcia with wide eyes.
“Yeah, he’s an actual genius.” Garcia cemented, wide eyes mimicking yours in empathy. You shook your head in disbelief before the doors of the elevator opened, allowing the two of you to step out and head towards Garcia’s lair.
“How old is he? You said he was young.” You asked, opening the door for her, which you thanked you kindly for before walking in.
“Twenty-six.”
“You’re kidding…” You whispered, eyes wrapping around the idea of working with a genius. Of course, everyone in the bureau was intelligent, but people easily get wrapped around by numbers, and you were quite enamored.
“Yeah,” Garcia said, waking up her computers before taking a seat in her comfy chair, and you had followed close after.
“Hmm, does Morgan have a nickname for him as well? Young genius? Einstein?” You asked, opening the case file as you started your laptop back up.
“Yeah, it’s Pretty Boy.” She said with a chuckle, causing your head to spin around in interest.
“Pretty Boy?”
“Cause he’s pretty!” Garcia giggled, spinning towards you in her chair, her fingers fiddling with the fluffy end of the pencil that she decided to pick up.
“He’s pretty?” You inquired, raising an eyebrow before turning back towards your laptop, which still had Garcia’s presentation displayed on it. You quickly exited the screen, shivering in disgust at the memory of the photos.
“Yeah…” There was a slight quirk in her voice that did not settle with you well.
“…Garcia.”
“Why are you so fixated on the fact that he’s pretty?”
“I’m not, Garcia I don’t even know him!” You defended, although you don’t know why you were defending yourself at all, but the slightly upbeat in Garcia’s voice pushed you to explain yourself as if you were caught doing something wrong.
“But the fact that he is pretty interests you.”
“Garcia, again, I don’t know him.
“I think you’d like him, my petite protegee. He likes Star Trek and reading and a whole lotta sugar in his coffee.” She giggled, turning back to her monitor, causing you to stare at her in defense as your mouth moved and contorted to spit out explanations and excuses that never came. Instead, you decided to sigh defeated, slumping in your chair before you loaded your file up to the presentation you desperately hated by knew you needed to look at, quickly skipping towards the ID photos of the two victims before you opened up your case file.
A beat of silence went by.
Screw yourself for being inquired by this guy.
“…so, he’s a nerd?”
Another excruciating beat went by.
“Yeah, he is.” A pause. “Are you into nerds, Y/N?”
You do not know how this escalated so fast, but god do you wish you could turn it back.
* * *
“Your magic oracle is here to serve you, oh wise one.” Garcia said as she picked up the phone, causing you to burst out into laughter behind her, earning a playful glance before she turned back around towards the phone. “Ignore my petite protegee, she has lost all her magical senses. Whatcha need?”
You heard a faint question of ‘petite protégée?’’ from the other end of the phone, and as much as you wanted to stop yourself, you could not help but wonder, Reid? However, logically, the voice sounded too old to be Reid, and by process of elimination, assuming that it’s not a Philly officer due to how the voice seemed genuinely confused by your presence, you concluded that it was Agent Rossi. Though, you cursed yourself for allowing even the thought of Reid to slip through your mind.
“Baby girl, can you look up to see if any of the victims recently had a plumber or any kind of manual worker come to visit them recently?” You heard Morgan on the line ask, and even before you could glance at her, Garcia had started to search away, which at this point you should expect.
However, what you did not expect, was for the other desk phone to ring.
Quickly, you looked at Garcia for guidance, who paused her furious typing to stare at you in expectance, encouragingly nodding at you to pick it up. You pushed yourself off your chair to reach for the phone, bringing it up to your ear in preparation.
“Hel—”
“Garcia can you check to see if the victims all went to the same school?”
The sudden question surprised you, causing you to become speechless as your nervous mind attempted to connect with your mouth and form concrete setences.
“Ah…”
“Garcia?”
“Ah…I’m not Garcia.”
“You’re not?”
Process of elimination.
“No, I’m her new assistant.”
“Oh.”
“Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Spencer Reid.”
“So, I’ve heard.”
“Y-you’ve heard about me?”
Your nerves released themselves via soft chuckle as you awoke your laptop from sleep mode.
“Garcia told me a lot about you.”
“What did she say?”
‘Reid.’ It was faint, quiet, but it definitely came from Agent Hotchner, the firmness indicating for Reid to be punctual and to not become distracted by whatever you two were doing. It seemed like the two of your snapped out of your weird trance simultaneously, your fingers hovering over your keyboard and phone placed on speaker as soon as Reid started to talk.
“R-right! Sorry. Y/L/N, can you see if the three victims went to the same high school?”
At this point, you could barely feel the keys on your keyboard as your fingers aggressively typed away, pulling up various records of the victims before key-searching on education and diplomas.
“Same high school.” You concluded, surprised by the connection.
“That’s what I thought.” You heard Reid whisper on the other line, but you were certain that it was more towards himself than you. “Thank you, Y/L/N.”
“No problem, Reid.”
Then the line suddenly cut, and you were left in slight dazzlement at the little interaction you got with Doctor Spencer Reid, the man whose voice was too soft and adorable to be true.
You turned agonizingly slow in your chair back towards Garcia’s direction, dread evident through your body as your eyes fell upon her plotting grin, her smirk putting the Chesire-cat to shame.
“….what?”
“What was that little thing you two had in the beginning?”
You let out a groan in dramatic agony.
“Garcia! I barely know him!”
“But you seem smitten.” Her last word was too punctuated for you to be comfortable, so you threw her a sharp glare before turning back towards your laptop and pulling up your programming exam.
“Oh, you are not going to ignore me!” She exclaimed behind you in offense, to which you have an exaggerated shrug of your shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Garcia, but I have important matters to attend.”
“Oh, this is not over, missy.” She let out an offended gasp, and you bit your inner cheek to inhibit yourself from letting out a chuckle as you loaded up your Java program.
* * *
“Your oracle is ready for you, sir.” You heard Garcia say into the phone, your seat rolled up next to her as you both leaned in towards the device, the entire BAU team compiled on the other end.
“We looked through various records and backgrounds, but no one seems to fit the profile.” You heard Agent Hotchner explain from the other end, Garcia immediately pulling up the information you two have collected on the victims and previous suspects so far. Still, it seemed as if the team has got gotten anything conclusive, and since the last time you called, apparently, another body was discovered in a hotel room, more brutally mutilated than the others.
‘He’s evolving.’ You remembered Doctor Spencer Reid say in a previous phone call, only meaning that the situation was getting worse and the team was running out of time.
“Okay, let’s get over what we know so far,” You heard Agent Morgan start, speaking to both the team and the two of you present in the computer lab. “This unsub is efficient and quick,”
“He sexually assaults the victims, humiliates them,” Agent Prentiss added, disgust and fatigue evident in her voice.
Wait.
“Mutilates their bodies and their faces, so he has something against their looks” Agent Jareau voice emulated from the speaker.
Why is it…
“All the victims are from the same college, so the unsub is connected to them in that means. Former student or staff member?” Reid threw, voice questioning.
Why can’t it be…
“These girls were all pretty and popular, maybe he was upset that they made fun of him, or never dated him?” Rossi tried, hoping to find something, anything to add to the case.
Hold on.
“Why do you keep saying that the unsub is a ‘he’?” You interrupted, much to the surprise of Garcia, who looked at you, taken aback, and to the silence of the team, which you interpreted as surprise as well.
“…what do you mean, Y/L/N?” You heard Hotch ask through the phone, causing you to become flustered by your outburst, voice wavering slightly as you attempted to justify yourself.
“I-It’s just—” You felt Garcia’s hand squeeze your shoulder, helping ground you, and you took a soft breath before speaking. “You guys kept talking about how the unsub was neat and efficient. You said it was most likely a sneak attack, right?”
“Right, but the preference in females and in relationship with their sex organs—”
“Lesbians exist, Prentiss.” You interrupt, causing both you and her to chuckle slightly before continuing. “But, it doesn’t have to be sexual.”
“You think it might be revenge?” You heard Agent Rossi ask, and before you responded, you pushed yourself away from Garcia’s desk towards your laptop, opening up your closed device and pressing on the various files that you researched during the case.
“So, I got bored when you guys didn’t call us,” You heard Agent Morgan let out a chuckle. “And I started looking into the victim’s high school backgrounds since Doctor Reid mentioned the fact that they all went to the same school.”
“You can just call me Reid.” You heard him tentatively say from the phone, and you forced yourself not to react to Garcia’s smirk before continuing.
“Okay, since Reid mentioned the fact that they all went to the same school. These girls were the queen bees of the school, the Heathers, the Regina Georges.”
“The what?” It was Reid again, and you could not help but let out a giggle at his confusion.
“We’ll discuss that later, Doc. But they were the meanest girls you could think of, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted revenge. You said it might be a boy, but what if it was a girl? Girls, especially high school girls, can be vicious to other high school girls. Maybe one of them snapped.” You explained, displaying your findings to Garcia who scanned them impressed, rubbing your shoulder in pride.
“If they did snap, it would be recent.” You heard Agent Hotchner state quickly before continuing. “Garcia, can you look up any girls from that school who had mental problems during their time in high school, had any psychotic disorders after they graduated, or had any interaction ever with any psych facilities.”
You heard the furious clicking of keys before they came to a sudden halt.
“This is quite a list for such a small school.” Garcia said breathlessly, causing you to shrug.
“Not all of them were bad, some of them might just give anxiety.” You reasoned, to which she smiled softly.
“The unsub, even if brutal, was neat, almost professionally neat. They also would need the specific tools and information to correctly damage and mutilate their sex organs. Baby girl, look up doctors, nurses, med students—”
“Focus on med-students. The victims were 26 and taking in the change that the unsub is also, they probably would still be in med school.” Reid specific, causing Garcia to open her key-searcher and specific the search even more.
“Ahh, geez, I got three names.” She replied, to which you scrunched your eyebrows in shock and disgust.
“How?” You exclaimed softly, to which she shrugged before turning back towards her keyboard.
“The unsub knows the area well to dump the bodies in secluded yet well-visited sites, so search locals, people who were born here, raised here, and stayed here.” Agent Jareau finalized, and in a sudden halt, one name and picture centered at the screen.
“Rebecca Malwizer. Twenty-five. 3356 Walnut Drive.”
“Let’s move.” You heard Agent Hotchner command before the phone was picked up and his voice was heard sharply. “Good work, Y/L/N.” Suddenly, the line was cut, and the bat cave was filled with silence.
Until Garcia enveloped you in a bone-crushing hug and spurted various praises and exclamations to you.
“Ahhh! I have the smartest protegee in all of existence, that was so good!” She gushed, rocking you two back and forth as you laughed at her antics, your hands grasping onto her forearms as you two swayed, chuckling softly at her.
“I learned from the best.” You replied, enjoying the wonderful warmth that was Penelope Garcia.
“Aww, well I can assure you that Doctor Spencer Reid loves smart women like you.”
“Aaaand, you ruined it.” You replied flatly, rejecting her once comforting hug and making attempts to escape them, which she did not allow, only pulling you tighter into her mother-bear embrace.
* * *
“They should be coming any moment!” Garcia exclaimed, jitterily walking towards the elevator with you dragging your feet behind her, smiling softly as you hugged a soft, pink blanket around you,courtesy of Garcia herself.
“They’re probably tired,” You said behind her, catching up to the excited blond with a sigh, leaning against the desk you found yourself near, the entrance to the floor only a few feet away from you. The BAU had been gone for three days now, each day requiring the team to work for countless hours without sleep, meaning neither you nor Garcia got to sleep either. You mentally cursed at the bribing you would have to do with the professor before remembering that you now worked under the Behavioral Analysis Unit and could ask the department to help you be excused.
“Which is why we need to help cheer them up!” She countered, sending you a wide yet strained smile, forcing you to shut up and bend to her will, chuckling to yourself as you cuddled into the blanket, closing your eyes just for a moment as you waited for the team to arrive.
Not even a minute later, the doors creaked open.
“Hello! Hi! Welcome everyone! Hello!” Your head jutted upwards when you heard Garcia exclaim, body jolting straight so you could face the team in front of you.
Agent Prentiss, Morgan, and Jareau all laughed at Garcia’s greeting, with Agent Hotchner giving her a firm nod, acknowledging her before his attention turned to you,
“That was good deduction, Y/L/N.” He addressed to you, giving you a slight grin that filled your whole body with pride, even if all you could return was a tired smile.
“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” You said, voice as professional as you could make it in your exhausted state.
“Call me Hotch. No one on the team calls me Hotchner,” He said before gracing you with a full smile, which only made you feel more accomplished.
“Okay, sir.” You replied, glancing slightly to see Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, and Garcia all smiling at me as well.
“Oh, on that note, call me JJ. That’s what everyone calls me here.” She said, tilting towards you,
“Will do.” You replied, nodding.
“So, you’re the new technical analyst.” The source of the voice was an older gentleman with dark hair and a slight beard, his face appearing as if it had seen the worst that the world had to offer, while at the same time the owner of seventeen yachts. “Y/L/N?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Y/N Y/L/N, sir. You’re Agent David Rossi?” You asked, feeling nervous again at the presence of one of the agents, especially one who apparently was world-renowned.
“I am,” He affirmed, holding out his hand to shake, which you took instantly. “So, tell me, what did these knuckle-heads tell you about me?” he teased, earning a chuckle from you, pulling your hand away from him to tug on the blanket that was slipping from your shoulders. You wanted to be polite, but you were cold.
“All good things, I can assure you.” You smiled, looking over to Garcia out of habit. However, when you did, you saw a slight twinkle in her eyes, snarky and maniacal, in the most well-intended, Garcia fashion possible. You decided to follow where she was staring, and as soon as you did, your eyes landed on her intended receiver.
Oh.
“H-hello.”
Oh fuck, he was adorable.
“H-hi.” You could physically feel Garcia radiating from where you were.
“I’m, uh, Doctor Spencer Reid.” He said, adorned with a soft, half smile and a quick wave of his hand.
Ohhhh, Garcia was never going to let this go.
“But you told me to call you Reid, right?” you said, smiling at him softly. He looked stunned for a second, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide. He gave you a dazed nod, to which you didn’t know if you wanted to smirk at or blush, so, you decided to do both, looking at your feet timidly.
“Y-yeah. I did.” He finally chirped, his voice a tad higher pitched than it was before, for reasons that you were too red to consider.
“Well then,” Oh you did not like the airiness in Morgan’s voice either. “It looks like everyone knows everyone.”
“Well, we can get to know each other more later. Right now, we all need some rest. All of you have the weekend off.” You heard Hotch announce, followed by various sighs of relief and pure pleasure—that’s the most accurate way you could describe it—by the other members of the team, causing everyone to head to their desks tiredly.
You felt Garcia’s arm wrap around your bicep before she laid her head against your shoulder.
“Please drag me back to the bat cave so I can get my stuff.” She mumbled, cuddling into you, to which you giggled and rested your head on top of her hair.
“Come on, Garcia.” You said, affectionately, maneuvering yourself around so both of you could go back to the tech lab and grab all your supplies.
As you did, however, you quickly locked eyes with Reid, to which both of you gave each other a soft and timid smile before continuing your courses of action.
