#is this just the agent park edition | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesherrinfordfacility · 5 months

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timeline rundown

tbh this is mainly just for my reference and i will probably come back to it at a later date; a lot of other much cleverer people are spotting some scenes that appear to be out of order, and before deep-diving into scrutinising each scene and frame, i decided to (for the first run, anyway - im sure others have gotten much further ahead, but i personally like to do my own research) just go with a surface-level, basic approach of looking for time indicators.

edit 02/01: additions!!!✨

couple of notes:

this is initially going with the assumption that no fuckery is going on, and only highlights where things appear to be consistent or inconsistent

on the clockhands, and which way round to read them, this caused me no end of headache. for example, reading the ornate hand as the hour makes ep6 sensical, but then makes ep1 gibberish (and vice versa). so, im doing both! and colour coding them!

blue: ornate hand is the hour, other hand is the minute

orange: ornate hand is the minute, other hand is the hour

green: a timestamp that isn't shown by the clock, or has been surmised/hypothesised.

you can make your own conclusion as to which reads make the most sense, but i'll be adding commentary anyway!!!✨

episode 1:

aziraphale gets maggie's letter: the only thing we know is that the bookshop is closed which, given aziraphale's stunning opening hours policy, doesn't mean a whole lot but for the most part, he seems on average to open the shop between 9.30-10am, and close at 3.30pm

shostakovich: aziraphale gets the records and heads off to listen to them, saying that he will be doing so for the next 21 minutes. i know there have been theories out there stemming from mismatched serial number on the record - but for my money, the explanation is a bit more watsonian than that; that aziraphale has a certain amount of free time to chill out to some music before something else happens (ie., to me, before crowley arrives to the shop). therefore, i would say that it logically follows that the previous scene, and this one, is late afternoon after the shop closes.

crowley in st james' park: as the camera sweeps past buckingham palace, you can hear bell chimes in the background, likely posed as coming from big ben. it starts with the cambridge chimes melody, falls silent, and then rings the number of tolls for the hour. when the agent joins crowley on the bench, i can hear a count of five tolls, for 5pm. example of the 5pm toll here.

gabriel/jim arrives: when aziraphale pauses the record, it appears to be 4.20pm.

when jim is handed the hot chocolate, the main bookshop clock reads as 5.20pm, or 4.25pm. seems odd that there would be such a gap for the former, (albeit plausible given that aziraphale gets jim settled and fitted with a blanket etc.), but the latter is more likely.

- capture of the two preceding timestamps

shax and crowley again: crowley's phone reads as 10.35am which, needless to say, does not fit in the above and below timeline at all.

jim and aziraphale conversation continues: the main bookshop clock reads as 6.20pm, or 4.30pm. again, given that aziraphale immediately looks in the box after retrieving it from outside, makes the latter more likely. it also makes sense taking into account the following hypothesised timestamps.

aziraphale calls crowley: not time-stamped, but crowley notes that he is 'two minutes' away when aziraphale calls. jim doesn't appear to have moved, so presumably the call is made soon after the last scene, and when they are both in the café, it still seems to be fully open and running. if we accept that the start of ep1 is most likely around 4pm, and the aziraphale/jim conversation wraps up around 4.30pm-ish, this would make sense - that crowley arrives to the café around 4.40pm. they then obviously leave, and it cuts to:

maggie gives nina the record: same as the above; maggie remarks that she wants a little something "for the end of the day", and nina says she has to finish closing up. nina has cleared away the dishes from the boys' table, the café is has just emptied, and nina's colleague is getting ready to leave. if we treat this scene as concurrent with the "ah! gabriel!" scene, probably around 4.45pm.

crowley lightning strike: maggie is chucking away her tea bag, and nina is upending chairs. if we say that the "ah! gabriel!" and "so did i!" scenes together take maybe 5-10 minutes in-universe, could hazard that the lightning strike is around 4.50pm - 4.55pm.

interlude, where we then return to crowley getting back to his bentley, and it's nighttime. then gets abducted by beelzebub, before squealing off at 110mph+ back to the bookshop. there isn't a timestamp until:

from @katalina27ua (thank you!), crowley restores power: nina's phone reads as 9:02. this would suggest the morning, but i would suggest that given phones can be set to either the 12- or 24-hour clock, and coupled with darkness and emptiness outside, it's 9:02pm.

the dance: the main bookshop clock reads 1.45am, or 9.05pm.

episode 2:

"what comes after 'K'?": when aziraphale gets startled by jim, the main bookshop clock reads as around 6.53am, or 10.35am.

archangels arrive: the main bookshop clock reads as 09.55am, or 11.45am.

aziraphale starts playing the record: as has been pointed out by @canarybell, this scene is so clearly cut in half from the muriel-arrival scene* in ep3. possibly for timing issues, but still out of sequence of the above; im very tentatively putting the time of the main bookshop clock as somewhere around 11.40am or 8am... only the former could work in the ep2 timeline, but again, it is reasonably certain that this is cut from the beginning of ep3 where, in the context of that scene, it is most likely 8am*, and this scene's place in ep2 is just a continuity issue/post-filming to make up timings.

dirty donkey: no time-stamp, but going on face value of how packed the pub is, seems to be at least mid-late afternoon, or post-lunch weekend. im erring towards the former - that people have come in post-work, and it's somewhere around 3.30pm onwards.

jim remembers: the above makes sense with this scene in context, as the main bookshop clock reads 5.20pm or 4.28pm.

post-job flashback: when we return to aziraphale in modern day, and he calls for crowley, the main bookshop clock reads as 6.30pm.

crowley/nina conversation: the record store is still be open in this scene, which would be odd for 6.30pm onwards, albeit not impossible. the café is definitely closed (it's empty and you can see chairs on tables), and nina is only just leaving/finishing up the close. in which case, it makes sense that aziraphale dozed off for a couple of hours, crowley to have wandered off, and nina to have closed up (if her café closing time is, say, 6pm). so, im going with this being around 6.30pm also.

episode 3:

note: i miss out a fair few scenes in this episode and ep4, because a lot is so flimsy in the speculation. with scenes in the bookshop, we can help gauge time with the shops/crowds around it etc, but in ep3 - eg. when aziraphale is in the bentley - i don't think i have enough surrounding data to make a reliable estimate on when it is... so essentially, im just going on what timestamps we do have.

returning to *the muriel arrival scene from ep2: if we accept that this is meant to be joined with the ep2 scene, the main bookshop clock reads as, most likely, 8am (but reminder: could also be 11.40am) when he sits down to start going through the articles and drawn gabriel, which seems to take some time (given the next timestamp):

however, when muriel turns up at the door, and aziraphale pauses the record, the clock reads as what i think is 7.50am or 9.35am (quality is such that i can't quite tell which hand is which, but i think it's this way round). i think, however, given the continuation of the scene, the latter is the most likely:

cupperty: when aziraphale enters the main room with the teacups, the main bookshop clocks reads as 9.50am.

crowley enters: clock still reading as 9.50am.

- capture of all three preceding timestamps

a hefty jump forward to the gravity conversation: the main bookshop clock reads as 6.17pm, or 3.30pm.

another jump forward, when aziraphale gets to the graveyard, and borrows the phone: clock on the phone reads as 5.30pm.

crowley picks up the call: the main bookshop clock shows as around 5.25pm - 5.28pm - so a couple of minutes' difference, but still fairly reliable.

episode 4:

frankly this episode is anyone's guess, given that there's only two main scenes in modern day. but to start, aziraphale is obviously driving back during the night, so possibly late evening/very early morning. he says that he is late, and so presumably he was meant to get back to london before nightfall/at least, before its very late in the evening.

aziraphale parks up: nina's phone in the café reads as 6.47am. this is supported by the background crashing sounds; with lots of restaurants around, likely bin lorries emptying the bottlebanks/bins.

episode 5:

the opening, when aziraphale leaves to go invite the other shopkeepers, shows that the bookshop is closed but the café and marguerite's is open; the former doesn't really mean jack shit, but i reckon marguerite's is likely to be a lunch/dinner joint. so, with that in mind, likely to be sometime in the afternoon.

crowley has his 'oh' moment, and whistles aziraphale over: we obviously don't know how long crowley has been sat there, but long enough that the patrons have swapped over - so let's say maybe an hour, and again still likely afternoon.

crowley then leaves to go confront gabriel, and aziraphale presumably follows up behind him shortly after. when crowley returns downstairs, and aziraphale is sprucing up the shop: quality is once again dogshite so i can't be sure which way round the hands are, but fairly certain the main bookshop clock reads as 12.30pm or 6pm. the latter seems the most likely, given the following scenes/dialogue:

aziraphale sends out crowley to find nina and maggie, and make sure "they are on their way" - it indicates that the party, set to start at 6.30pm, is soon. rightly enough, crowley pops round to the record store and it's closed, but maggie is inside - and nina has closed up the café and set to leave also.

mrs sandwich and then mr brown arrive: the main bookshop clock reads as around 6.20pm - 6.30pm, but we then don't get a clear shot of the clock for the rest of the episode. we know it suddenly gets really dark as soon as nina flies into the bookshop, but given the demon raid going on outside it's not really a reliable indicator of time.

so up until now, ive been pretty certain that the orange timestamps are the more correct, as they seem to flow the most with the general in-universe happenings of the story, and correlate most with the external green timestamps of the eps. however, ep6 goes very screwy in this respect, and it seems that the blue timestamps suddenly become the more accurate.

episode 6:

demons enter, attack, and the bookcase falls/maggie and nina hold them off with fire extinguishers: the main bookshop clock reads as 2.30am or 6.12am.

crowley comes back from heaven, and the demons arrive: the main bookshop clock reads as 6.02am or 12.30am/pm.

just before the gabriel/beelzebub flashbacks: the clock still reads as just gone past 6am or 12.30am/pm.

gabriel returns: the main bookshop clock, over maggie's shoulder, is out of focus so i can't quite see which way round the hands are, but i think reads as either 7am or 8am, or 11.37am, just before they're ushered out by crowley. either one of the two blue timestamps seems the most likely.

crowley drops off nina and maggie: nina remarks that she should have been open "half an hour ago", which if she normally turns up to open up the shop anywhere between 6.30am - 7am (as per her phone from the end of ep4 - 6.47am), makes 8am more likely - that she turns up at around 6.45am, ready to open at 7.30am.

angels and demons arguing: the main bookshop clock reads, just behind dagon's head, as approximately 08.25am or 4.40am/pm.

michael threatens aziraphale, and metatron arrives: the main bookshop clocks reads as 8am (9am?) or 12.43pm.

"extremely alcoholic breakfast at the ritz": reliably informs, for the avoidance of any doubt, that this scene is in the morning. indeed, when crowley gets out of the armchair, the clock shows again that its around 09.02am, or 12.45pm.

crowley tidies up the bookshop: the main bookshop clocks reads as 09.23am, or 4.47am/pm.

"id better start talking": the main bookshop clock reads as 09.25am or 5.45am/pm. it remains this time for the whole first half of the feral domestic, right up until the kiss.

crowley leaves, and metatron returns: the main bookshop clock now reads as approximately 09.40am or 8.47am. we are shown the scene in pretty close, tight-knit order, with no conceivable gaps in the scene where 20 minutes could have gone missing.

aziraphale leaves the bookshop: the clock remains at 09.40am or 08.47am

again from @katalina27ua! crowley at the bentley: the time on his watch reads as, at least (from what i can tell at the quality i have), within the ninth hour. however, the linked promo shot shows clearer - if we accept this to be taken directly from live filming etc - that the clockface reads ~09:15am. edit 03/01: however, there is a different promo photo where it appears that the minute hand is pointing just between the 4-5, reading at 09:25am (i have hit the photo limit but will add to the rb!)

so. couple of things to talk about here.

for the most part between eps 1-5, the clock has been pretty consistent with not only keeping track of time as scenes have developed etc., but also matching up with other instances of where a timestamp is given to us outside of the bookshop. with that in mind, it is highly likely that the clock is a reliable source of marking the in-narrative time of the story. this, for me, is evident with the orange timestamps - where the ornate hand is the minute hand, and other marks minutes.

however, when we hit ep6, it goes to shit. the orange timestamps (providing that ive tracked this all correctly - but error on my part is a very high possibility, i couldn't be bothered to go get pen and paper) suddenly go screwy, and it's the blue ones that make more sense.

we'll revisit that second point in a minute, but returning to the first point - this tells me a crucial thing (imo). first, that the clock can be accepted as the constant in the equation upon which to compare the variables. therefore, for example, crowley's bell tolls in st james' park, and his phone clock, are immediately apparent as 'out of sequence'. the same goes for the part in ep2 where aziraphale starts drawing gabriel - this of course could just be down to a non/extra-diegetic we-need-to-cut-ep3-but-plump-out-ep2 reason (and i think that's probably the case), but crowley's phone is so purposefully and blatantly (and arguably needlessly - could have just answered straightaway and achieved the same result) displayed with the 'wrong' time, that it doesn't feel accidental.

so if the timeline more likely follows the orange, why does it go completely bonkers in ep6, and instead start to follow the blue? god knows, i really don't have much of an answer beyond the "freaky-deaky time shit is going on", and maybe "the demon incursion/crowley going to heaven/the angel and demon stand-off/unreliable narratorship all round might be something to do with it." but to my mind, it is the blue timeline that suddenly makes narrative sense - it's likely morning, crowley supports this with "breakfast at the ritz", etc.

similarly, what is interesting to note is that despite neil's answer that the 20-minute skip during the kiss was a continuity error (and i will say, full disclaimer - perfectly prepared to still accept this as the truth), the crew/team seem to have been fairly hot on keeping the clock otherwise within continuity for the whole show. for a scene of this magnitude, where they know it's going to be emotionally upheaving for fans, leaving them gasping for an Explanation for how it all went down, and therefore scrutinise it for every little detail? sorry, im personally not buying that it wasn't deliberate... will probably end up eating my words, but there we are.

my brain has melted out of my ears trying to wrap my head around this, but i'll probably come back to it at some point with, no doubt, some corrections - and some further thoughts✨

#good omens #honestly where there are errors just pls pretend you didnt see them. writing this has aged me by at least a decade

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alalaya2 · 1 year

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Decided to continue this enjoy

Part 2 Ecto hits the fan

While Tim found the hornet nest that would cause the JL to be up in arms ready to attack the United States government . There was a town in the west of Huntington ky on the ohio side of the river in Amity Park. The young King was looking up at the night sky he was floating high enough that most Ecto weapons wont hit him and if any GIW had a jet packs he would hear them coming with enough time to get away.

He had just turned 16 today and Clockwork has finally told him that he was now the king of the infinite realm. Things were going to happen soon and fast the realms themselves were gearing for war. If things didn’t change soon. Then he, as the king, would have to lead them to battle.

Danny closed his eyes let the light of the stars shine over him. It was getting harder to keep both the humans and ghosts safe from the GIW. They didn’t care who they hurt Star and Wes were still in the hospital from when a stray shot from agent O nearly killed them. If Danny had been a second late they would’ve been crushed by the tree Agent O had shot down. As it was Wes had a broken arm and Star had broken 4 ribs while both of them had a concussion.

Last year his entire class had discovered his identity after an incident with Vlad. They had all started to help him because members of team Phantom. His parents had interrupted Boxy’s and Lunch Lady’s bonding ceremony and now admitted that ghosts were sentient and not all ghosts were evil. He finally told him that he was a halfa two months ago so things were going well at the home front at least.

