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thecrazyworldbuilder · 1 year ago

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Some miscellaneous worldbuilding brainrambles I had.

Saw some art from the Rainworld universe and it got me wondering - what if like, some Shoggoth level eldritch being, all tentacles and stuff, found humans freaking adorable. Like "OMGGGGG HONEEYYY COME LOOK AT THISSSSS" while reaching a slimy appendage to pet Mark the Cashier at the Gas Station on the head as he's frozen in fear.

What if dragons are always angry because they feel the pain of constantly growing. The older the dragon, the bigger they are. The growth rate stays the same their whole life, from egg to titan, which means their bones just ache all the time, every joint, their teeth fall out and regrow constantly like those of sharks. Imagine being stuck in puberty forever. What if gold presence eases their pains?

I like the take on prophecies where they aren't a script to follow but a ticket with restricted permissions. It's not that "the one who takes the sword from the stone will be king" but "anyone who takes the sword from the stone will be king", if they want to. It all boils down to roles in a prophecy and the amount of specification. The less specific, the less significant the prophecy. Any black-haired man can pull help a farmer to pull a donkey out of a pit, but the seventh son of a seventh son, born under an eclipsed sun surrounded by fire? That's some world-changing potential prophecy there.

"Perfection... For thousands of years we tried to achieve perfection without really understanding what it is. We might be incapable to achieve it, but we can make something that will achieve it for us. First were the automaton who were designing each other by being a couple generations where the youngest disassemble the oldest to create a new wave. Who analyze themselves for weaknesses and think like a true hivemind. Then there were the chimerae. Beings of two bloodlines, noble and drone, like ants they lived in colonies yet each member was so drastically different from others you couldn't tell they are the same species. Splicing genes of all animals in the world, all fishes, all insects and even plants. With their own queens, princes and princesses who are the closest to the Perfection. And what else? Others not so lucky, drones, experiments out of which survive only the strongest, and who can challenge the noble bloodlines. If they live they get to reproduce. Die - and become genetic food for the nobles to grow stronger. Everytime we tried to pump animals with the Evolution agents, they turned into crabs. No damn idea why. And everytime we tried to use magic for the idea, slime were created in one way or another, slime that changes state of matter between liquid and solid, quicksilvers who simply outskill everything alive in survival, shapeshifting into cogs of a grand machine they are now building. We never knew what perfection was, yet tried to achieve it nevertheless."

Thinking of those scenes in movies when something paranormal is happening and things start to float upwards, or like, completely switch gravity directions. Say, a pendant starts dangling upwards rather than down, water flowing uphill, and all that. One possible way could be to say that there is a gravity anomaly affecting items below certain weight. If such anomaly could be harnessed in mechanisms, it be so dope. You know the ancient Greek Hero's automaton? Imagine the complexity if you include opposite gravity in that equation.

Could be a spell, could be some superconductor stuff like on Pandora.

Skin tones of a metal-based species.

Takes on elven youth:

Baby-looking elves. Elves just always looking like they are about seventeen, looking like that type of youngster you'd see in a supermarket asking for some random ass beer and looking too young to be allowed alcohol. Elves looking not in this "etereal beauty" kind like the "stock photos model" Looking young, yes, but. Not. Like those celebrities and richmen who spend a fortune on looking like they are forever 20. The only part of an elf that ages is the hair, turning white with age.

Runes are channels of energy, imperfections in metals, veins in your body, cracks and ores in stone, smallest anomalies in the crystals. Runes could be smithed, yes, but naturally occurring ones are stronger, better. Greater. So making a sword out of a metal chunk with a potent rune in it while preserving the rune itself yields greater results than trying to fabricate it.

Anatomic: Brain in the chest, heart in the head.

Concept:

The summoning sigils for demons (and other beings for that matter) are like calling a person's name and the only reason the demon shows up is because they grow tired and annoyed of being called like that so they are ready to do anything to stop that shit.

Imagine someone repeating your name a dozen times without elaborating what they want. Of course you will come over and ask "WHAT?"

Oooh I just got an interesting idea.

So, like, a language/culture where people's names are secondary, going after the pronoun they use.

It's like. He-John, She-Harrada, Ey-Nullée, et cetera.

But then that pronoun part is used as a third-person signifier. He, she, ey, all that, while the name is the second person pronoun (which it is in some cases). But then the part comes about verbs/adjectives getting those "genders" applied to them, as well as nouns (like "she-wolf" but, for example, "xe-smith apprentice").

There's this conversation I had with myself (typical neurodivergent queer going insane from having no reliable friends in a homophobic country that doesn't believe ADHD can exist in adults) about inflating a whole setting out of a minor detail, a smallest thing.

First it's one concept, then there's two, until the whole thing snowballs into a huge fictional world with lots of lore and stuff.

Say, concept: "Undead gods". Already amazing - sets up the assumption that A) Gods were once resurrected and B) Gods were once dead. Say if this happened to the Greek mythology, Hades - the god of the dead (but not death) himself dies and there's nobody to tend for the dead, and the Gods fight each other over the responsibility of tending over the most shitty job in the pantheon, resulting in mass bloodshed and death. Gods are dead, and only Thanatos is here to collect their souls. So he devises a plan, with ulterior motives: To give them and many dead a second chance in life. So in undeath, he lets them live as revenants, ghosts, skeletons, zombies, all devoted to different undead gods.

Undead being zapped with lightning from the blessing of Zeus. Undead breathing like a living forge of fire, blessed by Hephaestus. Chaos-bringing warriors in armor, followers of Ares. So much more.

And all from a simple ass concept, two words: Undead gods. Just that I am sometimes amazed how people who get into worldbuilding think that you must have a grand idea, a lot of things to connect together when in reality, it's just one stone, then two, then three, all together forming the building of your world(build). .

Or another, even smaller concept - "Alexandrithium is a metal that boils water on touch".

What tech will it inspire? What usage, how will it revolutionize the world? Boiling turns into steam, steam is punk (ba dum tsss). Some freaks make weapons out of this metal to cause Extra Suffering and the equivalent of the Geneva convention bans such weapons, may they be blades or bullets.

You can make an analogy of a snow ball, rolling down a mountain and sticking more and more snow to itself, or you can say that you have a balloon - the original first concept - that you inflate with ideas from within, filling in the bag, stuffing it up with all that other stuff while under the hood of the First Concept. Like.

Worldbuilding is neat.

I had a similar idea which could be called "procedural conlangs" (proclangs?)

In all technicality it is just a relex with words assigned via some algorithm, say, there's 3000 possible syllables that could be generated through some given algorithm, and to these 3000 syllables we assign the 3000 of the most frequent English words. Afterwards we can either continue assigning words their relex variants via randomly combining the 3000 syllables into bisyllabic words, or could try and piece together new translations for them.

E.g. the word for "toaster" isn't in the 3000, so we either use a random bisyllabic word without connected meaning, "ab-resh" (which would literally mean "bone-green"), or try to piece it together from the syllables already present in the 3000, like "thran-mil" (meaning something like "bread grill").

Sooo Hm.

My idea for "oriental elvish" was to base it on Japanese (the modern dialects at least) with the phonetic mutations and stuff (like "hu" being pronounced as "fu" and et.c.) But with added sounds like the English eth and thorn, + the /l/, and allowing three codas - /n, r, l/ thus (with a possible mutation coda /m/ when /n/ is before a bilabial stop).

Then once I have it I will reverse-engineer the protolang based on Chinese with added in tones and stuff, probably, and a more strict collection of phonotactic rules. And from all that a third possible dialect could be made, based on Korean.

Also sounds like me before I invented cryptolangs and thus a new brainworm that'd gnaw on my gray matter til' this very date.

Just naming stuff what sounds I fit best.

I didn't knew English that well back then, so like. One of the cities in a setting of mine was called "Meth". (I renamed it since, making it "Mett" - meant to be derived from "meeting", since the port city is one of the largest and richest, where many cultures and races meet, indeed.)

A way to count to 625 on fingers:Thumb is the index pointer in this case. Each finger is separated into phalanx and joints - 6 units per finger thus - plus the middle of the palm for one extra. Thus, on one hand you can count to 25. Now, once you count to 25, you count one unit on the other hand. Basically, an abacus of sorts.

#worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #worldbuilding ideas #world creation #worldbuilder #worldbuilding tips #worldbuilding stuff

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maleyanderecafe · 1 year ago

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Dear Devere (Visual Novel)

Created by: Katy133

Genre: Romance/Supernatural

This game was something that I found on TVTropes of all locations and is very beautifully done. It's more or less a kinetic novel, only really having one important choice at the end, and most of the illustrations are the letters that Devere and Angela send to each other, but it's done in a way that makes the story well done, along with the voice acting for both of them.

The story starts with Angela writing a letter about her book club. She talks about a particular person named Eliza, who seems to hate her, and how she has been giving her rude remarks. She gets a letter back from someone, telling her how he sympathizes with her, signed Mr. Devere. The two continue to write back and forth with each other, with Angela and Devere plotting to have some revenge on Eliza. Devere seems to be unable to visit Angela despite being close in proximity, however, comes to visit Angela in her dreams, and eventually as the two talk, they start to fall in love.

Between the love story, we actually see that we are an inspector who has come to see the missing case of Angela, checking through letters to find where she has gone. We also see later that when Angela and Devere attempt to communicate with each others with lights, there are a couple of agents watching them to make sure that they aren't spies for the other side.

During this time, Devere gets a forged letter from a man named Cailin Calwood, pretending to be Angela and asking for him to not write to her anymore. Devere catches this right away and writes back to warn Angela. We learn that Cailin is one of the guys that has been trying to court Angela, however, Angela finds him rude and pompous and has trying to been stay away from him. Angela finds that her house has been broken into, and suspects that it's Cailin, as he's also been stalking her after he's been rejected. The two of them are able to meet up thanks to a riddle that Devere ends up hiding in his letter, and the two are able to meet up where Devere lives, inside of a cave. However, Cailin catches on, sending another letter to Devere telling him that the two of them don't belong together. Cailin continues to threaten Devere, even trying to get the police to take him down, stating that he is a spy that lives in the woods. They find a body that seems to have been eaten by Cailin's dogs, believing that it was Angela's body that was found. It's later revealed that the body is actually Cailin's, and that the bite marks actually comes from the wolves. The inspector is able to find the cave that Devere resided in and finds a list of things that Devere wanted to do with Angela, like going out into the world and travel. The inspector then has the decision to lie and destroy the evidence, thereby letting Devere and Angela go or to tell the truth.

Lying and destroying the evidence leads to the good ending, where Devere and Angela are seen talking to each other. It's fully revealed that Devere isn't quite human and that the two are able to go out and travel with each other as planned.

Telling the truth will lead to handing over the list to the chief inspector, and waiting as they hear wolves at night, possibly the last sounds of Devere as he dies.

This visual novel is extremely pretty and I love the way that it presents information. We never see what any of the characters look like, but we do get to see the beautiful letters and envelopes that the character writes on. Everything else follows suit in a sort of picture paper cutter kind of way, with photos used for the chairs and everything else that we find inside of the cave Devere lives in. The voices as well add to the experience and I think it really shows just how much the two of them love each other and what kinds of lengths they have to go through just to be together. We never really get to know exactly who Devere is, though based on the fact that he can go into dreams, can tell what people use to write letters (or type them) and can (I would assume) shapeshift into a wolf, we see that he's not quite human, though it seems to be implied he might be some sort of demon of sorts considering the end image of the famous painting, and the names of Angela and Devere themselves. The mystery kind of adds to the allure of the entire thing, which is already whisked in classiness.

The yandere in this one is of course our villain character Cailin, who causes the big problems between Devere and Angela. Yanderes of course, make consistently excellent villains in a lot of media, so Cailin is no exception. He exemplifies the worst for yanderes, being constantly persistent, attempting to kill any suitors (well, specifically Devere), manipulating others into getting rid of Devere (as well as impersonating her to try to get him to stop writing to each other) and breaking into Angela's house. I will say that he makes for a good force against Devere and Angela, forcing them to become more secretive and making their relationship stronger as a result. Of course, in the end, Cailin attempting to kill Devere backfires, leading him to be killed by Devere himself, and possibly in the end getting Devere killed if the investigator tries to tell the truth to find Angela. I honestly did think that Devere himself might be a yandere considering that he killed Cailin afterwards, but I think my interpretation of the letters was a little off, considering that it seems like Devere did it out of self defense rather than protecting Angela (I mean, he probably did it for both reasons, but I think self defense is a higher priority), and that he seems to have been killed in the ending where the investigator tells the truth. Some of the scenes are left a little more vague on what exactly happened, so sometimes there is room for interpretation.

Overall, extremely well made visual novel that I really enjoyed playing. While the yandere is more or less the general bad guy, he does push the narrative and does his job well. I would highly recommend playing it and experiencing it for yourself.

#Dear Devere #male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #visual novel #completed

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pictureinme · 2 years ago

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from kitten, with love - kitten braden (1)

❧ what's it with freedom fighters and couture anyway?

spy!patricia 'kitten' braden x spy!f!reader word count: 1k tags: cheesy dialogue, cunnilingus, anilingus, flirting, etc. parts: tba

(ao3)

‘Patricia Kitten, AKA Deep Throat, had penetrated the deepest recesses of the Republican sphincter…’

Well, that’s what she told the police officers, but that wasn’t the whole story. Not even close. If they had asked you, (Y/N), AKA Agent Lip Service, they’d have all the nitty-gritty. It starts off the same way Kitten tells it, but with a key component missing: you were also there as a spy, sent from another agency.

Kitten swoops in, rocking her latex dress and armed with her typical anti-terrorist spray. She knocks out all of the freedom fighters elegantly and efficiently. You watch from the rafters, impressed with her ‘spray first, ask questions later’ attitude.

You see a particularly sneaky fighter approach behind her, and that’s when you make your grand entrance. Jumping down from your hiding place, you land square on the potential attacker’s shoulders. Your thighs tighten around his head, effectively choking and taking him down.

Dismounting from his now limp body, your gaze immediately meets Kitten’s. Her spray is drawn, ready to knock you out at a moment’s notice. She hums slightly when she sees your garb– a skin-tight white romper with a symbol indicative of your agency.