* * *
“Hey! Y/L/N!” You heard your name be called right as the elevator door was about to close, causing you to glance up in surprise. When your eyes locked with the warm brown ones of a certain doctor, your hand instantly reached for the elevator buttons and you pushed for the doors to open again.
“Thanks,” Spencer whispered softly as he got in, standing next to you in the elevator and waiting for the doors to close.
“No problem, Reid.” You replied, giving him a polite smile as the doors finally shut, and both of you started to descend downward. The both of you were silent initially, and at that moment, you quickly glanced over at the man, taking in his purple cardigan, the brown sweater-vest peaking from under it, as well as the sleeves of his white undershirt, and his leather satchel, which he held onto the strap of with two hands. With the addition of his converse, mismatched socks, one pumpkin themed while the other one contained math equations, and his floppy brown hair, the only thing that radiated from the man next to you was warmth, a warmth that competed with the pink blanket that was wrapped around your shoulders.
Oh, right, you still had that one.
“Is that Garcia’s?” Reid asked, referring to the suspected object.
You gave him a curt nod in affirmation. “Indeed, it is. I should probably give it back to her but its too warm.” You joked, causing both of you to giggle slightly, the young doctor giving you a soft smile that made your heart tighten.
Oh wow, he was adorable.
“You, ah, what you did during the case, that was really cool.” He complimented, looking up at you with appreciation and earnestness.
“Thanks, Reid. But I’m sure you have those breakthroughs all the time, being a genius and all.” You complimented, causing him to shake his head and smile.
“It was still impressive.”
“I appreciate that, Reid.” You thanked, looking at him softly, and keeping your gaze on him, your mouth slightly ajar in thought, to which he waited patiently for. Suddenly, your expression broke, and you decide to ask him now, or never, because what the heck?
“So…you like Star Trek?”
You have never seen a twenty-six-year-old’s eyes widen so fast.
“Do you like it too?” he exclaimed, voice loud and excited, causing you to giggle loudly.
“I prefer Star Wars, but—”
“What?! Why?” The way that he looked so wounded and sounded so devastated almost made your heart break if it was not for the current subject matter, which you were very passionate.
“Because Star Wars is superior!” You exclaimed, causing Reid to audibly gasp in offense.
“I couldn’t disagree with you more.”
“I am so sad that you believe that Star Trek is better than Star Wars, Reid. Truly, that is a great tragedy.” You replied in faux sympathy, causing him to scoff playfully before turning back to you. By this time, the elevator had reached your destination, but both of you were too engrossed in your conversation to care, walking off together into the parking lot.
Both of you continued to argue about which film series was better, animated, and passionate until you reached your car, to which you leaned against before turning back to the young doctor.
“Okay, fine. But answer me this: Sherlock or Doctor Who?” You looked at him challengingly, watching as the man paused his movements to ponder, expression frozen as he tracked through his mind to find his answer.
“Doctor Who.” You wanted to let out a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank god. For a second, I thought I would have to murder you, Doctor Reid.” You joke, causing him to smile at you broadly before laughing himself, making your insides to fill up with warmth like they previously did, smiling dopily as your rested your head against the window.
“I like Sherlock, but the tenth doctor is just—”
“David Tennant is a gift from God, I completely agree.” You said, smiling widely at him. For some reason, this caused a pause in your conversation, one that was not odd, but almost relaxing, natural. You were honestly taken aback by how comfortable and easy the conversation between you and Reid was, and you had a hunch that he felt the same.
“Ah, it’s getting late. You should probably get home.” He said, causing you to raise an eyebrow.
“I should get home?” You inquire, causing his eyes to widen and his demeanor to change.
“I-I don’t mean that in, ah, a demanding way, its just ah,” He was fumbling for a response, and you didn’t know if you should relieve him of his anxieties or let him continue out of amusement. “I-I’m sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself—”
“I’m sure that I am too.” You hummed, only causing him to spur further into his defense.
“I—Just, it’s late and unsubs are out at this time and—”
Of course, he still called them unsubs, even off the job.
“Relax, Reid. I get what you were trying to say.” You interrupted, your eyes softening as his body visibly relaxed, head drooping slightly as he looked down at his shoes, giving you a shy smile when he lifted it up once again. You returned him one equally as shy. “But thank you for looking out for me.”
“Ah, no problem…”
Then, you two just looked at each other, eyes soft and demeanors gentle, the quaint and quiet atmosphere that the nearly empty parking lot surrounding you in a serenity that made the situation more intense, but…warm.
Maybe warm was the best way to describe Doctor Spencer Reid.
“I should, ah…” You interrupted softly, breaking the quiet atmosphere that encompassed the two of you, to what seemed like Reid’s disappointment. But you didn’t want to read too much into things. “I should get going.”
“R-right.” He affirmed, nodding towards your car before looking behind him “I should get going too, enjoy the weekend before Hotch calls us in again for a sudden case.”
“Oh, god, does he?” You groaned and looked at him defeated.
“You sadly cannot control when a psychopath will attack”
“Those damn psychopaths.” You murmured jokingly, causing Reid to laugh. You let out another giggle before reaching over and unlocking your car door, throwing your bad into the backseat before turning to Reid once more, holding your blanket closed with one hand before extending the other out to him. “Well, goodnight, Reid.” You said, waiting for him to shake your hand in affirmation.
When he stared at your hand for more than a couple seconds, you could not stop yourself from being confused, scrunching your eyebrows at the young doctor.
“Reid?” You asked, looking up at him.
Suddenly, his head snapped back at you, then glanced back down at your hand, before unwrapping his hand from where it was on his satchel strap and taking yours, holding your hand gently as you shook.
“G-goodnight, Y/L/N.” He said softly, smiling at you timidly. After a few seconds, he stopped shaking your hand, and to your shock—and secret pleasure—he held on for a few more seconds, before letting go and quicklyreturning his hand back to his satchel strap, awkwardly rocking on his feet. “I-I’ll see you Monday.”
“I’ll see you Monday.” You confirmed, looking up at him.
Neither of you made an attempt to move.
“Hey, Reid?” You asked, slightly dazed at the continuous contact.
“Y-yeah?” He replied, seemingly as entranced as you were.
Whatever the hell was happening, you didn’t want to stop. But you had to go home. Your professor might kill you for not turning in your programming assignment on time.
“I really gotta go.” You giggled out, causing the boy to almost jump out of contact with you, pulling back his hand and wrapping it around his satchel strap. You smile at the flustered expression on his face, one that you are sure matches yours.
“R-right. Sorry…” He trailed, but you instantly shook your head.
“Don’t be. It’s just...I got this programming assignment, and my professor would kill me if I don’t turn it in on time.” You explained,
“Oh! I’ve programmed once. I programmed on Java and even was able to create a program where—”
“Reid?”
“Hm?”
“I gotta go.”
“Right!” He exclaimed, blushing ever so darker at his own antics.
This, however, got you thinking.
“How about you continue your thought Saturday night, at my house.” You offered, and for a moment, Reid didn’t respond, choosing to stare at you stunned. He started at you long enough for you to regret your question, considering it a mistake, before he answered.
“Y-yeah! Sure!” He finally replied, his face sporting a wide smile that immediately allowed you to relax.
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, umm, I’ll text you the address?” You offered, to which he looked at you awkwardly.
“I, uh, don’t text often.”
“But you text on the case?” You asked, puzzled.
“Yeah, but I don’t bring my case phone home.” You explained, to which you let out a soft breath, expecting nothing else from the doctor, with the minimal knowledge you had of him.
You hoped that the knowledge grew.
“Then…your home number? I’ll call you to tell you.” You offered.
“Can’t you just tell me now?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow, to which you shrugged nonchalantly.
“Yeah, but this is more fun.” You giggled, and he smiled in response.
Quickly, you pulled on your backpack so you could unzip the small compartment, pulling out a sharpie before turning around and holding it out for him, as well as extending your wrist.
He ogled the two offerings in confusion.
‘Your number, Reid.”
“Oh!”
Quickly, he grabbed the sharpie, and with a gentle hold your wrist, one that caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach, he quickly jotted down his number. Once completed, he let go on your wrist and gave you back your sharpie.
“So, ah, Saturday?” he asked, to which you confirmed with a nod.
“Saturday. Then I can show you how much better Star Wars is than Star Trek.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” You retorted playfully, causing you to laugh.
“Okay, okay, or we can watch Doctor Who?” You asked instead, to which he gave you a satisfied nod. “Cool…” You turned back to your car, knowing now that you have to leave, or your professor will murder you. “See you Saturday, Reid;”
“See you Saturday, Y/L/N.”
You could not help your heart from fluttering when you saw Reid stand in the parking lot and watch to make sure you left safely.
You also could not help the soft smile you sported once you got home and when you saw Garcia’s text, exclaiming about how she saw you and Reid, and demanded you tell her the details.
#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!readr#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fluff#reader x bau
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
tidal waves | ayato is looking for a spouse. he comes to you.
cw: mentions of pregnancy, ayato kind of toxic (sry), coercion, manipulation, arranged marriage, unrequited love, ambiguous ending.
“Our new diplomatic relationships with Fontaine are moving along smoother than I imagined.”
The blue-haired head of Kamisato Clan sits before you comfortably, happily relaying the events that occurred during the time he was away from Inazuma. The sunlight shines delicately over you, creeping through the leaves of the sakura blooms that hang overhead. Often, the leaves fall around and onto you, summoning drizzles of pink.
Ayato remains the centre of your attention, though, the colour palette of spring enchanting when it is surrounding him.
“I’m happy to hear that. Trustworthy and hardworking, that’s our Yashiro Commissioner for you,” you praise, raising your cup of tea to your lips.
“No doubt this will bring forth some interesting business opportunities for you, correct?”
“Of course, as with any nation. However, my greatest concern with Fontaine is the travel time, but with their advanced technology, I doubt any rigorous human effort will be required during the process. I’m hoping it will be smooth for both parties.”
A long time ago, you were ashamed of how long you could talk for. Now, with someone like Ayato listening to your every word, you don’t withhold any (negligible) information.
(There is no news that will escape Ayato. He knows more than he lets on and has ears placed at all corners of Inazuma. Try as you may to keep something from him, the only thing you can truly control is when and how the information reaches him.)
“Please, feel free to keep me updated. I am fascinated by Fontaine’s productivity with their machinery, I would love to learn more.”
With a humble bow of your head, you reassure him you will invite him so he may see for himself when the time comes. “Why did you invite me here, Ayato?” You ask, setting down your now empty tea cup with a clink.
“Oh, yes, thank you for coming on such short notice. Hopefully you did not have to cut out any important matters for this meeting, did you?”
“I will always have time to see you. Arranging my schedule is no trouble if the Yashiro Commissioner needs me.”
He blinks twice before his expression melts into something softer. “I am delighted to hear that. As for why I summoned you here today, well, I am hardly as young as I was when I first took up the mantle of Yashiro Commissioner. With every passing day, I am increasingly aware of my age.” He begins, violet eyes as unreadable as ever as they gaze into you, unyielding. It’s always hard to look away when you first get a glance.
(If you were to describe Kamisato Ayato, you’d compare him to an ocean. On the surface, harmless with his calm and predictable waves, reflecting the light of the sun in ripples, tempting you to take a step in.)
“Even Chiori made a comment about having to make me look younger.”
“Stop it- the wrinkles around your eyes aren’t that deep-”
“-Y/n. There is still no heir to the Kamisato Clan or the Yashiro Commission.”
“You won’t be giving up the mantle any time soon though, right?”
“Rest assured, I have no thoughts as such, but it is now the time to think about matrimony.”
You’re not sure why, but your stomach feels like a falling anvil, premonition settling in your bones like lead. “Why did you call me here, Ayato?”
An answer formulates in your head before he even needs to open his mouth, and it sounds out an awful song, one that causes your ears to bleed and knees to buckle.
(You take your first step into the sea. The sand is silk beneath your feet, and the water splashes with your every step. You keep going until the water is up to your waist, knocking against your chest with each wave.)
“I want you to be my spouse.”
No matter how many surprise meetings you have sat through with alarming news, none will ever shake you to your core like this one. For all the news of lost shipments, pirates that confiscated your products, and investment failures, nothing would have ever trained you for an occasion like this.
Professionalism is a delicate mask, and Ayato knows exactly how to chip away at it.
“No- no, I couldn’t,” you begin, nothing but a jumble of feelings that have turned you inside out like a kimono. “Ayato, I refuse.”
You? A Commissioner’s spouse? How detestable. You know the last thing Ayato could wish for you is a life of misery, confined to the chains of propriety, social etiquette, and societal management, but you also thought you’d be the last person he’d consider to be wed to.
All these decades of friendship, was it just so it could lead to this finale? Did you ever know him like you truly thought you did?
The monster disguised as a man sits himself beside you, sinking to his knees, and the white, rich fabrics of his attire pool around you.
“I can promise you happiness, Y/n. Mora, safety, whatever you need, I’ll be at your beck and call.”
Happy? Married?
His gloved hand finds yours. It’s not warm, and his touch feels inhuman, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from him. “In collaboration with the resources from the Yashiro Commission, we could make your business operations much more efficient.”
“Can’t you find another partner? There are no shortages of elites who are looking for potential partners in Inazuma. I could talk to some candidates on your behalf to organise a meeting, I am certain no one could ever reject your hand in marriage-”
“-Then, why are you?”
“Why are you so persistent that it must be me?”
“There are… no other individuals like you. I recognise that not all marriages need to be formed from love, but that does not exclude friendship. Our companionship is one I trust, you are my ideal candidate.”
“I would not make a good spouse.” You omit to tell him of your carefree qualities, that you have a business to run, and that you could not imagine a life bound to another, even if he is someone as dreamy as the Kamisato head. “I could not make you happy.”
“Guaranteeing my happiness does not have to be your duty.” His hands delicately trace the lines on your palms, you protest against the way they naturally curl at the sensation.
“Then what will be?”
“Producing an heir to the Kamisato Clan.”
He does not miss the way you shift uncomfortably in your position, or the subtle displeasure that clouds your eyes. Ayato’s not sure how successful he can be if he remains this persistent, every attempt seems to only push you further away, but if there’s anything he’s good at it is biding his time. The best lesson his time as the Yashiro Commissioner has taught him it’s that patience leads to success, and he’s willing to give you some time to figure it all out.
“I do not want to force you into something you do not want to partake in. You may have some time to think, I await to hear your answer once you are ready.” he gets up silently and quickly. It’s strange. You feel like you disappointed him.
He strides out of the gardens, tea and sweets untouched. For all the years you have known him, this is the first time he leaves without escorting you out, showing you the retreating figure of his broad back.
What will you do? Ayato, above all else, is cunning and calculating; a terrifying trait of his. Everything he wants, he eventually gets, the art of patience is one he has mastered. The only thing you can liken him to is a fox biding its time to catch its prey.
You will not remain ignorant to the fact that it appears this time, you are his prey.
He will find subtle ways to intercept in your business, he will take advantage of everything he knows about you and use it to your demise, everywhere you turn, he will be there. How long will it be until he sinks his teeth into you?