While his personal life was getting better it didn’t change the fact that he was not ready to be a king and he didn’t want to go to war. Phantom opened his eyes looking at a satellite and wondering if it was the Famous watchtower. Most of the tower had tried to contact the JL many times his first year as a hero. They had thought that the first time was a prank call and by the next call the GIW had started to put up an informal barricade. No other calls had gotten through.

Tucker had hacked their system and found out that by the end of the first year. No information about the ghost were available to anyone outside of Amity and anyone who was in Amity was heavily edited to the rest of the world Amity Parker’s didn’t exist. Danny’s first thought was to fly up to the watchtower himself and tell them what was happening. Sam had stopped him while Amity wasn’t public knowledge the Anti-Ecto acts were publicly available. This either meant they knew and agreed with them or they didn’t know and we’re being kept in the dark. Now he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to it was too dangerous for his people for him not to be around.

His ghost senses went off and he sighed. His rouges had been getting better at not being destructive but The GIW were also out. He looked down to see Ellie running from the GIW. protective rage thrummed through his core

Not My Daughter

He took off like a shot his core screamed as he saw Ellie take a shot to the back. Ectoplasm seeping down her back as she was still trying to get away.

“Papa!” She cried out as she saw him coming.

Dani now called Ellie had finally stabilized and had created a parent- child bond with him. He could feel the echo of pain from that bond.

“Ellie” he cried out looking at the GIW he noticed the had a net. “Ellie look out” he pushed her out of the way the net wrapped around him and a high electric current went through the net. The last thing he saw before passing out was Wulf grabbing Ellie and taking her to safety

#danny phantom #dp x dc #ghost king danny #tim drake #bones prompts #green lantern #feral Amity park #justice league #martian manhunter #GIW are screwed #Princess Dani Phantom

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simp-ly-writes · 2 months

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Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.4)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: Taking notes off the recent missions and getting pushed into another. More intensive training has your new relationships straining beyond what you imagined. You can only hope that they all will be with you for when the actual mission starts.

Warnings:4000~ words, light swearing, blood, violence, torture. A/N: a bit of a longer one stuffed with drama... Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

10:00 AM | Autumn | Taylor Tailors Headquarters

Stuffed inside the private vehicle. Price was gripping the dividing wall in front of him as the car drifted slightly at the slurry forming beneath the tires. Winter had decided to come at a sudden and the team captain was restless not being the one responsible for the vehicle. A voice came over the intercom- only further irritating the man. “I do assure you agents-in-training that I have been driving for the company longer than many of your careers. Oh,” the woman laughs out, bright red lipstick reflecting in the windshield as she soars down the driveway and into the parking garage. “Stop pissing in your pants now, we are almost there- promise.”

Riley shakes his head, leaning against the window as Johnny bounces across from him, bumping Price's shoulder repeatedly. Gaz inspects his suit, wondering where you all were headed- he was praying for something warm but from all the seemingly random items you forced them to back within their bags… he was still quite unsure of it all.

The door is soon thrown open, Riley turns slowly- glaring into an eye-widened surprise to see Samantha who only sharpens her smile, lips turning into a thin smile. Her black hair shimmers under the artificial lighting as the car honks-locked. The group trailing and presenting their IDs to the scanner, the front desk seemingly empty as a phone rings softly from behind the wood. Johnny makes a joke reaching towards the phone before Samantha turns sharply back on her heel, tea and muffin in hand within the blink of an eye- slapping his hand away with a wink. “Hello Agent Whitby-yes. They have just arrived, I’ll send them your way in just a moment.”

Turning her head upwards, she greets them all with a handshake before another team moves their bags into the locker room. Samantha's heels click against the tiles as she ascends the stairs. Still stunned by the headquarters interior, Price bumps into Kyle who can only smile before admiring the tree sculptures of fighters into what appears to be an artificial sunroom. Whitby stands in the centre, his shirt misplaced as he fights off the AI people that swarm him. Their pixels crumble towards the floor as they are defeated just as another spawns in his spot.

Samantha claps her hands, the heat leaving the room as an artificial voice speaks of Whitby's score. Smiling as Samantha hands him the muffin, she takes a sip of her tea- eyeing the way his shoulders rise and fall before turning and smiling at the rest of the men. “Have a good session you all, I will be at the front desk for the next few hours if you need anything.” The door softly clicking closed behind her just as the air conditioning comes in and benches emerge from the floors.

Taking a seat while drying himself off, Whitby motions a hand over, “Handler D has sent me the reports from our last mission with some personal notes… nothing to be ashamed of really- just the things we do a bit differently here.” Snapping his fingers, scans of cards appear in front of the task forces faces as they read through the notes and look through the compiled footage. Like a sports play-by-play little arrows and sticky notes are displayed all over- highlighting the next steps and offering compliments for others.

The task force all nods over each word as Whitby stands, the screens disappearing just as the sunroom scene displays once more. Heat enters the room as sweat begins to drip from John's brow. “We are going to Greece for the next mission, heat is going to be one of our biggest enemies. Get used to sweating and to drinking wherever you can while out on patrol for hours. Mission file states that our princess has been kidnapped from her guarded tower- guards are shitting themselves- running about like little headless bitches and we are gonna solve all… or well most of their issues.”

“Alright!” Soap cheers, tearing off his suit-jacket and rolling up his sleeves as the rest follow suit. Whitby stalks around the room, adjusting their position independently and as a team throughout the various planned scenarios. He keeps looking at seemingly a normal wall, making multiple hand signals as the course changes. Kyle narrows his eyes, seeing through to a control room as Doctor Charlotte Derby stands, clipboard in hand as she whispers commands to the operator. The lady smiles and copies, mouth forming a smile as laughs seemingly are shared in the room before Kyle is slipping on the floor beneath him, slipping on the rain that started to fall within the room.

Shrugging his shoulders he continues to race between halls as the rest of the boys improve upon their communication with the new tools they have on themselves. Time slipping by as late lunch emerges. “Are we going to be seeing Handler Dee at any time today?” Price asks, taking a bite of his meal within one of the restaurants the base provided. Whitby wipes his mouth clean with the provided serviette, taking a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Potentially, they are in a fitting currently- are there any concerns?” The agent questions, raising a brow and meeting each of their eyes.

Slapping a hand on his shoulder, Johnny shakes his head before diving back into his meal. Whitby shuffles his suit back into place, shimmying in his seat before motioning Charlotte to join them. Standing himself up- offering the lady the booth seat, he pulls up a chair from an empty table, sitting at the end before conversation settles upon the files the Doctor spreads across the table. “You all made wonderful improvements, I’m sure Handler Dee is smiling ear to ear at the news from Samantha's call. There are still some mental tests I have to finish with you all today before we can let you board that plane tonight but you should all be proud of yourselves nonetheless.” She finishes with a bright smile, sneaking a bit of Whitby's food with a wink as he playfully glares back before motioning for her to hand him his drink.

The group revolves into their own conversations as Whitby curses softly underneath his breath, “I do apologise everyone but work is calling, I wish you all a good start to your mission-”

“You’re not coming with us?” Simon asks, addressing the group for the first time today as Whitby has to do a double take, ensuring that he did in fact get a response from the man after hours of trying to spark conversation. “No sadly, though I do look great in a Swimsuit-” Charlotte smacks his shoulder. Taking the offensive hand, Whitby leans over, kissing her on the cheek with a cheesy smile before bowing and leaving out the door.

John stacks everyone's plates just as Charlotte pays the bill and directs the group over to a private lounge. Papers already wait in a stack, the grandfather clock in the corner ticks lightly as Soap swears to see the eyes of a painting move in his peripheral vision. “Alright, you all have two hours to complete this basic intelligence quiz and I have the languages and mathematics set up for us till the dinner hour. I will be sitting just off to the side here if you have any questions or concerns, good luck you all.”

–

Whitby quietly enters the fitting room, standing off to the side as he tilts his head- a small smile forming in his eyes before growing as he takes in your new uniform. Cream coloured with a linen dress shirt underneath, you are a cloud drifting its way towards his navy blue suit embroidered with small floral designs only seen underneath the warm lighting. An assistant shakes their head mocking as you step off the pedestal, making a playful runway walk towards the agent just as he picks up your hand, giving you a twirl before pulling you into his chest.

“You look amazing,” he mumbles before pulling away, still holding your hand. Thomas and Evan wave their sewing materials behind you, signaling for your return as Whitby helps you to stand back up. He takes a seat in front of you, setting a timer on his watch, his head resting against his fist, arm following chairs to the edge in a 90 degree angle. “Anything outstanding to report,” you make small talk, watching as their hands masterfully work the fabric and smile when they remember all the little details you voiced in passing throughout the years. Another favorite to add to the closet, you think to yourself.

“Nothing quite, love. They all served well- more field time will show everything I’m sure of it. Charlotte said their first written test results are coming out well for not going through our overly formal training. How many missions do we have with them again?” His knee starts to bounce as your eyes snap over to the movements, leading up to his glass-framed eyes as he raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side in a cat-like motion- challenging you silently to a staring contest.

Both your eyes begin to burn, competition brewing under each of your skins as Jason coughs, the head tailor looking bored at the exchange before signaling the assistant to take their breaks as he picks the work back up. “One more after this one and then Laswell and I are even,” you state, blinking rapidly just as Wihtby moves his glasses to rub his eyes. The room falls silent before Whitby stands, turning on the record player as soft classical music starts to surround the room. Humming to the strings, Whitby makes an exit- continuing his performance down the hall and towards the offices for his own mission.

You watch his exit- eyes softening as a cough from behind has you rolling your head back as Jason squeezes your nose as you scrunch it up in distaste. “What was that for?” you question. “Say yes to that poor man already, you two have been dragging this charade on for a decade too long- who knows what will come first for you both, a new partner, another promotion, death?-”

“Jason!” you hiss out, “Please, not just before a mission- can’t have that especially on something like this. Its our future head of state for fucks sake!” you curse out just as Jason trims the last bit of string from your shoulder, marking the project complete. “Apologies, Handler but I just want to see my two friends happy in a job where temporary is the definition.” You nod your head in response, “Thank you for the suit,” you add in a lightened tone as Jason sends you an apologetic smile- waving as you leave the room and he begins to back up the supplies.

–

6:00 PM | Autumn | Taylor Tailors Headquarters

“HANDLER!” a voice shouts, your shoulders jumping up-tensing as you turn on your foot like a robot. “Handler D!” The voice shouts again, footsteps rapid as they turn around the corner, Handler Jacobs nears, a tower of folders underneath his arm, his tie over his shoulder as you help him to address his appearance- taking the papers from underneath his arm as you both make your way towards the lobby.

“The reports from my side before I send it all over to the higher-ups. Would you mind if I stole the other 3 or so agents you have out in Russia? There has been an uprising in France, some internet criminals rising havac and…” You raise your palm as the Handlers rambles soon fall short. “Yes, Handler,” you state with a smile- eyes going wide as he pulls you into an energetic squeeze. You wince from the impact, the files flooding the floors beneath as you groan out, eyes searching the mess beneath as he lets you go. Slipping on the files in a daze and back down the hall.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to work through the documents, leveling them back into a stack as a group of footsteps come from behind. You curse, cheeks firing red as you turn around, straightening your hair and kicking another folder off to the side, your eyes flash with horror as your newest agents stop in their tracks, looking at your off-guard appearance with curiosity before snapping towards the mess underneath you.

Without a word or mocking comment, the men get to work, helping you to pick up the remaining files as Gaz helps you to arrange them back into the appropriate places. “How’d things get like this?” Simon questions as you blink up at the man kneeling beside you, handing you another bundle of papers as you blush in embarrassment. “An over-excited Handler.” Is all you say with a huff, beginning to stand. John rushes to place a hand on the banister above your head. You duck from the movement, standing up more quickly before looking at its placement. Sending him a warm smile, he only nods in reply as Johnny and Kyle split the papers, walking them over to the mailboxes with you.

‘Thank you all,” you comment while singing off on the last document within the office before the parcel goes through the shoot and up towards the street level. “S’nothing,” Johnny states, eyes crinkling. “Coffee, anyone?” you ask the group once seeing the time on your wrist, a series of tired mumbles sound within the room as you make your way towards the nearby break room.

Samantha stands in the room, leaning against the water fountain before standing to attention at your presence. “At ease,” you comment as she moves to sit down at an empty table. You take the orders of the room just as Simon helps you to bring the rest of the drinks over as you all sit. With hands wrapped around the warm mug's surface, you lean back in your chair, ankles crossing underneath the table as Samantha starts to read through her messages on her phone- seemingly lost in her own world. “So…” you begin, looking at each tired face with remorse. This is only the beginning…

“How was this morning's training? You think you are alright to finish the rest of the planned material tonight?” you ask softly before taking a sip of your drink, humming contently as the warm liquid floods your senses. “There’s more?” Kyle asks softly, voice carrying strain as Johnny groans beside him, having used all his energy this morning he leans his head into Simon's shoulder who grunts yet does not shove the man off.

“Well, yes.” You state, “And the most damning of them all unfortunately. I will be walking you all through our captive training. How to live through waterboarding, to not suffocate in toxins. How to find your way outside of restraints in multiple positions and live to see another day,” you perform hands fling off your cup and into the air as you make grand gestures. Samantha looks up from her phone, as if seeing a ghost she rapidly shakes her head. “Good luck you all,” horror flashing through her eyes, “the utter SHIT you experience in there…” she shakes her head, seemingly unable to finish the sentence before standing up quicking and darting out of the room before you could comfort the woman.

John looks to the group, trying to hide his growing worry as he scratches at his bread before looking back at you staring right through him. Placing a light hand on top of his formed fist upon the table, it uncurls and you pull your hand away soon after. “I will be with you all the whole time.” You state, eyes hollow as you hold out better than Samantha, everyone had to go through this training eventually- yet it stayed with you forever.

–

You watch from behind the impact and bullet-proof glass. The room slowly starts to fill with water, you listening to their heart monitors flooding your room, raging above the waves. John is already directly out orders, looking around for an escape. The lights flicker, the electrical starting to become enveloped by the quick rising water before turning black. Fighting to open a case underneath the water, Simon rips out a flashlight, tossing it over towards Kyle who turns it on, pressing it in his mouth as he dives under, scanning the floors for a potential secret door.

He emerges as the rest of the taskforce now treads water- the level almost reaching the ceiling. Each taking one last breath, they twist and turn, eyes wide and burning from the growing pressure. You step back from the glass as John swims up to it, trying to peer into the room as you make your way outside, greeting Charlotte who stands with warm towels ready for the next event. You both mentally count towards ten, the sounds of the glass shattering, the water pouring out underneath the door as you stand cold-faced and unmoving.

The boys stumbled out into the hall, adrenaline still pumping through their ears, their bodies shivering as they ran over to you, gripping a towel around their shoulders. Yet what you don’t expect is for Kyle to hug you seemingly out of the view before dropping you just as quickly. John watches them interacting softly as Simon stands behind him observing quietly as well. Johnny cheers out in celebration once realizing everyone is safe before slinging a still wet arm around the Doctor's shoulders as he bounces up and down. “You had done well to complete the first trial,” you speak in a monotone form that has Simon peering down at you, trying to crack your exterior yet you remain unrelenting. Understanding of your pivotal role during these times just as your past mentors have done so for you.