“So, you all didn’t think my little self couldn’t handle all these big baddies?”

You rise from your position, flipping your hair back, “Not at all, Miss. Doesn’t hurt to have a little… backup now and then, hm?”

Kitten smiles slightly and clicks the spray back into her utility belt. Her gloved hand reaches out to you, “Agent Deep Throat, at your disposal.”

“Agent Lip Service. Shall we get to it, then?”

Nodding, you both venture to grab all the information about the freedom fighters you can– taking files, hard drives, even their post-it notes. As you stuff your bag, you watch as Kitten struts about the base in her latex number, matching knee-high heels clacking on the concrete. Her fishnets compliment her long legs quite well, and you couldn’t help but stare.

“See something you like, Agent Lip Service? Or, should I say… (Y/N)?”

You’re knocked from your ogling when she utters your real name, “Excuse me?”

“I always do my research when it comes to… competition, dear agent, “ she turns around swiftly, hips swaying as she walks towards you, “You’ve really got to do your own.”

Kitten comes right up to you, her breath hot on your face as she squints, waiting for your response.

“Please don’t tell me you’re a double agent,” you gulp when she begins to trace your bare arm up and down.

“No, no, nothing like that,�� her teeth glint in the dim lighting, “Your track record interests me, or lack thereof. You’re fresh meat.”

You raise an eyebrow at her comment, “Do you doubt my skills?”

“Not in the slightest,” Kitten’s fingers come to tease at your romper’s zipper, “Your file photo took my breath away, I just knew our paths had to cross at some point soon.”

Her tongue quickly darts to lick her lips, and you gasp quietly, “Aren’t you glad I took this job, then?”

“More than you know, Agent (Y/N).”

Kitten closes the gap between you two suddenly, muffling your shock with her plush lips. You melt into it, feeling her smirk as you do. The way she slots against your mouth is like it was always meant to be, and you pull her towards you by her waist. The feeling of the latex underneath your grip was intoxicating.

Pulling away for a breath, she grins, “Better kisser than I imagined.”

“Yeah, yeah,” your daze was evident. “Isn’t it fair if you tell me your name too? Can’t keep calling you Deep Throat, can I?”

Tutting, she pulls your zipper down slightly, “In any other situation, I’d slap you for saying that, but not this one. Name’s Kitten, love.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman– ah!” You bite your lip as your chest is partially exposed to both her and the cold air of the base.

She immediately bites at the top of your breasts, leaving marks in her wake, “And you’ve got pretty tits for an even prettier girl. Get on the table for me.”

Pencils and other miscellaneous office supplies are thrown off the metal desk in a rush as you clamber onto it, ass up. It was begging to be smacked, and Kitten wasn’t one to resist such primal urges. You yelp as she does so, but the smirk still grows on your face.

“The comeling agent,” she climbs onto the table as well, admiring just how eager you bend to her will, “Easy to please, aren’t you?”

“Can’t help it when someone like yourself has their mitts all over me– oh!”

Your rebuttal is cut off when Kitten reaches under you, zipping your romper down your torso, bare chest spilling fully out. She grabs at them, fondling them to her heart’s content, “Pretty fucking tits, my goodness… if you’ll pardon my French.”

Kitten moves the zipper all the way around, revealing your arousal to her. How convenient. You huff in embarrassment as you feel your wetness obvious, but she whimpers.

“All desperate for me, let me have a taste, pretty.”

She licks a stripe from top to bottom, feeling and tasting every single bit of arousal your body was pumping out, just for her. You whimper as she circles your fluttering hole, dipping in ever so slightly.

“You like that, (Y/N)?”

Nodding quickly, you grind against Kitten’s tongue, switching between your two holes, “Yes, I love it, fuck! Don’t stop… please.”

Humming, she settles on dipping her tongue into your more… naturally prepared entrance, the intrusion very much welcome. In and out she moves, all while you’re shuddering with each and every movement. Kitten’s tongue rubs against that spongy spot inside you roughly. You would’ve been more outwardly impressed with how quickly she found it, but with the way her tongue thrust, your mind went blank.

Her latex-gloved fingers make their way to circle your puffy clit, and you come apart almost instantaneously.

“Fuck, fuck, Kitten!”

You release onto her gloves with a cracked moan, and she grins cheekily at the fresh glistening of her gloves, “Absolutely gorgeous, you are, but we’re not done yet, are we?”

#kitten braden x reader #patricia braden x reader #breakfast on pluto #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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numinousmysteries · 1 year ago

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Dancing the Tandava (7/10)

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

Washington, DC 1993

Since William has no identification, money, or place of residence in 1993, Mulder lets him stay at his apartment while they figure out what to do next. As he accompanies his parents on the drive to the airport and the shuttle flight from New York back to DC, he’s tickled by how different they were years before he was born. He only knows them as his happily married, domesticated parents, not these young FBI agents who barely know each other.

Even though they aren’t together together yet, he can see the sparks flying between them. It oddly reminds him of his relationship with Hannah. They’ve stayed up all night talking but have never done more than hug. She’s beautiful and makes him think. He’s considered telling her how he feels about her, but he was scared it would ruin their friendship. Watching his parents now, he doesn’t feel as afraid. As his dad unlocks the door to his apartment, William decides if he makes it back to 2023 he’s going to tell Hannah about his feelings.

Seeing his father’s old apartment thrills William. There’s the leather couch covered by a Navajo blanket and the fish tank from the basement of his childhood home. He tries not to think about it, but he suspects there’s a chance he was conceived on that couch based on the way his parents lock eyes over it. He glances over at the bookshelf and sees familiar titles on parapsychology, cryptozoology, and mythology. Some of these made the cut and are still in his parents’ house in Virginia, but others he’s never seen. He imagines his parents going through the bookshelf two decades ago, deciding which ones were still relevant and which ones they should give away.

Everything else in the apartment is the stuff of legends. This is the setting of all the stories his parents told him of late nights poring crime scene photos trying to break a case or watching old movies and debating the patriotic merits of butter on popcorn.

“This is so cool,” he says, unable to suppress a grin. “I’ve heard so much about this place.”

“About my apartment?” His dad sounds skeptical.

“Yeah,” he says. “This is where you lived before I was born, right? And then we all lived at mom’s old apartment for a little bit before moving into our house. Can we go see mom’s place? I’ve seen pictures from when I was a baby, but I don’t remember it.”

“Um, sure. We’ll see when she’s around. William, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are Agent Scully and I a couple in your time?”

“Of course,” William laughs. “You’re crazy about each other. It’s actually kind of gross sometimes.”

“Are we married?”

“Yeah. You didn’t get married until after I was born, but you told me that you’d been together for a while beforehand.”

Mulder’s quiet as he takes this all in.

“I really shouldn’t say anything else, you know, Back to the Future and everything. Don’t want to accidentally scrub myself out of existence. Remember we used to watch that all the time when I was a kid?”

“I—” his dad starts.

“Oh yeah,” William says, dejected. “Sorry, I keep forgetting.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” his dad says. Buddy. It’s what his dad always calls him. “I don’t remember. But I can imagine if I had a kid I’d want to watch that with him. What about Plan 9 From Outer Space? The Wrath of Khan?”

“Yup,” William says, smiling. “I was Spock for Halloween three years in a row when I was little. None of the other kids had any idea who I was. That was before the J.J. Abrams reboot and everything.”

“They did a reboot? Was it any good?”

“It was okay,” William says. “I liked it. But you said there was too much action.”

His dad grins as he sits down on the couch and invites William to sit next to him. The leather feels squeaky, not as soft and broken-in as he remembers it.

“Mom doesn’t believe me, does she?” William asks.

“She’s coming around to it,” Mulder says.

William shouldn’t be surprised. His mother, the doctor and scientist, has always been the skeptical one but it still crushes him whenever she gives him a cold stare without any recognition. Where’s the mom who read him stories, soothed his nightmares, and helped him with his homework? The one who learned all the rules of baseball and basketball so she could cheer him on during his high school games and listened excitedly when he talked about everything he was learning in his college physics classes? He’s glad his dad, at least, believes him, even though he has no memories of his entire life.

“Am I a good father?” His dad asks hesitantly, and William turns back to face him.

The question confuses him. He always thought fatherhood came naturally to his dad. He remembers hours of playing with Star Trek action figures and building Legos on the floor of their living room as a kid, playing catch and practicing fielding ground balls in their backyard until sunset.

“You’re the best,” he says as if he’s confirming the sky is blue.

His dad turns away and he thinks he sees tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Does that surprise you?” William asks. Growing up, his dad was his hero. He never suspected he had any doubts about being a father.

“Honestly, a little,” Mulder says. “You mentioned my sister, Samantha. I can’t imagine myself settling down and living this life with Scully, and with you, unless I found out what happened to her. Do I ever find her?”

William knows this part of the story—how, a little over a year before he was born, his parents learned Samantha died at 14 years old—but now he starts putting together the pieces. His father needed to get closure before allowing himself to commit fully to his mother and, eventually, to him.

“You’ll find out what happened,” he promises. “You’ll get your answers.”

He sees the pain in his dad’s eyes, how he wants so badly to ask William to tell him the truth, but William can’t bring himself to do it.

“Back to the Future, right?” William says. “I can’t mess up the past.”

“Alright, Marty McFly,” his dad says, his mood lightened. “Let’s work on figuring out how you got here. And how to get you back where you belong. You mentioned this Dr. Bellona. Any hint where he might be working now?”

“I don’t know,” William says. “We can Google him.”

“What’s a Google?” His dad’s puzzled face makes William laugh.

“Sorry,” he says. “I keep forgetting it’s not 2023 anymore. It’s a search engine on the internet. Do you even have internet access?”

“Not personally, but I know some guys who do.”

“The Gunmen?” William perks up. He loved spending time with his dad’s trio of offbeat friends growing up. They always let him play with their latest piece of technology and shared wild stories about his parents from before he was born.

“You know them?”

“Frohike, Langly, and Byers are basically my uncles,” he says and his dad smiles. “They’re awesome.”

“Want to go pay them a visit in 1993?”

***

The Gunmen’s headquarters hasn’t changed much in thirty years. The technology has evolved but it’s just as grungy, overstuffed with audiovisual equipment, and somewhat malodorous as he remembers. Apparently, none of the three have updated their wardrobes in decades either. William recognizes Frohike’s leather jacket and fingerless gloves, Langly’s Dead Kennedys t-shirt, and Byers’s funereal suit.

“Guys, this is William,” his dad says as they come inside. “William, you know the guys.”

The three men look around at each other and then back at William.

“He knows us?” Byers asks Mulder.

“Tell them,” Mulder says, nodding at William. “They’ll believe you.”

“I’m Mulder’s son. And Scully’s. I’m from the year 2023.”

Despite Mulder’s assurance, all three Gunmen start laughing nervously.

“I don’t know what’s harder to believe,” Frohike says. “That Mulder knocked up Scully or that you’re from the future.”

“He appeared at Camp Hero,” Mulder says and the guys stop laughing.

“No way,” Langly says. “Did you see the Delta T antenna? That’s what they use to bend time. It’s supposed to have technology the military stole from extraterrestrials from the Orion constellation.”

“Well, the Delta T antenna can bend time,” Byers adds, “but it’s probably not what allowed you to travel back from the future. That was likely the Phoenix III tunnel.”

“Yeah,” says Frohike. “Do you remember a tunnel that descended deep underground? The CIA has supposedly been throwing homeless people down there just to see what happens, and they come back saying they walked out onto Civil War battlegrounds.”

“He’s a little hazy on how exactly he got here, but we think we know who’s behind this,” Mulder interjects.

“Dr. Vincent Bellona,” William says. “He’s at CERN now. That’s where I was working before I came here, but I think if we find where he is now we might be able to figure out what happened to me.”

“You’re working at CERN?” Byers asks. “Impressive. Must be Agent Scully’s influence.”

“Think you guys could look him up on the ‘net?” Mulder asks.

“On it,” Frohike says as he rolls a chair over to a desktop computer. “Vincent Bellona. Looks like he’s a post-doc at Princeton, specializing in high-energy physics. And—this is interesting—he’s got a hot wife who’s even more accomplished than he is.”

“Oh, let’s see the wife,” Langly says.

“Samita Shah,” Frohike reads off the computer screen. William looks and sees a photo of a younger version of Bellona (with a full-head of hair) next to a pretty South Asian woman with long, dark hair cascading over one shoulder. They’re both in lab coats. The picture is above an article titled “Quantum Leap of Love: Meet the Physics Department’s New Power Couple.” Skimming the article, he learns that Bellona and his wife came to Princeton together to research W and Z bosons, although Shah’s list of publications appears to be twice as long as her husband’s.

“Did Bellona ever mention his wife to you?” Mulder asks.

“No,” William says. “I didn’t think he had one. He doesn’t wear a ring anyway. They must not be together anymore.”

“Frohike, can you print this out?” Mulder says, then turns to William. “What do you say we pick up Scully and then go see what Bellona’s up to at Princeton?”

***

On the drive to Scully’s apartment, William sneaks glances at his father from the passenger seat. While his mom’s face has thinned out over the years, his father seems narrower in 1993, less solid. They’re both free of wrinkles and the gray hair that he knows his mom dyes to hide, and look more like his peers than his parents. He imagines how worried they must be in 2023 when they come to visit him. Hopefully, they’re able to get in touch with Hannah. He told her what he saw Dr. Bellona doing at the Shiva statue and she knows that Bellona called him in last night, so he hopes she’s making the same logical leaps.

More than anything, he wants to talk to Hannah. He knows they could figure out what’s going on. But she doesn’t exist yet. He doesn’t know if her parents have even met. If he doesn’t get back to 2023, he’ll be 30 when she’s born—if he doesn’t manage to screw up the space-time continuum so much that she’s never born at all. The thought of a world without her in it doesn’t feel worth returning to.

William’s dad knocks on the door of his mom’s apartment. She opens the door in jeans, a flannel shirt, and small, round glasses. She looks like she could’ve been in one of his classes at MIT.

“Scully, we have a lead on Dr. Bellona. He’s teaching at Princeton currently. We have to go see him.”

“Mulder, slow down,” his mom says, her face scrunched in concern. “Can we have a word alone?”