That day, you go to sleep with an uneasy heart. You feel like you’re playing with a lit bomb, juggling with it so that it will explode when it is out of your hands.
Three weeks later, you receive news that a shipment of yours suddenly caught fire, destroying everything that you were exporting, harming few of your employees in the process.
Your time is up.
(His hand grabs your ankle, and pulls you under.)
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's been a good run
But it's time to bring this to a close!
The saga is over, C, T and I are all together. T and I are in the swing of it, C approves as much as it is possible for him to approve of anything, everyone knows about the blog and is chill.
C is back at his rightful place of walking his sister down the aisle.
I'm getting everything I want, and we're all free to make each other miserable until the day we die.
I'm not going to be updating this blog anymore! Nobody else involved with the situation will be submitting any more AITA posts either, because they are either not on tumblr or agreed it would be annoying.
I will say that there is some stuff on here that I've alluded to that isn't necessarily 100% in the spirit of things, so I've included some stuff below the cut for the folks who have caught onto that. I would not suggest reading it if you like how all of this played out and want to keep it that way. I know that's incredibly vague, but I'm not sure how to phrase it without making it weird?
Thank you all for listening and talking to me over the past few days! That's where I'm leaving it!
...
...
...
...Is everyone who wants to keep believing in the disaster polycule gone? Yes? OK!
So, this was fake. I made up the whole thing. TK and C and T and everyone else are fictional characters. Did I lie? Yes. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.
Q: All of it? Even the og AITA post? The followup AITA post? The screenshots?
A: All of it.
Q: Wh... Why did you do this...?
A: Well, first this all started as a Red vs Blue fanfic for the ship Chexer (Church/Tex/Tucker)-
It started as a fanfic for Chexer. However, I was already working on a different fanfic for RVB that was totalling about 15k words at this point (+ at least 90k to go), and I knew I would never have the time or energy to write this one. I thought: yknow. this would be really funny as an aita post.
Q: It was a fanfic of a Halo fanfic series.
A: Yep!
So, I submitted Tucker's perspective. I did not expect for it to get more than maybe 100 notes at most. I totally thought someone would call it out right away.
The funny part is, if I'd dedicated all this energy to a fic instead of this blog, I'd probably have about 15-20 thousand words of fic already, but whatever, can't ruin my personal day!
Also, I wanted to see how many people would figure it out/how long it would take for it to become too obvious that this was a fandom thing. I was dropping names and RvB lore since the beginning. A few people did figure it out, and I DMed them in private to let them know.
Q: But why make the blog then?
A: Because I love to lie and be a nuisance to the general populace! <3
It was always my intent to wait until Carolina's perspective got posted (i am honestly still shocked i got away with "Carey/Georgia/West Virginia/Alabama/Miss Louisiana 1988"), let it simmer for about a day, then come clean. Which is what I'm doing now!
The reason I'm coming clean now instead of dragging it out is because I don't want anyone to feel stupid or like they got duped. You're not stupid! You were a part of this story! This was, as one anon said, a creative writing project. It was a collaboration! Thank you so much for helping me!
That said, I'm sorry to anyone that finds this disappointing! I had a blast doing this, but I will not be doing it again. I have gotten my fill. I have had my taste of being an influencer, and now I can go on with my life without ever feeling like I need to start a youtube channel.
Q: How did you keep up with a consistent timeline?
A: I didn't, especially at first. But in my time as a liar who lies about things, I have found that usually people are willing to believe you when you say "yeah, i lied about that".
Q: Wait, what about the thing with your kid?
A: Yeah, I fucked up on this one. In the other fic I was/am writing, Tucker was around 33. So, when I was saying what Junior's age was, I subtracted it from 33 and got 18. It wasn't until I was showing my partner the blog and they said "Wait, he had his kid at 13??????" that I realized I had fucked up. Oops!
Q: Was it really ALL fake?
A: For the most part. I will say that I did actually drop chocolate cake all over my tits that one time and had to shower by myself like a fucking loser. That one was true. I did also get my nails done for the first time ever, which did actually affect my typing. And I am in a band (but so is Tucker, canonically)! There are a few other things as well, but I don't want to list all of them.
Q: DID you ever read homestuck?
A: Nope. And I never will.
Even the title, though I will say that the title I came up with was "Leonard "Alpha Bitch" Church's Decidedly Not Lo-Fi Beats to Get Nasty and Get Clean To: The Movie"
Q: So there was never a combination sex/bathtime playlist?
A: Maybe! But perhaps more accurately: the combination sex/bathtime playlist was inside of you all along. You can make it. There are only three songs on there that are canon to the lore of this blog. Those are No Children by The Mountain Goats, Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Krutch, and one unknown song from the album Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV by Coheed and Cambria (Yep, the call was coming from inside the house, I gave Church my music taste). I had intended this to be Wake Up, but it's out of my hands now. The rest is yours to fill in.
Q: What's your main blog, so I can follow you?
A: Hi, this is aitadjcrazytimes. You're not getting that.
Q: Your AO3 handle?
A: Nope, not that either.
You will never find me. And that's the way I want it. You will see me in every blog. Every new follower. Every stranger you meet on the street. You will look into your discord kitten's eyes, and you will absently wonder if he was the one behind aitadjcrazytimes. And you will never know for certain.
Q: But-
A: Let me live on in your memory. The only person who knows both who I am and the fact that I did this is my partner, who is not into RvB or commonly on tumblr. I am not a RvB blog. I am not a writing blog. I am a nobody on the fringes of tumblr society who's been here long enough to know how to remain in the shadows.
And, even if you do manage to find me, against all odds:
No one will ever believe you.
I am closing my askbox. I am also closing my messages. If you have anything to say to Tucker or Me (tumblr user aitadjcrazytimes), you are welcome to do so in the replies or reblogs, but you will not be receiving an answer. I'll keep this blog up for anyone that wants to go through after the fact and do a deep dive or what have you.
Thanks to everyone who made this into the wild ride it was! Live long and get fucked or whatever! Xoxo <3
#final post#if you don't say goodbye then aitadjcrazytimes isnt really gone#they're just not here right now#<-so that was a fucking lie -tk from the future
373 notes
·
View notes
Text
More random details from the depths of RE8
With the excuse of trying some shiny new mods, I've been replaying RE8 lately for the umpteenth time. Given the number of hours I've already poured into this game, you'd really think there'd be nothing left to find by this stage ‒ yet here I am, finding still more details I'd somehow missed the first half-dozen times through.
For one, there's the fact you can actually find Eva's grave in the graveyard outside the church. As the only photo we ever see of her shows her as a baby, I'd assumed she was still a baby when she died, but turns out, she was ten years old.
"Eva, June 1909 ‒ August 1919
May you slumber for only a short while"
As expected, her death of the Spanish flu took place in 1919. There's some semi-legible text on the stone, but it doesn't match the caption ‒ it's just the same generic filler text you'll find on half the gravestone assets in this game.
For another, there's Rose's baby monitor. I'd noticed Ethan turning the thing on when he puts her to bed, and even found the assets for its screen ‒ but since I'd never found the monitor itself, I assumed they must be unused.
Until this playthrough, when suddenly I'm just like, oh, there it is, sitting right on the table. You can even interact with it!
How did I miss this so many times? It is pretty easy to overlook, given you'll trigger the cutscene with Mia if you go much closer to the kitchen, but I'm still surprised I never spotted it before. (And you do have to wonder if there was ever any plan for it to show a glimpse of something more sinister than just a still-image of Rose sleeping.)
In other minor details, there's the bit where Ethan arrives on the outskirts of the village at 8AM. You can hear a clock striking 8 times as you get your first view of area.
Granted, this is not going to excite anyone who hasn't spent as long as I have putting together an hour-by-hour timeline of everything that happens in this game, but I still do love that they give you enough detail that that's even possible ‒ and this new timestamp fits right into that timeline. (And why yes I have just gone back and updated that post, what do you take me for?)
Speaking of assets I thought were unused, you know that hidden room under the castle you can't get into until later, where you have to solve a puzzle that involves setting a moroaica on fire? Have you ever looked closely at the tapestries decorating this place? Because I found them in the game files ages ago, and have been trying to figure out if they're actually in the game ever since.
Because seriously, look at these things!
Yes, that is a indeed a man with a sword and spear, wearing a hoplite helmet and sandals and nothing else. And the women seeing him from the front seem to be having a whole range of reactions to all that, er, weaponry being brandished their way. Isn't fine art wonderful?
Another asset I'd innocently assumed was unused is this wonderful bit of bullshit which was labeled simply 'antibow'. It wasn't until I took a long look at it that I realised what they meant was more like 'anti-B.O.W.', as in Bio-Organic-Weapon.
Yes, that is indeed a knife taped to some kind of grenade. Sure is one high-tech outfit we're working with here!
Only now do I spot that this is actually the bomb Chris chucks at the Megamycete in the cavern. It doesn't even come with the knife already attached, he just kind of sticks the knife onto the bomb and presumably straps some tape around them while the camera cuts away.
I still have so much more to share from my ongoing free-camera adventures, but I think we'll leave this one there for today.
#Resident Evil Village#Rosemary Winters#Ethan Winters#Eva#Mother Miranda#Chris Redfield#RE assets#RE lore#Resident Evil#ununsed assets
136 notes
·
View notes
Text
GOLDEN HORIZONS AND BOLD TIDES
Hey guys! You remember my update about my Goldenheart Little mermaid fic that's been discontinued because I don't like the summary I made and that I'm gonna rewrite it in a different plot? Well I am while collabing with @long-distance-muse we've come up with some HC/Summary and stuff before the actuall fic cause why not (＾＾)人(＾＾)
HERE ARE SOME HEADCANONS/SUMMARY
• Valerin Adopted Bal when he was 2 years old, since his parents were killed that time and the incident gave him a scar on his face which makes him a prince of the merfolk kingdom
• Bal is a curious mer since forever, quite and shy yet he had an enchanting voice that would make anyone fall for him.
• Valerin would often tell stories of the world above from her point of view cause she knew how curious Bal is, and he loves hearing them.
• Merfolks below 16 are allowed to go above the surface if their acompanied by anyone above 16 which is the age of their adulthood.
• A merfolks life span is up to 300 years but when a human and a mers lips joined together for the first time, a mers lifespan would be cut into 200 and the human's lifespan would be the same.
• Merfolks would began to age really slowly when they reach 20 and so would a human if the 2 would kiss.
• When merfolks die their body dissolves into seafoam after their last breath and left what they last wore during their deaths.
• Bal own a garden where his most colorful flowers are gathered together of a circle like the sun.
• When Bal was 13 the noticed the guards brought home a statue of a young man around his age or maybe a year older and it was a head till it's chest.
• Bal somehow was mesmerized by it's young and handsome face, so he ask Valerin to keep the staue as a display for his garden and placed it in the center of the flowerbed and stare at it all day.
• Bal was also known for staring above, when the seas were calm, he would perch himself on a rock and stare upward for hours, watching the dim and distant star, lost in his own thoughts.
• On his 16th birthday the first thing he saw were the fireworks blasting off with different bright colors and stars in the sky so he sat on the nearest rock to gaze at it all night till the morning.
• A while after that night he found Nimona when she was in their shark form when he was collecting human items and together they would explore shipwrecks for human items.
• Nimona could have been adopted but prefer to be his Ward and Bal just accepts it.
• Nimona's still a shapeshifter and mistreated but the humans so she fled to the sea and decided to have her signature form as a mershark.
• At the age of 20, when Bal and Nimona went to the surface he spotted a ship with so many lights and music playing with the fireworks launching at the sky.
• Bal and Nimona reached the lifeboats to get a closer look, and from Bal's pov, he was amazed from the sight, so much joy, laughter, lanters glowing bright and music playing beautifuly with crafted instruments, and people were celebrating.
• But what caught his attention was him, Ambrosius, a Noble from a long bloodline of Knights, the center of attention and the man from his statue that must have grown.
• His heart was fluttered for he could not take his eyes of Ambrosius not even Nimona's voice can stop him.
• Soon a great big storm came, damaging everything from the ship, people panicked as Bal and Nimona got off the boats cause the humans are about to escape.
• Ambro wasn't able to reach the surface as he was drowning, Bal knew he was gonna die and had to save him and swim as fast as he can.
• The storm had calm while sun rose at it's peak, as Bal place Ambro laying down on the sand.
• For a moment Bal couldn't help but gaze at Ambro, his scaley hand carrassing his strong strucured face.
• He slowly placed a soft kiss in his forehead, breathing as Ambro had slowly opened his heavy eyelids halfway through but closes them again.
• Suddenly Bal heard footsteps of running and some shouting, meaning humans are coming so he heads back to the water as fast as he could and hid himself behind the rock.
• As the humans ran towards Ambro, they immediently carried his unconcoius body as Bal watches over while hiding.
• As he swam back to the sea, he couldn't stop thinking about the night he saved Ambro, how he first caught an eye on him and gaze into him.
• Every night he swims to the same shore where he dropped him off, sat on the rock on the shore, watches over Ambro sitting on the balcony as the moon shines bright, wandering on who saved him.
• He was desperate to tell Ambro that it was Bal who saved him and desperate to become human.
• He had no choice but to seek the sea witch as Nimona carefully and quietly follows him.
• Once he enters it's home, the seawitch didn't show her face but only it's eyes and tentacles.
• Bal asked and begged the witch to become human and so the witch agrees to do so.
• She warns him that if he gains true loves kiss with Ambro, before the morning after a year of being human, he'll have the ability to become human and merman anytime he wants, but if he doesn't he'll die and turns into seafoam.
• She also warns him that every step he takes would feel like he's walking on knives and broken glass.
• The seawitch reminds him that her offer isn't free since he must pay the price and that price would be 2 things he owns: his Arm and his tounge.
• So Bal accepts the offer as he lets the witch cuts his arm off and his tounge with her tentacles.
• After giving his tounge and arm to the seawitch, she immediently gathered everything to make the potion.
• Before handed the bottle to Bal once she's done, she also reminded him that he has to drink it on land before sunrise, and once he drinks it he'll feel the pain as if a swords pierce right through his body.
• Once Bal left the seawitch with the bottle he held onto, Nimona swam towards him begging him not to do this cause she doesn't want to lose him, his kissed her forehead and continues to swam up to the surface.
• Once he reaches the land, while the moon is at it's peak, he instantly drank the potion till it's empty, he groaned as if a knife plunged through him then his body collapsed as everything went to darkness.
• When Bal wakes up, the first thing he saw was Ambro looking at him, asking his name, and if he's alright, but since Bal couldn't speak, he stayed silent.
• Bal is taken in by an enchanted Ambrosius who feels a strange inclination to the mysterious stranger.
• He gets cleaned up and dressed in finery, which is when Nimona sneaks in and chews him out since Queen Valerin is worried and they’re mad that he just left them despite her asking not to leave them too (could be used to set up conflict on a sequel) but they ultimately understand how love can make people do stupid things so she lends her help as long as Bal doesn’t do anything stupid like turn into seafoam.
• In his rooms which Ambro gave Bal to rest in, he was trying to practice walking, it was hard and painful at first due to the seawitch's warning, but he learns to get ignore her and gotten used to walking more.