“On to the next,” Charlotte announces, stepping away from Johnny before breaking a small shake of his shoulder in congratulations. A series of small separate rooms greet you, tears begin to well in your eyes from the horrors that you had witnessed. Shaking your head, you turn and motion for each man to pick a room as the door locks shut behind them before climbing up a ladder. Through the intercom you ask everyone to sit in the chair. You hear them yell out, former trainees from earlier in the day stand in the observation deck, looking down from the rafters and through the clear ceilings that you walk upon, observing them each, picking up a series of gas masks last minute, distributing a few to Charlotte before starting.

The chair locks various restraints around their legs, arms, thighs and chest. Various different locks and chains of varying weights tug them into place. Your voice is shaking, “Your goal is to exit the room that will be flooded with gas. I am unable to enter the room while this session is in progress by any means- even in the face of potential death. Good luck, agents.”

A loud horn sounds, the boxes flooded with red light as the soul illuminate, your grip your hands into fists as Charlotte stands across from you looking down, face falling and covering her features as she watches Simons eyes go wide as he stares up into her own before twisting himself in the chains forcefully, shouting as they allow for minimal movement. John's hands were shaking, the gradual lack of oxygen was going to kick in another 25 minutes and no one had made much progress. Kyle had unlocked the most- his and Soap’s bombs training seemed to provide the upperhead- one of their hands unlocked as they raced to unlock the other.

A click can be heard, Simon had forced his wrist from underneath a series of chains, you wince at the blood and bruising of his fingertips- his gloves seemingly cut open as blood floods his suits fabric. He fumbles for a piece of his belt as you smile encouragingly down at him, happy that he remembered the hidden set of tools found within the buckle and by the sounds of Johnny's sharp intake of breath- he remembered as well. Looking down at your watch once more, you jump, the glass banging as each one looks up at the sudden noise. 10 minutes remain, Charlotte now grips your hand in her own, watching as the timer counts down.

A loud crash is heard, John is now laying sideways, his chair tipped over as blood seeps from his temple. Skull smashes into a chain just as he manages to kick his shoes off, shimmying off the chains of his feet and loops them around the legs of his chair, grunting before emitting a powerful shout as he tries to force himself back upright. Chair rocking back and forth as your drum begins to sound. Kyle had managed to unlock the remaining chains around his waist as he now stands, one left around his ankle yet he remains unbothered- repeatedly throwing his chair against the glass above- his door unable to open.

Your eyes become cloudy, imagining yourself in his situation when you were in training. Your breathing becomes shallow, your palms sweating, dropping your tools rust as it runs down from your forehead, mixing in with your eyes as they burn. You cannot hear over your blood as it becomes less of escaping the room but of your panic instants. The drumming becomes loudly as you rush away from the glass as it shatters, you stumble back as Charlotte manages to hold you upright. Throwing the chair into the corner, the siren sounds and gas begins to rise from the floors and up into the air of the concealed rooms. Multiple trainees from the rafters above have fled the scene, throwing up in worry or to try and sleep away their own injuries.

A chain can be heard rustling above the siren, flinging over the side of the enclosure as Kyle pulls himself upwards. As soon as both his knees touch the glass, you are rushing over- slipping a gas mask over his face before Charlotte and a few other scientists pull him away to the final trail. You soon pull your own mask from resting on your neck.

Much to your surprise, Simon is next out, he rips his mask to above his nose, taking in deep breaths before choking as the gas floods the space - condensing. You help him to strap on the mask just as another assistant tears him away from your grasp, out watch as he turns around to look at you with a panicked gaze before the door slams closed behind them both. In three more minutes, the remaining men would collapse from the lack of oxygen… you looked up into the red lights above, closing your eyes in a prayer before hearing more locks falling to the concrete floors below as you walked off the glass and onto a side stage. Johnny flings himself onto the glass, he does not even feel as it cuts through his skin, body delirious from the gas as his body is carried into the hall. John had two more minutes… you began to count them down, gripping the railing before falling to your knees as tears strained down your cheeks, fogging up your mask. A beep on your watch warned of the gas limit even with your mask on as a group of scientists forcefully removed you from the room as your nails scratched at their arms, you yelled out pleas. Brain seemingly lost to the gas- forgetting all of the formal qualities you were trained to possess for these torturous trials.

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3

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abubblingcandle · 9 months

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Jamie Tartt Accent Analysis

Um so yeah, after an anon ask to @withbadhair talking about how Phil is posh and Jamie is Manc, I relistened to Phil Dunster's episode on No Such Thing As A Fish again today and got sucked back into how much I love thinking about the intricacies of regional accents and how much I love thinking about Phil's accent work and how it is great!

So here you go -

A Yorkshire Lass' with an obsession with regional UK accents' take on Jamie Tartt's accent

Phil's Intentions with the accent

Phil has said that it was really his choice what sort of Manchester accent they went for (as Jamie wasn't written specifically to be Mancunian) but he was aiming for New Moston sort of area which is north eastern Manchester suburb (see yellow highlighted area on the image)

But he started by mimicking his agent who is apparently sassy and from Manchester but then listened to people like Aitch (who is from Moston which is probably where the idea for Jamie being from Moston/New Moston came from), Marcus Rashford (who is from Wythenshawe which is south Manchester out of the Outer Ring Road), Jesse Lingard (who is from Warrington which is a town between Manchester and Liverpool to the west) the Gallaghers (who are from Burnage which is south eastern - near Highfield Country Park on the map) which was more season 1 Jamie.

It was mentioned that Aitch was a bit inspiration with the attitude and the sort of swagger as well as the accent itself.

Features of a Mancunian Accent (some things to listen out for)

Research says that the Manchester accent can be characterised by a few distinct features:

The LettER vowel: if there is an ER at the end of a word it is pronounced more like UH. So for example "letter" becomes "let-uh"

The HappY vowel: what Jamie is known for. If there is a Y at the end of a word it is pronounced more like EH. For example "poopy" being "poopeh" or "city" being "cit-eh

H-dropping: this is typically northern but prevalent in Manchester. It is not pronouncing the H at the start of a word so instead of saying "head" pronouncing it "ed".

T-glotallisation: if there is a T in the middle of a word it is sort of dragged over. Like in "better" it can be "beh-uh".

-NG: typically if a word ends in -NG you do not say the G. For example "waiting" is "waitin"

All of these features are more easily noticed in words where more than one of them happens like "happy" becomes "appeh" with both H-dropping and the Y at the end

Analysis of Jamie Tartt's accent from a professional (not me)

Manchester Met have done a study of the different dialects within Greater Manchester and have split it into four categories. Lancashire, Mancs, Wigan, Posh. If Phil was aiming for Moston that would be more Manc but some Lancashire.

Dr Rob Drummond who was the lead on this research was sent clips of Jamie Tartt (edit - as a few people commented on this but he is a friend of No Such Thing As A Fish so was sent it in preparation for Phil being on the podcast but was apparently very complimentary so definitely a Phil Dunster win!) and managed to locate very precisely to just north of central Manchester in the Smedley sort of area which is the blue area on the map. If you compare that with Phil's aim of the red area ... that's damn impressive

So if you are looking for areas of Manchester to set your fics around or ways to make your dialogue feel more Tartt. Then we are looking for the Mancs accent and living somewhere in just north/north west of central Manchester based on his accent.

So yeah thanks for reading my thesis. I was going to go into words and sayings here too but it's after midnight and I have been talking to myself for the last hour just repeating the same words in Queens English, Leeds, and Manc 😂

Disclaimer - this is more based on S3 Jamie as S1 Jamie had a lot more subdued characteristics as Phil was finding his feet with the accent.

Side Plug as I have preordered it - Dr Rob Drummond's book called You're All Talk is coming out soon and it is all about this stuff and also social perceptions of linguistic diversity (which as someone who's accent massively chances based on the situation I am in I am super interested in)

#ted lasso #phil dunster #jamie tartt #accent work #tdlr Phil is a miracle worker with the accent and Jamie is so Manc

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januaryembrs · 9 months

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COFFEE SHOP COP | Javier Peña x Younger!Reader

Request: @brekkers-desigirl says - hey i love your work~ i saw that you're taking requests for characters, congratulations by the way<33 and i was wondering if i could have some javier pena fluff? where steve notices that javi is going out a lot and suspects that hes visiting the brothels but in reality hes meeting the reader, who is maybe a university student and cant be seen with javi, so they meet in secret? just like pure fluff please

thank you so much<33 and congrats on almost 1k again!!!

description: Steve is suspicious of Javi when there’s talks of a mole in the embassy. But when he follow him to coffee shop, he’s in for a surprise.

word count: 1.1k

trigger warnings: age gap? Reader is getting a doctorate. Talk of dissection.

main masterlist

Call it part of the job but Steve Murphy was an observant man. Perhaps he was overly suspicious with the amount of leads going dry as soon as they got close, Carillo had put it in his head that there were talks of a Narco Mole in headquarters, had his head spinning for days after he’d heard the news. But surely not Javi? It couldn’t be Javi.

Javi, who had saved his life more times than he could count, who would give his all for his job and asked nothing in return, who had broken bread with his wife, had watched his baby as if she were his own. It couldn’t be Javi.

But how could he explain his odd behaviour?

Peña had been clocking out on the dot for the past three weeks. Not that he held it against the man, except the two workaholics were known for working long hours past what was on their time cards in the interest of cracking the Narco rats sooner. He was usually given a little excuse of he had to call his father or he wanted to grab coffee on his way home before the shop shut. Even his betta fish needed feeding at a very specific time, that one had Steve frowning at least.

This man was a DEA agent and the best lie he could come up with was about betta fish? If that was the case, Colombia was fucked. But on the day he seemed to have a hankering for coffee the fourth night in a row, Steve had decided enough was enough. Slipping his card into the machine to clock himself out of work not even a whole five minutes after Javi left, he trailed after the man down to the parking lot, being sure to hold back a good few paces. Javi would know if he was being followed.

It wasn’t until he’d followed his truck downtown to a coffee shop that the ridiculous nature of what he was doing hit Steve like, well, Javi’s truck. Of course Javi wouldn’t be the mole, Javi would never. Besides, if the best he could come up with was fish then any real secrets surely would have poured out of him by now. Yet here he was, stalking his own best friend as he waltzed out the side of his truck like a boy on christmas.

He felt like an idiot.

Still unable to admit defeat, he pulled up onto the curb a few spaces down, heading out his car and after the man, ready to catch him in the act. Act of what exactly, though? Purchasing a cappuccino? What a crime.

The suspicion was knocked clear out of him however when he saw Javi walk up to a young woman, glasses perched on her nose. He was floored when he watched Javi cup her jaw gently, their lips meeting in a quick but loving kiss before he took a seat opposite her.

His first thought was she was one of his girls from the brothels, except he was quick to notice the textbooks and papers surrounding her, the way her fingernails were stained with ink. She was young, younger than Javi by a decade at least, but it wasn’t until he read the front of the book he felt at least some reprieve from the shock that must have been written on his face, Forensic Medicine and Toxicology, Higher Edition. Doctorate, she was getting her doctorate in medicine.

Smirking to himself that he’d caught Javi in his best kept secret yet, he returned back to his car to see his wife and daughter early for once.

“Long day, baby?” Javi asked, sipping on the edge of his coffee that had started to go lukewarm, despite him bolting his way over here to see you longer. You tucked your hair behind your ear, dog earring the page in your book you were working on, taking the small, china cup in your own hands.

“Had labs to do all morning, and my professor’s been getting on my ass about references.” You sighed, reaching out to squeeze his free hand with your warm fingertips, “I missed you. How was work?”

Javi’s eyes glistened with softness as he watched you, the paper cuts in between your fingers, hair messed from where you’d brushed it away from your face so often. He seemed to snap out of it when he saw you were waiting for a response, shrugging his shoulders a twitch.

“Still just chasing leads- nothing for you to worry about,” He said, bringing your hand up for a peck on your knuckles. Your face heated, his umber eyes following your smile as it settled between your cheeks, “I missed you too. You got classes tomorrow?”

Nodding, you took another sip of your drink, finishing the cup of black liquid, the only thing getting you through this semester. That and Javi ofcourse.

“Got a double lecture in the morning, and then more practicals mid day I gotta prep for,” You said, packing up your books into your bag.

“Nice Lab assistant or mean one?” He asked, taking your bag strap from you almost immediately. He never let you carry your books where he could help with it, the thought of you dragging them around with you in the day was bad enough as it was but seeing you lug around the five, fist width textbooks made his eyes twitch in upset.

“Thanks, honey,” You said, heading out of the coffee shop towards his truck, the passenger seat reserved for you as far as he was concerned, “Mean one. Though, I don’t think I’ll be much more pleasant considering were gonna be harvesting Liver, Spleen and Urine to test for signs of Arsenic,”

Javi grimaced, opening the door for you, helping you step inside with a little pat on your thigh. Gently putting your bag in your lap, he snuck in a quick kiss to your cheek before he shut the door behind you and headed towards the drivers side.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, your own hand coming out to rest on his jeaned leg as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“It’s a lot of dirty work, your degree,” He said, though his eyes kept flicking back to you from the road, “Not that I don’t think your capable, I just hate to think of you around so much…”

“Blood?” You helped out, and he nodded back, “Javi, I’m fine. The blood is only like half of what I do anyway, it’s the maths that gets messiest,”

Javi shook his, a wry smile on his face as he grabbed your hand in his own, giving your fingertips another kiss.

“You’d give some of the boys at the station a run for their money, sweetheart,”

Taglists;

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@greeneyedblondie44 @liadamerondjarin @pedrosgirlx @andy-rocks @musicartmayheminmyheart @howlerwolfmax @ciarra–mae @lou-la-lou

Pedro Pascal

@evyiione

Javier Pena

@spideysimpossiblegirl

#javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena x female!reader #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #javier p #javier Peña x reader

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epochofbelief · 3 months

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Strictly Confidential: Chapter Four

A Feysand Modern AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author's Note: I finally did it! Shoutout to SZA's song "Saturn" for helping me finish this chapter. I'm so excited for where this is going, everyone. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged. No promises on the editing.

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other Feysand AU Fic (Completed)

Chapter Four

Feyre cursed herself for a fool from where she hid, deep in a supply closet on the fifth floor of Tamlin’s environmental empire, Spring Solutions.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. It had taken days for her to convince Tamlin to finally show him around her work. Only after she assured him she wouldn’t leave his side while there had he agreed to let her accompany him to the office on the following Friday morning.

Feyre forced her breaths to remain steady as another person passed by the door, the band of light between the door and the floor guttering with the motion.

“Where the hell is she?” A muffled, angry voice filtered through the walls around her.

But then the sound of the footsteps, along with the angry voice, receded.

Feyre took a deep breath. It was now or never.

She placed her hand on the cool metal of the door handle and pushed.

Three Days Earlier

The newfound knowledge of Tamlin’s alleged crimes slowly ate away at Feyre over the next several days. She couldn’t focus on her schoolwork. She missed a cold call in class. Her father called twice and she actually managed to ignore him.

When Tamlin returned on the following Monday, Feyre had to force herself to act as if nothing had changed. She let him touch her, kiss her, wax poetic about how much he had missed her.

Before he proceeded directly into his study to get back to work.

Feyre was on pins and needles for the hours he sat at his computer. She waited for the moment he somehow discovered she had accessed his computer and came to demand an explanation.

But he never did.

And so Feyre began to execute the next part of her plan.

When she came home from school on Tuesday, she gushed about how much she was enjoying her environmental law class. Tamlin listened intently, sitting forward on the couch as she paced in front of him, declaring her newfound intentions to pursue a career in environmental law. Lucien, who had been present for Feyre’s little performance, leaned against the kitchen counter behind Tamlin, eyebrows creeping higher and higher as Feyre delivered her monologue.