William watches as his dad follows his mom into the kitchen. Her apartment is much more familiar than his dad’s. Even though they moved out when he was a few months old, he’s seen photos of his dad holding him in front of the wood bookshelf in the living room, and one of himself as a chubby-cheeked infant with both his parents on the same sofa he sits on now.

His parents are speaking softly, but he can still hear them from where he sits.

“The preliminary DNA test results came back and they’re surprising, to say the least.” William hears his mother opening an envelope and handling papers. “They appear to confirm William’s claims.”

“Scully, you know how accurate these tests are. What’s the likelihood that we aren’t his parents with these results? Less than 10 percent?”

“Even smaller,” she says. “Mulder, this is completely impossible.”

“At this point, it’s more impossible that he’s not telling the truth. You’re a scientist. If you had to testify in court, wouldn’t you say this objectively proves we’re his parents?”

“If I didn’t know the context, sure,” she says. “But this is actually not possible. It has to be a statistical anomaly.”

“A walking, talking statistical anomaly with your eyes and my nose?”

“Mulder, it’s easy to see patterns when you’re looking for them. A lot of people have blue eyes and, well, distinguished profiles.”

“Distinguished? Thanks, Scully.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Come on Scully, talk to him. He knows things about us. I think he’s a little upset you don’t believe him. You’re his mom after all.”

He hears her sigh and then they both come back to join him in the living room.

“William,” his mom starts. She’s turned towards him but her eyes are on the envelope in her hands and not him. “According to the preliminary DNA analysis, what you’re saying is true. Agent Mulder is your father and I, somehow, am your mother. I don’t know how to explain that, but these tests are extremely unlikely to be wrong.”

“I know,” William says. “I told you I was telling the truth.”

She finally faces him and he can see the bewilderment in her eyes. He has to remind himself that this is his mother in 1993. There’s so much she has neither seen nor experienced yet. He knows about her abduction and about Emily. By the time his parents left the X-Files, her name was attached to one of the thickest files in the office, but at this moment he worries that his being here feels like a violation to her.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Mulder says, filling the silence as Scully continues to stare at William, examining him.

“Maybe if we talk to Dr. Bellona, we can find out how to get me back where I belong. I realize this must be weird for both of you.”

His mother nods sadly, looking down at her hands interlaced in front of her. “I think that would be for the best.”

He smiles with his lips tightly shut and nods in agreement, but inside his stomach churns. He wants to reach out and hug her, let her smooth his hair down with her gentle touch like she did when he was little and not feeling well. His heart aches knowing he’s little more than a stranger to her.

#xfiles #txf #xf fanfic #msr #xfiles fanfic #x files #the x files

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photogrivy · 2 years ago

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The thing about photography, as an industry, was that there were so many different avenues that you could go down. You could pigeonhole yourself to one specific area and, so long as you had the clients and were a success, make an absolute killing without ever having to branch out and try new things. That wasn’t for Ivy, though. She enjoyed trying new things, exploring different elements of her craft. She loved uncovering new parts of herself and the art that she created.

Her first ventures into photography had been a chaotic mix of street art and portraiture. She’d worked with the city as her canvas, trying to turn the things she saw every day into something far more beautiful. Over the years, however, she’d finally be lucky enough to gain new opportunities and branch out with her work. She’d previously been thrust into a studio with a band of four, never before having handled lighting equipment to that scale, nor adjustable backdrops and an array of costume changes. Her world was growing larger every day, and today was yet another example of that.

It had been a last minute thing, the event she had lined up. She’d gotten an email and a follow up phonecall at 8am from a publishing company she’d never heard of – one that had sparked Wardo’s interest momentarily before he’d turned his attention back to Harlow’s instagram – telling her that their photographer had gotten caught up in Maine. Apparently, there’d been a snowstorm and they wouldn’t make it in time - not that Ivy gave a single shit what had caused their delay. She was benefiting from their bad luck, and she’d be the one who’d be getting the paycheck at the end of the day.

With very little time to prepare, Ivy had asked them to send on as little information as necessary – she really only needed the location of the venue, the times, and a base outline of what the starting rate would be – and she’d set about getting ready for the day. All she knew was that it was an event featuring a few publishers, some hotshot literary agent, and some author whose book was in the process of being published. She had no idea what his name was or what his book was about, and she didn’t really care, either. She figured she might be able to swing a free copy for Wardo, at best, but aside from that she was just happy to get the work. She just needed to introduce herself to the team, stick around for the event, and get a few shots. There’d be some snaps of the author talking, some crowd shots, and then a few posed photos of him with his book. Easy stuff, she figured.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, heavy with her camera and all her equipment, Ivy used her boot to push open the door in front of her, not wanting to accidentally bump any of her valuables against it in the process. Carefully making her way into the building, she stared around her at the empty lobby. The lady she’d spoken to on the phone had said there’d be someone waiting for her at the desk to point her in the right direction, but so far there didn’t seem to be anyone. Still, she was a little early, so she figured it was best to try her hand at being patient for a change and wait until she was called on. Stepping aside from the doorway so as not to block it, she set her bag down on an empty chair, hovering awkwardly beside it as she waited.

A few minutes passed when Ivy finally heard the faint whoosh of the door opening again behind her, the sound of New York traffic filtering in momentarily until it clicked back onto its latch. Turning her attention back, she plastered a polite smile onto her face, eager to greet whoever had just entered the building. A man wandered into the lobby; his head hung low as he stared down at his phone. A strange sense of déjà vu overcame her as she tried to make out his features, quietly willing him to look up. As bizarre as she knew it sounded, there was something vaguely familiar about the man, right down to his gait.

“Hey, uh, are you here for the signing?” Ivy called out, trying to catch his attention. He clearly hadn’t noticed she was there, and she figured if he also had no idea where he was going that it might be helpful for them to be lost together, at the very least.

At the sound of her voice, the man lifted his head and Ivy’s heart stopped in her chest. Her throat constricting, head spinning, she stared back in horror. It was like every bad thing Ivy had ever done in her life was finally catching up to her; like some kind of God that she didn’t even believe in was punishing her for every sin she’d ever committed by bringing Louis fucking Denver back into her life.

Rage filled her chest as she glared at the man who had broken her best friend’s heart. He looked different, somehow. Like a man who was happy and healthy and hadn’t destroyed Wardo’s entire livelihood and any last notion of hope and happiness that he’d managed to concoct all those years ago. She took in his features, the curve of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbones; he looked prettier, somehow, and it made her angry. She wondered if he looked shorter than she remembered, or if she was just seeing what she wanted to see in her own furious haze.

“What the FUCK are you doing here, Denver?” she demanded.

#thread: louis1 #ft. louis

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borrowing-at-midknight · 2 years ago

Text

Snatched

I've never published any of my writing on here but uhhh sure why not, there's not enough NCIS G/T on the internet so let's light that candle. Enjoy!

AO3 link for this story:

AO3 link for the whole G/T NCIS series:

~~~

It was times like these that you cursed your luck of living on a Navy base- but it wasn't as if you could just up and move. You had almost no time to react before the human of your current house was at the door, letting in two more people that you've never seen before.

A tall man with short brown hair entered first, introducing himself as Agent Dinozzo, and his partner behind him as Agent David. You had been perfectly hiding from the homeowner before they rang the doorbell, but now you were scrambling around vases and picture frames on the shelf to keep yourself hidden from the now changing perspective of any humans present. You hoped that pressing yourself against the back of a photo frame would work until these people left. After all, they said that they just wanted to ask a few questions about some case they were working on.

You try your best to quiet and steady your breathing as you hear the heavy footsteps of humans approaching your location. 'Just go to the kitchen, will you? Why must you talk out here?' You groan internally and can't help but tremble, feeling the presence of a human not but a foot away from you on the other side of the picture frame.

With no warning, the massive fingers of said human press you against the back of the frame as it's lifted. Besides the circumstances, you were thankful for his loud voice. If it wasn't for that, all three people would have heard the fearful gasp that escapes your lips.

"Beautiful family photo you have here, Ms. Hansen," Tony comments wryly between Ziva's questioning. He was letting Ziva take the lead on this interview for one reason and one reason only- he swore he caught a glimpse of something when he entered this house.

Tony only proves his theory upon grabbing the photo he had seen the slight movement duck behind when he first came in.

The tiniest figure squirms against his index finger, but he presses just a tad harder for a moment to prevent it from escaping. This is no rat or mouse or bug, and he's determined to figure out what the hell this thing is. Stealthily, he uses his finger to slide the figure to the edge of the frame and, as he sets the photo back in its place, into his quickly closed fist. He barely gets a look at it in the process, but swears it looks almost… human.

But that can't be. Right?

'No no no! This can't be happening. How? By a stranger, nonetheless!' You've been on your own for years, years! And this is how you go down? Seriously?

You squirm in his loose fist, but the moment you feel any progress being made the fist closes around you a bit tighter. Not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to stop you from moving. You feel a bit of external pressure and the fist loosens once again, almost letting you go, but you realize that you've been shoved into the pockets of the man's dress pants. His hand opens and, before you can make a move, he shoves his thumb over the bottom half of your face, both pinning you to his open palm and keeping you from making any noise.

Sighing and dropping your shoulders, you give up fighting for now. You're helpless to do anything other than listen to the slightly muffled, yet loud, conversation going on around you.

"Alright, Ms. Hansen. If you hear anything from Micheal or anything like that, give us a call."

"Thank you. I hope you find him, I really do."

"Have a good day, ma'am."

You sway back and forth, squished between his calloused palm and the slick fabric of the inside of his pocket as he walks.

"What was that?"

"What was what, Ziva?"

"That. Back there. You barely spoke. Usually you're all over a suspect."

"Are you complaining that I'm letting you take the lead a bit here?"

"You're up to something, Tony. I can tell."

"No you can't."

"Yes, I c-"

"Shut up. Let's get back. If you're lucky, maybe I'll tell you later." Tony tries to be careful when he sits in the passenger seat of the car, without looking too suspicious.

"You're letting me drive?"

Tony tosses Ziva the keys, who catches them effortlessly while eyeing him with suspicion. "Hurry up."

"If you say so." Ziva grins as she hops into the driver's seat, enthusiastically starting the engine.

"That's not what I meant. Don't—!"

It's too late. Before he can even get the rest of the sentence out, she's already weaving through traffic. With his one free hand, he grasps the handle above his head to steady himself, really hoping you don't get hurt because of this. Subconsciously, he holds you a bit closer in an attempt to protect you. His thumb leaves your face and settles across your waist like some sort of massive, makeshift seatbelt.

By the time the car is parked, you're completely dizzy, disoriented, and honestly shocked that you didn't vomit. When the man's hand retreats from his pocket, followed by the sound of a dull smack, you can't even process quick enough to try and escape from the pocket. Besides, the only thing worse than being captured by one human is being exposed to multiple in a close vicinity. You couldn't risk it.

You groan quietly and shove yourself into the corner of his pocket, resigning to your fate. You saw the side arm he had when he walked into the house, who knew what he'd do with you? You tried to stop thinking, once again directing your attention to the outside world.

"You can leave once you get me those reports, and not a second earlier, got it?"

"Got it, boss."

There's a pause as a set of footsteps fade.

"See, that!"

"What?"

"That! Usually you'd have some bullshit comment up your shirt, but nothing? Something's up, and I'm gonna figure it out."

"It's sleeve, Ziva. Not shirt. And no you won't. Because I'm better at hiding things than you are at finding things."

"Are you sure about that? That shirtless cowboy picture of you begs to differ."

"That picture isn't even real!" The man hisses.

"Sure it isn't." Another set of footsteps start to recede. "Have fun with that report!" The voice is further away this time. He stays still for a moment, making sure the coast is clear before digging his hand into his pocket.

You squeak and push yourself away from the advancing digits, but with nowhere to go, he quickly pinches the hood of your jacket and drags you out of safety (if you could even call it that). You're hardly out in the open for a second before you're released, sent stumbling back. You fall on your ass, the metal surface bound to leave a bruise.

Taking a gasp of fresh air, you gain the courage to look up at the looming human, who seems to be studying you with a fair amount of shock on his face. You push yourself away, but don't get very far before hitting a wall of the same metal as below you. Taking just a moment to look around, you find yourself in what seems to be a desk drawer.

"What are you?"

The low voice draws your attention back up to the human, who's staring down at you with a faint smirk and bright, curious eyes.

"I guess I should probably figure out if you can even understand me, I mean-"

"I can." You manage to peep out a response.

His face lights up. "Holy shit. You can spe- you're… what the hell are you?"

You open your mouth to answer, but quickly shut it.

"Oh c'mon, you can trust me! I'm not gonna hurt ya." He leans a bit closer. "Maybe just a name, huh?"

"(Y/n). M-My name is (Y/n)."

He gives you a charming, toothy smile. "(Y/n). That's very cute. I'm Agent Dinozzo, but you can call me Tony," He winks. "Can you tell me what you are? Or how you got to be like… that?" He gestures to your entire self.

"I-I was born like this. I'm… a borrower. That's what we call ourselves, anyway." You relax a bit. If this guy was going to hurt you, or even kill you, he probably would've done it by now. Plus, why would he introduce himself if he planned on killing you? You stay cautious, though, keeping yourself pressed against the back of the drawer.

"'We?' So there's more of you?"

You stay silent, cursing yourself for saying that.

Tony puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, touchy subject, got it. But you're meant to be that small, huh? Nobody made you… tiny?" He reaches into the drawer with one finger extended towards you.

"Yes." You smack his finger when it gets close. "Why would somebody make-"

"What were you doing at the suspect's house, anyway? Snooping around on that shelf?"

"I wasn't snooping, I was hiding!"

"From who?"

"From you."

"Why?"

"Humans aren't supposed to see me!" You snap at him. He pauses and raises an eyebrow.

"Are you scared of humans? I mean, you look pretty human to me. Kinda weird to consider you as something else."

"Would you not be afraid of something a hundred times your size?"

"Anthony Dinozzo fears no man." A cocky grin spreads across his face.

"Oh yeah? Even if that man could crush you without a second thought and you'd be nothing but a little smear of blood on his palm?"

Tony cringes a bit at the thought. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess you might have a point."

"I'm not supposed to be seen. By anyone. And I'm sure as fuck not supposed to get caught."

"It is insanely cute when you cuss, can you do it again?"

"Will you let me go?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Mostly because you could be a witness. You might have some pretty important information up there." He gently taps the top of your head, squishing you down slightly. He pulls just out of your range before you get the chance to smack his finger again, and chuckles at your attempt.

"I don't see anything that goes on in that house. I get what I need and stay out of sight."

"Not very good at that last part are we?" He nudges you, seemingly studying your clothing. "Unless dolls come with greens, is it safe to assume you steal fabric to make these clothes?"

You push yourself away from his fingers, but he pinches the front of your jacket and pulls you forward in the drawer. "I-I don't take anything I don't need! It's the name of the game."

"Which is?" He gives you an intimidating look, eyebrows raised.

"Borrowing! I swear, the only stuff I take is necessary for my survival. Food, fabric, that kinda stuff!" You croak, gasping in relief when he releases you.

"Relax. I told you I'm not gonna do anything to you."

The two of you glare at each other for a few moments before you speak up. "How did you even see me?"

"I'm an investigator. I investigate things. It's my job."

You curse your luck once again and huff. "Great. The one time I slip up is in front of some sort of Sherlock Holmes."

"You should count yourself lucky that it's me! I'm great, you'll learn to love me."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, you're staying with me. It'll be great!"

"Why would I stay with you?" You push yourself to your feet and give him a dirty look as you cross your arms.

"Because," he draws out the word, "I can just give you all that crap you've been stealing. Plus that person you were living with is a suspect, so there's no way I'm bringing you back there."

Tony refuses to admit that the reason he hates the idea of letting this little person go off on their own is because he's scared they'll get hurt and he wouldn't be there to help them. He also refuses to admit how quickly he's become attached to them.

Meanwhile, the gears in your head are turning. He's dangerous because he's human, yes, but he's offering a lifestyle most borrowers could only dream of. No more sneaking around, food that isn't completely stale, no more fear of being caught? The pros are really starting to outweigh the cons. You sigh, defeated. "Alright, fine. But I refuse to go back in those pockets!"

He claps his hands together once and pumps his fist, victorious. "Yes! Trust me, you're gonna love it! I'll order in some Chinese and we can watch Top Gun, start off with a bang!"

"What's Top Gun?"

"Oh, you have so much to learn."

#g/t #gt #giant/tiny #giant tiny #reader insert #ncis #tony dinozzo #ziva david #leroy jethro gibbs #borrowers #my writing #borrower reader #gt community #gt writing #gt fearplay

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thenightlymirror · 1 year ago

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Some interesting things about that documentary. I love that whoever shot it clearly asked PR how he managed to live on this beautiful estate. (They are half paid-up on $160,000 since the 70’s and then went to court and are essentially squatting.) There is this weird vibe in the movie where Steve was a young working class kid pulled in by PR, his life was changed by punk and anarchism, but because he wasn’t able to make any money, essentially just became a regular bloke again. The photo of him and Gee was the most cryptic part. So, Crass was poly? Even though that’s just a photo of two people sitting on a couch, I feel like we are supposed to speculate about their romance. What if Steve couldn’t handle the polyamory? Hahaha. Young guy gets pulled into the old hippie anarchism and then they both part ways. The doc does a very good job of showing but not over-explaining, without being conspicuously well-directed. It’s like a minority report within the edit.

Ah. The Michael Caine character in Children of Men. That must be Penny. I like him and Gee a lot. I feel like of course I would, they’re the bourgeois ones. There’s all kinds of critiques you could make of anarchism based on the little that is brushed on in the story. Like, Penny is always making a thing about how he works with people across the political spectrum. Lol. Crass sort of has a Throbbjng Gristle or Death in June vibe in that way. It’s like those groups saw their logo and military surplus gear and were like, what if we just recuperated the fascist vibe of this anarchist punk band? That’s crazy. There is something a little industrial and scary about Crass records. That’s the most interesting part for me. MDC is a punk band that writes good protest songs. Crass is an old school industrial act with good politics. (Sounds like I’m describing Negativland.) Honestly, Crass’ music is as good as you’d hope imagining a band like that.

I wonder how much being groomed by the KGB fucked them up? As anarchists, I think the idea is, we don’t serve any government or want to be agents in some spycraft game. An episode of The Americans about Crass. But it’s about power. What’s the most wide-reaching effective thing you could do with what you have? Not just interrupting the city for a few weeks, but fucking with the actual world system. I think the thing is: who can fuck with the world system? It seems like spies are just at the mercy of game theory. I mean, in a way, when it really comes down to it, politics is warfare. And your Napoleon has to win. The deconstruction of that, is to hope that powerlessness is in everyone’s ultimate favor. It means good won. But it also sounds like, you can’t make political decisions anymore, guess the market will decide. I think the situationist critique is that you have to make open spontaneous decisions that are openly defiant, collective, and bold, which prevents any kind of spycraft vanguard taking control. Sounds like the same problem.

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shandian-go · 5 years ago

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[SPECIAL ORDER] MDZS x Maoer FM - Commemorative Merch

I mentioned a little while ago that I had ordered a few extra of these during the pre-order period and that you guys would be able to claim them later. Well the time has come and I will be opening claims on Wednesday, August 12, 2020 at 12:00 PM EST!

How it works

There will be a Google form available on the pinned post a few minutes before claims open that you can preemptively fill in. As soon as the clock hits 12:00 PM, you can hit submit and then the timestamp of your submission will be used to determine the order of the claims. Once I go through the list, I will reach out to you individually to let you know if you were successful in claiming it!

*Please be sure to submit only when the clock strikes 12! Any early submissions will not count!!

Prices

Bunny patches: 9.50 CAD or 7.15 USD + shipping

Enamel pins: 15.50 CAD or 11.50 USD + shipping

Notes

Since this is limited merch, there will be a limit of 1 bunny patch set and 1 enamel pin set per person.

Maoer FM has opened up current stock orders so I may be able to get 5 more of each but no guarantees that they'll be in stock after claims are done!

Claims are available worldwide! If you are outside Canada/USA and don't mind paying for the shipping from my address to yours, you're welcome to sign up. :)

If you have any questions, feel free to ask or send me a DM!

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #wei ying #lan zhan #wei wuxian #lan wangji #category misc #category buttons and pins #designer maoerfm #(my preorders have actually arrived at the chinese warehouse already #and they really are beautiful based on the agent's photos!#the bunny patches are a bit bigger than i thought too!)

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elliesmainhoe · 2 years ago

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thinking about ellie with an actor! reader 🫣like maybe reader is doing short films and indie films to start off their career. reader sometimes brings ellie to set with them and ellie can just watch them do their thing and be a certified supportive gf🫡

a bonus thought that i just thunked while typing this; what if reader gets a callback for a pretty big show and gets !! the !! part !! and it could be considered their like “breakout role”, and how proud would be :,))

Ellie Williams Headcanons: Actress!Reader

The start of your career

Supportive gf Ellie is prominent!

Comes to all of the sets of projects that your working on-

Makes you and the whole crew lunch because theirs only like ten staff

Ur biggest fan❤️

Watches every single indie movie your in, every short film, you could be an extra or the lead and she will absolutely LIVE for it.

Sitting next to her giggling away as she watches gobsmacked at every plot twist and cliffhanger of a film your in.

Takes all the photos for your Instagram.

yourinstagram

3,286 likes

yourinstagram BTS of the new YouTube short film 'The butterfly effect' OUT NOW!!

View 106 comments

ellie_sketches taken by me🧍

ellie_sketches @dinnodina look at how pretty my girl is.

→ dinnodina @ellie_sketches nah y/ns my gf not yours

→ yourinstagram @ellie_sketches lomls... Don't fight <33 your both my bbygirls dw

Breakout Role

She was the first one you told when the audition told you that you had gotten the role

The lead in a film adaptation of a well known spy novel. The script was amazing, empowering and had beautiful character development throughout the plot

And as soon as your agent told you of the role you knew you had to do it.

You never expected to actually get a call back.