• Bal haves dinner with Ambs and they get to know each other better. Ambs starts theorizing that Bal might be royal because of his etiquette, wit and hopes so cause he down bad right now.
• The next day, they go on a date in the village, and they accidentally cause a scene where Bal’s feet hurt too much that he collapses and Ambs catches him. But that makes the hood he wears fall down, revealing that the noble was in town with a stranger.
• This makes it to the director, who is a guest who was staying with the insistence of Amb’s parents to help them set him up for a political marriage that would increase their political power while making Ambs happy. But the director just wanted another noble in the palm of her hands.
• For almost a year, the Director starts sabotaging their hangouts and tries to constantly embarrass Bal to the point that he is ‘commoner’, there are rare times that her plan worked but most of them didn't.
• Nimona catches on to her plan and informs Bal, who goes toe to toe with the director in the court.
• Ambs sees Bal in his element, and realizes that it was Bal who saved him from the storm, he wants to marry him whether he’s a noble or a commoner.
• Director realizes that the stranger is more of a threat than she realizes, so she switches tactics and instead of trying to chase him out, resolves to kill him.
• Nim, Bal, and Ambs notice and react differently. Nim tries to find a solution to bring Bal back to the sea where he’s safer. Bal starts second guessing because of one trap where Nimona got hurt in. and Ambrosius realizes that the person he loves is in danger and resolves to confront and stop the director before she kills him.
• Ambs confronts the director and is backed into a corner of either he marries the woman she arranges for him or his lover dies and he agrees to save Bal, and Bal overhears that Ambs agreed to marry another and is heartbroken.
• Looking for Nimona to make sure they go back safely and to turn into seafoam from despair.
• For the afternoon till sunset, he sat on a rock at the shore thinking about his death, and for the first time now as a human, tears from his eyes had shed down through his face from all the pain and suffering he's in, all of those sacrifices for nothing.
• Nimona finds Ballister in tears, learns about what happened, and shows him the dagger that she trades her hair for the seawitch, and tells him that he can return to a merman if he just draws Amb’s blood.
• Bal is conflicted but he doesn’t wanna leave Nimona alone with all the hair they have given up for (cause death is significantly harder to arrange visits for) and hides the dagger under his pillow.
• Ambs bursts in, sees Nimona and Bal, Nimona shifts and hides behind Bal and Ambs is afraid. Now Bal realizes he truly has to pick between the sea and land.
• Bal shields Nimona behind him and approaches Ambs, hugging him sadly before leading him to his bed. He beckons Nimona closer.
• Nimona explains situation, Ambs shares his side, lovers realize they can’t be together and Ambs takes the knife and lightly drags it over his heart, just enough to cause blood to spill on Bal.
• Bal faints from the pain of transforming again then lands on Amb's arms, he carries his body to the sea, where Queen Valerin waits for them after Nimona spilled the beans.
• Bal spent the next few weeks in his room in sadness thinking how he never got to say goodbye to Ambro, that 2 worlds can't be together, and most importantly that he trade his tounge, his arm for nothing, forever will he spent the rest of his 300 years of living in silence, but alteast he'll keep his memories of him.
• Valerin ensuing shovel talk and slight respect for the human who cared enough for her son to agree to a loveless marriage.
• Not only Ambro's parents find out the Director's plan but also that Bal was a merman and it was him that saved Ambro, and gave him their blessings immediently.
• Ambs sets Bal down and kisses him on the lips, magic sparkles, Bal got his voice back and finally can now be human-merman.
• Val is impressed by the power of their love and grants Ambs the power to turn into a merman, his life span would extend into 200 years with Bal and offers them to wed in the oceanic courts.
• They wed, kiss, all the wedding night stuff if you’re into that and officially adopt Nimona.
• Head back to land the next day to a fuming Director, shows off the wedding rings, Queen Val shows up in her ocean queen glory and demands the director’s arrest for threatening her heir.
The redesign of Merman Bal is coming soon along with some art and more. But right now enjoy on this list that me and the amazing @long-distance-muse made together
(This is a mixture of the Hans Christian Anderson, Disney and some little inspiration of @mvjerbs Prince Ballister AU)
#ballister boldheart#nimona#ambrolister#ballister blackheart#ballister x ambrosius#ballsius#goldenheart#little mermaid#au#mermaid#merman
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bruinen's Eastern Shore - Part 1: Flight
This is set just prior to the events of the first Hobbit movie, so take that how you will. I'll probably have four parts for this fic. If anyone wants to be tagged for any future fics or updates, let me know and I'll start a taglist. Anyway, this is my first LotR related fanfic, so enjoy!
Cross-posted to AO3 here.
~*~
Elrond x Reader
[A/N: I haven't seen RoP, and I don't plan to, so this is Hugo Weaving's Elrond. All of my knowledge regarding this universe comes from the Jackson movies and the books.]
Warnings: Slow burn, Elf x Human romance, age gap (obviously, I mean, he's over 6000 years old), mentions of combat, death, blood, undefined magic (I'm winging it rn so uh...don't think about it too hard).
~*~
"Thank you again for taking the time to meet with me, Lord Elrond," the Man said as the pair walked through Elvish halls. The stone was older than the Human by several thousands of years, yet the Elf lord was there when they were first carved into bricks for construction. "I know your schedule is full to bursting–"
"Nonsense. I am always pleased beyond measure to speak with you, mellon-nin," the Elf interjected as they walked into his study. "Tell me, how are your people holding up with this new threat?"
That was precisely why the Man had come to Rivendell, in the first place. Even as nomads, Orc attacks used to be few and far between for his people, happening perhaps once or twice a year, but in the last six months alone, they'd repelled four assaults. Their losses were becoming concerning. The Man, their leader, decided that the time had come to seek advice and possibly assistance from one much wiser than he.
"They are shaken...frightened by even the smallest of things. The snap of a twig, a particularly loud howl from the wind..." The Elven host offered his guest a seat near his bookshelves - a quiet nook which he reserved for serious conversations or quiet contemplating - and took in his haggard expression. That Elrond understood more than anything. Remaining strong when you were just as afraid as the people whom you were trying to protect was a difficult task. Such endeavors could wear heavily on even the most seasoned and confident of commanders. "They are doing their best to remain strong, but I must confess, I-I am becoming less certain every day about the wisdom of my insistence that we keep moving. Perhaps we should find one good, defensive position and dig in..."
Elrond could see his dilemma.
"But if you took such an action, you would feel as though you were cowering, is that not so?" He offered no judgment and no solutions. Not yet. He wanted to guide his friend along the path to finding his own answer, not force his hand in one direction or the other. That was not his place. That was not his purpose.
The sigh that escaped the Man's lips was ragged, and his shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of all Middle Earth was upon him.
"I know 'tis prideful, but our people have never shied away from a fight. To dig ourselves into a trench...that would feel too much like desperation. And, each time the Orcs returned, they would know exactly where to find us and how many more it would take to breach our defenses," he muttered running a hand through his hair. Once vibrant and full of color, the strands were flecked with gray. The Elf lord was reminded quite starkly of how much of a toll time took upon the mortals. A pang of sorrow twisted through his heart. After over six thousand years of life, he was well aware that death was a natural part of life for those species who were irrevocably tied to mortality, but his heart ached no less for his friend's eventual fate. "If we keep moving, though, they still manage to find us. Each attack grows in strength. Every time, more and more of my people fall upon enemy blades."
Elrond nodded his head with sympathy and understanding.
"Have your people offered any suggestions about what you might do?"
The Man stood abruptly and began pacing.
"Mekor put forth the idea of joining with a stationary settlement - just until the hoards are cleared, you understand," he said, but he shook his head. "I did not tell him, but the last time we were near several of the major cities, I...scouted ahead. I spoke with their leaders, explained our situation."
"And?"
"And, they all said the same thing: 'I cannot in good conscience allow you to draw such large numbers of orcs to our gates.' The difference is that they at least have gates behind which they can defend themselves," the Man paused near the window overlooking the valley. "And you know why I cannot go to the Rangers."
The Lord of Imladris drew in a deep breath and stood, making his way to his friend's side and laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Is there any help that I could offer which you would accept, mellon?" His question was quiet and probing, yet free of judgment. Elrond knew well the pride of Men and their desire to act as independently as possible. That would not, however, stop him from helping where he could. He would even go so far as to bring these mortals into Rivendell to stay. It was, after all, a refuge for just such an occasion.
After a long moment of consideration, the Man cleared his throat and lifted his chin as if to preserve his dignity.
"Our swords are old. Chipped and cracking. Several shattered during the last skirmish. And our supply of arrows and bow strings is...woeful. The few who were skilled at replenishing both were killed two months ago."
"I'll have Lindir draw up a list of supplies. No matter how small your need is, please tell him everything. We are more than happy to give you whatever help you require," Elrond said, and he could have sworn that the Human's eyes were filling with unshed tears of gratitude. Neither Man nor Ellon mentioned it. Trying to restore his friend's smile, at least to a small degree, the Elf lord changed the subject. "Tell me, how is your daughter faring through all of this?"
The grin that stretched the Man's lips was warm; the love he held for his only child shone brightly in his eyes, restoring some semblance of youth to his weathered features.
"She believes that this is all one big adventure. Though she be only a few years old, she is curious...asking more questions than I rightly know how to answer," he stated proudly. "She has her mother's intellect, and I am glad of it. I am no teacher, but I've managed to convey to her the meaning of a few words of your language."
Surprise was surely evident upon Elrond's face at his friend's declaration.
"Mellon-nin, I am honored."
"She'll need to be able to communicate with your people once she discovers what she is." The Human reached into his pocket and pulled out a small book, flipping it open and retrieving a loose piece of paper. "My late wife, as you know, was the artist of the family, however..."
He trailed off as he offered the page to his host. Elrond took it carefully, looking at the sketch of a little girl.
"Your daughter?" He asked almost reverently as he took in her joyful expression. Even in this simple drawing he could see the intelligence behind her eyes. After a few moments' keen observation, he tried to hand the drawing back to the Man who'd created it but was gently refused.
"Keep it. I brought you that, my dear friend, because if something happens to me...I want you to be familiar with her likeness. It will likely be vastly outdated by the time you meet her, but 'tis better than nothing." The somber tone of voice made Lord Elrond pause. "She is more important to me than all of Middle Earth, and if...if the Orcs take me from her, I must know that someone in this world knows to look out for her..."
Setting the sketch on his desk, the Elf placed his hands on his friend's shoulders.
"Should either of you ever need help, I will be there. She will have every protection that I can possibly afford her," he promised.
"There is...something else," the Man murmured looking into his friend's eyes. "It could be no more than an old man's imagination, but things have happened around her. Small things. Rain repelled from her as if it cannot touch her. Ripples in a pond by which she sits, though no breeze caressed the water's surface."
Elrond's posture straightened further at this new information. He knew that the blood of Númenor was thin in most, but if this was true, his friend's daughter might have a rare gift.
"Have no fear, mellon-nin. Your daughter will find her path, and if I can, I will gladly help her."
By the time of the Man's departure from Rivendell, Elrond had prepared a gift. With the weapons and extra supplies that he presented, the Lord of Imladris had one other item to offer. Opening a small, wooden box carved with Sindarin script, he revealed a silver necklace. The craftsmanship of his people was evident in the intricate curls and swirls of the metal. In the center was a forest green gem that, to the Man, seemed to glow with its own light.
"This is for your daughter. The pendant is a symbol of our protection - proof that she has favor with us. All she ever need do is show this to any Elf, and they will do whatever is necessary to assist her. If none of my people are near, she need only touch it and ask for help," Lord Elrond promised, and as if the gem could hear him, it pulsed with a warm, affectionate glow. The girl's father looked from the necklace to his friend, and this time a tear slid down his cheek as he offered his profuse gratitude. "I would be remiss to do anything less, mellon-nin."
After tucking the box safely away in his saddlebag, the Man embraced his friend. Neither knew that it would be for the last time.
--
"If you find yourself in danger, seek the elves of Rivendell."
My father repeated that to me more times than I could count as soon as I was old enough to comprehend the meaning behind his words. Our people were nomadic, constantly moving from place to place, setting up camp wherever we found ourselves. Every time we stopped, he made sure that I knew two things:
The first was the location of the nearest source of water.
The second was the way to Rivendell from our temporary encampment.
Long before I was brought into this world, my father ensured that we were on friendly terms with the steward of the valley. Each time we were even remotely close to Imladris, he made a point of speaking with the Elven lord.
Once, when I asked what Lord Elrond looked like, he brought out a small box of my mother's sketches. Rifling through them, he made a triumphant sound when he found the one he sought. Setting the box carefully aside on his bedroll, he had me sit beside him and turned the page toward me.
"The last time your mother and I visited, she made a point of drawing him. You must remember his face, my little love. One day you might need to request his help as I have done."
Much of the time, our wandering took us far from that sacred valley and the river that flowed before it. The final time that my father was able to visit, he brought back a gift. A necklace.
But it wasn't just a necklace. There was something about it that sent a wave of calm assurance through me. A sense of safety permeated my being every time I touched it. The cool metal seemed impervious to the elements, never rusting or tarnishing, as only the skill of the elves could accomplish. More than once over the years, I found myself looking at the pendant, wondering about the being who'd given me something so obviously unique on a whim.
Two decades and a handful of years later, I found myself sprinting through the trees with half of our remaining people. We were twelve desperate souls, flying through the underbrush with a hoard of Orcs behind us. Every few steps, I aimed an arrow behind me and prayed that it hit its mark upon my release.
"Come on! We're almost to the river!" I shouted, and my father's second in command, Mekor, let out an answering shout as we approached the ford. The snarls of Orcs and their Wargs nipped at our heels, urging us to move faster.
As much as it hurt, I was forced to ignore a terrified shout as the pack swallowed up one of our tired stragglers. This was a last ditch effort. If we stopped, we'd die.
Eleven.
Struggling for breath, I urged my people toward the sound of the Bruinen River and its eastern shore. Arrows from our pursuers flew through the trees, embedding themselves deeply within trunks and flesh alike. A few screams began and were silenced abruptly.
How many was that? Two? Four? No, we could count our dead once we were safe. Any who fell behind at this point were beyond our ability to save. Fifty Orcs against less than a dozen Humans? We would be lucky if any of our number survived the crossing.
Aiming another arrow backward, I allowed myself a moment's relief at the injured shriek of a Warg and the sickening crunch of its rider's bones as both crashed to the ground. Adrenaline rushed through me as the treeline appeared before us. The grass beneath our feet became a mix of pebbles and sand, rocks and mud.
"Quickly! Cross the river! Make for the eastern shore!" I shouted, and a few of the remaining people in our group echoed the sentiment. Two were cut down before they cleared the trees, their gurgling cries sending a bolt of helplessness through me even as I nocked and released arrows to buy time and space for my people. A few splashes reached my ears, and I prayed they'd make for the trees.
A yell of my name sounded from behind me.
"Come on! Get clear!" Mekor sounded much closer than I would've preferred. I needed him to live.
There were too many of them for me to hold off alone, so I turned and ran, beginning to cross the ford as quickly as I could. The pendant beneath my shirt thrummed against my skin, and an arrow whizzed by my ear so close that I could feel the displaced air from its fletching. That was too close for comfort. Much too close.