“That’s great, honey. I’m so glad you love this stuff as much as I do,” Tamlin said, eyes shining with sincerity. Feyre bit back her disgust.

“I really do,” Feyre said. “Which is why I wanted to ask if you would be open to me shadowing you at work. I would love to talk to some of your in-house counsel, just get a feel for what environmental law looks like in the real world.”

Tamlin sat straight up.

“Oh. Really?”

Feyre nodded, ignoring Lucien as he folded his arms at her words, his eyes tracking her every movement.

“Let me think about it,” was all Tamlin said. Feyre didn’t want to risk pressing harder, so she dropped the subject for the night.

But the next day, she resumed her prodding. Asked Tamlin if he had had time to think about it. After receiving a similar response, she waited until Thursday to ask once more.

In the intervals in between, Feyre found herself looking over her shoulder everywhere she went. On the train to and from the law school, during her walks in the park, while she was at the gym. She knew the FBI had to be on her trail, but never once did she catch a glimpse of Special Agents Claret or Lapis. And though she knew there was no possibility that Rhysand was the one observing her, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of her life if he was watching. Her quiet, appallingly small life. If he was watching, he would see her utter lack of a social circle, the disgusting amount of hours she spent hunched over her books, snacking on chips from the vending machine and whatever form of caffeine was closest.

It was probably better that Rhysand wasn’t the one watching.

On Thursday, Tamlin at last relented. He offered to meet Feyre at his office the next morning, for an hour before his lunch meeting.

And Feyre had duly accepted.

After her Friday morning class, she took the train back downtown, getting off at a stop about a block away from the enormous high-rise building that housed Spring Solutions. The receptionist, a young woman who looked to be a few years older than Feyre, struck up a conversation with her as they waited for Tamlin to emerge from the elevators that led up to his floor.

“I’m Ianthe,” the receptionist said, long blonde hair cascading over narrow shoulders, her sky-blue dress making her eyes pop. “You must be Feyre.”

Feyre gave Ianthe a nervous grin, shaking her perfectly manicured hand. This woman must spend hours on her makeup every morning. Her skin was absolutely flawless, lower eyelids lined with white, black mascara only further emphasizing those piercing blue eyes.

“Sorry,” Ianthe beamed. “Tamlin’s mentioned you a few times. I feel like I practically know you already.”

Feyre sucked on the inside of her cheek. “Ah.” Tamlin had never mentioned his gorgeous receptionist Ianthe. And yet he had been talking to Ianthe about Feyre so much that Ianthe already felt like she knew her?

Feyre reminded herself that jealousy was not a productive emotion. Especially when her boyfriend was in all likelihood a white collar criminal.

As Ianthe asked her about law school, Feyre wondered whether the receptionist knew about what went on behind the scenes at Spring Solutions. If there was indeed a “behind-the-scenes” to be spoken of.

Feyre answered Ianthe's questions with the shortest answers possible. But after the basic What practice areas are you considering pursuing? What led you to law school? What did you study in undergrad? questions, Ianthe launched into a monologue about how hard she had worked to decorate the atrium of Tamlin’s business.

Which was even more boring than the Administrative Law class Feyre had taken during her second semester of 2L.

To Feyre’s relief, the elevator to the left of Ianthe’s desk emitted a faint but elegant ding, and Tamlin emerged in his usual crisp, dark suit, his blonde hair perfectly arranged. Feyre pasted a smile onto her face, words sour in her mouth. “Hi, babe.”

Game time, Feyre thought. No matter how hard this would be, perhaps finding evidence of Tamlin's illegal activity would give her a stronger reason to break things off with him.

But hadn’t Rhysand said that Tamlin’s illegal activity would make it even more difficult for Feyre to leave him? Even dangerous?

Feyre shook her head, giving Ianthe a wave over her shoulder as Tamlin guided her into the elevator, a possessive hand on her lower back. Feyre turned to face him in the elevator, casually stepping out of his grip and leaning against the mirrored wall.

“How’s your day?” She asked. “Stressful?”

Tamlin stepped closer, one hand caressing her neck. “Much better now that you’re here.”

Feyre tried not to flinch away.

Gods, one second she was letting him pull her into bed and the next she couldn’t stand the feeling of his touch against her skin.

If she was honest with herself, discovering that he really was a criminal mastermind would probably make her life much less confusing.

Unfortunately, Feyre had to put up with Tamlin’s hands all over her as he toured her around the four floors of the high-rise that his company occupied. She met several accountants, a myriad of consultants, a plethora of assistants. Lucien joined them about halfway through the tour. He greeted Feyre as usual, but kept close behind her as they walked. Feyre couldn’t tell if his green eyes were tracking her every move or if she was just being paranoid.

At last, they reached the top floor—where both Tamlin and Lucien had their offices, and where the in-house legal department resided. Tamlin guided her into a large conference room, where several attorneys were gathered on one side of a long table, a lunchtime feast of sandwiches, chips, and coffee spread before them. It looked like a lunch break in all aspects except one: each attorney had a laptop propped in front of him or her, not even speaking to each other.

So this was what Feyre had to look forward to—work above all things. A twenty-minute lunch break to get to know one’s coworkers? Forget about it.

She knew in-house was different than big law, but if anything, big law firms like Hybern & Night were much more notorious for their bill or die mentality. These in-house attorneys were either unprecedented workhorses, or they were working on something important.

Feyre wondered if it was something illicit.

Feyre shook the three attorneys’ hands, smiling as they introduced themselves. Tamlin, Lucien, and Feyre joined them at the table, and Tamlin plated Feyre a ham-and-cheese sandwich, forgetting once again that she much preferred turkey.

But she smiled, ever the gracious and perfect girlfriend, launching into a stream of pre-prepared questions as the attorneys gave her their full attention. About halfway through the discussion, a secretary of some sort stuck her head into the conference room, telling Tamlin that he had an important phone call on line one. Tamlin excused himself, gesturing for Lucien to accompany him. Feyre waved them off, listening intently to one of the male attorneys—Hart—as he explained the benefits of taking “Tax Accounting for Lawyers” in law school. This rivaled Ianthe’s interior design diatribe in terms of how well it piqued Feyre's interest.

Feyre made herself wait two minutes before she excused herself to use the restroom.

As soon as she was clear of the conference room windows, she had to resist the urge to run. There must be cameras all around, and if she looked like she had a purpose, rather than lost on the way to the bathroom, this whole thing would be over before it began.

So, instead of rushing through the halls, she meandered, looking around herself, eyebrows scrunched together. She really should have pursued acting, rather than law.

At last, she passed what looked like an empty office. She shut herself inside, and almost giggled in nervous relief when she saw a phone on the desk. She picked it up, knowing the chances of it connecting to Tamlin’s line were close to zero—but—

She dialed one.

Tamlin’s voice erupted through the speaker the second her finger hit the button:

“What do you mean they’re not ready?” Tamlin growled.

Feyre almost gasped at the anger, the vitriol, in her boyfriend’s voice.

A muffled voice responded, so quietly Feyre almost missed it in her surprise at the harshness of her partner's tone. “They need another week.”

“We don’t have a week.” That was Lucien. Quieter, but just as tense as Tamlin.

“There’s no way they’ll be ready for you in time.”

“I don’t give two shits whether they’re ready. We’ll be there on the established date, and they better be ready to implement the recommendations we have already provided.”

The muffled voice didn’t respond.

“Brannagh?” Lucien’s voice cut through the silence.

“We’ll see you in a week.”

“Good.”

The receiver clicked. Feyre bit her lip.

This didn’t mean anything. It proved nothing.

But if it didn’t matter, why was Tamlin so angry? And what did “we’ll be there mean? He hadn’t mentioned going out of town again. . . Was this a local job?

Feyre bit her lip, carefully hanging up the phone before easing back out into the hallway, replaying the conversation she had just heard in her head. What did it mean? Was it innocuous or incriminating? Was it enough to bring to Rhysand?

Feyre wandered down the hallway, now truly on the lookout for the restroom. She had just spotted the signs when a man emerged from a conference room down the hall and to her left, clad in a much less expensive looking suit than the one Tamlin had worn, earbuds firmly fixed in his ears.

Feyre froze, but it was too late. He had seen her.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” The man demanded, striding purposefully toward Feyre.

Feyre swallowed, giving a little shrug and a sheepish smile before she turned down another hall, hopeful the man would conclude that she was the lost girlfriend of one of the many men who occupied the Spring Solutions Tower. Because that was at least one thing Feyre had learned about her partner’s business: very few women were employed there, and if they were, they were secretaries or Ianthe.

Unfortunately, Feyre heard the thundering of heavy footsteps behind her as she rushed down the hallway. Shit.

Feyre ducked into another hallway and threw open the first door she saw, breathing a sigh of relief when the sight of a dim janitorial closet greeted her, complete with mop bucket, broom, and shelves full of various cleaning products. Feyre slipped inside, standing where the door would hide her from view if opened, trying not to remember the few times she had convinced her older sisters to play hide-and-seek with her when they were kids.

Nesta rarely agreed, but Elain had played with her on several occasions, humoring her years-younger sister out of the goodness of her heart.

Feyre shook her head, clutching the hem of her suit jacket as heavy footsteps thudded by.

“Where the hell is she, Belfort?” A voice—this one different from the man with the earbuds—sounded from somewhere to her left.

“Do I look like I know?” The earbud man's voice responded.

Feyre swallowed, grateful when the footsteps faded away. Were these men unfamiliar with the layout of the building? Perhaps they were new . . . Or perhaps they didn’t usually work here. Because if Feyre were searching for a potential intruder, the broom closet would be the first place she checked.

She slid out into the hall, relief coursing through her at the sight of the empty hallway. She rushed back the way she came, looking over her shoulder as she turned back into the hallway where she had met the in-house attorneys—

Her chest collided with a wall of muscle, sweaty hands wrapping themselves around her upper arms in a grip that was just a little too tight.

Feyre turned to face her captor, catching a glimpse of hard dark eyes and a tight jaw, downturned lips and a forehead creased with anger, before a voice from behind the man had him straightening up and releasing Feyre.

“Is there a reason you’re manhandling my girlfriend, Belfort?”

Feyre stumbled backward, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Tamlin, followed by Lucien and several members of what appeared to be the security team.

“Your girlfriend, sir?” Belfort asked, glaring at Feyre one last time before he turned to face Tamlin. “But—”

Feyre cut him off, striding toward Tamlin and setting a hand on his shoulder. “I got lost on my way to the bathroom. I think they must have thought I was an intruder or something,” she said with a laugh, leaning into her boyfriend’s side.

“Belfort?”

Feyre stared at Belfort and hoped his desire to avoid a disagreement with his boss would win the day.

Evidently it did, because Belfort held up his hands. “My mistake, sir. Please, return to your lunch.”

Tamlin nodded, turning so quickly that he missed the look Feyre caught on Belfort’s face—

It was a look that said, I’m watching you.

------

Feyre stopped at a coffee shop on her way home from Spring Solutions, even allowing herself the time to sit in a booth at the window to drink it. She pulled out her current read—Foster, by Claire Keegan—but the book sat abandoned on the table in front of her as she stared out the wide windows at the streets of Prythian, mulling over the events of the morning.

Tamlin’s anger during his phone call. The man on the other line—Brannagh’s—response. Belfort stalking her through the shiny bright hallways of Spring Solutions just because she had walked down the wrong hallway.

To a court of law, none of this had any meaning.

But that feeling in the pit of Feyre’s stomach, the flash of fear she had felt when Belfort had caught her, the small bruises already forming on her biceps from his grip. . .

Feyre’s instincts told her something was wrong, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she discovered exactly why.

She took a sip of her coffee, sighing through her nose, resolving to give herself ten minutes to collect her thoughts before she walked the rest of the way home to resume studying.

But any chance to calm herself flew out the window when a man slid into the booth across from her.

Feyre jumped a mile high before she registered the hazel eyes, the classically beautiful features, and the scarred hands.

“Agent Lapis,” she breathed.

The SA held up a hand, his lips pursed. “Please, call me Azriel.”

Feyre glanced around her, as if she hoped to catch a glance of Cassian—or Rhysand—hovering somewhere nearby. But the rest of the cafe was occupied by innocuous coffee drinkers and several students with books and laptops spread across the tables in front of them.

“Azriel,” Feyre said, forcing herself to take another drink from her coffee.

“I’m here for your answer,” he said, eyes scanning the room even as he spoke to her.

When Feyre didn’t respond, his gaze snapped to hers. Whatever he saw there put a frown on his face.

“Are you alright?”

Feyre shifted in her seat, and couldn’t resist the reflexive look she gave the bruises on her biceps.

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening on the mug of coffee on the table between them. “What happened,” he breathed, his voice soft, but so lethal it sent goosebumps erupting over the back of Feyre’s neck.

“I got into Spring Solutions today,” Feyre started, but Azriel was already shaking his head.

“We know. What happened inside?” He asked, giving her upper left arm a pointed glance.

Feyre quickly and succinctly relayed the events of her time in Spring Solutions to Azriel, whose stoic expression didn’t waver as he listened.

“None of it means anything,” Feyre finished, running her hands through her hair. “But—I can’t explain it. Something just felt . . . wrong.”

Azriel shook his head. “It might not seem important or groundbreaking to you now, Feyre. But Rome wasn’t built in a day. Any detail learned now could always be useful later. And while none of what you told me today is enough for an indictment. . . It certainly could be if we learned more information.”

Feyre nodded, staying quiet. It was clear Azriel had more to say.

“You did a good thing, today, getting inside Spring Solutions. But if you agree to work with us, we’ll have to establish some ground rules. For your safety, and the good of the investigation.”

“My safety?”

Azriel nodded. “Rhys almost marched into that high-rise after you as soon as we sent him word you had gone there to meet Tamlin.”

Feyre blinked. “Rhys—Rhys knows I got inside?”

Azriel lifted a brow. “He’s the one leading this investigation. We keep him apprised of all notable updates.”

“Ah,” Feyre said, ignoring the cascade of confusing emotions that had unfurled inside her chest and stomach as soon as Azriel had said the words Rhys almost marched in after you.

“But the protocols will come later. What I came here to ask you today was whether you had decided.”

Feyre didn’t ask for further explanation. She knew what the SA meant.

She also knew her answer.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes meeting Azriel’s. “I’ll do it.”

-----

Author's Note: More Rhys is coming, I swear :)

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #rhysand #feyre archeron #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #feyre x rhysand #feysand modern au

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arkiliastuff · 13 days

Text

In a Concrete Jungle - Chapter 1 "The Meeting"

Noah Sebastian x OFC (Aurey)

(pictures edited by me. Originals url linked on the pictures.)

A/N : Oh my, I'm back after a long break and work on this fanfic. Took me a while as you can notice, but I'm glad on how the first chapter turned out already. Again this is going to be a long story, so I'm going to take my time by writting it. I hope you'll like this one ! :D Let me know if I've forgot anything and your thoughts about it ! <3

Warnings/Tags : Strangers/Enemies to Lovers trope, violence, blood, post-apocalyptical universe, "no god, no religion" vibe (I don't mean any form of disrespect in any religion), mention of trauma, death, loss, drugs, mental and physical abuse, trust and abandonment issues. (Just in case MDNI please).