You had never ran so fast from your car, up the three flights of stairs and into your shared apartment than you did once you got the call.

"ELLIE!!! ELLIE OH MY GOD WHERE ARE YOU!" You screamed before an alarmed Ellie came out of your bedroom.

"Fuck babe- wants wrong are you alr-"

She couldn't even finish her sentence before you had ran into her arms, squeezing the life out of her.

"I got it- I fucking got it Els" you sobbed. Ellie's face light up immediately and her smile beamed before her lips smashed into yours. The kiss lasted for what felt like hours before you broke away from eachother.

Her hands cradled your face, tears rushing down her cheeks "I am so, so fucking proud of you baby"

Lets just say she is the proudest girlfriend ever.

Reads all the books the movies are based off of even though she's not a big reader

Going as your date for the premiere <33

Such a fucking sweetheart, goes with you to every new experience to help you with your anxiety. Whether she's lurking behind the camera during an interview or holding your hand as you meet your idols.

She's there for you. Always.

yourinstagram

17,892 likes

yourinstagram the first ever set that I've had my OWN TRAILER

View 1,482 comments

ellie_sketches I have never met someone more deserving of this than you ❤️

dinnodina so proud of you bestie <3

florencepugh I'm so happy I got to work with you!!!

Becoming a star

After the success of the spy movie you lead- you were scouted for so many new things.

You became a face in many franchises: scream, the hunger games and even marvel!

It was honestly insane.

And ofc big roles came with high rates. You bought a penthouse apartment in Manhattan- and you bought Ellie everything she wanted.

(Your her sugar mommy fr lmao)

She was able to quit her day job and focus solely on her art. She did something she loved and you were doing yours. It was perfect.

Date nights mainly stayed at home- the paparazzi and constant flashing lights became really tedious- so dinner and a movie was the way to go

Not like the two of you were complained.

yourinstagram

72,935 likes

yourinstagram I have never felt so honoured, appreciated and in love than I am right now. Being able to make acting my livelihood is something that I had never thought I would be able to achieve in this lifetime- and I am so so so grateful for everyone that has made this possible. Thank you to the staff, the directors, my agents and my team.

But a special thanks to my Ellie. Ellie has been by my side since day one, she has seen me lose roles, get roles, cry, scream and laugh through this completely and utterly insane experience. I love you so much.

....

GUESS WHO HAS AN OSCAR BITCHES!!!!

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moon-spirit-yue · 2 years ago

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It's Not Living (if it's Not With You)

Chapter 1: Raya Ran into Some Complications

(TW WARNING!!!!!! This mini series is based heavily on the show Criminal Minds so if murder mysteries and descriptions of that sort of thing are not for you, just don’t read this fic. It’s not like my other fics where I let you know of a small uncomfortable part. I really don’t want to make this fic too horrific and gory, but it will get dark. Basically, if you can get though an episode of Criminal Minds this fic will be fine. These sorts of topics are not for everyone so please just be aware of this if you choose to proceed)

“Please don’t hurt me this way! I have a wife! And a sweet baby boy! How could you be so cruel?!” Raya whimpered, turning her head away from the monster that was trying to torture her.

“God, you are so dramatic,” Noi snorted without looking up from her book.

“Okay first of all, your “wife” does not count, and second, you don’t have any kids,” Tong began before getting cut off.

“Objection! Tuk Tuk is my beautiful son and I don’t appreciate you acting like he isn’t,” Raya huffed. “And I am married! Sisu and I have the certificate framed and everything! What’s with the judgement? Is it because we’re gay?”

“I’m pretty sure the judgement is coming from the fact that you two only got married to get grant money for college,” Boun laughed.

“And who the hell asked you, twerp?” Raya glared.

“Your dog and sham marriage do not count,” Tong sighed.

“You know, you’re being awfully negative to someone who literally got shot at this morning,” Raya grumbled as she reluctantly opened her eyes.

“Yeah well, the unsub missed and honestly? I’m kinda wishing he met his mark. Now wake up,” the unit chief scowled.

“Oh please! We’re the smallest unit in the BAU! If I get shot and go out of commission we’d literally have no choice but to dissolve and relocate to other units,” Raya scoffed. “And you know that Noi despises change.”

“It’s true. My mother used a different kind of cereal to feed me as kid because my usual stuff was out of stock and I protested by refusing to eat breakfast until I got my cereal back,” Noi confirmed.

“And you call me dramatic,” Raya laughed.

The bickering continued like it always did until they finally landed back in Quantico, their beloved home base. The quartet wearily got off the plane single file and entered the FBI building. It was long a flight and they were all ready to crash.

“Hello my dazzling little agents! How is everyone?” Sisu greeted them once they got on their floor.

“Feeling like I’m about to pass out. The guy was maniac. I mean, who carries three guns on their person at all times? Even for a serial killer, it’s a tad excessive,” Boun groaned.

“I do not envy any of you. It’s bad enough I have to see the crime photos, I could not imagine having to see the guy that caused them, let alone capture him,” Sisu shivered.

“This job is certainly not for the faint of heart,” Tong confirmed.

That was the understatement of the year.

“Agreed. Hey Sisu, can you drive me? If I go behind the wheel I’m scared I’ll fall asleep,” Raya asked.

“Anything for the wife!” Sisu laughed. Boun and Noi had small smiles on their faces as Tong loudly sighed in displeasure.

“The sanctity of marriage is wasted on you people!” Tong declared.

“We’ll get a divorce one day, don’t worry sir,” Raya giggled.

“A man can only dream. Alright, before we all disperse, I do want to say that you all truly outdid yourselves this past week. The unsub did his damn hardest to shake us off, but we managed to pull through. I really am proud of how this team has grown,” Tong said.

The other four agents beamed at his words. As much as the whole team likes picking on each other at every possible opportunity, they really did care about each other and yearned for their boss’s approval. The next words he said were not nearly as uplifting.

“We’re going to need to get in here early tomorrow. We’re all behind on some important documents that have to get on my desk by the end of the month,” the unit chief stated with a stern look on his face.

“Boooooo!” Boun groaned.

“Dang it, I thought he forgot about that,” Noi mumbled.

Raya just decided to stick with her classic pout. She’s getting too tired to talk.

“On that note, I’m going home to my wife, that I married for the right reasons,” Tong said, shooting a look at Raya and Sisu.

The other four then went their separate ways, mumbling some tired goodbyes and see you tomorrows. Sisu had to practically drag Raya to her car and shoved her in.

“At least stay awake until we get home,” Sisu sighed while starting the car.

“Can we just go to your place for night? Tuk Tuk’s already there and it’s closer,” Raya mumbled.

Tuk Tuk always stayed with Sisu when Raya was out on assignments so she really didn’t feel like relocating him tonight. Plus, she had a good portion of her stuff at Sisu’s anyways.

“I had a feeling you’d say that. Your bed is already made,” Sisu laughed.

“Have I told you that I literally love you?” the agent yawned.

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt me to hear it more often,” Sisu laughed.

“Oh, do you still need help dying your roots?” Raya asked.

She was now vaguely remembering Sisu asking for her help at some point when she was out on her previous assignment. Considering the fact that some dude with mommy issues damn near killed her, the text was shoved in the back of Raya’s mind for a hot minute.

“Yeah, but let’s save that for tomorrow. I don’t think you can be trusted with anything permanent right now,” her best friend said, side eyeing how Raya was nodding off.

It took everything in her to muster up the strength to give Sisu a thumbs up, so that’s probably for the best. Raya’s pretty sure she did fall asleep during the brief car ride because she blinked and bam! There was Sisu’s house.

“Carry me,” Raya demanded, slumped over.

“Oh my god,” Sisu groaned

After much pulling and tugging on Sisu’s part, they made it through the front door and was greeted by Tuk Tuk’s little yips of happiness. Raya grinned the second she saw her fluffy puppy and began pressing kisses on his furry face.

“I missed you, my beautiful baby! Oh yes I did! Yes I did!” Raya cooed as her precious pup licked her cheek.

“I’m gonna turn in. Anything you need?” Sisu asked her.

“Uh, can you drop Tuk and I off at our house before work? I just got the notification that my package got delivered and it is dangerously unsupervised right now. Other than that I’m good,” Raya explained.

“That’s fine. See you tomorrow, bestie. Love you! And I love you too Tuk!” Sisu said while scratching his fluffy ears.

“We love you too. Night!” Raya waved as she walked into her designated room.

She kicked off her shoes and changed her clothes before immediately flopping on the bed. Raya heard Tuk Tuk jump on the bed and snuggled right next to her. She multitasked by using one hand to pet her dog and the other to text her father she’s back in Quantico, safe and sound.

One of the major downsides of this job is knowing her father is going into cardiac arrest whenever a case pops up. He tried to convince her for weeks not to take the job but alas, her mind was made up. So then Benja decided to force to send texts when she left for a case and when she came back. Raya carelessly tossed her phone on the other side of the bed once the message was sent and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

****************************

The best way to wake up is seeing Tuk Tuk’s adorable face right beside her. Man, she missed this dog.

Raya had to speed through her morning routine to get out the door at a reasonable hour. Ushering Sisu to get moving, Raya and Tuk Tuk were already waiting in her car by the time she got in.

“You know, you’re a lot less pushy when you’re tired,” Sisu huffed while driving off.

“It’s not my fault someone’s stealing packages from people’s doorsteps!” Raya exclaimed.

“You’re a profiler, catch them!” Sisu snapped.

“Too busy tracking down serial killers, thank you,” Raya told her.

“I hope you have an extra load of paperwork to finish,” Sisu glared.

“You are so hateful in the morning,” Raya frowned.

They made it to Raya’s front door with no serious injuries, so she grabbed Tuk Tuk and made her way home.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Sisu yelled.

“I’m good! See you in the office!” Raya yelled back.

Her beloved wife nodded and proceeded to drive to work. Raya turned her attention to where her packages get dropped off at.

She absolutely beamed at seeing her mail sitting there, unstolen by the neighborhood thief. Raya grabbed the package and tapped the passcode lock combo to let herself and Tuk in.

Raya awkwardly opened the door to let Tuk Tuk in first and kicked her package in the house. Stumbling in herself, she gave the house a quick clean from it’s lack of use. Once Raya finished eating cereal straight from the box, she was already back out the door.

“Tuk Tuk, take care of the house for me while I’m gone, will ya?” Raya asked the little pup. He gave a bark in response which in Raya’s mind meant he totally agreed to her task.

“I love you bud! See you tonight!” Raya said before locking up her house and getting into her car.

The FBI building wasn’t that far away but of course it was far away enough to hit some major morning traffic. Patience isn’t exactly where Raya shines. She didn’t even have the time to go to her favorite coffee place.

Finally, she was able to make her exit and entered the building of her workplace. She walked up to her desk to be greeted with Boun and Noi arguing over what case they think will be chosen next.

“I’m telling you, those murders down in Texas have to be serial! There’s just too many gun related deaths!” Noi exclaimed.

“No way, there’s several missing people in North Carolina that have never returned for the past couple weeks! Oh Raya, you’re here! Hey, which case do you think is the next one?” Boun asked as she plopped into her small cubicle.

“No clue. Have either of you guys started your paperwork just at a curiosity?” Raya asked, pulling over her papers.

Noi and Boun looked at each other guiltily before scrambling to get their own papers out. Raya snorted and shook her head before focusing in on her own work. Those two remind her of actual kids and the fact that they’re both younger than her doesn’t help.

The day was an uncommonly quiet one. Tong summoned them all near the end of it to discuss the files they had to get through in one of the meeting rooms.

“We did make good progress on what we finished today, but there’s still a hell of a lot more to be done. I highlighted which ones are top priority and we need to-” Tong began but was cut off by a random voice.

“SSA Spine, I’m very sorry to interrupt, but someone needs to speak to one of your agents,” the person told them.

“Did any of you have plans for company?” Tong asked with a raised brow.

The other four agents shook their head while giving each other looks. Who on earth could be looking for one of them?

“Well which agent do they need? And who’s asking?” Tong questioned further.

“Oh, Virana Fang wanted to speak with Agent Heart,” the woman said.

Raya’s blood somehow chilled and boiled at the same time. Seriously, Virana? Of all the fucking people that could meet with her?

“Isn’t she like, a big time attorney? Raya, did you get into someone legal trouble?” Boun asked with furrowed brows.

“No, no I did not get into legal troubles. We know each other from uh, I guess when I was in college. And let me tell you, she is not a fan of mine. The fact that she’s here is honestly making me feel rather nervous,” Raya frowned.

“Oh my god, I remember her! Man, she did not like you,” Sisu scoffed.

“Did Mrs. Fang say what exactly she wanted?” Tong asked.

“No, all she said was that it was urgent,” the woman answered.

“Do you want to tell her you aren’t available? I’m not entirely sure what’s going on but I can see your hackles raised, Raya,” Tong said with concern. Raya stood up from her chair.

“There’s no point. The woman’s relentless. If she says she wants to see me, she will see me. I have a feeling I am not going to like this conversation,” the agent sighed as she reluctantly followed the woman.

“Do you want one of us to come with you?” Noi inquired.

“That’s fine. I can take her in a fight,” Raya joked as she left the room.

Once the door got closed behind her, she allowed the dread to kick. Tong was right, her hackles were raised. What the hell could Virana possibly want with her?

Raya’s arms were crossed and her jaw clenched as she approached Virana. Oh, how Raya loathed her regal, menacing face. The older woman looked professional and impeccable as Raya has always known her to be. Never a speck of dirt on her clothes nor a strand of her hair out place. Confidence and ferocity ooze from her every pore, ready to suffocate anyone that tries to challenge her. This is how Virana Fang presents herself.

But the Virana Fang Raya is currently looking at doesn’t have the usual intensity she frequently possesses. Instead she looks around anxiously, like something terrible is about to happen. The agent can’t find it in herself to feel any sort of sympathy for this woman.

“Virana Fang. Why have you come to haunt me on this otherwise peaceful afternoon?” Raya drawled. Mrs. Fang almost seemed startled to find Raya standing right in front of her.

“I do not have time for your typical unnecessary remarks. Look, I want to keep this as short as possible. The bottom line is, I need your help,” Virana whispered quickly.

“I’m sorry, you need my help? Me? Raya Heart? My help?” Raya asked, utterly baffled. Virana stiffly nodded in response.

Raya blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then she smiled. A smile turned to a laugh. What kind of bullshit is she playing at?

“Does it sound like I’m joking? What punchline did I just deliver?” the woman hissed.

“Oh come on, I’m sure even you can see the irony in this? I mean you asked for my help, Mrs. Fang! God that’s hilarious!” Raya laughed. She honestly can’t take this situation seriously. “You know, it’s probably best if you just go. I thought I could get through this conversation but I think I overestimated myself. Please, have the day you deserve.”

Raya shook her head and turned away but the other woman’s hand stopped Raya. The agent looked back and saw how desperate Virana really looked. Before the agent could respond, Virana decided to speak words that alarmed her even more.

“Listen, I am well aware that in a perfect world, we never see each other again, but this world is not perfect. In a perfect world, my daughter would not be in danger,” Virana hissed in a frenzy.

This conversation could not get any more insane. What on earth was going on with Namaari? If Raya had any doubts about helping the lawyer, they were all gone now.

While her and Namaari weren’t exactly having sleepovers and braiding each other’s hair, Raya still cares about her. Plus, Namaari was certainly in better standing with her than Virana. (Then again, the raccoon that dug around in Raya’s trash last week was in better standing with her than Virana so that didn’t really mean much.)

“Fine, I’ll bite. Why is Namaari in danger?” Raya asked with annoyance.

“Because a serial killer is after her. That’s why I came to you, considering the fact that catching them is your job,” the older told her in a low voice.

The agent’s jaw dropped. A serial killer? After Namaari? Well, to be fair, Namaari is a lawyer so it’s entirely possible a client is out for revenge?

“How can you be so sure? I assume you came with evidence because this is not something I can just take your word for,” Raya managed to ask.

“Of course I came with proof, but I would prefer to speak of this in a more private setting,” Virana requested. First reasonable thing she’s said since she got here.

“Follow me,” the agent relented. Raya spend up the stairs to the conference room her team was in with Virana hot on her heels.