For the most part, the Orcs were afraid to cross into this territory. The Elves defended their land fiercely against such filth, after all, and very few of the cretins were stupid enough to seal their fate so definitively. However, a few who were brave enough - or perhaps foolish enough - to risk death started into the water after me. Not yet having reached the shore, I turned, grasping for arrows, but my quiver was empty. With a quiet oath, I turned and ran toward the trees. My boots were drenched, my lungs ached, and I blinked away sorrowful tears at having lost so many souls so quickly.
With a forest as ancient as this, the trees were rumored to whisper to each other and to those who remembered how to listen. The Elves listened.
Lord Elrond listened.
"Get to the trees!" I shouted, then I dug my hand into my shirt and grabbed the pendant. "Help us! Please! We're dying!"
The few brave Orcs who made it across and had not been shot down instantly apparently lent courage to their fellows. The Warg riders began to cross the racing waters, and I felt a horrible sense of dread settle into the pit of my stomach. The sight of boots disappearing into the trees was all well and good, but the Orcs would follow.
Someone had to make sure that they were distracted.
I had but one shot.
--
About an hour before he and his soldiers engaged the Orc hoard, Lord Elrond of Imladris had a vision. His gift of foresight showed a group of terrified Humans racing across the Bruinen with countless Orcs behind them. He was about to send out his guard, but the face of the young woman fighting so hard to protect the others made him pause.
He knew her face. She was older now - quite obviously an adult - but he still recognized the intelligence in her eyes and the determined set to her jaw.
More than that, the sparkle of the pendant that had escaped the collar of her shirt made him freeze. Icy dread washed over him as the vision changed to show her fleeing toward the trees. Her voice floated into his ears as easily as if she'd been standing right beside him.
"Help us! Please! We're dying!"
Elrond did not hesitate.
"Lindir!" He shouted as he began donning his armor. The younger Elf rushed into his lord's study. "Lindir, have my horse saddled. And ready a group of fighters. Hurry! Orcs are coming!"
When Elrond and his warriors caught sight of the group, the Orcs and Warg riders had just begun crossing the river. The glimpse he'd caught an hour before of her hair swishing over her shoulder as she fought repeated itself before his eyes, including her plea for help which now sounded as it should - like a whisper echoing through his very being, drawing him toward her. As he watched, she doubled back on her path, rushing back into the water.
She was trying to draw the focus of the Orcs away from her people - there weren't many Humans left. He urged his horse faster, his heart a racing drumbeat in his chest accompanying the galloping of his mount. He would not allow his friend's daughter to die within his borders while these lands were his to protect!
He'd just drawn his sword when the river's water began to whirl around her. Creating a wall between the Orcs and the remaining Humans, the water roared and flared with a shout from the woman. She lifted her arms, shoved them forward as if pushing a heavy weight, and the wall of water crashed over the majority of her enemies, washing them away as easily as pebbles in a current.
Magic. She'd performed magic! Her father had been right all those years ago.
But it was not the time to ponder her abilities. The time had come for him to fulfill his promise.
She'd bought just enough time for Elrond and his riders to reach the Orcs and cut down those who remained. Blades hissing and flashing, the Elves felled them easily.
By the time he turned back to the river, he saw her collapse onto the sandy bank, panting for air. He recognized the sight instantly: she'd overextended herself. Dismounting with a swish of his cloak, Elrond ran to her side, dropping to his knees and sheathing his blade before turning her gently onto her back.
Her glassy, exhausted gaze met his, and recognition flashed through her clever eyes.
"Elrond o Imladris, boe ammen veriad lîn." The words fell easily from her tongue despite how close she was to unconsciousness. She'd practiced them before.
"You have it, my lady," Elrond murmured, and almost as soon as the words passed his lips, her eyelids closed and she went limp in his grasp. He lifted her into his arms, cradled her close to his chest for one selfish moment, and with a few orders to his men to round up any survivors, the Elves brought their charges into the Hidden Valley.
~*~
Elvish Translations:
mellon-nin = my friend
Elrond o Imladris, boe ammen veriad lîn. = Elrond of Imladris, we need your protection.
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
A not-complete list of wonderful changes, translation and localization I noticed when I went to see Book of Mormon in Madrid!
Hey! So I went to see The Book of Mormon last month in Madrid, and since I had watched (bootlegged) and listened to the original production, I was able to enjoy some changes they made so it could be enjoyed by spanish audiences!
First off, I should say that it wasn’t a replica production (and I think I much prefer this one!). The choreography was amazing, and definitely more elaborate than on broadway ! Here, have a look: https://youtu.be/NZ5UxjN2MPs?si=UErYQUODo5Qs-EMC
Some of the first changes I wondered how they were going to make was the opening number: both Hello and Hola have the same syllables but hola cannot be used, since the accent falls on the first syllable in hola and the second in hello….. so spanish mormons just end up saying how are you (¿qué tal?) 😂
Second change comes during the second number, two by two: one of the jokes is weirdly untranslatable, which is the addendum at the end of the phrase “we are the soldiers of the church of jesus christ (of latter day saints)”. Since in spanish “of la-tter day saints” (5 syllables) would be “de los úl-ti-mos dí-as” (7 syllables), they changed it to “yo-soy-mor-món” (i am a mormon) which fits! There is a joke lost, but mormonism isn’t as widespread as it is on the US, so it’s hardly noticeable.
This one is mostly to update the content, but during two by two when the trip to japan gets announced, the mormons are excited about soy sauce and godzilla (instead of mothra)
Next comes a change i also wondered about: how do you make a joke out of Elder Price’s wish to go to Orlando, of all things? In the English version, Elder Price would like to go to orlando because of Sea World, Disney and putt-putt golfing: spaniards have no cultural knowledge of what Orlando is, so the translated line is “Orlando! Disney me espera, soy fan de Frozen” (Orlando! Disney is waiting for me, I’m a Frozen fan) which really drives home the ridiculousness of choosing that place as your mission trip. Also, if you watch the video i linked, the joke is super amplified through choreography, which is part of why i love this production so much.
Hasa diga eebowai gets one change Very right: instead of saying fuck you god, they say “me cago en dios” (i shit on god) which is a very common way of cursing about things in spain: you can shit on the milk (me cago en la leche), on your mother (me cago en tu madre) and indeed, you can shit on god!
One fun localization comes in at the end of All-American prophet, a song that’s basically a sales pitch or infomercial : the fun little gag at the end where Elder Cunningham says “if you order now, we’ll also throw a seat of steak knives” gets changed to “if you order now, we’ll throw in a thermomix for free” For people who don’t know, a thermomix is The Product everyone gets from infomercials/ through independent sellers: it’s a chopper/blender/cooker/scale/kitchen robot, very convenient! My mother has one :) one of the ugandan ladies asks Cunningham about the thermomix inmediatly after finishing the number and he excitedly begins explaining the whole shtick every middle aged spanish lady has heard before, that got a big laugh :)
In the sequence before spooky mormon hell dream, when Elder Price’s so happy that he finally reaches Orlando, he throws in another elsa joke, saying that he’s blonde like her, so thats why she likes her😂
During Spooky mormon hell dream, one change that got Such a big laugh was seeing the four people that are in hell according to Elder Price: Genghis Khan, Hitler, Jeffrey Dahmer and, instead of Jonnie Cochran (idk even who he is) we got Silvio Berlusconi, politician and founder of communications company Mediaset, which runs a thrash tv channel called Telecinco (and that’s what he’s in hell for, according to the song)
The thing elder cunningham always says “tomorrow’s a latter day” gets changed to a saying a lot of catholic old people say, “mañana dios dirá” which both fits in the metric and localizes it, since mormonism isn’t that well known.
And that’s it! It was such a wonderful performance, and a testament to the beauty of translation: even if i know I understand English fairly well, seeing the jokes on my native language made everything 100x times funnier! Strongly recommend!
#the book of mormon#tbom musical#tbom#translating#musicals#musical theatre#musical theater#localization#translation#broadway#spanish#spain#madrid#spanish culture
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
ALISTAIR THEIRIN QUOTES
* dialogue from dragon age: origins, updated version
excuse me while i begin projectile vomiting.
you were the first person i ever spent the night with, and if i had my way... you'd be the last.
do you think you might ever... feel the same way about me?
will you miss it once it's over?
i care for you so much.
i love you. more than i ever thought possible.
i wish i could be better at this.
you know that i've never done anything like this. with anyone.
i guess i was raised not to take this sort of thing lightly.
it's just like being home again.
i can't run away from it anymore.
given the circumstances, things could have been so much worse.
i locked myself in a cage once, when i was a child. for an entire day. ah. good times.
i'm willing to... give it a shot. if you are.
aw, that's sweet.
you're beautiful. i am a lucky man.
i know it might sound strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but i've come to... care for you. a great deal.
now's as good a time as any to talk, right?
i'm so grateful that you're... you.
let's get back to... what we were up to before.
i hope it hasn't... put you off.
anyway, uh, sorry about that. i'll take it from you right now.
great. they just love me.
i was just thinking about you! isn't that a marvelous coincidence?
now that i've handled that with my usual deft brilliance, time to move on! and take a cold bath, maybe.
locking the door and throwing away the key was plan b.
is it just me, or did i do really badly back there?
don't look now... but. well. look now!
i don't think we're alone. i really don't think we're alone.
all right! let's go!
oh? you want to... right now? well, who am i to refuse?
um... that sounded better in my head. i just meant to say that i can't imagine having done this without you.
we're not exactly traveling in the lap of luxury here.
you feel that? it's actually colder up here.
is this place even on a proper map?
look at it all!
i'll be... standing over here. until the blushing stops. just to be... uh. safe. you know how it is.
maybe it likes you?
swooping is bad.
what is it, then? rats running amok? cheese supplies running low?
i see you can't sleep, either.
i was just thinking... here i am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself.
why are you smiling like that?
that just seems so excessive.
are you just making these up right now?
now that's dedication!
it's all been death and fighting and tragedy.
make fun of you? perish the thought.
old books. you think any of those might still be readable?
do you get the feeling things are just getting worse as we go up?
more crazy? i thought we were all full up.
i thought maybe i could say something. tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this... darkness.
they say you can get anything here. i once got pick-pocketed.
this is where the nobility come to get drunk and debate who's the most self-important of them all.
we get lost, people die, and the next thing you know i'm stranded somewhere without any pants.
now that's just unnecessary.
have you ever licked a lamppost in the winter?
can't... keep my eyes open. someone... pinch me.
where do you think they get all this stuff?
oh! here i am! and there you are! you just disappeared!
why do they call it a brothel? there's no broth. or is there?
we're not going to be mobbed, right?
now that is a big tree.
i hate you. you're a bad person.
i'm not falling asleep again!
we seem to be heading... up? yes. i think these caves are going up to the surface.
can we expect more of those?
what is that smell? fish? and something else. oh. more fish.
uh oh. i'm terrible at puzzles.
i know most guys would probably leap at the chance to be with you, but i don't know if i'm ready for that. it's a big step.
maybe i should touch them. or stand on them?
pleased to meet you. nice campfire you have there.
let's try not to get lost here.
bluff called! damn! you saw right through me!
i think there's something ahead. something big.
you have my condolences.
and here i was going to name one of my children after you.
you seem more "ooh, pretty colors!" than "muahaha! i am princess stabbity! stab, kill, kill!"
i gazed, glanced in that direction, maybe. but i wasn't staring. or really... seeing anything, even.
what? lead? me? no no no. no leading. bad things happen when i lead.
they're really quite tasty.
we take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color.
watch as i thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements!
i will overpower you with my rosy scent!
i was looking at your nose.
your desire is my command.
i guess that must make me sound like an idiot.
just what every man wants to hear.
now if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, i'd appreciate it.
#rp meme#rp starters#rp memes#rp prompt#rp musings#roleplay inbox prompts#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#roleplay meme#writing prompt#askbox meme#ask memes#rp asks#ask meme#inbox meme#inbox prompts#inbox prompt#rp inbox meme#sentence starter#sentence starters#sentence starter prompt#mcflymemes#alistair theirin#dragon age#da:o#dragon age origins
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
Build Me Up - Chapter 2
Pairing: William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader
Word Count: 2600+
Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!
Warnings: Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes: So holy shit, it’s been a year and what, 4 months since I updated this fic? I stumbled upon this chapter in my drafts, 99% completed. I have no idea why I never released it! I am so sorry it’s taken me this long to post but I promise I have a plan for this fic and will update it in a more timely manner. Maybe.
**Reader is not described
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Build Me Up Masterlist
General Masterlist
<<Chapter 1
Will picks you up at 6pm to get some pizza before the movie. As dinner goes on, you can see he’s relaxing around you, seeing that you’re not going to run away. After pizza, you head to the theater to see some action movie. You honestly didn’t care what movie you saw as long as it was with Will. And now that you’re sitting in the theater, you hoped no one would be quizzing you on the plot, because you were hardly paying attention.
After the popcorn and snacks were consumed, you laid your head on Will’s shoulder. He immediately lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you in as tight as he could in the theater chairs. For a few minutes, you just breathed him in: he was warm and smelled like pine and soap. Even with just his arm around you he made you feel safe, protected. Shit I really like this guy.
Then you noticed his hand, the one that had been resting around your shoulder. His fingers started tracing the skin on your shoulder, little invisible circles and lines being drawn on your skin, sending goosebumps across your arm. His touch leaves a jolt of electricity in its wake and you can feel your heartbeat quicken. Some explosion happens on screen and you don’t even flinch, solely focused on the lines he’s tracing into you.
Then his hand starts to move. Tracing lines across your collarbone and repeating the same motions there, the shoulder he just left tingling at the loss of contact. He stays at your collarbone for a few minutes before his fingers start to move lower, eventually lightly brushing across the very top of your boob, dipping below the cut of your shirt.
Unable to stop yourself, you audibly gasp and chance a peripheral glance at his face, finding a smirk dancing across his face. Two can play at that game.
You snuggle in closer, allowing him more room to touch you, but at the same time, you place your hand on his thigh and echo his movements there, gradually moving your hand up his leg. You make it about halfway before he shifts in his seat, trying to covertly adjust himself. A smirk appears on your face now and you both sit there, continuing your movements, trying to see who cracks first.
You never find out because the movie ends and you file out with the rest of the movie goers, Will chatting away about the movie.
“What was your favorite part, Robin?” He asks as you pull out of the parking lot.
“Uh…what?”
“Of the movie.”
“Oh. Um-” your brain desperately tries to remember something, anything from the movie. “-the car chase scene.”
“The car chase scene.”
“Yup. So cool.”
Will glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Which one?”
Shit.
“Um, the second one?”
“The second one?”
“Yeah.”
“Robin, there weren’t any car chase scenes.”
Shit.
“Yeah there was!”
“No, there wasn’t. The movie was set in the 1800s.”
Will pulls into your driveway and you hop out of the car, quickly trying to think of an excuse as Will comes around the truck to walk next to you.
“Oh, yeah no I meant horses.”
Really?
“You mixed up cars and horses?”