Disclaimer : I haven’t read the comic book “Concrete Jungle” written by Noah Sebastian and illustrated by many cover artists such as Nicola Izzo, Jeremy Wilson and many more, so I don’t know much about the lore and the universe. I just got inspired by the song and the few panels of the comic book that I saw about it. The rest is a pure work of my imagination and it’s not related to anything official. Nothing is canonically official. This is totally fanfiction. And so this is how I pictured the world in the song “Concrete Jungle”.

~ The little beans taglist : @valiantroeagleangel @talialovesmiw @lma1986 @cookiesupplier

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━

The four men arrived at a strange building. It was half destroyed but still inhabited. The dark clouds of smoke outside gave a gloomy appearance to it. They saw a lot of old burned cars, with more wires and barbed strings surrounding the whole building, like a barricade or a fortress. Once they parked their car, they got out one by one, slowly, observing their surroundings. Noah and Nicholas were the first ones to cover their nose as they just breathed the heavy air from outside. It smelled like burned gas.

They were carefully being watched by some kind of military guards. Some of them looked like cops, others looked like simple soldiers, with their guns, helmets and respirators. Two other security agents, wearing the same black gear with a bulletproof vest were close to the door of the old building. They were talking to their headset radio, before another man arrived outside. Then, all three walked towards the newcomers, welcoming them.

“Are you the BAD OMENS syndicate ?”

“That’s us.” Jolly spoke.

“I’m Leo. I’ll be your guide here. Follow me, Mister Charles is waiting for you.”

The security guard turned on his heels, heading to the entrance of the building again. Jolly took the lead of the group, followed by Folio and Ruffilo, while Noah closed the queue. His hands in his pockets, he was looking everywhere, paying attention to every detail around him. He looked up and saw a lion symbol in a crescent shape decorating the pediment, proudly. He read “Golden Lion”. Before the short dark brown-haired man could ask anything, the security guard turned around, facing the group.

“Welcome to the Golden Lion’s den.”

The so-called “den” looked bigger from the inside than the outside. The bricks were about to crumble at any second but somehow it managed to stay in place. That didn’t bother at all those who lived here. Once the group entered the building, they couldn’t see a thing. There was a huge darkened hallway barely lightened up, the electricity flickering randomly. The security guard explained to Noah and his friends this floor was hardly occupied by the mafia members and it was only dedicated to training.

“...The first floor is for common places, like the dorms, bathroom and kitchen. The second floor is where the chief’s office is and where the guest rooms are. Plus the rooms of the elite guards. As for the third floor, it’s the boss' personal quarters only with his closest bodyguards” Leo continued to explain before stopping in a caged room. “Let’s take the elevator to go faster.”

There wasn’t any space in the so-called elevator. It was just enough to fit them all five.

“Looks like this place needs some work done” Folio jested, noticing the gravel falling from the ceiling.

But Leo replied calmly, not paying attention to the joke.

“Well, unfortunately we don't always have the time to repair when the Resistance or the other gangs are planning any other attack against us.”

Feeling a bit shameful, Folio didn’t dare to make any other remark and just kept silent.

“The Resistance ?” Nick asked, curious.

“My boss will explain everything to you soon enough.”

The gear sound of the elevator, reaching his destination, brought everyone back to the present. Even though they were all calm, deep down Noah couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious, anticipating the important meeting with one of the richest individuals in the mafia world. They heard few things about the Golden Lion’s achievements, mostly the grand ones. About how they gained so much money after working in different illegal industries, like drugs, weapons auctions and nightclubs. But it didn’t last too long. They had to leave Hell’s Kitchen, their first base, before the police found them. This was the last news they were ever published after that. And somehow they ended up here. In this No Name town. And it seemed like it was a lair for a lot of gangs to continue their business.

Despite being lost in this flood of thoughts, Noah tried to push his anxiety away, displaying his usual calm and serious expression. He had a lot of questions that were circling in his mind and he hoped he could ask them when the moment came. The security guard guided them to the front door which was lightened inside.

“This is where I must leave. The boss is waiting for you inside. I’ll be going on my daily patrol here, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to look for me and ask. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Leo. Hope to see you soon” Noah spoke, grateful to him.

“See you around, bud’ !” Folio jested to light up the sudden tension and serious mood.

Leo just nodded at them, waving briefly, before walking in the long corridor, checking if everything was normal. Once the sound of his shoes was far enough, the boys entered the room. What they saw next really contrasted with the rest of the building. There were a lot of expensive sofas and leather couches arranged in front of a brown desk. The person who was on the other side of it was a huge sixty-year-old man. On his large fingers, he was wearing golden rings that were decorating his knuckles. Some of them had a lion symbol sculpted on them. Yet, what surprised them the most about this man was his face. A few strands of his grey hair were falling on his forehead, drawing attention to his blue eyes that could see through you, despite being covered by the chubbiness of his cheeks. This man was the perfect mixture of wealth, trickery and disgust. Despite the hideous look of this individual, he had an aura that embodied leadership. You could tell who was in charge here.

“Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to my den. I’m Big Charles or Big C for my friends. Please, have a seat.” He ordered in a low voice.

The four men did as they were told and took place on the burnt brown couch before Big Charles’ desk.

“I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, BAD OMENS syndicate. I’m glad to see you made it through here. Knowing your presence here fills me with joy.” Big Charles smiled, showing his golden teeth, filling in the void of his dentition.

“We’re honored to hear such great feedback about us, sir. Seems that our reputation precedes us.“ Jolly spoke politely.

“Perhaps you could tell us more about the mission you’ve told us about on the phone, sir? We’re curious to learn more about it.” Noah continued.

“Straight to the point, I see.” Big C chuckled. “Of course. I’m gonna tell you everything you need to know about this mission.” He nodded, intertwining his golden-ringed fingers together, before continuing.

“You see, my gang and I have been facing a difficult situation for a few months. At first, we were handling it thanks to our partners in the city, such as a few minor gangs and some mercenaries. But, we’ve reached a point where even our partnerships have been attacked. And so we don’t have any more resources, like money, weapons and men. I lost so many men during these terrorist attacks. Which is why I called an outside syndicate like you.”

Charles paused, licking his lips to moisten them. He bent over, looking for something in his drawers. He put a whiskey bottle on his desk before turning to his cabinet behind his seat and taking five glasses. Then he poured the liquid into the glasses and handed some of them to the four young men in front of him.

“Have a drink, gentlemen. This one is my favourite ever. You cannot find any better in this dirty town. I have to commission someone from the outside to look for this kind.” Big Charles mumbled. “Anyway, where was I again? Ah yes, the terrorist attacks. They call themselves the "Resistance” or the “Red Sun”. There were a lot of gangs who tried to threaten us, but them... They are a disease to this town. Although they are less numbered compared to us, they always come back. Like a hungry wolf pack. Or rats. I don’t know how they do that, but one thing I’m sure of is they are desperate and evil souls who only kill and steal people like us. We are among those who are trying to survive. And the worst and annoying thing about them is they always know where to hit to weaken us !” Charles spat, angrily slamming his empty glass against his desk.

“So, in other words, this organization you speak of… The Red Sun or Resistance, are they the ones we have to stop ?” Jolly resumed.

“Precisely, my boy. And the best way to stop them is to find where these rats are hiding, find their leader and bring them to the authorities of The Eye.”

Big C suspended his talking, pouring himself another drink and taking immediately a sip of his whiskey, leaving the four men processing the amount of information they received at once.

“What do you mean by The Eye ?” Nicholas asked quietly, breaking the short silence.

“It’s the ruler of the city. Usually, you can see its tower from the outside but because of the weather and the smoke today, you can barely see its light above. Besides watching over us, the citizens, it protects those who obey them by giving supplies, like food, water, medical kits and recently weapons. A lot of gangs depend on their help and partnership, like mine. And we’re not going to let those resistance steal our resources !” Big C replied.

Noah and his companions just nodded their heads in approval, before he decided to speak.

“So, what are you expecting from us, sir? What do we have to do ?”

Big Charles smiled at the professionalism of those young ones.

“For now, your main mission will be to investigate the Red Sun, finding their base and leader. Once it’s done, their attacks will decrease. In return, your reward will be big, I can promise you that. You’ll receive 3 million dollars and more advantages during our cooperation together. As long as you’re here, my most trustworthy guys will ensure your protection. You’ll also have a place to stay and eat and even have a free pass from the nightclub I own. Depending on how efficient you are, it could be done in a month or two, but it won’t last long either way. Leo will give you every detail you need to know about the rules here and your rooms.” Big C paused once more, drinking his fourth sip of whiskey.

“Oh and just so you know, if you’re approving these terms you’ll get a contract with me, under The Eye’s orders. Soon they’ll send us someone to supervise you, making you sign the contract and give your new weapons. I’ll tell you when…”

While Big Charles was rambling, the sound of heels clicking on the black-polished tiling resonated in the whole corridor. The woman in black walked so confidently, smoking nonchalantly with her cigarette inside the building. She took one last puff before crushing the stub under her boots and heading to the usual room of the mafia leader. She opened the door and leaned against the doorframe, so casually, as if she owned the place. Then, she gave a smile to the four gentlemen seated on the brown couch and to the sixty-year-old man in front of them.

“Well, Big C, aren’t you going to introduce me to your guests ?” She asked with a raspy voice.

Charles stood up immediately, leaving his beloved and comfortable burgundy armchair to greet the woman dressed in her long black coat respectfully.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come here so early, dear…” He started, then stopped a second when she glared at him through her red sunglasses, before continuing “...dear Supervisor. It’s an honour to see you. Let me introduce you to the four young men here. They just arrived a few hours ago in town. They are called the BAD OMENS.”

The woman in black just nodded at Big C, pretending to be interested in his words. However, the last part caught her attention. She stared even more at the four young men before her.

“Interesting name’s choice.” She noted, “ At least, we can expect some of your victims to tremble in fear.”

“We prefer to not think about it. Ignoring those who are afraid of us, is to avoid having pity in them. But I guess in this kind of job, we can’t help but feel it no matter what.” Jolly spoke calmly.

“Put the feelings aside, darling.” She replied, waving her hand in an irritated manner, “In here, having pity or mercy is useless. It will only make you hesitate. And being hesitant can cost your life. It’s killing or being killed--”

“And how can we help you, ma’am ?” Noah cut her off, glancing at her with a visible distrust in his dark brown eyes.

With open-wide blue eyes, Charles was about to protest, but the woman in black stopped him with a sign from her gloved hand.

“Fascinating.” She hissed, still with an ominous smile plastered on her face “ I usually encourage any form of audacity, but I must admit this one caught me off guard.”

She went closer to Noah, leaning forward and staring at him with such intensity through her red goggles. The sudden proximity started to make him feel uneasy. The vicious aura of this woman was crushing everyone else in the room. Even Big C felt small compared to her.

“What’s your name, little one ?” She asked.

“Noah.”

“Well, Noah, since it’s your first day here, I’ll let your arrogance slide for this time. But know that I never give second chances when it comes to disrespecting me. Understood?” She warned.

The short brown-haired man simply nodded in silence, trying to remain calm.

“You four will only refer to me as Supervisor, Law or Sir. Is that clear ?”

“Yes, Supervisor.” Noah muttered.

“Good. You’re a quick learner. Maybe you could be a good apprentice for me. I’m looking for a new one, anyway.” She straightened herself, proudly.

Big Charles took this opportunity to talk again.

“Well, Supervisor, since you’re here early, I was wondering if you could register them to The Eye for their contract with the Golden Lion. Also, it would be an honour if you could train them.”

She turned around, facing Charles, her interest and curiosity caught for real this time.

“Oh? That’s a lot of requests, Charles. You’ll owe me for that” She smiled maliciously “In the meantime, I'll take care of the contract at The Eye’s office. This shouldn’t take too long for the equipment either. As for the training, I’ll take only one apprentice. And I think Noah would be a great candidate.”

“Why just him? Can’t you train us as well? We are a team after all.” Folio protested.

“Dear, I only train those who need discipline. If you want to get stronger, just train there. It would be enough. But if you want to be my apprentice so bad, then let’s make a duel. The last one standing will become my trainee. How does that sound? Do you want to kill your friend?” She replied menacingly.

Folio audibly gulped and took a few steps back, like a scared dog in front of a predator. Clearly, her offer didn’t sound that good anymore.

“Good boy. You know your place.” She said, amused.

Then she turned to her left, facing Noah and not paying any more attention to Folio who also felt uneasy

“We’ll talk about your training once you settle here. For now, I’ll be off to the Eye’s tower. You four should come with me to make yourself register. No worries, Big Charles’ guards and mine will accompany us.”

Reluctantly, the four young men followed the woman in black, barely hearing a goodbye from Charles. Once they were all five outside, a long black limousine was waiting for them. Some guards from the Golden Lion were already around it, watching the surrounding area. A man, wearing a black suit and a black ski mask with strange symbols on it, got out of the car saluting the Supervisor. The man barely whispered a few words to her, before she looked up and saw something shiny being dropped above them.

“Get down !!” She screamed, pushing her interlocutor to the ground.

A hand grenade bounced on the limousine’s roof before exploding, two seconds later. The car blew up, the windows burning out and the blast made the nearest people pop out a few meters away. Noah and his companions covered up their faces, protecting themselves from potential projectiles. They got nothing more than scratches. Yet, some security agents weren’t that lucky. Many of them who were around the car got seriously injured, with bleeding faces and fewer limbs. Noah’s ears were still ringing, hardly hearing anything, and his vision was a bit blurry so he was unsure of what he saw from far away. He noticed what looked like a small silhouette, on a building’s balcony, with a weird respirator mask on. It felt like it was staring at them. At least, it is what he thinks he saw, because, in the blink of an eye, the shadow was gone.

His senses were slowly coming back to him when he felt Nick’s hand on his shoulder, checking up on him.

“You’re okay ?” He asked.

“Yeah... I’m fine” The short brown haired replied “But, what was that ?”

“It was a threat.”