“Hey, sir, can I use your office really quickly? It’s important,” Raya asked while gesturing to Virana.

“Of course,” Tong nodded while giving the two of them a suspicious glance. She is so getting interrogated when this conversation is over.

Raya then walked to Tong’s office and closed the door behind her once Virana stepped in. The agent sat on the little couch in the office with crossed arms.

“Lay it on me, Fang. Why do you think a serial killer is coming for Namaari?” Raya asked.

Virana opened her briefcase and pulled out two envelopes. She handed them both to Raya.

“Just look at the cases with those two girls that have unfortunately passed away. I’m sure you’ll realize I’m right,” Virana said while sitting on the chair across from her.

The lawyer said it in such a haughty way that it made Raya really hope that there isn’t a case for more than just Namaari’s safety. The agent took the two envelopes from her and opened the first one.

The first girl’s name was Anchali Chakan. She was born in Nebraska, moved to New York when she was ten, then transferred to a college in Maryland where she’s lived ever since. She got married only three months ago to her long time girlfriend, now wife. Or, now widow. A relatively normal upbringing from what Raya can tell. She had dreams of being an artist and made some very impressive pieces before her passing. Now that Raya knows the basics about this girl, it’s time to get into the actual crime that was committed.

Yikes. That is the first word that comes into her mind when she saw the picture of this woman’s untimely death. Raya doesn’t care how many cases she comes across, she will never get over all the horrible ways people kill.

The murder happened in her house on March 1st. The place where she’s meant to feel safest. There was bruises around Anchali’s neck, an obvious sign of strangulation. Medical reports say that her windpipe got crushed which was the cause of her death. But alas, the atrocities did not stop there. There was an arrow that went straight through her neck. The only thing that made that detail a little less horrific was the fact that the arrow was stabbed into her neck post mortem. Raya cringed, shook her head, and went on to the second case.

The second woman is Cai Lan. She grew up in New York and stayed there until her last days. Unlike Anchali, Cai was born into poverty and had to claw her way out. She had been a foster kid since she was five, homeless for a period time in her late teens, went into massive debt getting into college, and had to live in an RV until three years ago. Cai did manage to make her way into upper society by scoring a manager position at a financial firm.

Cai’s murder occurred exactly one month after the first one, April 1st. It took place in Cai’s home just like Anchali’s. Again, just like Anchali’s murder, Cai was also strangled to death and ended up with an arrow through her neck post mortem. Looking closer at the arrow, Raya was disturbed to find that there was a heart at the front of the arrow. She glanced back at Anchali’s crime scene and found the heart was at the front of her arrow as well.

Was the killer trying to imitate cupid’s bow? Ah, shit. This case is one hundred percent serial. But Raya still can’t see the connection with Namaari.

“I will give credit where credit is due, this is a serial case. Even though it crosses state lines, the signature is way too specific to be the average murder. I still don’t understand what this has to do with Namaari, though,” Raya sighed, looking up at Virana.

“Both of these girls are Namaari’s ex-girlfriends. Their break ups were very friendly and the two of them stayed in contact with Namaari after their relationships had ended. It’s how she became aware of their passing,” Virana said.

For the first time since she entered the office, Virana had a mournful look on her face. Raya may have actually found it in her to feel bad for her but there was a very serious problem at hand. Then the attorney handed Raya another envelope, though this one was much smaller.

The very stressed agent opened it up and felt all color drain from her face. There was two plastic baggies with strands of hair. One strand of hair was significantly lighter than the other.

“Please tell me these weren’t mailed to you,” Raya begged, looking up at her. Virana’s grim face told her everything she needed to know.

“Two days after Anchali was killed, we got this bag with the light brown hair. News of her death hadn’t reached us yet, so we weren’t quite sure what to make of it and sent it to the police for investigation and figured out who it belonged to. Same thing with Cai,” Virana told her.

Wordlessly, the agent pulled out her phone to check the date. All the color drained from her face when she saw that today’s date is May 1st.

“Follow me, we don’t have much time,” Raya commanded.

Raya gathered all of the evidence presented and all but sprinted out of the room. The older woman quickly followed suit. The two of them barreled into the conference office where her teammates were sitting. They all flinched when Raya tossed all the information of this new case on the desk.

“Listen up people, we have to get through this quickly. Here you see two girls going by the names of Anchali Chakan and Cai Lan. The connection between their murders is the fact that they were both in a romantic relationship with Namaari Fang. They both died from strangulation. Part of the unsub’s signature is to put an arrow through their victim’s neck after they passed,” Raya said, talking a mile a minute.

“So it’s personal. Is, is that a heart at the tip of the bow?” Noi frowned, pulling the photo closer to her.

“Yeah, I think it’s supposed to reference Cupid’s bow. Namaari also received a strand of both the women’s hair two days after they were killed. These murders occurred on the first of March and April. Considering the fact that today is May 1st...,” Raya trailed off.

“We need to act now. I don’t like the fact that she’s been getting gifts or that the unsub knows where she lives. No need to bother collaborating with any local PD, this crosses state lines so we have full jurisdiction,” Tong began, explaining what he’s read in the files. “It’s safe to say that the unsub is targeting those who have had a romantic relationship with Namaari. They’ve also been going in order of who Namaari dated. She was with Chakan from eighth to ninth grade and then Cai from eleventh to twelfth grade. Mrs. Fang, was Namaari with anyone in the time period between Ms. Chakan and Ms. Lan?”

“Uh, kind of. After her break up with Anchali, I got word she did date a couple of other girls but they were just attempts at forming a relationship. Her next real girlfriend was Cai,” Virana answered immediately.

“Okay, looks like the unsub focuses on official relationships. Who did Namaari date after Ms. Lan?” Tong asked.

Raya could have sworn that Virana eyes landed on her before returning to focus on Tong. Must have been a trick of the light.

“From what I’m aware of, the only other girlfriend she had is her now fiancé, Jintara Niran,” Virana told him.

“But you’re not sure?” Tong pressed.

“No, I’m not,” the lawyer confirmed.

“First, please write down your daughter’s address. I take it her and her fiancé live together?” Tong asked. Virana nodded and hastily wrote it down.

“Perfect. Now I need you to call your daughter and ask if she has had any other serious girlfriend between Ms. Lan and her fiancé and that she needs to be completely honest. If we’re right, she could very well be killed tonight,” Tong instructed.

Virana turned rather pale at the last statement but nodded nonetheless. She walked out of the room and grabbed her phone, calling her daughter outside. Tong turned to the rest of the group with a serious look in his eyes.

“Okay, Sisu, you head to the computers and start sending police to stand guard at Ms. Fang’s and Ms. Niran’s house right now. If Mrs. Fang is right, the unsub is going for Niran next,” Tong began, but Sisu was practically out the door by the time he was finished with his sentence.

“Boun, I want you to just get to their address and kick start the process of asking them questions. Plus, I want one of our people to be with them as soon as possible,” Tong told him.

“On it!” Boun confirmed, launching himself out of his seat.

“Noi, stay with Virana and get whatever else you can out of her while simultaneously giving her some comfort. I’ll head out to the local PD where they live. It’s only two hours away but we should set up shop there anyways. Two hours can easily be the difference between life and death,” the agent told the only girls left.

“You got it boss man!” Noi nodded.

“And Raya, you know those case files I had you look at for review?” Raya nodded, causing Tong to continue. “I want you to get those files then head to the local PD with Boun. There’s a case in there similar to this one so we can get a better idea of how to handle this.”

“Understood, sir. I’ve got it covered,” Raya told him while rushing to get out of the room.

Holy shit. Someone has been killing Namaari’s ex girlfriends. This was not on Raya’s 2023 bingo card.

As Raya glided down the stairs, she passed by both Noi and Virana conversing. Before she could leave the floor, Virana spoke to her.

“Ms. Heart!” the lawyer exclaimed.

“What is it?” Raya asked anxiously.

“Please, just be careful,” Virana almost begged. Ah hell, that is so weird.

“Of course. I always am,” Raya told her confidently. With that, Raya turned around and dashed out of there.

The agent all but sprinted to her car. Once the car started, she began driving like a bat out of hell to get to her house. Because what on god’s green earth is happening right now?

When Raya got back home, she didn’t even bother locking her car before throwing her front door open.

Raya stood at the door for a moment, completely forgetting where she put the files. Then her brain started working again and she remembered that she shoved them underneath the dryer.

As Raya walked towards the kitchen, something made her pause. Is, is something burning?

Side tracked from her original mission, she found that the stove was turned on. That shouldn’t be possible. It wasn’t turned on this morning when she first got here and Raya’s breakfast was cereal straight from the bag. She did not touch the oven.

Tuk Tuk then made his entrance by running right by Raya and her fears quickly disappeared. Her big old dog probably accidentally knocked into the stove and turned it on. It has happened before.

“Hey bud. Were you trying to make some dinner for yourself while I was gone? I should probably feed you anyways,” Raya smiled, giving him a light scratch on the ears. Before Raya could blink, she was pinned against the wall by someone wearing a mask.

It took a couple seconds before she realized that this masked man now had their hands wrapped around Raya’s throat, slowly squeezing the life right out of her.

#raya and the last dragon #ratld #rayaari #namaari #raya x namaari #namaari x raya #raya and namaari #ratld namaari #raya disney #ratld raya #rayamaari #raymaari #raya of heart #disney raya #raya namaari #namaari of fang #raya incorrect quotes #ratld incorrect quotes #disney ratld

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years ago

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Thank you to all the wonderful writers who’ve submitted for this challenge! I believe that this is the completed list. If I missed you, please DM me a link your fic.

Enjoy this wonderful works of art! I know I did. I loved reading all the different fics that were based off Taylor Swift's work. Her incredible songwriting and knack for super-specific emotion, makes her the kind of artist that really gets what you feel. I have personally found so much comfort and community in her work and wanted to share that with you all.

Stumbling Home Alone — @reidsbookclub

Spencer Reid x Reader (Fluff) Reader cannot seem to understand why Spencer hates her so much. Spencer cannot forget about that time reader made fun of the way he talked…. Or so he thought.

Our Love Lasts So Long — @strawberryspence

Spencer Reid x Reader (Angsty Fluff) Pretending to not be in love with your best friend is the hardest thing you had to do in your life. So when life gives you a chance to play pretend couple, you take it. (Heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s seven.)

Soulmates, Myths, Philosophers, and Invisible Strings — @leahblackk

Spencer Reid x Reader (Fluff) Dr. Reid is a very loved professor in the college he teaches at, when he’s not working on the BAU. There’s also another person who is very loved in said college and that’s Miss Y/L also known as Spencer’s female version. The students thought they were soulmates so… why don’t tell pull the strings that were already attached?

Please Don't Ever Become A Stranger — @radiant-reid

Spencer Reid x Reader (Angsty Fluff) The morning after the BAU’s farewell for SSA Y/n Y/l/n stirs up some hidden feelings with Spencer Reid.

Fate Led Me To You (Time and Time Again) — @reidslibrarybook

Spencer Reid x Reader (Fluff) The music from above him flooded his ears, prompting him to walk up to that apartment right above him. In his attempt at some kind of confrontation, he meets the one person he’s been infatuated with since they first moved in… you.

Let The Flood Carry Away All My Pictures of You — @reidsacademia

Spencer Reid x Reader (Angst) You reminisce on your memories with Spencer through photos you took over the course of your relationship.

Until The Day I Die — @writer-in-theory

Spencer Reid x Reader (Angst) When Reader suspected her best friend's husband has something to do with her recent disappearance, she takes matters into her own hands. It’s a good thing she’s the wife of an FBI agent and knows how to hide her tracks.

The Last Time — @the-fandom-queen

Non-Reader Insert After the events of Memoriam, Spencer visits his father to talk. He soon realizes he should’ve walked away after the last time.

Beautiful Ghosts — @ray-lia

Spencer x Reader (Angst) Spencer is ruined by Maeve's death, leaving y/n to pick up his broken heart while hers continues to shatter. (fem!reader)

Come Back...Be Here — @boldlyvoid

Check Out Parts 2 & 3

Single Dad! Aaron Hotchner x Single Mom! Reader (Smut/Angsty With a Happy Ending) Readers husband died in a plane crash, leaving her with one baby while pregnant with another, and a crazy amount of debt. Scared she’ll have to sell the only home she’s ever known, her friend Emily, informs her that her boss is looking for a babysitter for his son.

#sdcp1000 #reid all about it #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid smut

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nervous-tic · 3 years ago

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half promise, half warning | part one the afternoon

There are a few things for Reader to be concerned about: a soured long-term relationship with a sports star, a bloodied foot in a box, and the BAU’s 24/7 presence when they’re forced to conduct their investigation from the couple’s home. Reader’s trying really hard to not add Spencer Reid to this list.

Title from + loosely based on The Worst Taste in Music by The Radio Dept.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst, fluff, smut (18+) content warning: enemies to lovers, cm typical violence, unhealthy relationship + possessive behaviour (w/ omc), panic attack, mention of physical injury word count: 3.2k a/n: i abandoned the first two chapters of this puppy on ao3 over the summer, but oh how she beckons me. i also just love writing the whole bau team apparently :’)

masterlist | the evening >>

. . .

Do all relationships die such a slow, painful death?

After the fourth breakup, I stopped keeping track. Lachlan didn’t. He kept a tally like it was a game of trading heartache. We both knew where this was going, but every time the threat of being alone in the world proved too heavy, we swallowed our pride and played house until the next inevitable fight.

It wasn’t an issue of infidelity or money. Even commitment sunk low on the list of reasons we weren’t going to work out. Instead, what drove a wedge between Lachlan and me were symptoms of his fame. It was the voyeuristic eye of the public, the theft of our private life together. The masses against us. And who would you rather have going for your jugular: an embittered high school sweetheart, or the hundreds of thousands who flooded stadiums for the sole purpose of watching you tackle and be tackled?

For years, we pretended like it wasn’t pure insanity: the luxurious vacations that disguised Lachlan’s leash being dragged across the nation for press conferences, the strategic visits to children’s hospitals, and a home only called a home because we’d otherwise have to admit it was a mansion. Shit like that.

And despite our crumbling relationship behind closed doors, our little ruse worked. It worked. That is, until we received the bloodied foot of Lachlan’s teammate on our doorstep.

. . .

One of the worst behaviours instilled in me over the course of our relationship was the need to put up a united front. At first, it was to push the idea of us as high school sweethearts, still hopelessly in love after a decade. The publicists told me it was one way to involve the wives who were indifferent to the sport, and they were right. I amassed tens of thousands of followers online because I was simply another glimpse into Lachlan’s life. Eventually, it became easier to peddle this image to our closest family and friends too. Despite scrubbing the internet clean of my social media presence, Lachlan and I still pose like a photo-op when we’re not alone.

Which is why, after three days under the careful eyes of FBI agents, we were surprised to find them unravelling us completely.

Agent Prentiss (or, “Feel free to call me Emily.”) pulls the thread first when she leads me onto the back veranda, patiently telling me, “We don’t think either of you are telling us the entire truth.”

I return a practiced smile. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

Her patience doesn’t waver. She invites me to sit at a patio table. Looking out at the garden and pool, she remarks, “You two have a beautiful home.”

I try to look out with the same sense of unfamiliarity. Having scrubbed the garden’s dirt from beneath my fingernails and reeked of our pool’s chlorine, it’s near impossible to find any wonderment. I make the mistake of asking Emily, softly like an afterthought, “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Emily turns her gaze back to me, but I remain focused on the pool, the water impossibly clean and still.

“That’s what I mean. Neither of you seem happy.”