“Yeah because of the…horsepower.”
He starts chucking. “What, Will?”
“You didn’t watch the movie.”
“I-I did!”
His smile is bright and as he stops in front of your door, he turns that smile to you, adding fuel to the fire that had been simmering inside of you, causing you to swallow hard.
“What was so distracting that you couldn’t even remember it was a Western?”
“I-” His eyes are boring into you, twinkling with mirth because he knows exactly what was distracting you. He just wants you to say it.
“I was tired?” You said it more as a question and mentally chided yourself.
Will takes a step towards you as you take a step back towards the door.
“Tired?”
“Yeah-Yup.”
Another step. Now your back is against your front door.
“I think you’re full of shit.”
“I’d like to be full of something else.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, but a second later you don’t even care.
Will breaks almost immediately after your comment, pulling your chin towards him and kissing you, pushing his tongue inside your mouth as you dance yours around his. You wrap your leg around his and pull him closer, winding your fingers in his blonde locks and tugging ever so slightly. You feel how wet you already are and can feel Will straining against the denim of his jeans.
He pulls back a moment later to look at you. “Can I come inside?”
“Oh fuck yes. OH you meant the house!” Heat rises to your cheeks as Will chuckles, kissing you once more before barely pulling back his lips.
“I meant your house, but good to know.”
You kiss him deeply once more, tugging a little harder on his hair before you let go and push him back a step, turning to jam your key into the lock. You miss the keyhole a few times because Will’s hands have come to rest on your hips and he is flush up against you, using your ass to relieve some of the pressure building in his jeans.
Finally, you shove the key in the lock and open your door, quickly stepping inside, Will never taking his hands off of you. You slam the door shut and lock it, tossing your keys on the little table next to the door. Will spins you around and grabs your hips again, kissing you deeply. He feels a little hesitant and you know why. Pushing him back slightly, you look up into his blue eyes and take his hand, pulling him with you as you turn on a few lights.
“Living area-” you gesture around, “-kitchen,” you point across the room to an open concept kitchen. “Patio door is next to the fridge. It’s screened in but it’s an exit. This way-” you gesture to the hall “-on the right is a bedroom and bathroom and on the left is…my room. Also has a bathroom. No roommates, no pets. Windows all slide open.”
Will stares at you in awe. “How did you-…right. Your family.”
You nod. “Yeah. They always have to know where all the points of entry and exit are, if there’s any other living thing in the house, have their backs to a wall. I know.”
“You made sure we had a table where I could see the doors and have my back to a wall at dinner.”
You smile coyly. “Well, yeah. I wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”
The words barely leave your lips before he’s on you again, kissing you and biting your lips. He starts to walk you backwards down the hall as you unbutton his shirt and slide it off his arms, letting it fall to the floor. He copies and tugs your shirt up as you separate to raise your arms. It’s then you see his chiseled form, your hand reaching out to touch his abs.
“Holy shit, Will. You’re ripped.”
His chest puffs out a little with pride at your praise and he slides his hands around you, making quick work of your bra clasp. It falls to the floor to join the parade of clothes down your hallway and Will moves his hands to open your pants as you try to open his. Your moves are desperate, frantic, both trying to move quickly. You back into your room as you both slide your pants down, kicking them off somewhere in the room. You move to take off your underwear, but Will grips your wrist.
“Lay down on the bed.”
His command goes straight to your core as you scramble up your bed, trying to do what he said as quickly as you can. He crawls up your body, eyes dark with lust, and hovers over you as he kisses you again, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck before they find your boobs. He pulls one into his mouth and sucks hard and you cry out as he starts to swipe his tongue over your nipple. Your hand flies to the back of his head as you hold him there, moaning his name. He moves to the other boob and repeats the same motions, but this time he brings his hand up and pinches your other nipple just a little and you yell out at the slight pain. “Fuck!”
He starts a path of kisses down your stomach and stops at your panty line, his fingers pulling the fabric down just a tiny bit and he licks there, making his way around the shape of your panties. When he gets to your inner thighs he starts to suck a hickey, noticing the growing wet patch on your underwear. He hooks two fingers into your panties and yanks them down and off, tossing them across the room. He prys your legs open as he settles between them, staring at the apex of your thighs. He’s taking more time than you’d like and you swear you might die from anticipation.
“Touch me Will. Please touch me.”
He gives you a smirk before his attention is back on your pussy, his hand sliding down your inner thigh and pausing just before he reaches your slit. You know you’re leaking by this point, swear you can feel it dripping down you.
Will picks his hand up and gently pushes his pointer finger inside you and you cry out at finally being touched. He pushes all the way in and slides his finger out before adding a second. He slowly slides his fingers in and out of you, watching as your arousal coats his hand. He slides his fingers in and then curls them, tapping around to try and find your spot. After a few taps, he hits something glorious, causing your body to twitch and you to let out a moan.
“There she is,” he says with a slight drawl.
He starts tapping that spot inside you as he reaches his other hand around and gathers up some arousal from your leaking core and slides it up your slit, finally gliding up to rub small circles into your clit.
“Oh fuckfuckfuck! That feels..” you get lost in the sensations, tense and beautiful at the same time. You feel that fire building inside you and you grip Will’s wrists, halting his movements, noticing his hips grinding on your bed.
“I want you inside me when I come.”
“Fuck!” Will yells out as he pulls his hands from you, standing to yank his boxers off, his cock springing free. You see how endowed he is and you clench around nothing, your pussy waiting to be filled. He lines up with you, the tip of his cock touching your entrance and he grips your chin.
“Look at me.” Your eyes meet his and he pushes inside of you, your mouth open in a silent scream as he slowly inches his way to the back of you. Once he bottoms out, he slides out just as slowly and you feel every inch of him as your pussy tries to grip him. He starts to push in again and you close your eyes, the sensations overwhelming you gloriously. He stops and tightens his grip on your chin.
“Look at me.”
You lock eyes with him as he pushes in slowly again, bottoming out. He doesn’t pull out this time, but thrusts deeper somehow, which not only hits a spot inside you but also rubs on your clit. You whine out, your eyes still locked on his. He grips your leg and pulls it up on his hip, changing the angle and somehow going deeper. He moves with slow deep thrusts, watching your facial expressions and listening to the little sounds you give him as you move under him.
“Oh fuck, Will. You’re..you…feel so..” You close your eyes again to relish the sensation and he lets you, focusing on his own pleasure. He leans down and takes a boob in his mouth and you whine loudly, curling your fingers in his hair. You tug a little and Will starts to speed up, moving a little faster. You pull his hair again and his speed increases and he nips at your boob, causing you to yelp a little in a pain/pleasure response. You suddenly feel like Will is really holding back, but you tuck that away to think about later as you feel your orgasm coming.
“Will, I’m gonna-”
He grips your chin again and you open your eyes, a sea of blue staring back at you. Never pulling out, he makes quick, deep thrusts, punching that magic spot inside you and rubbing your clit. You yell his name, throwing your head back as he fucks you through it, digging your nails into his arms. Only a few short thrusts after he’s coming himself, letting out slightly high pitched moans as he fills you. He rests his forehead on your chest, both of you breathing heavy as you run your fingers through his hair.
Will stays like that for several more moments before pulling out with a hiss, moving to grab something to clean you up with. You reach for the cloth but he pulls it back and gives you a look. Laying back down with your hands up in concession, Will pushes your legs apart and starts to dab at your sensitive core, your thighs jumping at the touch. You’re not sure what happened but suddenly the cloth is tossed aside and he’s knuckle deep inside of you, curling his fingers and pulling out sounds you’d never heard before as you grip the sheets, screaming his name when he leans over and sucks on your clit. Will sits up, wiping you off him with the rag as he watches you, splayed out and chest heaving.
“Sorry, darlin’. I just couldn’t help myself.”
“Never…apologize…for that.”
He chuckles, this time actually handing you a cloth to clean up with. When you manage to walk to the shower, Will follows and you pull him in with you, pulling another orgasm each before the shower is done. After, you dry off and slide under the blankets still naked, turning to look at Will. He’s standing there, towel wrapped around his waist, looking…lost?
“Will? You just gonna stand there or?”
“I uh…do you want me to stay?”
“Oh. I mean, I want you to but you don’t have-”
“No, no. I’ll stay.”
Will moves around the bed, dropping the towel on the floor before he slides in beside you, pulling you into his chisled chest and kissing the spot on your neck that starts to spark something between your thighs.
“Night, darlin’.” Will whispers in your ear.
“Good night, Will.”
When you wake in the morning, Will is there, coffee already made and you think “I could get used to this.”
—----
>>Chapter 3>>
General Taglist:
@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby-blog @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21@gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics
#will miller x reader#will miller x you#will miller x f!reader#will miller x female reader#will miller#william miller#willilam ironhead miller#will ironhead miller#triple frontier#triple frontier fanfic#triple frontier fan fic#triple frontier ff#charlie hunnam#charlie hunnam character fanfic#charlie hunnam character fanfiction#charlie hunnam character ff#charlie hunnam characters#build me up
135 notes
·
View notes
Note
I just read prompts are still open soooooo....
A tiny little update on pray to the hunters?
Maybe a flashback to the first time Alec succesfully called the weapons to him?
Thank you my friend. (Also i just read Nightshade got into a fight with a bee, i hope he is okay now and give him many cuddles from his fans😁)
here we go! little alec figuring out his path in life!
it's not quite the weapons but its the first time alec reaches out and it opens the path for him
aw thank you!!! i am giving them to him and he is a sad little pupper with droopy eyes going 'i need more cuddles and treats i feel awful'
he is doing much better! besides stopping to try and guard from every flying insect when he goes outside to potty. he also tried to drag me away from a bee because 'oh no! an attack! run baba run!'
he loves cuddles though so i assure you he's very appreciative. sometimes he just lays inbetween saeth and i with all four paws in the air snoring and he only wakes up to grumble in protest if one of us hasn't petted him recently enough
<3 hope you enjoy
lumine
pray to the hunters
—
Alec hides in the embrace of a stone angel, curled into the cracking base and tucked under a veil of weeds as he sits and waits. The nephilim searching for him pass him by not once, but three times and even as they use tracking runes, they’re unable to find him.
Alec gives a silent, grateful prayer, not to Raziel but to the dead shadowhunters of his line who must be protecting him.
Raziel is an absent sire and all know that he is far too busy to waste his time on the broken hearts of his children. Alec wonders if it would be different, if any of his dead kin would speak softly to him or help him tend his wounds.
What cuts the deepest is the harsh disregard of both his parents and the responsibilities they continue to place on his shoulders. Alec knows the burden he bears is an honorable one, but that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes he feels his spine crumpling beneath the weight, rather than growing like it should.
His blood mixes with the gravedirt as another patrol passes by and Alec holds his breath until he’s almost dizzy with it, desperation in every line of his body because it’s too much, too soon.
Alec’s only just born his first rune and his parents think that means he’s now a full fledged shadowhunter. Reprimanding him when he can’t keep up with older hunters twice or nearly three times his own age. It’s gotten to the point where even the hunters who loathe his family are starting to send Alec sympathetic looks.
Alec hates them all the more because nothing has truly changed. The only thing different is that his parents are being more obvious about it, since not a single hunter is going to speak up for a Lightwood.
Not even one young enough to not bear runes.
It makes Alec hate them. All of them.
His parents and the hunters and Alec is proud of who he is but he hates who he’s becomming when hammered and filed till bits and pieces of him are breaking off so his parents can forge him into what they want.
A whisper starts up in the wind and Alec shudders without knowing why. He’s not cold — even as his breath crystallizes in the air — he feels content and relaxes, the pressure fading as his heartbeat slows and his blood pumps sluggishly in his veins.
There is something powerful about it, the balm to Alec’s many open wounds and Alec feels the most gentle embrace he’s ever felt, as cold, bony fingers harshly cup his heart.
“Please.” Alec murmurs tiredly as he falls asleep without really knowing why and when he wakes up, there is a strange rune shining silver on his forehead.
No one else seems to be able to see it, but there is a wariness that Alec is treated with that he prefers far more to the recent sympathy.
For once luck is in his favor and his parents are both called to Idris before they can find and discipline him for ‘failing to complete all his training’ the day before. Alec could probably make it up, go and throw himself into training until the hunters who let the Lightwood name be all they see beat him to the ground.
That’s normally enough for his parents, but Alec doesn’t want that. He wants to know what happened, the strange connection that feels more like home than anything other than the Institute’s core ever has.
It’s with soft, purposeful footsteps that Alec lets himself into the deepest and most obscure of the Institute’s archives. A place where traditions have been left to gather dust and be forgotten and Alec, well… he’s going to find and remember them all.
#lumine writes#writing wednesday#writing wednesdays#pray to the hunters#alec lightwood#shadowhunters
73 notes
·
View notes
Note
One word prompt: whimpering
i am. so sorry. this is so late but hdskljfsd dsklj.
ANYWAY. this update brought to you by yours truly who dealt with back and knee pain for 4 days straight proceeding a thing where i'd had to kneel for about 25 mins.
anyway. prev part here.
cw: kneeling, slavery whump, kinda dehumanisation associated with slavery/loss of autonomy, i guess?
Rowan had been counting the minutes very diligently.
All two of them.
“You know the amount of time you stay on your knees is exactly the amount of time I’ll take you outside for, don’t you?”
“I know,” August snapped, before wincing and dropping his head.
August knelt beside the chair Rowan was sitting on, pretending to read a book even as he kept his attention firmly on the squirming prince. Not even a full minute before he’d grown uncomfortable. He was on a rug. He tried to subtly lean his weight against the chair, but Rowan reached down to tug at his hair.
He was gentle, of course. August knew resistance would mean the entire outing would be cancelled. No need to use force where it wasn’t needed.
August straightened up at the first touch, flinching a little. He was biting down on his lips, his face strained with concentration, and Rowan couldn’t quite suppress his smile at that. He was trying so very hard.
At the three minute mark, August lifted himself off his heels and shifted a bit, wiggling his toes, before sitting back down with a grimace.
At four minutes, he asked, “How long has it been?”
Rowan didn’t even try to keep the humour in as he told him it’d been less than five minutes. He watched as August’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled loudly, a thin whine escaping him before he quickly smothered it.
“Can I...” August spoke up after a few moments, “Can I at least bring my hands to my front?” He was holding onto his left wrist behind his back, rotating his shoulders a little bit.
“The amount of time you spend kneeling with your hands on your front will be halved when adding to time spent outside,” Rowan informed him, watching August’ face crumple with a strange mix of despair and anger.
“It’s not fair,” he said, a little petulantly, and then promptly shut his mouth, as though realising how petulant it had truly sounded.
Rowan chuckled, “I’m not trying to be.”
August shifted again, lifting himself up and leaning his weight mostly on one knee for a few seconds before shifting to the other, creating a sort of sideways rocking motion. Rowan let him; he was kind like that. And either way, August stilled after almost an entire minute of that, slumping in place and putting his weight back onto his heels.
Another minute passed before August started whimpering. Very low, small sounds, that he was very clearly trying not to make as his face screwed itself up with anger and pain. Then he started grinding his teeth, loud enough that Rowan couldn’t ignore the sound at all, and he reached down to flick August’s forehead.