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pollenallergie · 2 years

Text

18+ only!!

do not interact if you’re under 18 years old!

some random best friend!Eddie headcanons bc I feel like it:

Eddie has several pairs of holiday-themed socks and he wears them year round. You can frequently catch him sporting Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer socks, regardless of the season. <3

When Eddie was like 8 or 9, he went through a phase where he only wanted spaghetti-o’s for dinner every night, so your mom started calling him “Eddie Spaghetti.” <3

Little kids love Eddie. He doesn’t know why, but they sort of gravitate toward him. That said, he certainly doesn’t mind; he thinks it’s adorable. He’s just naturally very good with kids. <3

You two have matching tattoos. His says “billy” and yours says “silly,” in reference to an inside joke from when you were little. <3

You and Eddie always manage to get sick at the same time. Always. Wayne and your mom used to take turns staying home to take care of you two when you were little, but now you two little sicklings just take care of each other. <3

After every single holiday meal, you both sneak off to your bedroom to sleep off the impending food coma in your bed. It’s a tradition you’ve had since you were ten. <3

Eddie is your grandma’s favorite grandchild, even though he’s not technically her grandchild. <3

The first time you smoked weed, you got so high that Eddie called you “space cadet” the whole night. He now calls you that every time you get high. <3

Whenever Eddie goes to the gas station to pick up a new pack of cigarettes, he’ll grab your favorite candy for you. <3

You’re insecure about your laugh (not your cute little giggle, but your genuine, unrestrained laugh), but it’s one of Eddie’s favorite things about you. <3

You and Eddie have a rule about getting each other christmas and birthday presents since you both grew up with little money. The rule is that you can only make things for each other. For the most part, you both adhere to this rule completely. However, you’ve both been known to break it every once and a while in favor of getting something extra special for each other. For example, you had splurged on Metallica tickets for Eddie’s 18th birthday. Likewise, he’d spent entirely too much money on a special edition gift set of your favorite book series last christmas. <3

You and Eddie used to put on plays for your mom and Uncle Wayne when you were kids. Honestly, you’d continued to do so for far longer than either of you would like to admit. <3

Eddie’s so close with your family that he even bickers with your siblings like they’re his own. <3

Eddie takes your dog to the park at least once a week for quality “bro time,” as he likes to call it. <3

He also helped name your dog when you’d first gotten him. He’d named him Philby after the Rory Gallagher song, only to later learn that the title for that song came from the name of a British spy who’d worked as a double agent for the Soviets. oopsies. <3

Wayne takes you, Eddie, and your family camping near the Indiana Dunes every single summer, and has done so since you were ten. <3

When Eddie was a kid, he had a black cat named Samwise. Unfortunately, Samwise passed away when Eddie was thirteen. You’d both cried about it for weeks. </3

You and Eddie both hate the public pool, Eddie because he’s the town pariah, and you because people always look at you weirdly when you wear a swimsuit and it makes you feel insecure. So, in the summertime, you’ll often sneak Eddie into your dad’s backyard after he leaves for work in the morning, that way you two can spend the whole day swimming without being subjected to ridicule from the other Hawkins residents. <3

Wayne has a copy of every single one of your school pictures much like your mom has a copy of every single one of Eddie’s. <3

Eddie learned how to make pot brownies after you’d expressed an interest in trying them. <3

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s written multiple songs for you. <3

He gets your mom a mother’s day present every year. He also gets Wayne a father’s day present every year. <3

Your mom packed lunches for the both of you until she finally cut you off freshman year, hoping to urge you both to become more independent. <3

Your dad paid for you to go to summer camp in the summer between sixth and seventh grade, and, while you were gone, you’d made a total of six sets of matching friendship bracelets for you and Eddie. Only one of them survived to adulthood, and he still wears it to this day. <3

For his birthday one year, you’d made him a scrapbook filled with pictures of the both of you. Unbeknownst to you, he’d continued to add pictures to it until it was completely full. <3

Eddie cries every single time he watches Bambi. <3

Eddie also cries when he watches Old Yeller. <3

Eddie took you to see The Color Purple when it was released in theaters. He cried during that movie as well. <3

Eddie won a story-writing contest in the sixth grade and, again, in the seventh grade. <3

Eddie only lies about the most inconsequential and random shit. Like he’ll tell some extremely thorough, elaborate lie about the etymology of a word just for shits and giggles. He’s a very convincing liar too, which makes it even funnier when you’re in on the joke. <3

Eddie doesn’t believe that he’s a good writer, just that he’s a good bullshitter. You assure him that he’s far too good at both of those things. <3

Eddie prefers to start his Sunday mornings with a good, ole fashioned wake n bake followed by an unreasonable amount of chocolate chip pancakes. <3

In the wintertime, he walks around the trailer cocooned in the fuzzy blanket that your mom got him for christmas one year. It’s adorable. <3

Eddie has surprisingly steady hands which you frequently take advantage of by asking him to paint your nails. <3

He hugs you very frequently because he just likes hugging you, okay? Don’t make it weird! (his words, not mine). And, believe me, this man gives the best hugs. <3

Eddie talks in his sleep, but his words are usually so slurred and garbled that you can’t understand them. <3

Eddie and Wayne also collect beer coozies, in addition to their collection of hats and mugs. Seriously, they have an inordinate amount of beer coozies. And they just whip them out, unprompted, all the time. Are you drinking a soda? Well, hey, they’ve got a coozie for ya! Hell, they’ll even use them on glasses of water. <3

Wayne’s a big NASCAR fan and he even took you and Eddie to the Indy 500 once. You were both bored out of your minds the entire time, but grateful nonetheless. <3

You guys even stayed in the train-car hotel for that trip which, as eight-year-olds, you both found insanely cool. <3

Wayne frequently goes to your mom for parenting advice. <3

Wayne also played matchmaker for your mom and her boyfriend, Hank, one of his coworkers from the plant. They’ve been together for two years now. <3

She’d repaid the favor by setting him up with the receptionist from her office, Marie. They’ve been together for almost a year now. <3

Wayne and your mom have been trying to play matchmaker between you and Eddie for years now, but you’re both too damn oblivious. <3

Eddie tried to teach you how to ride a bike when you were eleven, but you fell once and never attempted again. So, before he’d gotten his license, he’d either let you stand on the back of his bike and hold onto him or he’d let you sit on the handlebars. <3

Eddie wants to get a motorcycle one day just because he thinks you’d look hot perched on the back of one. <3

Eddie’s first car, before the van, was your mom’s old station wagon. <3

You and Eddie both talk a lot, so you have a bad habit of interrupting each other, but, it’s hard to get mad about that given how much you both like listening to each other talk. <3

You two used to argue a lot as kids, mostly because you’re both stubborn, but now you hardly ever butt heads. You’re both still incredibly stubborn, but are now more willing to compromise, at least with each other. <3

You’ve never missed one of Corroded Coffin’s shows. <3

Eddie loves naps, can’t get enough of ‘em. <3

Eddie’s superpower is his ability to sleep anywhere. Once, when there was a tornado during school, he’d fallen asleep on the tile floor of the hallway of Hawkin’s Middle while in that protective, crouched position that you’d all been forced to sit in. It was honestly impressive. <3

You have asthma, so Eddie’s developed a habit of keeping one of your spare rescue inhalers on him at all times. The one he’s got for you is technically expired, but he figures it’s better than nothing. <3

Eddie loves it when you play with his hair. He even lets you brush it for him. <3

Eddie guilt trips you into giving him back rubs by faking a sore back and complaining about how awful his mattress is. Truthfully, Eddie quite likes his bed, it’s much better than the one he’d slept in when he lived with his dad, but he’s willing to throw ole reliable under the bus if it means getting a free back rub. He’s been using that trick since he was nine. Of course, his intentions are purely wholesome in nature; he really just loves your back rubs. <3

He’ll frequently return the favor by giving you shoulder and neck rubs because he knows that you carry a lot of tension there. <3

Eddie has a framed picture of you two together on his dresser. <3

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hangmanbradshaw · 5 months

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So when I knew I wanted to write a sports AU, IWTBY and this idea had both been rattling around my brain for a long time. I ended up going with IWTBY (it had been something I'd wanted to write for a long time), but here's the other that almost was? It's clunky, un-edited and half thought out (literally just pulled from the quick bit I wrote all those months ago), but this is what we're going with for day 9! Enjoy

Jake sighed as he stepped off the plane. He knew this was a bad idea, had no clue what he was thinking taking this meeting. He scoffed at himself- Philadelphia of all places. If his old man could see him now, he’d be rolling in his grave, cursing about Cowboys having no place playing for Eagles. Not that Jake had ever even been a Cowboy, but being raised in Texas made that fact irrelevant.

He was brought out of his musings by a call of his name. He glanced around and found Javy standing and waving to the side near the arrivals door. He smiled as he walked over to him, wrapping his arm around him in a hug.

“I can’t believe you’re here, man. I thought for sure there was no chance in hell you’d even consider this.”

“You and me both, Javy.”

“Come on. I know Nat is waiting. I’ll drop you at her office.” He guided Jake towards the exit and out to his car. As they drove downtown, Jake looked out the window and watched the buildings pass by in a blur. He’d never actually spent serious time in Philadelphia, had only played there once or twice since the Eagles weren’t a team usually on his schedule when he was with the Chargers.

They parked in a garage near a tall office building, and Javy guided Jake into the building, hitting the button for the 50th floor once in the elevator.

“So, are you really thinking about saying yes?” Javy asked as he peered over at him.

He had no clue how to answer that so he merely shrugged. Part of him still didn’t believe this was happening. He thought his career was over, and now here he was standing in an elevator in a new city, discussing potential contract options.

“I know you’re worried. Hell, I would be too if I was you, but man- you are way too talented to not give this a shot.” Javy continued. He tried to catch Jake’s eyes, and held eye contact once he did. “I’m saying this as your best friend and also a fan. What could it hurt?”

Before Jake could answer, the elevator doors opened with a ding. He stepped out and took a deep breath, turning to Javy. “I’ll call you when it’s over, we can grab dinner.”

“Sure thing. Remember, I’m rooting for you. And for the love of god, at least try to fake a smile. I’d really like to play on a team with my best friend, and I can’t do that if you scowl your way out of this option.”

Javy stepped back into the elevator as Jake lazily saluted him. With that, he turned on his heel and headed towards Nat’s office. Her assistant was sitting at a desk outside her door, and she looked up when Jake approached.

“Hi, how may I help you?”

“I’m here to meet with Nat, uh, Miss Trace. I’m Jake…Seresin. She asked me to come in today.”

“Oh yes, she let me know to expect you. She had to step out for a moment, but you’re welcome to wait in her office.”

Jake nodded and moved towards the door, slipping inside. He had expected the room to be empty so he really couldn’t be blamed for the minor heart attack he had when he saw a man sitting in the office, lazily scrolling through his phone. The man looked up when he heard Jake let out a totally dignified “Shit!”

“You okay?” The guy asked, looking like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

“Yeah, just wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here.” He stopped, raised an eyebrow as he looked at him. “Who are you?”

The man raised an eyebrow back. “I’m Bradley.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same. What exactly is Jake Seresin doing here, in a sports agent’s office in Philadelphia?”

Jake blinked. “You know who I am?”

The man, Bradley, Jake reminded himself, didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed to be thinking through something, and his eyes sparked as he asked “the Eagles?”

“I’m sorry, can we go back to who are you?”

Bradley looked confused. “I already told you.”

“You know what I mean. Why are you here, in Nat’s office when I’m supposed to be meeting with her?”

“Well, I conveniently had a meeting with her too at the same time that she also still hasn’t shown up for. Imagine that.”

He had a look in his eyes like he knew something Jake didn’t. Before Jake could muster up a reply at this bizarre conversation, the door opened, and Nat came flurrying in, coffee in one hand and her cell in the other. She immediately spotted Jake, and smiled.

“Jake! Hi!” She pulled him into a hug then hit him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell, Nat?”

“That’s what you get for not visiting sooner.”

“I was busy.”

“You were sulking. And that’s no excuse.”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to see my agent and be reminded of everything.”

She leveled him with a softer look. “I get that, but I’m also your friend, and you can’t disappear like that.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right.”

She took that as the closest apology she knew she’d get, and nodded. He looked over at Bradley, who was watching the whole thing with a curious quirk of a smile, then back to Nat.

“Oh, sorry.” Nat said, not looking sorry in the slightest. A grin curled at her lips as she said, “Jake, this is Bradley. Bradley, Jake. Although I’m guessing you all got acquainted while waiting.”

“Oh yeah, while you conveniently double scheduled us without even being here?” Bradley leveled her with a look. She gave him a smirk back and Bradley raised his eyebrows at her. Jake could tell they were having some kind of silent conversation, but he was totally lost as to what it was.

“Mmm, scheduling issue, my bad. Total accident.” She smiled a shit eating grin.

Jake looked between the two and slowly interrupted. “Right…so can we talk about this offer?”

That got her to spring into action. She walked over to her laptop and tapped away, pulling up some files.

“Okay, I’ve been working with the Eagles office on this for a few weeks now. They want you- it would start at a one year deal, but it’s a solid offer. A decent guarantee, lots of potential bonus opportunities.”

“Nat, I don’t know. Is it worth it to go through all this to sit on a bench all year playing backup?”

She grinned. “Who said anything about a bench?”

That momentarily stopped him. He opened and closed his mouth. “Starter? No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way.”

He slowly backed up and reached behind him to find a seat. When he did, he sat down. He genuinely couldn’t believe this. He blinked out of his daze and saw Nat grinning still, and to the side, Bradley was smiling softly.

“I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes, obviously. Then say thank you Nat, you’re the best agent and a friend a guy can ask for.”

“I need to think about it. This…I just didn’t expect this to even be a possibility.” He stopped, furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand- why me? What’s the catch?”

“There isn’t a catch. You’re a hell of a player, and this is a great deal for them.”

“But…the accident.”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah, but they can see what we see- that you’re just as valuable now as you were before. And they want to cash in on that potential. They believe in you, Jake. It’s as simple as that.”

He momentarily was brought back to a flashback of sirens, red and blue lights, radiating pain in his leg, a doctor telling him he wouldn’t play again, his career up in smoke after only two years. He shook his head, tried to remove himself from the memories.

“Let me think about it. Can you email me the contract to look over?”

“Of course. But I really think this is the right move for you. A fresh start, new city. You’d be playing with Javy. I’m here. You’d have a support system already, and a team that actually believes in you.”

Jake hesitated, bit his lip. “I don’t know, Nat. Philadelphia?”

“I had a feeling you’d need some extra convincing. It’s a good fit for you, trust me, but if anyone can show you some Philly magic, it’s our dear Rooster here.” She nodded towards Bradley.

“Rooster?”

Bradley gave Nat a look then smiled back over at Jake. “Nickname. Don’t ask.”

“Oh, I’m definitely asking.”

Bradley hummed and said, “I’ll make you a deal. Let me show you around Philly. If you still hate it at the end and I don’t manage to change your opinion, I’ll tell you.”

“And if you do happen to succeed? I gotta say, you’re not giving me any incentive to like it.”

“I’ll still tell you. But you have to sign the contract.”

Jake tapped his arm as he thought it over before asking, “And why do you want me to sign the contract? What are you, a secret Eagles employee or something?”

Bradley quirked an eyebrow at Nat. She sighed and said, “I wasn’t kidding when I told you he doesn’t know baseball.” She directed her gaze back his way and explained, “This is Bradley Bradshaw, star outfielder and hitter for the Phillies. You may remember him as the MVP for the conference last year?”

“And long time Philly resident. At your service.” He smiled.

Well, Jake felt dumb. “Uh…sorry? My bad. I really don’t follow baseball.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, maybe that’s something else we can fix.” He smirked.

“Yeah, or maybe you just need to play a more interesting sport.”

“Ouch. And here I was, going to show you the best secrets of this city.”

“Which, speaking of- why?”

Bradley shrugged, but Jake could swear he looked like he was blushing, except that made no damn sense at all.

“I’m an Eagles fan, and also a fan of yours. So yeah, I have ulterior motives. Sue me for wanting us to get a great player.”

Jake caught Nat roll her eyes in his periphery. He thought he heard her mutter about sure, that’s all it is, but he wasn’t sure.

“Alright. You’re on then. Wow me, Bradshaw.”

Bradley grinned brightly. It was on.

#steph's 10 days of ficmas #my fics #steph's stuff

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rosalyn51 · 9 months

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ADoW Book 5 News (SPOILERS)

While #1 New York Times bestselling author Deborah Harkness is still editing THE BLACKBIRD ORACLE, she has said that more information will be coming. And the book is COMING SOON!

Bear in mind that things may change, nevertheless I got you a preliminary sneak peek of the synopsis [below the cut], which is a “thrilling and triumphant return to the All Souls Universe”. According to Deb’s book and media agent, the book will come out summer of 2024!

Recently, Deb has said,

Really excited for you to know more about it. It has been really a labor of love. I think you're going to really enjoy catching up with Diana and Matthew, and the twins.