“Maybe not your definition of happy. But I don’t see how that’s related to getting delivered a foot in the mail.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not my place to say,” Emily relents. She captures my attention again with the soft clacking of fingernails against the glass tabletop. “But from what we’ve gathered so far, the unsub knew about the intimate lives of his victims, and there’s something specific about these details that’s informing the way he chooses his next target.”

I furrow my brow. “He?”

Before Emily can explain, the sliding door loudly smacks open. Lachlan doesn’t spare a glance my way as he speeds past, removing his shirt with a single deft tug. He haphazardly kicks his flip flops to the side and dives into the pool.

“Mr. McCarthy!” a voice bellows. Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid give weak chase onto the veranda but stop when they realize there’s no point in shouting at a man with his head underwater.

Emily gapes. “What happened?”

“Garcia said everyone on the list he gave us has a solid alibi,” Agent Morgan answers, shaking his head. “But he’s still convinced the unsub’s a female stalker.”

Dr. Reid sounds much less patient when he bitterly scowls, “Whatever. Let him play profiler.” His eyes are narrowed at the figure leisurely doing laps in the water. “Everything he tells us is useless. Or worse — it’s getting in our way.”

That need to put up a united front that I mentioned earlier? It surfaces when I snap, “Well our fucking apologies for not reacting appropriately to a serial killer.”

This isn’t our first exchange, but over the course of three days, Dr. Reid’s held his tongue for the most part. Which is why his colleagues almost appear shocked when without missing a beat, he retorts, “Well it was my mistake for expecting a grown man to not act like a child.”

Agent Morgan presses a hand to his colleague’s arm and warns, “Reid.” His other hand comes up to caution me as I stand and stalk toward the pair.

“It would help to not have a fucking know-it-all kid—,” I manage to dodge Agent Morgan and press a finger to his scrawny chest, “treat the threat to our lives like a fucking puzzle that needs solving. Or are you just so emotionally stunted that you don’t realize there are actual lives at stake?”

Emily’s quick on her feet, gently tugging me back with her hands on my shoulders, repeating, “hey, hey,” like she’s corralling a schoolyard fight.

I crane my head up to look the doctor in the eyes. Sure, he has height on me, but I swear to god, I could take him.

Agent Morgan casts a worried look to Emily before dragging the other man back through the doors. There’s obviously something that Dr. Reid wants to say, but he clenches his jaw and stops resisting. The encounter meets its finality when the sliding door slams shut. With all its abuse over the years, it’s a miracle the door hasn’t derailed or shattered yet.

My shoulders are given a soft pat and I remember Emily is still with me. When I turn back to her, I find she isn’t looking at me at all. I follow her eyes back to the pool.

Lachlan’s sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the water. If I didn’t know any better, it would look like someone leaning back, basking in the sun. But I do know better, and I know that he’s just witnessed the whole thing. It’s evident with his small smirk and gleaming eyes.

My chest seizes with guilt. I tell Emily, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She neither accepts nor declines my apology. Keeping her eyes on Lachlan, she begins to guide me down the veranda and around the corner of the home. We’re tucked by the shed filled with yard keeping equipment when I insist again, “I’m so, so sorry, Emily.”

This time, she acknowledges me with an understanding look and soothes, “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

. . .

Agent Hotchner asks for everyone to meet in our kitchen.

When I find my way in with Emily, she gives my arm one final squeeze before falling in line with the rest of her team. I linger behind the local officers. It takes a second to notice, but when the team begins their debrief, Dr. Reid’s absence is obvious.

My attention is rudely diverted when a hand very purposefully slides over my back, settling low on my hips and holding fast. I fail to suppress a shudder as a warm breath whispers, “Hey, babe,” into my ear. I can hear the lazy smile in Lachlan’s voice as he smugly asks, “Did you pick a fight with a fed for me?”

Ignoring him becomes impossible when he breathes, “Because it was really sexy to see.”

“I wasn’t picking a fight. And even if I was,” I pause to face him, “it wouldn’t have been to defend you.”

We’re an odd sight to behold; our noses are nearly touching, gazes unflinching, but he’s still wearing a look of amusement in contrast to my deep-set scowl. The motherfucker has the audacity to look down at my lips like he wants to kiss me. I’m thankful when he pulls back, simply responding, “Whatever you say.”

“It’s probably in your best interest to pay attention.”

The voice could’ve been across the yard or in my ear — but either way, I know who it is.

Lachlan fully leans away to get a proper look behind us, though he puts on a show for the agent by lifting the bottom of my shirt with his thumb to scratch his fingers over my skin.

Dr. Reid, now adorned with a pair of glasses, has his hip propped against the kitchen island, arms crossed as he falls for Lachlan’s trap, watching the way fingers possessively dig into my flesh until it’s white. The glasses perched above rosy cheeks make him look much younger than before, which I didn’t think was possible. I would be tempted to smile if I wasn’t more preoccupied with not decking my partner in the arm.

Feigning obedience, Lachlan pours the sarcasm on thick. “Of course, sir. You know best.”

Unusually defiant, my eyes remain steady on Dr. Reid, even when Lachlan’s seemingly shifted his attention to the front of the room. What really rubs me the wrong way about the doctor is the disinterest he regards me with. As if we weren’t just shouting at each other an hour ago.

He reiterates, “That includes you.”

“Why?” I challenge. I know I’m being childish. “The foot wasn’t addressed to me.”

His gaze calcifies in a way I have yet to see; there’s even a hitch in my breath under the piercing intensity. It’s cold when he spells it out for me. “You think the killer would spare you? Because he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even have a second thought about killing you because you’re not his target. You’re just in the way. You’re collateral damage.”

Maybe it’s Lachlan’s hand still on my hip that seems reassuring, or maybe I’m just a fool, because when I glance at him in a rare moment of submission, simply and silently pleading to be rescued, I discover that there’s nothing left for him to offer. Staring at the side of his face, I wonder which possible reason for Lachlan’s indifference hurts more; either he hadn’t heard Dr. Reid, or he hadn’t cared enough to listen.

I wrench the hand from my hip and keep my head down. My vision goes blurry, and I realize I’ve forgotten the extension of my limbs, the steps it takes to breathe without choking. The desperate exit I make sends me knocking into both despicable men. Only, the single attempt to stop me from falling over is noticeably not from my partner. The doctor’s grasp is tentative, probably just instinctual, but with minor luck, he’s easier to shove aside than Lachlan. I hear the first syllable of my name before disappearing into the hallway.

. . .

I’m no stranger to panic attacks. It’s just�� I’ve never been set off by a very real threat to my life before. The way that Dr. Reid declared it was so matter-of-fact, as if my death was an absolute of the universe.

I try to convince myself through a barrage of tears that he was just trying to scare me. And if it’s true, well, he did a bang-up job. He sent me crawling into a bathtub, mistakenly thinking I could find comfort in porcelain. But it’s just fucking cold.

Time passes. I just don’t know how much.

Knock, knock, knock.

I hold my breath.

“Hey, it’s Jennifer. Are you okay?”

There’s nothing in me to dredge up a reply.

“Can I come in? I just want to know if you’re okay.”

Another pause. Then, the doorknob twists because I’m an idiot who forgets to lock doors. A bad habit to have considering my circumstances. But it barely cracks open, just enough for Jennifer to softly declare, “I’m coming in.” She slips in easily and closes the door, ensuring to lock it this time.

The irritation I have for the intrusion vanishes when she sits at the edge of the bathtub, not trying to catch my averted eyes, but instead, murmuring, “How many people can you fit in this thing?”

It feels good to laugh.

Though it’s nasally and punctuated with the occasional hiccup, I try to quip back, “We certainly have enough people out there to find out.”

There’s an undercurrent of sadness when Jennifer chuckles. I tuck my face into my knees, mostly out of shyness, and wait for the expected; maybe an improvised therapy session or a rousing speech of sorts, but it doesn’t come. She makes it easy to sit in silence.

Muffled, I ask, “How long have I been in here?”

“Hm. Forty minutes, maybe.”

My head snaps up. “Forty minutes? That’s it?”

“Yup. That’s it.”

Relief escapes my body through a short cackle. Even Jennifer looks surprised.

“Sorry,” I sniffle, “I thought it’d been like, two hours.”

“With the amount of caffeine that’s being ingested out there, a line of cops would’ve busted through the door by now to...relieve themselves.”

I scrunch my nose in disgust but find myself joining in with her laughter. She’s wielded her authority so easily the past few days, to the point where it’s difficult to remember that she isn’t a profiler. There’s no risk attached to saying the wrong thing, no fear of having every vocal twinge and fidget hyper analyzed. Not with her.

“Did I— did I cause a commotion?”

Jennifer shakes her head, vaguely saying, “not really,” but her mouth twitches into a smile. She leans in like she’s about to share a secret, and I can’t help but also extend my body toward her. “However, you did kinda shake up Spence.”

My mind draws a blank as I echo, “Spence?”

“Dr. Reid,” Jennifer clarifies. There’s a flash of remembrance, the feeling of his hands on my upper arms during my bumbling exit. She playfully questions, “Do you remember bodychecking him?”

Mortified, I hurriedly squeak, “no,” but realize that’s not the entire truth. “I mean, a little bit? But— shit, was it that hard?”

She waves a hand, giggling the slightest bit. “Don’t worry about it. We all agree he deserved it.”

“You all?”

“Yeah...he told us what he said to you.” Her voice and her smile drops. “You don’t owe him forgiveness or anything, but he is really sorry. We all are. It was exceedingly inappropriate. But, hoping this makes you feel better – he’ll be at the station for the remainder of this case.”

I pause. “Seriously?”

Jennifer hesitates, the professional demeanor disappearing again. “Uh, yeah. I thought you’d be more excited to hear that.”

It would be easy to banish Dr. Reid three hours north to the closest town and precinct. I know as well as anyone that priorities can change, and striking a nuisance from the list would provide an instant pang of relief. But my priorities remain unwavering. Currently, at the top of my list, is one item that’s underlined thrice and scrawled in large letters: DO NOT DIE BLOODY.

“It’s like benching him, right?”

Jennifer doesn’t sound entirely convinced herself when she replies, “Not necessarily.”

I sigh. “Your team insisted on locating your conference room here in our home. There’s a reason for that. At the end of the day, I just want Lachlan to be okay. And me. Dr. Reid se—”

“Please,” she interjects, “we could be here for a while. Trust me when I say everyone’s happy to drop the honorifics and such.” Then quickly, as an exception, she adds, “Everyone but Agent Hotchner, that is. He won’t correct you, but he gets this look...best to just avoid it.”

“Okay,” I concede with a smile. “It just seems like you’re splitting resources by sending Reid away. Plus,” I roll my eyes, “he’s a kid. And it’s— it’s not like he lied to me or anything. He told me something that I was better off not thinking about. That’s all.”

“So, you’re okay with him continuing the investigation here?”

“I say this with the knowledge that I might regret my decision later, but yes.”

I also say it with very little venom.

Jennifer nods. Something about my comment undoes the tight line her lips are pressed into. She chuckles with a slow, fond smile.

Slightly alarmed, I prod, “what?”

“Sorry,” she grins, running a hand over her face. “He’ll never learn. Just because he looks like Bambi on skates, everyone’s too sweet on him. The shit he can get away with is ridiculous.”

It’s sweet to see. After days of being interviewed and sharing meals together, the team of profilers only ever dealt with each other in stone cold professionalism. This is the first indication that there’s some sense of family amongst them.

“I know something that’ll cheer you up,” Jennifer bubbly starts, “but can you promise not to tell Reid that I told you?” Her excitement is infectious. I cock a curious brow, an invitation to go on.

“Okay,” she starts definitively, like she’s about to indulge in tabloid gossip. “When you shoved him, you really shoved him. I know he looks like he’d be a hundred pounds soaking wet, but I swear, he’s got a little more weight than that. Maybe it’s all the corduroy. Anyways— there’s obviously not enough meat on those bones because good lord, you sent that boy flying. And—,” she gives a low whistle. “You, my dear, gave him the gnarliest bruise.”

I stare blankly at her as my mind tries to conjure the image of the young doctor lifting his shirt to reveal a sickly purple blossom on his skin.

In theory, I feel a surge of pride. But in reality, I lament, “How is that supposed to make me feel better?! At best, I assaulted a— a defenseless scarecrow, and at worst, I assaulted a federal agent!”

She shakes a finger at me, correcting, “No, you retaliated against a jerk who made you cry.”

My mouth flaps open a few times. When the words never form, I simply snort myself into a giggle. We both laugh into the spacious, too-white bathroom, its hard surfaces warmly containing our joy.

When we eventually settle, I squirm in the tub. My butt’s taking the brunt of this meltdown, it seems.

“Y’know,” Jennifer quirks a brow, “everyone gets into the habit of calling him a kid, but Spencer’s not that much younger than you.”

“Well, prodigies always age weird. He looks fourteen. I’m about to turn thirty-one.”

Shrugging, Jennifer reveals what I don’t care enough to pry about. “You’ve only got like, six years on him.”

I hum, pretending to muse, “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.” When she rolls her eyes, I point an accusing finger and demand, “Wait, how old are you?”

For the first time today, when Jennifer rests a hand on my knee and gravely whispers, “That’s privileged information,” our chuckling falls in sync again and I forget about my puffy eyes and the dead guy’s foot in a box and the annoying federal agent. It’s only a split second, but it’s a beautiful little miracle nonetheless.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds series #minors dni #nervous-tic.txt

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years ago

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Burn The Witch 5 - Cross Your Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Lying is supposed to be easy for spies.

Series Masterlist

You were beginning to think undercover operations were some sort of punishments given to agents, because lying was one thing, but creating a whole life around that lie was another.

Not only were your knives replaced by a bunch of paintings on the wall, you now had some photos in frames; old photos of people you didn’t know, people who were supposed to be your “cover” family.

You’d still prefer to have your knives on the walls though.

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear, and heard Chloe’s laugh.

“I am on your side, I just can’t do anything about your uniform.”

You plopped down on the couch, setting your heels down on the floor.

“Bucky might be from 1940s, but he knows that it’s the 21st century now,” you said, putting the heels on, “No reason to make me dress like a….weird pin up waitress.”

“It’s a part of your mission,” she reminded you, “What, you can kill a target with a wine glass but a pin up costume is where you draw the line?”

You clicked your tongue, “Anyone can kill someone with a wine glass. It’s not that hard.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Babe it’s not rocket science, you just break the bowl part, then use the stem to stab them in the—“ you got distracted when you opened the kitchen cabinet, “I’m sorry, why do I have so many kitchen supplies?”

She held her breath in excitement, “Do you like them?”

“I don’t know what to do with most of them.”

“Cover Y/N likes cooking!”

“And the real Y/N can’t stand her,” you deadpanned, making her stifle a laugh.

“So he hasn’t texted you yet?”

“Barnes?” you asked, “Not yet. Why?”

“Well, I took the liberty of taking a look at his messages the other day.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” you said, “He’s seeing someone else?”

“No no, not at all,” she said, “He’s totally single, and probably ready to mingle. With you, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He and Wilson were talking about you the other day. Well, more like Wilson was telling him to get his shit together and ask you out.”

“I don’t think he’s the type to ask someone out via text,” you said, “I think he will come to the shop one of these days.”

“Why?”

“He looked sort of….” You searched for the word in your mind, “Uh-clueless?”

“Clueless?”

“Yeah, you know how assassins usually flirt,” you ignored her noise of disagreement, “He wasn’t like that.”

“You really need to focus on the personal details of his file.”

You scowled, “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, “I know his favorite weapons, what knives he—”

“Personal file,” she repeated, “You know there’s more to people than their weapons of choice right?”

“I might have to engage in combat if I’m ever compromised, and do you know how many people walked away alive after engaging in combat with the Winter Soldier in all these decades?” you asked, “Three. Three people; Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and they are legends. I might be good, but I’m not that good.”

“Just memorizing his arsenal can’t help you in this mission,” she said, “Did you know that he hasn’t exactly dated since becoming the Winter Soldier? His ex Connie ended up having 3 kids and a long career at the post office—“