August looked at Rowan with such wide affronted eyes that Rowan’s annoyance at the teeth grinding evaporated. “What?” he asked, “I can’t even make noise now?”
“You can,” Rowan said, putting his hand on August’s jaw. He could feel how tense he was as he slowly caressed it, “But from what I know, humans can’t regrow teeth after a certain age. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t grind yours to dust, as I assume you’ve outgrown the age where you could have gotten a new set if you damaged your current ones.”
After a few slow blinks, where it looked like August couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he jerked his head away from Rowan’s touch, muttering, “What do you care?”
“Why, of course I care, darling,” Rowan said, imbuing as much cheer into his voice as he could, which was a lot, considering how delighted that question had made him, “You’re mine, which means your body’s mine, which means your teeth are mine. You’re not damaging yourself, are you? You’re damaging something that belongs to me.”
August stared at him for a moment, his eyes bright with tears, before he looked away, brought his hands out front, and almost flung himself across the rug, rolling over onto his back and kicking out his legs furiously. “I can’t do this, I can’t I can’t I can’t— don’t take me outside, I don’t care–” he said, words rushing into each other as he kept kicking his legs, probably trying to get feeling back in them. The chain around his ankle clinked and jingled at the movements.
After a few moments he went limp, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
“Well,” Rowan said, shutting his book and keeping it down onto the table beside him, “That was about ten minutes. Shall we?”
--
taglist: @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @whumpy-writings @t0rture-me @octopus-reactivated @whump-queen @pigeonwhumps @whitehairandblood @d-cs @itsmyworld23 @scp-1296 @e-rattt @neverthelass @cuppa-cha
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
My take on the prompt "bow tie".
@acgasfanchallenge
"What's in a bow tie?"
“Oh bugger!”
Audrey could hear Siegfried’s angry tantrum from the hallway upstairs. Glad that Helen and Jimmy had spent the night at Heston where they certainly didn’t hear Uncle Siegfried blustering all about the house, she closed the door to her linen cupboard. It was shortly after seven, time for breakfast and he was already in one of his moods.
“Blast!”
Knowing his cursing was nothing but a cry for her help, she shook her head and ascended the staircase.
“On me way!”
The door to his bedroom was wide open and their two very curious four-pawed friends were lying on his unmade bed, watching him attentively as he was fiddling with a piece of clothes she had never seen before dangling from his neck.
Amused by the sight, she leaned against the doorframe and chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” He asked, visibly offended. With his hands firmly planted on his hips he stared at his own reflection in the mirror at the wall.
“You,” she answered nonchalantly.
“This blasted thing just won’t… for heaven’s…” The rest of the sentence was swallowed by another spate of unruly cursing.
“Let me have a look!” Trying not to look too cheerful, she walked over to him and ordered him to face her. With childish reluctance he did as ordered and she smiled softly at him.
“That’s a new one,” she said when she pulled the loose fabric from his neck and let it glide through her fingers. It was a burgundy coloured bow tie made of velvet - one that perfectly matched his favourite tweed suit.
“It is,” he confirmed as his eyes flickered over her fingers as she straightened the fabric.
“It feels expensive.”
“I wanted to treat myself a little,” he admitted, somewhat hangdogged. He held his breath when she leaned in a little and placed the bow tie around the collar of his shirt.
“It’s been ages since you’ve worn one of these,” she remarked when she carefully started to intertwine the loose ends. Sometimes her fingers were brushing against his neck and he felt her breath, warm and sweet from her first cup of tea, against his skin. She was standing a little too close for him to ignore her physical attributes he was only too aware of, even though they were hidden under her apron. Last night she must have washed her hair, because he could smell her shampoo and the faded scent of her lavender bath oil.
“I thought it was time to update my wardrobe,” he replied as he tried not to look at her. “Turns out I’m a bit out of practice.”
“There’s no shame in that,” she countered. “But you mustn’t shout around the house like a mad man.”
“Why not? You’re here now, aren’t you?” The words had been out before he could stop them and she laughed in response. “Am I that predictable?” She wondered as she added the finishing touches and straightened the knot in the middle and pulled it in the right position.
“I knew you wouldn’t leave me in tatters,” he answered, glad she took his slip lightly.
“Course not,” she mused and stepped back, admiring her work on him. “There you are.”
He turned towards the mirror and looked at his own reflection. “Do you like it?” With pointed fingers he touched his new accessory, unsure whether it was what he imagined it would be.
“It suits you,” she answered and looked at his reflection. With obvious curiosity her eyes searched for his in the mirror and she reached out to touch the bow tie once more.
“Did Richard inspire you?”
“Why would you think that?” He returned the question.
“Just wondering…” She shrugged and nibbled at her lower lip.
“But you like it on him, don’t you?” His question hung in the air like a cloud over the Dales.
“There are a lot of things to like about the lad,” she answered tentatively. ”And there are even more things I like about you.” Her hand was now lying on his chest. The warmth of her skin penetrated the fabric and he was sure there was no way she could miss how his heartbeat increased under her touch.
One day he wanted to feel that hand on him without separating barriers.
One day he didn’t want to throw a tantrum to get her undivided attention and one day he wouldn’t buy new clothes just to impress her, because he wanted her to accompany him when he chose them.
One day…
The touch of her lips against his cheek was light and tender. The sweetness in her breath that he had felt earlier was now evident in her gentle kiss. He was glad he saw her kissing him in the reflection of his mirror, because otherwise he wouldn’t have believed it.
“You don’t have to change, you know,” she whispered into his ear and her voice was sending small shocks throughout his entire system. “Not for me.”
With bated breath he turned his face to meet her blue eyes. He saw the tenderness in them, the devotion and smiled. She could read him like no one else. Some years ago this would have scared the daylights out of him, but now it just gave him comfort and a warm sense of belonging.
“You’re marvellous.”
“I know.” She blinked cheekily at him and caressed the outline of his beard with her thumb. “Will you come downstairs for breakfast now?”
“Gladly,” he replied.
“Good…” She placed a soft, chaste kiss on his mouth and left. With a low whistle she ordered the dogs to follow her and they obediently jumped from his bed to run after her. He waited for her footsteps to fade before he slipped into his waistcoat and straightened his shoulders in front of the mirror. Once again he touched the unusual garment around his neck and couldn’t help but smile.
There was something about his bow tie that had just made his life even more worthwhile than it already was. He silently thanked Carmody, his lucky stars, and last weekend’s jumble sale for this strike of inspiration. And then he was on his way downstairs to have breakfast with her. It was going to be a good day.
23 notes
·
View notes
Note
thank you for the reply and the information! I was curious how the other fox would fit in with PCB Extra's metatextual mention of Three Lands, but I hadn't even considered it might be three worlds and not three countries. this is neat
(Original post for context)
I forgot I left the response to this in my drafts, sorry. Luckily, this means I could update it with recently acquired knowledge when I found it again.
Truth to be told, my point is less that the other fox is a better match, and more that Ran being Tamamo no Mae is one of these things which make sense at first glance, but the deeper you look into it, the less coherent it becomes.
This got much longer than I planned, so for organizational purposes let's refer to this post as Revenge of the "graveyard god", or why I don't think Ran is Tamamo no Mae. More under the cut.
The early Tamamo no Mae
The main point of connection between Tamamo no Mae and Ran are the nine tails, but that’s not even really a consistent part of the former's background. The oldest version of the story - which is really fun, the seduction section is pages upon pages of Tamamo and emperor Toba discussing esoteric Buddhism - states that she was “an 800-year-old two-tailed fox from the Nasuno Plain in Shimotsuke Province”. Early depictions of her true form follow this pretty closely:
Nezu Museum of Art, via Monsters, Animals, and Other Worlds. A Collection of Short Medieval Japanese Tales
Kyoto University Rare Materials Digital Library
Suntory Museum of Art
As far as I am aware, the two tails are actually unique to her. Other foxes of note have either one tail or nine. While it does seem the belief in the number of tails growing with age is genuine rather than a modern misconception, it’s hardly central to fox folklore (I’ve seen the portmoneu “foxlore” at least once btw, it’s very funny). And, as I will outline later, it doesn’t even seem to be behind the idea of nine-tailed foxes in the first place.
Anyway, the oldest version does provide Tamamo with more backstory, but it’s closer to presenting Shuten Dōji as a manifestation of Mara than to a straightforward “Tamamo is x under a pseudonym” popular today. As we learn, the two-tailed fox is in fact a reincarnation of a “graveyard god” (塚の神, Tsuka no Kami) from India, described in the apocryphal Humane Kings Sutra (it gets namedropped directly), likely originally composed in China.
How come? It all started when Kalmashapada, a prince of Devala in India, wanted to offer 1000 skulls of virtuous rulers to this deity because a suspicious “heretical” preacher convinced him it’s a good idea. After defeating and imprisoning 999 such kings, he encountered Shrutasoma, one of the previous incarnations of the historical Buddha, who managed to show him the error of his ways. All of the kings were released, and Kalmashapada was redeemed.
The “graveyard god” was less than thrilled, and swore to keep reincarnating as a fox in kingdoms where Buddhism flourished to destroy it. We are told that happened many times, but only one past identity, that of Bao Si (Hōji), comes up. Obviously, eighth century BCE China was not exactly an area famous for Buddhist devotion, but that’s irrelevant here. We are told the endgame is not just to overthrow a righteous ruler, but also to become his replacement. Alas, Tamamo no Mae obviously fails at both of these goals. Still, points for trying.
The story does not provide the deity with a specific identity. However, Nobumi Iyanaga notes that in the referenced sutra he’s Mahakala (the original Makakaraten version, not the joyful Daikokuten). In East Asian Buddhism he is described as dwelling in the graveyards due to acting as both the chief of dakinis and their subduer. At the same time, Iyanaga argues in the context of the Tamamo no Mae story it can be argued he is either implicitly replaced by the dakini par excellence, Dakiniten (closely associated with foxes), or that the deity has no identity other than the fox one.
Later Tamamo developments
Two elements which are mainstays of modern retellings are missing from the oldest version, as you might have noticed. It doesn’t feature the Sesshōseki, which was only added later, seemingly as a way to promote Zen Buddhism, since this extension of the story casts a member of this school as the new protagonist. In the early variants Tamamo’s corpse was brought to the imperial treasury, the same one which shows up in a similar context in the tale of Shuten Dōji, and there is no indication she came back as a vengeful ghost, let alone that she repented and accepted Buddhism, as she does in some of the Sesshōseki variants.
The other difference is, as I already pointed out, the tails. The oldest depiction of a nine-tailed Tamamo no Mae I am aware of is Sekien’s. Based on a few papers I read it would appear textual variants of the story giving her nine tails might have been in circulation earlier, but that’s not reflected in any of the illustrated scrolls shown above.
Sekien's nine-tailed Tamamo (wikimedia commons)
Sekien claims that Tamamo no Mae is one and the same as Daji (I’ll get back to her later), and specifies the latter was a nine-tailed fox. He cites Zhang Dingsi’s Langye Dai Zui Bian (浪挪代醉編, “Langye’s Substitute for Drunkenness: A Compilation”) as his source for this tidbit, but does not explain where does the conflation of the two foxes come from. In contrast with the elaborate reincarnation scheme from the older version, he states Daji simply flew across the sea to reach Japan, without reincarnating.
What is now essentially treated as the “definitive” version of the Tamamo no Mae story, and what cemented her image as a nine-tailed fox, only dates back to 1805. That’s when Ehon Sangoku Yōfuden (絵本三国妖婦伝; “Tales of Enchantresses in the Three Kingdoms”) finished publication. The author, Ranzan Takai (高井蘭山), was an enthusiast of neo-confucian thought, and he wanted to write a story highlighting the time honored confucian belief that dynasties are brought down by suspicious concubines. The real goal was somewhat broader, though -the story of Tamamo no Mae was essentially repurposed as a critique of the concept of women playing an important role in public life.
It needs to be noted here that it is not impossible that the original was already part of a political polemic. Arguments have been made that Tamamo is a fictional representation of Bifukomon-in, for instance. They are certainly linked to the same emperor, Toba.
Bifukomon-in (wikimedia commons)
However, while I would not rule this out altogether, it’s hard to deny the typical medieval penchant for reinterpreting Buddhist material feels more central to the story. It is ultimately a very elaborate twist on the Humane Kings Sutra first and foremost. It belongs to the same world as other fabulous tales about figures from distant Buddhist lands arriving in Japan, alongside the likes of the legend of emperor Suwa of Hadai or the medieval Amaterasu narrative involving Mara (stay tuned for my post about that one).
Ideological motivations aside, in Ranzan’s version an anonymous nine-tailed fox appears as Daji in China, Kayō in India (seemingly a leftover of the original “graveyard god” story; here the prince is convinced to carry out his evil plans by his concubine instead though), and finally Tamamo no Mae in Japan. He also gives a unique account of Tamamo’s arrival in Japan, as far as I am aware: in his novel, she was brought there by Kibi no Makibi, a famous historical envoy to China. This was not his first time as a literary character, a much earlier picture scroll about his adventures is pretty funny (I have Touhou ocs based on it), but I’ll save this discussion for another time.
Not quite Tamamo: the influence of Daji
Daji, as depicted by Hokusai (wikimedia commons)
Daji requires some further discussion. She was initially regarded simply as a non-supernatural wicked concubine, but came to be treated as a fox posing as a human by the Song period. According to Xiaofei Kang the oldest evidence for that comes from 1101, from a Japanese text presumably reflecting an already extant Chinese belief. By the Yuan period it became a commonly accepted view, with Quanxiang Pinghua (全相平話) specifically stating Daji had nine tails. Her fox-like image was finally cemented fully by popular novels in the Ming and Qing periods.
Since there was a preexisting tradition in which Daji was a human woman, a remedy was developed: the “real” Daji was possessed by a fox, who took her name and identity. Curiously, the fox component of her story is otherwise not very important, and some modern authors basically characterize it as “tacked on”: she is the quintessential evil concubine bringing kingdoms to ruin out of a sense of cruelty who just happens to be a fox, and her story doesn’t really depend on preexisting fox-related motifs.
There are multiple accounts of Daji’s deeds, but the most famous one, and at the same time the most likely influence on Razan’s portrayal of her (and thus Tamamo), is Investiture of the Gods. However, he skips the origin attributed to her here: in the Chinese original, Daji is an agent of the goddess Nuwa, though she eventually overdoes it and is rebuked by her former boss for excessive cruelty. This doesn’t really fit well with Tamamo’s backstory, obviously; making her and Daji interchangeable was detrimental to both characters, I feel.
A Chinese story dealing with Daji reincarnating does exist, but it’s not exactly similar. In the Ming novel Zhaoyang Qushi (昭陽趣事) she reincarnated as Zhao Hede, a concubine of emperor Cheng of Han. What happens next has been described as “pornographic entertainment enlivened by supernatural and historical costumes”. For more details, check out Rania Huntington’s book from the bibliography below.