THE BLACKBIRD ORACLE (Book 5) takes place 4 years after the events of TIME’S CONVERT (Book 4) of the All Souls Series (A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES, SHADOW OF NIGHT, THE BOOK OF LIFE). Exciting!!! 🤩🥳🥰

***SPOILERS ALERT***

THE BLACKBIRD ORACLE [Fiction, Summer 2024] by Deborah Harkness

A thrilling and triumphant return to the All Souls Universe about facing the darkness inside yourself—and embracing it.

Four years after the events of TIME’S CONVERT, Diana and Matthew are living in Connecticut with their seven-year-old twins preparing for a summer holiday in England. Their plans are thrown into disarray, however, when the Congregation notifies Diana that her children are scheduled to have their magic tested this autumn, bringing back painful memories of her own assessment and the chain of events it set in motion. The mail also brings a letter telling her it’s time to come home to Ravenswood—the family farm— and fulfill the prophecy the Proctors call The Blackbird Oracle. The letter is signed by Gwyneth Proctor—a great-aunt Diana didn’t know existed from a side of her family she thought dead.

Concerned for their children and curious to meet any family that remains, Diana and Matthew travel to the marshes of Ipswich, Massachusetts to meet Gwyneth. She shows Diana the higher magic that runs through her veins— and through her children’s, too—and Diana finds herself conflicted between her lifelong fear of darker magic and the tantalizing powers she could have.

Diana also discovers a collection of dusty old bottles filled with family memories captured through higher magic, including those of her mother’s. But her family’s memories aren’t just stored in Ravenswood; the Congregation holds some of the Proctor and Bishop memories along with those of other powerful witches as a means of control. As Diana learns how higher magic operates and how the Congregation withholds it for their own purposes, she’ll have to decide whether or not to embrace the darkness within her to protect her family. And whether to give her own children the chance to learn higher magic—a chance she never had—even if it means exposing them to the Congregation and their own dark sides.

SHADOW OF NIGHT and THE BOOK OF LIFE each debuted at #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list

The trilogy was adapted into a hit TV show, entitled A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES, starring Teresa Palmer and Matthew GoodE.

📸 Park & Fine Literary and Media (April 2023)

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simp-ly-writes · 27 days

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Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.6)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: With a princess to save, you are willing to do just about anything to get this mission done and serve your country just as you have promised since signing that contract all those years ago as an up-an-coming agent. But you are not the only one with mentality and soon enough, you are running...

Warnings:3000~ words, light swearing, blood, highly suggestive scenes and trauma. A/N: be prepared for some angst served hot and ready! Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

Sun slips through the sheer curtains, warming your face as you toss and turn to hide from his warm caress. Whitby groans out from beside you, turning off his alarm and slides over to wrap his arms around your torso. “Few more minutes,” he murmurs in a bed-ridden voice, you smile, easing back into his arms as you interlock your legs together. An odd banging sound has you raising an eyebrow but you ultimately squeeze your eyes tighter together. “I’ll be there…” you begin to grumble, stirring back asleep but their knocks are unrelenting against the wooden door. A voice shots out in your dream, “Handler…. Handler… fucking hell… DANIELS!!!”

You are up in an instant, smacking Witby right in the jaw as he cures out, rubbing the beginnings of stubble. “Princess is on the move, Samantha just reported a suspicious vehicle that matches the one she arrived from in the airport, we are cleared to intercept!”

“Stunning!” you cheer, quickly suiting up and leaving Whitby in the dust as he enjoys his vacation days. Beige suit equipped, gun loaded and sunglasses on you rush out of the room, bumping into a tired Gaz and jumping Johnny who eagerly cleans his tools and reloads a knife into his suit. “Mornin’ boys! Let’s go get ourselves a princess,” you announced as they cheered in reply before a concerned Price placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him as he tilted his head towards the living room and you followed.

“You joinin’ us for he mission? Who's gonna be on comms?” He asks. Fixing your suit jacket and tie with a smirk, you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Are you insinuating I cannot do two jobs at once?” you press, watching as he stands up that much straighter, chin tilted upwards as he looks past your shoulder- the inner soldier coming out. “No Ma’am/sir- just a friend concerned for another…”

“Who said we were friends,” you continue to press forward, raising an eyebrow as the edge of your smirk twitches. John starts to smile, noticing your failing bluff before emitting a chuckle. “Hmm, maybe since Samantha told me you were crying’ in the car over some old man.”

“Well maybe this old man has to check his hearing too, was not just you I was sobbing over… ego much?” you tease as he nods his head. “Oh, definitely. Someone has to keep you in check-”

“I’ve got Whitby to do that for me- is that not right?” you question. Not having to look over your shoulder to see him leaning against the door frame, keys dangling off one of his fingers, swishing back and forth lightly before throwing them for you to catch. “Sorry to interrupt, lovelies but times-a-tickin’.”

“Alright, Samantha and Whitby here are going to be doing comms. They are being tested for a promotion for my position soon…” you smile towards the man, eyes thoughtful as you exit the villa and towards the driveway where a red car is parked- ready and waiting. “What are you going to do after?” John questions, opening the door for you as you mindlessly sit in the passenger's side- he snags the keys from your suit pocket with a steady hand.

The door closes gently beside you, pulling you away from your thoughts on the future as you roll your eyes. Smooth… you think to yourself, watching as he slips into the driver's seat with a wink towards you, turning on the engine and begins to follow the rest of the crew in the yellow car ahead. “I would go off into administration or management, Handler of Handlers,” you say, watching as the landscape transforms from beaches and cliff sides towards white-painted buildings of the city. Blue doors and roofs greet your eyes as do the hordes of tourists that would only further complicate this mission.

Suddenly your sunglasses spark to life, “Hello Agent Daniels, Samantha” fires at you- you can swear to feel her smile at the side of your face where a hidden camera was placed, observing John's movements in the driver's seat. “Samantha,” you stress her name out, “now is not the time to get back- how many more intersections till the last-”

A porsche goes flying down the hill, their sideview mirror crashing into the building, breaking off chunks of stone as they fly across the hood of your car. John grunts, turning the steering wheel harshly as the wheels of the car skid and drift around the corner in pursuit of the vehicle. “We have eyes on the car, I repeat eyes on” you yell through the radio. Gripping the top of the car as you roll down your window and stick your head out to catch a glimpse of who was in the car. “Three figures in the car, Sam I need a ID stat!”

“Already on it, Matteo Victor, Lycia Steros and Princess Theodosia. Royal is in the back- passengers side, we are cleared to use guns or otherwise disruptive methods until we come to a stand still.”

“Fuck” you whisper underneath your breath, watching as Price has to slam on the breaks as a group of mindless tourists roam the vast streets and alleyways without a care to look where they are headed. Thankfully the yellow car that Simon is handling comes flying, slamming into the side of the Porsche that hurls to a stop. Blocked by a wall and the smashed hood of the car.

They stumble out of the vehicle as you jump out, Price cursing out as the vehicle is still moving yet you stumble into a room, chasing after the kidnappers and the kidnapped with Gaz and Johnny hot on your tail. “Take a left next turn,” Whitby’s voice fills your ear in a clear even turn as you blindly turn the corner and smash into the side of a wall before continuing your sprint.

Blinking twice in quick succession, your glasses fire to life as a screen projects itself to the side of your view. A map blinks open and a series of coloured lines showing each agent on the group pops up. Simon and John are two blocks down, having an odd encounter with the foreign police before making a break for it as Whitby reports.

“Gaz, move left, it’s a shorter path- we are going to cut them off both sides-”

“Understood!” his voice echoes down the alleyway and his footsteps are no longer heard. You turn your vision back, sunlight hitting your face once more as you see a sea-side market. Various colourful stalls paint the picture in patterns and smells as you knock into a barrel of apples as they pour down the angled street. You see Gaz waiting at the other side of the street, groping his knees as he falls over- trying to collect his breath.

Johnny has scaled one of the stands and climbs up to a residential balcony on the second floor where he waits, gun drawn and eyes on the alleyway they should be running out of any minute. John and Simon are pressing them in from behind- they have nowhere to go as you smile, cracking your neck to the side. Oh how I missed this rush…

A pink and flowing dress emerges, the Princess hikes it up, their ankles bleeding and bruised from the heels they are forced to run in as their arms are impaled by uncut fingernails digging into their tanned skin. You curse out, hundreds of screams being sound as the safety of a gun is clicked off and pressed into the side of their brown hair, tears and ruined makeup coat their face like a bad clown costume as they swear out for you to drop your weapons. Picking the gun out of your waistband, you make no further eye contact with Johnny still unseen and by the looks of it, Kyle has been ordered the same.

You hear the heavy breathing of Whitby in your ear, you understand his current anxiety better than anyone and a bitter side of you hopes that he will now feel how you do- having to repair his torn body every night. You fling your gun to the side before turning your shoulder sharply, arm extending outward and fingers pointed straight towards the man's throat. You watch as the knife curves and slices through his vocal cords- cutting off any sound of scream. Blood splatters the dress, dyeing it a deeper blush colour as they collapse to the ground in shock.

The gun pressed to her head now laying overtop a drain cover as the other criminal races to pick up the gun as you do the same. Head down in a full blown sprint, your legs burn as do your lungs. Shoving the woman down to the ground as you move to wrap your legs around her neck. She stumbles to a stand, hands clawing at your thighs- trying to remove you from her. Their stance wobbles as you rip the gun from their hand- face going blue as you tighten around their throat.

“No shots,” Samantha reminds you. Switching the barrel for the grip, you slam the metal weapon rapidly into their head as they fall back into one of the shops, getting you both cut in a fishing net. Cursing out, Gaz rushes forward securing the Princess yet John and Simon are still nowhere in sight. Blood coats your hands, as you race to find another knife within your suit jacket. Their hands grip at your beige suit, turning it black as they slam a bucket into the side of your head and reach towards your tie, throwing it around your shoulder and pulling back harshly as you choke. “DANIELS!” Whitby cries out through your earpiece only to be silenced by your face, communicator falling out of your ear and meeting the pavement as you force yourself to fall backwards and out of their touch.

They stumble to a stand as you rock on our feet, bringing up your fists in front of your face. The woman smirks, bleached blonde hair in a rats nest as they spit at your dress shoes and rush towards your waist and you feel as if you're floating. Light rain hits your features before your eyes widen, realizing you're falling down a cliffside. The woman falls towards you, punch resting to your nose as you yell out in pain. Clicking your heels together. You hear a blade sharpen before the world goes black. Eyes burning form the salt water.

The woman swims hastily towards you, knife in hand, you mentally curse out- searching yourself to find a blade missing. Fuck, you twist away and raising your leg from their attempted stab yet the blade grazes your side as you hiss out- air bubbles floting towards the surface just as your sunglasses do. You slam your foot into their side as they drift past you in the force of their stab. They hiss out in pain, body shuttering, eyes rolling back as the whites of their eyes turn a deep yellow- mouth foaming and their corpse floating upwards to the surface.

Whitby had arrived at the scene, leaning over the barrier, thankful to see the mission finished yet their heart ached to see you, to feel you in his arms, to feel the warmth of your body against his own and your joyous laughter as he served you your favorite drink at the bar later tonight. But in what felt like hours passing him by, various horrified faces begging him for explanations and a Princess pressed into the back of his suit jacket. Pleading for him to allow her a trip to the airport, he shoved her off, readying himself to pull you out of the water before a series of ripples emerged.

He braces himself for a lifeless you only to cry out in happiness, arms raised at the sight of you gasping for air. A rescue helicopter soars overhead, a harness is lowered and soon you are airlifted up the cliffside. Whitby races over without a care in the world, the blades overcome any other sound above as they cut through the sky and the remaining shop fronts. You stumble out, uncaring of the healthcare provider's words as you drop the space blanket and grip at Whitby's torso, head resting against his chest as you hold one another.

Whitby steps back, tearing off his suit jacket as he places it over your shoulders, its warmth hugging your figure as you step back in life and address your team with a proud smile. Gaz and John chaperone the princess to the back of a black SUV that Whitby arrived in. Simon was already in the driver's seat and drifting off into the distance with one knock of the roof.

Lost in the adrenaline, in the victory as Whitby hands you his glasses, showing an overjoyed Samantha clapping happily from headquarters in the video call. “DRINKS ON ME BITCHES, I’m GETTING FUCKED PROMOTED!” You wince at the scale of her voice, side bleeding out still as Whitby does his best to apply pressure, offering a remorseful smile as you wince at the pressure. Soon a scream is heard as you look around to see where it is coming from, Whitby's eyes go wide, his shoulders still and his hand dropping from your side- blood pouring out at your shoes.

His body falls, turned towards the sky as he observes the clouds in a peaceful state, you are frozen in horror, knees falling as you grip at his jacket and scream. The medical crew from behind you shoves you aside and the helicopter roars to life once more, its wind whipping your back hardly as you shiver with the impact. You swear to be underwater once more. Your hands wet, your skin cold and lungs burning for air. Another shot rings out from a nearby balcony in response, the thought to be dead body finally perishing as you twitch away from the sound, stumbling to a stand as you run back down the alleyway, Gaz and Price hot on your feet.

Samantha calls for you, yet you swipe the call away and rush back into the city centre, acting just as those annoying tourists and run across the street without checking, horns honking and voices swearing out yet you remain unrelenting and continue your run. “Stop! Daniels- PLEASE,” Kyle yells out from behind you, stopping to listen to whatever Samantha was reporting as he looks back towards the seaside and up towards your running from. Cursing out he is forced to run back to help Johnny to kill-confirm the people in the car.

John still carries on after you, hopping over the hood of a car hot on your heels. You can barely hear the word he yells out up towards you. You wonder what the locals think of you, bloody and bruised as a man yells out for you to stop for him- maybe an abusive newly-weds. Your mind goes dark, shaking your head as you take a turn into a dark street. The buildings untaken care-of. Their white paint peeling off the bricks, the roof filled with holes and you don’t even wish to know what liquid drops onto your head as you lean against the wall, taking a breather.

Your hands shake in guilt, your rip the jacket from our shoulder, “FUCK!” you scream out, hands gripping at your hair, threatening to tear it at the seams as you slam yourself into the wall in front of you, needing the feedback of the pain as a reminder. I killed my partner, you think to yourself, that dark little vice protruding through your consciousness. “I killed my parenter, I FUCKIN KILLED HIM!” you yell out into a sob, kicking the rocks at your feet before falling to your knees and letting out a guttural scream.

A deep chuckle sounds from beside you, your shoulders flying themselves upwards as you cringe at the tone. “A Murderer we have here,” they speak, their voice echoing in the dark small space you find yourself in. Their body heat warms your wet back, you shiver- the reminder of Whitby's arms around your frame. “And a gorgeous one at that,” they whisper, spit flying into your ear as you shove weakly at their face, returning to a fight stance as your body fights to keep itself uprising- exhaustion setting in your bones as you hear John calling for you just down the street, out-of-breath.

“Did you know how much money I lost today?” they coldly ask you, teeth shining under the small light that gets flickered on overhead, an apartment stunning to life with the commotion you have caused. “But a person like you, oh-ho-ho,” they chuckle, forming a sharp grip at your neck as your hands fly to grip theres- black spots forming in your vision as your feet begin to sway over the ground. “You would surely get me at least a quarter of that back, and I think I know just the right dealer…” you couldn’t hear what further they had to say. Body limp and being thrown into a bag at the back of a landscaping truck.