“What am I supposed to do Chloe, stalk grandma’s Instagram?”

“No, she passed away 5 years ago.”

“Of course she did,” you mumbled, “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’m already knee deep in my own cover, I can’t get into Barnes’s past when it’ll give me no advantage in the mission.”

“Y/N-“

“Trust me,” you cut her off, looking in the mirror to fix your uniform, “I have everything under control.”

***

You had maybe like one thing under control and that was the milkshake you were currently pouring into a mason jar. After a crash course in different recipes yesterday, you barely needed any help from your coworkers and seeing that the shop wasn’t very crowded, you didn’t have to rush.

And now you knew how to make three things; pasta, eggs and milkshakes.

If Keith were here, he would’ve said those were 3 main food groups.

“Tara, we’re running low on maraschino cherries,” you said as you shook the can and your new coworker turned to you.

“Oh that’s okay, there’s another jar are under the counter.”

You put the cherry over the whipped cream, and handed the jar to her. “There you go.”

“Another week of working here and you will come up with your own recipes,” she said, “Tell me the truth, are you like a spy sent by a rival company?”

You stared at her, then forced a laugh.

“I wish,” you said, “Maybe I’d be paid more.”

“Good point,” she said and walked to give the milkshake to the customer while you put the empty jar aside, then went under the counter to search for a new jar.

“Strawberries….” You read the labels out loud as you heard the wind bells chime by the door, “Figs, berries—cherries!”

You reached out to grab the jar and stood up but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of the figure by the door and held your breath, the jar slipping from your grip before you caught it mid-air.

“Bucky.” You breathed out, before you remembered to plaster a smile on your face.

Naïve, soft hearted civilian.

He stole a look around as if he expected someone to attack him at any seconds in a milkshake shop before he stepped closer to the counter you were standing behind.

“Hi.”

“Hi-hi there!” you said, putting the jar down, “You came!”

“You sound surprised,” he smiled and you shrugged your shoulders, shooting him a mischievous look,

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

He hissed in a breath, “Ouch, was it that late?”

“Just a little,” you said “So what can I get you?”

He looked up at the board over the wall, “What are my options?”

“Well, we have Unicorn Cotton Candy, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Candy Cane Passion, Lavender Macaron—“ you stopped talking when you saw the clueless look on his face and cleared your throat, “Or hey, maybe chocolate? We have chocolate milkshake.”

“Chocolate sounds good.”

“Coming right up.” You took a mason jar from the shelf to get to it and he grabbed his wallet, making you raise your brows.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on—”

“I’m going to make you an overly complicated milkshake if you try to pay for this,” you warned him, shaking the can before putting whipped cream on top of the milkshake, “It’s on the house, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said quickly, making you point at him with the straw.

“Either way, I’m warning you. I’m armed and dangerous.”

“Consider me intimidated,” he said with a grin as he put the cash into the tip jar and you narrowed your eyes.

“Bucky.”

“Well technically, tip doesn’t count.”

“I wonder where I heard that before,” you muttered under your breath while he walked to pull himself a seat.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, reminding yourself that your cover probably wouldn’t make dirty jokes and went to place the milkshake in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You waved a dismissive hand and rested your elbows on the counter, leaning in slightly.

He was gentleman enough to not check out your cleavage, instead kept his gaze on your face, making you suppress a smile.

“You were right,” Bucky said, his eyes darting around the café after a couple of seconds, “About how this place looked. It is creepily accurate.”

“Really?”

“I mean we didn’t have a neon flowers corner, but…” he trailed off, “Yeah. Yeah, I would say so.”

“Is that why you look like you expect someone to jump out of shadows and attack you?” you asked and his head shot up before he scrunched up his face.

“That obvious?”

“Not that I have lots of experience but so far none of the customers looked this uncomfortable while drinking a milkshake,” you said, “Is it because deep down you actually wanted to try Unicorn Cotton Candy?”

“Oh no, I’m good with classics,” He held up his milkshake, “No I just think that I’m a bit….uh, rusty.”

“Rusty,” you repeated, “On what?”

“On this.”

You batted your lashes, looking up at him and you could almost feel him being lured in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” you said softly after a beat and he gulped, taking a deep breath.

“It’s just that you’re—“ he cleared his throat, “You’re very beautiful and it’s been decades since I last asked someone out for a date.”

Winter Soldier, credited with over 100 assassinations, you reminded yourself Don’t lower your guard, it’s just a cover.

Don’t believe in your own cover.

You bit down a smile, tilting your head.

“Well, I didn’t think you were rusty,” you said and he raised his brows.

“You didn’t?”

“Not at all,” you said, “For the record, I’m definitely going to say yes.”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned, “Once you actually ask me, that is. With words, not an implication.”

His smile was almost playful, “With words, huh?”

“I’m old fashioned like that,” you taunted him, “Let’s see how we can make it less awkward for you though. Would you feel more comfortable to ask me out if you knew some weird stuff about me?”

“You know, that would help a lot actually.”

You tapped your fingernails on the counter, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to be in deep thought. Your superiors had always said the best cover stories were somehow based on real life without revealing your identity, so you figured telling him random things about you wouldn’t hurt or put the mission in danger.

“Well, I really like grapes but I don’t like the skin, so I end up peeling every grape I eat, one by one,” you counted with your fingers, “I watched a documentary once and now I can’t swim in any lakes because I keep thinking I’ll get attacked by that weird flesh eating bacteria. When I was sixteen, I was the president of the chess club but I had a boyfriend who didn’t believe in the moon landing—”

“I heard about the moon landing!” he said quickly, “I didn’t get around to watch it yet though.”

“Oh my God, you should.”

“What else?”

“I’m scared of peacocks,” you confessed, “I know everyone says they’re beautiful but they look like they’re waiting for the right time to attack you.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself not to laugh and he pressed his metal fist on his lips, his whole attention on you.

“You can’t laugh!” you exclaimed and he shook his head, trying to look as serious as possible.

“I’m not!” he managed to hide his chuckle with a cough, “Keep going, this is very helpful.”

You heaved a sigh. “Well, do you want to hear the most embarrassing one?”

“Absolutely.”

“I normally keep my phone on mute 24/7 but since last week it’s been on full volume because I was terrified I’d miss something important.”

The amused light in his eyes got softer and he lowered his hand, a smile warming his face.

Hook, line…

“I was um— I was hoping for you to call, you see.” you said, averting your gaze from him to look down for a second, biting on your lip.

His voice was raspy; “Were you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, mumbling an inaudible maybe, and his eyes trailed down to your lips before snapping up to lock your gaze in his.

“What time do you get off work today?”

And sinker.

Time to pull back.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “I work at the soup kitchen tonight.”

“Oh –I thought you said it was on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“I did, I’m just covering for a friend tonight. Family emergency, she says.” you said and pushed your hair behind your ear, shifting your weight, “But my shift is over at 6 tomorrow and I can be ready around 7, I live really close by. If you’re- if you’re free, that is.”

“I am.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“It’s a date,” he repeated and stood up, “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.” You smiled as he walked out of the shop and Tara came closer to you.

“Wow, you’ve been here a month and you met someone that hot?” she said and winked at you, “Good job there.”

Right.

Good job.

***

“So, wait—“ Chloe came closer to sit between you and Keith, holding a huge bowl of popcorn, “He just showed up?”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a date tomorrow?”

Keith uncapped your beer and handed you the bottle as you rested your feet on the coffee table.

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” he asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, he’s buying this whole naïve soft hearted civilian thing,” you said while Chloe snatched the remote from Keith’s hand, ignoring protests.

“And are you?”

You dragged your eyes from the list of movies on the screen. “I want a horror movie.”

“Well too bad, I want an action movie.”

“We’re watching a rom-com and that’s final!” Chloe pointed at both of you, making you groan.

“Why does this keep happening?” Keith asked to no one in particular and she snapped her fingers.

“It’s my turn and my place so I pick the movie,” she said and shot you a look, “I’m still waiting for an answer, by the way. You don’t….you don’t have feelings for Barnes, right?”

Keith stole a look at you before turning to Chloe,

“I don’t think our dear friend here wants a relationship beautiful,” he told her, “Not after what happened the last time.”

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as a shiver ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know Barnes all that well yet, but I can assure you he’s not the type to—“ you paused, “Do something that cowardly.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Where is that asshole anyway?”

“Hungary,” Chloe said and you raised your brows.

“Undercover?”

“Yeah. I hope he gets compromised and dies there.”

“Very unlikely,” you murmured, “Anyways, what brought this on? My feelings for Barnes?”

“It’s just that I recently read Vincent Smith’s file,” she said, “You guys remember Vincent?”

“Who?”

“His code name was Marco.”

“Oh, I remember Marco!” Keith said, “That guy took down a whole unit by himself. What happened to him?”

“He is missing.” Chloe said and you pulled your brows together.

“Since when do agents go missing and we don’t know where they are?”

“Since they fall for the target.”

“No way,” Keith chuckled, “Badass spy Marco fell in love? Poor idiot.”

“You’re a terrible person, Keith.”

You sat up straighter, “Wait, did you say he fell for the target?”

“Yeah, I saw the reports from his handler. And now he’s missing, and I don’t want you to run away with Barnes like Marco did with his target.”

You and Keith exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue.

“Chloe babe, he’s not missing.” you said “He’s dead.”

She pulled back slightly, “You don’t know-“

“Yes I do. You don’t fall for the target and compromise the whole mission, not unless you want to end up dead.”

“There’s no report of that,” she insisted and Keith sipped his beer.

“What did his report say, sweetheart?”

“That he was removed from his mission before going missing.”

Keith scoffed, “Rest in peace Marco, you won’t be missed.”

“How do you know—“

“Because that’s the code,” you said, “If the report says he was removed from his mission and went missing, it means he was killed by an agent on our side.”

“We killed our own agent?” she exclaimed and you turned the beer bottle in your hand,

“He stopped being our agent the moment he fell for the target.”

Chloe covered her mouth with her hands, worry etched into her expression, “Y/N, please, please promise me you won’t somehow get too involved in this mission and fall for Barnes and put yourself in danger.”

You let out a small laugh, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“It’s the Winter Soldier we’re talking about,” you reminded her and chewed on the popcorn, “Trust me, that would never happen.”

“Cross your heart?”

You heaved a sigh and clinked your beer bottle with hers.

“Cross my heart honey,” you assured her, “There’s no way I’d sign my own death warrant by doing something that stupid.”

Chapter 6

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #marvel #bucky barnes x you

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crimsonblackrose · 2 years ago

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Oh ho! He is upset that Scott was kidnapped. Also major kudos to Control for finally saying “It’s not me you’re really mad, is it?” Because Mr. McCall does that every single time.

Look at him all worried about his friend.

I’ve seen this movie before. Beauty has been imprisoned, now where’s the beast? 🤣

I love these two. I appreciate that Control is helping. I mean he always helps but he and Robert both kind of suck when it comes to Scott....maybe actually the person who should save him is Mickey. Mickey is the only one who can placate everyone in this oddball family.

There’s too much at stake here, I’m going to ask you a favor Robert, will you head up this operation?

Control...Should the guy pissed off because these people accidentally screwed up and also took his son actually be in charge of the situation? You know Robert, he’s great at saving the average lady who no one believes or small child trying to help their parents but when it comes to his son he tends to shoot himself in the foot, and any time you’re around he takes all his anger out on you...maybe you should send him to Bermuda. 🤣

Mr. McCall did you just put your glasses on to think, make a decision and then take them off again?

They recast Kay! (Scott’s mom) She was originally played by Sandy Dennis, this is Shirley Knight. Robert: Our son has gotten himself stuck in an international incident. Kay: So what are you doing about it? Robert: I’m going to get him out of course. Kay: *Scoffs* of course, McCall to the rescue.

These two...I’m very curious if they talk more about their life together/Scott because the so far what we know about Kay from Scott is. She moved on, her mother is sick.And from her we know she remarried quite awhile ago, and that she hasn’t really seen Scott all that much to the point she thought Robert knew more. I think that’s since changed because Scott went with her to Colorado or something until she bailed and went to Florida and he came home. And he didn’t try to spend teh holidays with her.

So I think...I think both of them sent Scott off to boarding school at a young age and haven’t really been parents until recently. But I’m very curious if this tries to course correct that.

So Robert...you just said you introduced this music guy to Scott and he’s been wonderful, like a father to him. Sir...you’re Scotts father. Are you seriously out here trying to pawn Scott off on other people and admitting it to your ex-wife?

Kay: I hope you get him back Robert, for your sake.

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? Are you talking about Scott or the ex-agent. Like these two are the most bizarre parents. Scott, honey I’m so sorry. Everyone in Scott’s life is just...so blase about him being in danger. I mean he got a sister and then she thought he was dead and was just like *shrug*.

“I’m not going to lose another child because of your work. I’m going to stay until Scott is safe.”

Ah yes, back to toss William Zabka around hour. 🤣 Out of bizarre family melodrama and back into international incident.

This guy literally just shoved Scott against the wall and said “You are our guest. And you will behave like one” I’m waiting for some singing teapots.

I’m sorry, I know I’m making beauty and the beast jokes but y’all they pulled Scott out of the dungeons and dumped him in a nicer room by himself away from his injured adopted father figure *cough* ex-spy music instructor.

Mickey! He kind of looks like he’s been dragged out of bed at 2 am again or at least like he’s been listening to these two argue for hours.

I’m voting Mickey is running on 0 sleep. Just based off the facial journey he went through which was mostly rubbing at his face like he was trying to stay awake for a full background shot.

Control: How many people do you need? Mickey and Robert mumbling to one another: Two guys Control: 2 men? That’s it?

Robert: *glasses on and off on and off* Well Mickey might tag along.

Mickey: You know, for the group photo session.

Control: I’m so sick of both of you. (LIterally the final part of that scene is him looking like this, opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, then it cuts away) Like no, he’s got no response to their dumb sarcastic jokes. (Mickey truly is Robert’s work son)

What’s the plan man? “Take you home” very long pause (to be tried and shot)

oh man they’re brothers. Oof.

I...I know fear does things to people, but she waltzed in and wanted to know why Scott wasn’t in the papers. Ma’am he’s been kidnapped by a different government you seriously think “You music prodigy kidnapped by foreign powers and trapped here in our city” would be in every newspaper article? Especially when you know spies are involved. I...ma’am, you were married to a spy, why would you even wonder about such a thing?

Okay, taking bets now. Anyone want to guess why he’s choking up and nearly in tears? Anyone?

Don’t be shy. An episode with his ex-wife and his son being kidnapped is the main point of this episode. So what could it possibly be?

Did you guess dead daughter Kathy? Congrats you’re right!

I just...I get it’s a big deal, but your son is alive. Clearly these two never healed from that and rather than reach out to Scott and love him even harder they splintered and sent him away and the poor guy’s spent his whole life trying to help other people for scraps of love.

I’d also like to point out he was half way out the door to go rescue Scott when she came in and now the two of them are sitting having a heart to heart about Kathy.

Scott, marry the beast.

^This is how I feel. But what’s actually happening is she asked him how he’s going to handle if Scott dies because of his job and his honor.

Meanwhile Scott alone, all by himself, in a very nice room with a ton of booze and books.

#mumblings about shows

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