Curiously, it is possible Daji was simultaneously an object of active cult, since there is a Song imperial edict outlawing the shrines dedicated to her, Wutong (a southern Chinese spirit who was believed to bring wealth and bewitch people, compared with foxes in the north) and “General Shi” (no clue who that might be, I’d hazard a guess one of the popular pacified vengeful spirit cults but don’t quote me on that). However, another contemporary source instead mentions the outlawing of temples of “fox kings”, so it might also mean that the name of Daji was applied by officials to an unrelated popular fox cult (“fox king” is a reasonably common appellation for supernatural foxes). Both regular and nine-tailed foxes are attested in such a context across history.
Early nine-tailed foxes
An early Chinese depiction of a nine-tailed fox (wikimedia commons)
The early portrayals of nine-tailed foxes are something I started looking into recently because of Ran’s freshly revealed connection to Yuuma: I figured it makes sense that she’d be in origin someone who belongs to the same world as the taotie.
Looking at the earliest Chinese sources, multiple nine-tailed foxes appear in legends about virtuous rulers like Tang, Wen or Yu the Great, essentially as generic good omens, without much fanfare. According to confucian commentaries from the Later Han period, the nine tails were understood as a sign a given emperor will have many descendants. The exception from this generally positive tendency is the Classic of Mountains and Seas, where the nine-tailed fox is described as “man-eating” (something very uncommon in Chinese fox literature). However, it also doesn’t exactly get more spotlight than the other creatures. It’s also treated as a separate animal from regular foxes, not as a particularly old fox. You could say it is to the fox what a bai ze is to an ox, I think.
Visual arts add further specimens: the source of this discussion, the nine-tailed fox attendant of Xi Wangmu, later seemingly “decanonized”, and another belonging to the entourage of Zhong Kui. Both of these are hardly eminent and seem to fit the mold of auspicious omens. In Zhong Kui’s case the fox is in one case listed alongside the bai ze which only strengthens this impression. However, it also makes sense that its inclusion would reflect Zhong Kui’s role as a demon queller: he is often portrayed with conquered demons as servants, after all.
Conclusions
To sum up: ultimately it just doesn’t seem nine-tailed foxes are quite as big of a deal as popculture makes them seem, and nine tails are neither exclusive nor innate to Tamamo no Mae. Since that’s the only real point of connection between her and Ran save for a throwaway PCB line which leads to no further references, I maintain there’s no strong case for identifying them with each other, especially since there is no shortage of other candidates.
There’s also the fact that, Daji aside, most other nine-tailed foxes are largely blank slates you can do anything with, while Tamamo has many fairly unique characteristics which would be wasted by randomly slapping her name on Ran, in my opinion. To be fair, ZUN does occasionally make similar mistakes - Yoshika is the main example (remember, the actual legend about Yoshika’s immortality claims he decided to pursue eternal life after having a thrilling affair and has him call himself “strongest madman under heaven”).
I would personally argue ZUN himself probably did not feel strongly about who Ran is supposed to actually be when he originally came up with her, though. None of her spellcards reference Tamamo no Mae. Or any other fox identified with her, for that matter. They do have a more or less consistent theme, but that theme is, broadly speaking, “magic arts”, from onmyodo (Shikigami "Banquet of the Twelve General Gods"), through shugendo (Illusion God "Descent of Izuna-Gongen", Shikigami "The Protection of Zenki and Goki", Superhuman "Soaring En no Ozunu") and esoteric Buddhism (Shikigami "Channeling Dakiniten", Esoteric Sign "Odaishi-sama's Secret Key"), to contemporary stage magic (Shiki Brilliance "Princess Tenko -Illusion-"). In other words, I do not think canon actually strongly supports any specific option.
I will admit I’m biased but personally I think picking a different fox makes it much easier to accommodate Yuuma and their shared animal realm past, the most thrilling Ran development in ages. As for Tamamo, I do think she would be fun to see in Touhou, but preferably as her own character - with two tails, if possible.
Bibliography
Bernard Faure, The Power of Denial. Buddhism, Purity, and Gender
Rania Huntington, Alien Kind. Foxes and Late Imperial Chinese Narrative
Nobumi Iyanaga, Under the Shadow of the Great Śiva: Tantric Buddhism and its Influence on Japanese Mediaeval Culture
Idem, Dākinī in: Brill's Encyclopedia of Buddhism (vol. 2)
Xiaofei Kang, The Cult of the Fox: Power, Gender, and Popular Religion in Late Imperial and Modern China
Laura K. Nüffer, Lady Tamamo in: Keller Kimbrough and Haruo Shirane (eds.), Monsters, Animals, and Other Worlds. A Collection of Short Medieval Japanese Tales
Sumiko Sekiguchi, Gender in the Meiji Renovation: Confucian 'Lessons for Women' and the Making of Modern Japan
Chun-Yi Joyce Tsai, Imagining the Supernatural Grotesque: Paintings of Zhong Kui and Demons in the Late Southern Song (1127-1279) and Yuan (1271-1368) Dynasties
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
Mind if I request a continuation of your Chris McLean x reader angst? Where Chris ends up reaching out becuase he does genuinely want them back in his life but they decline, not wanting to get hurt by him again?
Apologises I took a while to answer this!! I hope you like it nonetheless, enjoy! <3
CHRIS MCLEAN ANGST (PART 2)
You had forgotten about Chris.
Until a Summer day when you needed to go grocery shopping on one of the streets you used to go with Chris all the time.
Like his prominent being would be there on a busy Saturday now.
Would it be wrong to try relive the memory with someone else?
Yes... Yes it would.
“(Y/N)!”
Huh? Someone here knew your name?
You turn around to see the caller and gasp.
The very man in his dark-turquoise shirt and stubble.
Looking right at you.
“Chris?” What was he doing here?
“Sure is! How you been?” he smacks a hand on your back, then looks around the ageing shops, much more vibrant when you were younger,“We...used to come here a lot, didn’t we?”
“Yeah... We did.” you block out your brain’s motive to flash a teen memory montage.
Clearly Chris hadn’t,“Yeah! Back when I wasn’t as popular and as famous. I wonder if I was always destined to be as cool as I am today. Must be nice living without the paparazzi constantly trying to get shots of you living ordinary, right?” who the hell starts a conversation like that? Oh, you wanted to move on, but he wouldn’t let you,“Hey, where are you going?”
“Sorry...” you turn back around meaninglessly,“This...meeting wasn’t on my mind when I came here. I have errands to do.”
“Aw, seriously? You can’t leave them for a day to spend some time with your childhood bud?” he walked towards you, trying persuasion with his perfect smile.
...Why does he care? Did he intend to find you here?... He couldn’t even get the timing of your friendship right,“We met in middle school.”
His unchanged eyes slide around his sclerae,“Whatever, same difference. But I do miss our glory days! When we didn’t have a care in the world and we did things together all the time!”
This was very illogical,“I don’t understand... I texted you almost everyday and you never replied to me, but you had no problem updating your story.”
“Uh, maybe because I was busy and I updated it to show my contacts not to expect an answer from me anytime soon? Seriously, ya gotta learn to pick up on these things, (Y/N).” If he was gonna say that, he could have at least put the phone he was holding away to make it more believable,“But you know, seeing you here made me reminisce about the good times we had and how with my new luxurious lifestyle, I barely had time to fit you in it! If you really have to go though, I’ll just text it and post, okaaay?”
“You’re...gonna text me?” That liver of hope...with that alone, you forgot everything. To ask why he was even there in the first place, the acceptance of your rusty ties with him. Just that you...had something bright today,“Okay... Sure, I’ll reply to you as soon as possible.”
You got home and spent the next few hours at your desk, getting on with some studying and allowing your brain to soak in the promises of the interaction you had. Could it be that he missed you? Was thinking about you? Would always have chosen you out of the dozens of women he talked to everyday?
This could mean really great things, you know! This had to mean something. Maybe he’s staying in your life for good now!
Your phone pings. They always said that phones were a bad distraction, and looking back on it, you should’ve listened.
“You know I had to scroll to get to your number”
“We really haven’t talked a lot have we!”
You didn’t answer in hast. You didn’t want to show him how this desperation chained you.
“Yeah we haven’t”- we being he. That doesn’t matter. Chris was online and was talking to you. Your best friend from middle school was talking to you. This was a blessing!
You had yourselves a good catch up conversation. Well you say good when most of it was very one sided, your chat overflowing with more messages from him in neglect.
Though, your enthusiasm is zapped back up when he sends this:
“Sooo I looked at my schedule and found the only day I’m free is Monday. You wanna meet at Tim Hortons and just talk about life stuff?”
Tim Hortons... He remembered that as well? And Monday?... You used to always go out on that specific day. Was that intentional?
Was there a reason why he didn’t bother asking you how your life’s been then? Because he wanted to save it for when you two were person to person?
This is it... This was happening! He wanted you back in his life!
But why does your stomach feel so upset?
Maybe because it’s when and where he wanted to go the most.
Oh, right...
Your smile is erased.
Everything falls back for him at the end.
And maybe your organs had caught you, before you got reattached to this man.
They never change. He’s only talking to you because none of his celebrity friends can.
And once they do, he’ll forget about you all over again.
Exactly. It’s about time you stop crying over something that’ll never happen again.
You type, every letter cutting the tip of your finger like a thorn.
“We don’t need to. I think we should just be the way we were before. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice having you talk to me again and being friends with you. Congrats on all the success!”
After that, a whirl of messages from his end bombarded your phone. You take a glimpse of some of the words, “kidding”, “why”, “problem”, “jealous”.
Wow, his temper was launched into space quick. He was like a bird, getting all the useless stuff, but too full for the real goods.
I get it. You’re angry. No one’s ever said no to you. Everything has always been about you.
You put aside your phone satisfied, unresponsive. It felt good to finally have that closure.
Not tonight.
#tdi x reader#total drama#chris mclean#td chris#total drama island chris#total drama chris mclean#request#chris mclean x reader#td chris mclean x reader#tdi#angst#total drama chris
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok just because I'd never write it because Human/No Powers Modern AU is not my thing, but I find the thought exercise interesting, here's a bit more about how Giving Sanctuary would work if it was a modern, no powers dreamling AU (copied from a Discord I'm on):
The THING IS, I am somewhat charmed by the idea of Modern AU Giving Sanctuary ONLY because re-translating the historical dynamics to be clearer to a modern viewer of like... what EXACTLY Dream disdained about Hob, would be such a treat??
Like in a historical setting, you can tell Hob's being a bit gauche in 1589 but that's kind of it for visual cues? But just.... imagine Dream in his black turtleneck and designer coat, hosting an event at his art gallery, and then this fucking Chad that his sister made him set up with a job interview ages ago, that he expected to fail out because he's a jock and an idiot, shows up in a fucking golf polo and a fancy but extremely visible Rolex he won't stop showing off to Dream and like... just the worst kind of new money sleaze oozing out of every pore and he won't stop snacking on the hors d'oeuvres and trying to offer some to Dream while talking with his mouth full because he thinks they're buddies, somehow and he keeps talking about the latest deal he closed to bring in millions to his company yeah they're gonna put him on Fortune magazine, not the front cover, but there is a page about him!
And this guy Hob, he keeps trying to shove pictures of his supermodel wife and sticky infant son at Dream at this arts event and finally Dream will literally do anything to get away from this guy and talk to the art school student who is actually talking about looking for his big break (And little does he know, Hob actually was trying to thank Dream for putting him in a place to be this successful because Hob came from poverty and there was no way he'd ever have reached this point without that lucky break of meeting Dream and yeah, he lacks manners but he's stupidly proud of what he accomplished and has no idea what he did wrong, he was trying to compliment Dream on the hors d'oeuvres??)
And if you make this purely human AU (not a genre I like to write but I find the thought exercise of updating a story interesting) 1689 would be caused by like.... Hob in a car accident with his pregnant wife and his kid Robyn, Hob's the only survivor. He gets addicted to pain meds during the recovery, is found at fault for the accident so no insurance money/the legal bills eat up everything else, he's fired, addicted, was already living lavishly and depending on the next big deal to pay for it all so goes bankrupt quickly, falls and falls and falls.
Anyway, Hob and Dream have this standing agreement to meet up once a year or every five years, at the same dive bar where Death introduced them in like college or something, and Hob gets there and y'know, updated 1689 meeting, he's a mess, he's homeless, he can't seem to get out of his own way, but the subject of his son's death comes up (again, for a GS update) and somehow Dream mentions he got married when he was like 18 or 20 to another artist, they had a son, no one in their families supported them because they said they were too young, their son died and his wife left him and his life fell apart and he's buried himself in work since but never really healed and no one ever really seemed to understand what he went through because most of his peers had never even had a serious relationship by the time he was divorced and had lost a child at like 22, like people freaking complimented him on being a single man again if they didn't know about the death.
And for the first time ever he tells this to Hob and instead of saying "Why did you get married so young??" Hob just... asks him if he's ok. Over a decade later. The first person to actually understand that Dream never really recovered.
147 notes
·
View notes
Note
Heh heh, I step away from the platform for awhile and return to chaos with Mr. Garfield at the center of the maelstrom.
I'm cautious with respect to the latest furor regarding the tarot card philosopher accompanying AG for several reasons.
First, he's a friendly guy and going out for a meal with others and holding hands and all that is part of his personality, or at least the part of his personality he's chosen to reveal to the public. Beyond that, no one except the relevant parties really know.
Second, as you and others have pointed out, Mr. Garfield has faced some of the same life changing moments and ups and downs many of us have and that can make us seekers in many different ways. We look for understanding, we process grief or disappointment, we reach out for solace and comfort and try and comprehend the questions, "what is my purpose?" or "why am I here?" or "what makes me happy?" Through prior interviews, AG has intimated that he is contemplative about such topics and he has also expressed enthusiasm for astrology, so I don't find it particularly surprising that he might be intrigued by someone who advertises as a spiritual mentor etc. He's explored 'mainstream' religion in the past, and perhaps he considers the chakra stone spiritualist part of his journey.
Third, this is the part where I have to just admit: I really don't know this person (Andrew Garfield) beyond his public and professional life and while it's normal to want the best for those we admire (even from afar) and even if I give a slight side-eye to choices those others make, I'm not really in a position to offer help or concern or guidance as close family and friends would. And even then, I've watched people a while lot closer to my own circle go down a road and have had to stand by and let it happen because it's not my decision nor my life. Frustrating and sometimes tragic, but there it is.
Finally, for all of the above plus AG confessing that he is "rather intense" when he is preparing himself for a role and I'm going to place some hope in the thought that he's turned forty and is looking for some answers to those questions I mentioned earlier and he's giving this type of "mentoring" a try in a rather intense way. I suppose it could be a deception on the part of the "mentor," but that goes back to the idea that it's not something one can easily know, although warning signs can sometimes (as others point out--isolation, etc) be present. But in this case, correlation does not always equal causation, thus my caution.
I wish Mr. Garfield the best.
I also wish you the best, as you've tried to keep everyone updated and informed on a genuinely talented, hard working, and not unfortunate looking actor.
Peace!
Dear friend, wishing him the best and wishing him wisdom is the only thing we can do.
7 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
kingbrosiah
King Brosiah
freshbookpdf
Fresh Book PDF
tight-frame
tight-frame
thelalos
You underestimate Skywalker, and Ben Solo, and me