John hears the wheels turn as he manages to get to the alley way, cursing out he sees no signs of life and places a finger to his ear. “Samantha, this is Price.”

“Yes, John?”

“We have Handler Daniels MIA…”

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3 @yuujisbearx @cod-z

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ivfrankenstein · 2 years

Text

— HOW I SEE YOU;

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Aaron Hotchner x fem!BAU!reader

— a collection of episodes that give us a glimpse of love growing over the years, from its different sides, from beginning to end — 1.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: “I cling to you like the tear clings to the eye, like the knife clings to the wound.” [based on 4x15]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slowburn, mentions of violence (typical cm stuff).

𝐀/𝐍: that’s maybe chaotic, but I hope u’ll like it <3 gif: @hotch-girl inspirations edit 📠

[2009, february]

Of what happened in those 20 minutes, she could only remember the feeling at the end — a relaxing inexplicable sense of relief; like after a grueling race, when you're at the finish line you don't care if you won or lost or how you did it, you're just grateful that it's over.

He was frightened away, and in his haste he must have thought she was dead. Perhaps, that's because she stared motionless for a while into the dark sky above them. She found it amusing, at the end of the hour — it was 5:20 when she left the station, seven minutes later she was walking here, 20 minutes it lasted, now about 5:47 — the park was beautiful, warm, the grass was a little long; she felt it with her left hand and touched the damp asphalt with her right.

Voices were heard distantly, she saw the red light from the ambulance, and Hotch's face was the first one she recognized among the others.

“Y/N, you’re safe now,” he looked anxious — the way she rarely saw him, “They’ll take you to the hospital, you’ll be all right.”

She knew Hotch needed to hear a word from her, but she could barely move her mouth, just stared at him and blinked. Blood from her nose got on her tongue.

“God,” Hotch wiped the trickle over her lip with his hand, “Don’t..” his own lips moved silently.

Y/N reached up to his forearm, hardly perceptible squeezing it — it wasn't that bad, she wanted to say.

She remembered him praying.

“Did he say why her?” Aaron was focused, keeping his eyes on the board; to keep so much in his head he had to constantly strain himself physically — the body movements served as a defense mechanism for him as much as anything else.

“He didn’t know Y/N’s one of us, he just met her on the street,” Rossi didn't want to tell everything he got from the guy: I have no idea why, I see a guy walking down the street with a stupid look on his face and I want to bush him over the head.

Hotch couldn’t get the river of blood on Y/N’s face out of his mind; he broke away from the photos of the victims and turned to Dave, “Her jaw is dislocated from hitting the ground, she goes with metal plates unable to speak for the next six weeks and will only eat liquid food. There’s a wire mark on her neck and I want to believe it won’t stay with her for the rest of her life.”

He blurted it out in the single breath, but never once called Y/N by name, “I know that, Aaron,” Rossi waited before continuing, “I also know that it might remind you of Kate–”

“She’s not Kate,” he cut him off.

“She is not,” Dave meets his gaze, “It was you who told me not to take this case personally this afternoon,” Rossi read it well — the fact that Hotchner's good friend died in his arms was still fresh, and the possibility of it happening again with Y/N was too much.

“What did he say?” back again, professional and collected, he wants to know.

“That he liked her, that she looked like his girlfriend, that’s all,” Rossi admitted after all, “Aaron, Y/N’s a strong agent, she hurt him just as much.”

“Could that even be enough?” at times he was overcome with rage toward all the scumbags they were dealing with — he know about that part of himself, but the rage had a tendency to escalate into something more when it affected his team, and felt so personal.

Hotch let Dave take a couple of steps toward the door before he stopped him, there was one single doubt about what had happened, beyond what he had no control over, there was something he could change.

“Rossi, Gideon once told me that I was doing wrong by always keeping Y/N out of the field,” Aaron said, “that as a mentor I should have stopped holding her long ago.” His frown didn't translate all the confidence in Gideon's comment, and that's why he needed an outsider's perspective.

Dave exhaled heavily, he really was sorry, at the realization that Hotchners post carries so much responsibility for people you already consider family, “As I remember, when Y/N first joined you, she didn't need to have field agent skills, right?” no answer was required, Rossi already knew about that, “You may not agree, but I think Jason is the one who should have taken care of this issue. If we're talking about a mentor.” Hotch remained in a waiting silence, and Dave went on, “I’ll explain only by asking, because maybe my eyes are failing me, but isn't Y/N your partner whenever we got a case?”

It wasn't something Aaron would normally think about, but it was true, “I suppose, yes, she is.”

“Then make this decision as her partner. If you think she could do more than she did, then send her to retraining,” he added in the end, “only after you discuss it with her.”

Aaron nodded briefly in response. What else could he say that hadn't been said before?

His silent panic, which had enveloped him at home, this evening turned into silent despair at the service. Now he was, once again, left alone struggling against himself with the necessity of going to family, and the inability to put all the emotions down. Ultimately, he knew in advance that he ended up staying at the hospital, with Y/N, because of an equally overwhelming need to be there, too.

#Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x y/n #aaron hotch hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #cm imagine #criminal minds imagine

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mutable-manifestation · 1 year

Text

The Heart of the Matter Ch.4

Chapter 1 (Parts 1-3), Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Info: Some background for how the other Lanterns fit the AU is present - some of their basics are changed up to better work with the AU as well. I’m also not using the Ultraviolet Lanterns.

***

Danny listens patiently as Clockwork weaves a tale of Ghost Zone history.

He’d learned the legends of the previous High Kings - his predecessors - before he took the throne, so Clockwork skims a bit.

But where the story should end, with Pariah Dark being sealed away - skipping over the time of his absence and subsequent defeat that Danny himself had wrought - he keeps going.

He hadn’t expected much from the glossed over history - his first years as a ghost had been a part of that era. He assumed he was familiar enough with what went on in the Zone in that time frame.

He was wrong.

The Observants had been a pain in the neck for as long as Danny had known them; he certainly hadn’t expected their history to be happy or uplifting.

He had expected to be bored to tears; just another history lecture about paperwork-this and proper-procedure-that.

Instead, he got a horror story.

He’d lain awake countless nights in that first year of being a halfa, fearing what his parents would do if they caught him. Then fearing what the GIW would do if they caught him - especially after that near-miss when they started employing more competent agents.

He’d spent hours and days and weeks and months worrying over the laws of the Living as pertained to the Dead. Even more so after his coronation.

When he finally revealed his halfa status to his parents, they had come around. They accepted him as he was - their son, just as he’d always been.

And, like a veil lifting from their eyes, they realized how much they’d allowed their biases to blind them.

They started doing real science - not just with the weapons, but with the ghosts themselves - and they’d come to the same conclusion Danny and Tucker and Sam and countless other residents of Amity Park had: that ghosts are sentient, sapient beings with both physical and emotional feelings, and they deserve to be treated as such.

Ever since they had worked tirelessly to have the Anti-Ecto Acts repealed, countless hours of real research and data gathering.

Presentations.

Protests.

Petitions.

Even Vlad - who had, for whatever reason, begun slowly but surely turning over a new leaf ever since Danny had outed himself as Phantom to his parents - had chipped in, throwing his money and political weight around.

Danny had been hopeful about the future of Living-Dead relations, as limited as they were by nature.

That hope makes a slow, swirling journey down a metaphorical toilet drain the longer Clockwork speaks.

Countless ghosts, stolen away and sealed screaming into their own cores as a fuel source. A barbaric practice that even some of Pariah Dark’s supporters had found distasteful - for all they hadn’t dared say it to his face - when he invented and subsequently made use of it.

Danny had been a fan of the Green Lanterns since he had learned of their existence - space cops, hello? - but thinking of them now, he only feels sick.

Flying around unknowingly using the dead as a battery.

The Oan had deceived them into inflicting the very same cruelty - the evil - that they had been sworn to oppose; causing sapient beings to suffer in the name of their so-called peace.

Learning that there were more Lanterns should have been exciting.

Instead, he only grew increasingly horrified as Clockwork listed them off.

The Yellow Lanterns, founded by a Green Lantern in conjunction with a living, psychic fear parasite - just a Fright Knight flavored version of the originals.

The Orange - a single, furious ghost that had managed to gain control over a small prototype battery and flee, drawing shades into its prison in an attempt to overload the battery and escape.

The Blue Lanterns: Green Lanterns, hope edition.

And the Star Sapphire Lanterns: a brief attempt by a few Oan to be a bit more symbiotic about things, but who eventually became just a different kind of Green Lantern. And who could’ve guessed that the ghost wouldn’t be happy about being enslaved to a fate as magical fashion statements.

Were Danny in human form for the meeting, he thinks his blood would be boiling.

He is furious, disgusted, dismayed; his core cries out to help the trapped.

He has to ask - “Why now? Why wait to tell me?” - even though he’s sure he’ll get a cryptic answer.

He doesn’t.

And oh, how carefully the Observants (and he spits the name like a curse within his own mind) had trapped Clockwork - the one being they knew would learn of their indiscretions. The one being who could and would oppose them.

They’d trapped him in a web of his own making; carefully prompted words, seemingly careless requests, and meaningless questions.

Clockwork had been young once, too, and the incaution of his youth hadn’t allowed him to anticipate the growing cruelty and callousness of those he had trusted with keeping the balance in the interim until a new king could be found.

Danny doesn’t ask him to explain why he hadn’t changed the past; he had seen for himself how poorly that could go.

But Danny Phantom is the High King of the Infinite Realms.

Names have power.

Titles have power.

Belief has power.

And the High Kings have been sought out as mediators since even the first.

It is the work of a single sentence to break each and every contract that once bound the Master of Time.

For good measure, he demands: “Tell me about everything the Observants have been hiding from me.”

He gets more than he’d hoped for, but no less than he’d expected.

Cover-ups - most of the cores they had fed to the Lantern Corps had been from ghosts who wanted to improve the Realms again - to make things more peaceful, to help with mediation or do something about the increasingly erratic natural portals.

Ghosts who threatened their power over the Realms

Anyone who doubted the strength and terror of the Green Lanterns - and their eventual variants.

Those who were a danger to their complete control.

Who might expose the cracks in their flawless image.

The only opposition that had managed to survive their careful cullings were known as Red and Black Lanterns.

The Red Lanterns, Clockwork tells him, are ghosts who chose to oppose the Green Lanterns despite the odds - or who were forced to by their leader, Atrocitus. A being that opposed the Lanterns even in life, he willingly threw himself and his fellows into the jaws of death when he learned the truth behind the Green Lanterns’ powers, founding his own Corps.

His consideration for his fellow ghosts is secondary to his rage and grief, making for a mix of volunteers and conscripts among their number. They believe it is worth temporarily stooping to the enemy’s level if it means eventually crushing them and freeing all those who have been entrapped.

The Black Lanterns, led by a death deity ghost named Necron, are apparently an attempt to form an army against the living, both to reclaim the cores lost to the other Lanterns and to ‘increase the domain of the High King of the Infinite Realms!’

As if they weren’t already infinite.

Necron worshiped Pariah Dark when he reigned, and has apparently worshiped Danny from the moment he took the throne. He adores death, as he was born of its concept, and wants to create more dead people through murder and mayhem. He also wishes to protect the dead from the living.

The ghosts that align with him both like piloting kind-of-living bodies and see opposing the Green Lanterns - who ‘trespass upon that which is rightfully the king’s,’ aka enslaving ghost cores as fuel sources - as their sacred duty.

The two remaining Lantern Corps had been hidden from him out of fear that drawing his attention to the fact there are more corps might incite enough curiosity for him to look into the matter more, eventually leading him to the awful truths behind the Lanterns.

The Indigo Lanterns were created by a hive-mind like psychic ghost forming a symbiotic relationship with the living to fulfill its obsession in the living realm - not that the living involved are aware that their power source is a ghost benefitting from their partnership. Apparently the ghost just steals whatever ecto-energy or -plasm they need from the Green Lantern battery’s metaphysical shunting system - it’s not like the frequency is a secret, what with the Oan not expecting any of the cores to be conscious enough to intentionally siphon from it.

The White Lanterns were created by a being simply known as Balance - the balance equivalent of Clockwork. They disapprove of the artificial destruction of life the Black Lanterns are aiming for, instead acknowledging that the Living Realm and the Ghost Zone are two sides of a coin and wanting the living to flourish as much as possible so that more die in the long run. The ghosts working with them agree - and also want to kind of pilot human bodies for a bit.

Silent tears - of sadness and anger both - trail down his cheeks as he takes it all in, grieving for those who had been wronged.

Atrocitus, who had spent so long lost to his grief.

The orange ghost, stuck failing to save themself for billions of years.

The countless other ghosts that the Observants had personally delivered into a nightmare even worse than anything Danny himself had managed to conjure up on his worst nights.

Something occurs to him.

“Wait…you said you couldn’t bring this up before, because of the restrictions. But the restrictions were still in place when you came to me. What changed?”

“A man named Jason Todd,” Clockwork tells him, “Who crawled out of his own grave in the second most ecto-contaminated city on Earth to swim in some of the most sub-par ectoplasm present in the living realm. Jason Todd, the halfa who doesn’t know he’s a halfa, whose complete lack of ghostly knowledge has left his life in shambles.”

And Danny’s core aches with the familiarity of it.

“Unable to manage his obsession, fully unaware that there’s anything to manage as he is. Too little ectoplasm to be stable and healthy - mentally or physically. And it is only by the grace of his city’s contamination level that he gets any ectoplasm at all.”

He pauses, dramatic as ever - or maybe perfecting his timing.

“Jason Todd, supposedly dead son of Bruce Wayne, who recently met with a Green Lantern. Ghosts can sense each other, even reduced to our cores, and this ability is passed onto the Lanterns.”

Danny bristles, practically flinging himself from his throne and into the air.

“The Lanterns don’t know the truth about their rings,” he continues, “The Oan hid it from them after the first few had to be mind-wiped because, for some reason, the people chosen for their exceptional morals and force of will were generally unwilling to condone what amounts to a combination of slavery and torture.”

Danny is flooded with relief at this; it didn’t fix what had happened to the ghosts involved and the Oan would need to be managed, but there was hope that the Lanterns would help them. Would free the ghosts’ cores willingly.

That the Justice League hadn’t willingly worked with a torturing enslaver.

That there were allies to be had among the living, even beyond the close-knit borders of Amity Park.

Still, if Jason Todd was safe then why bring him up.

“Unfortunately,” Clockwork says gravely, “This means that the Lantern he met with reported what seemed to him like a ring lodged in someone’s chest straight to Oa. And the Oan are all too eager to have him lure Jason Todd in with false medical concern and promises of their so-called ‘aid.’ It will work, and the events that would be set in motion-”

Danny doesn’t need to know what else will happen, another person’s core getting ripped out and them getting fully killed is bad enough.

He’s gone before Clockwork can say anything else.

He knows roughly where Wayne Manor is; he can look up more specific directions on his phone once he’s in New Jersey.

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

Danny is gone before he can finish speaking, all too eager to help.

To save.

Let him think of his own disaster timelines-that-might-have-been, none he can guess could be as cruel as the truth.

(What difference a single friend makes - a segway to a peaceful meeting that would have been combative. To alliance.

Knowledge is power, but it is also protection. Jason Todd leads to Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne leads to Hal Jordan.

It amazes Clockwork almost as much as it appalls them, sometimes: how a simple conversation can divert disaster. A single friend leads to diplomacy instead of a fire-fight, leads to peace instead of the King’s family being killed and their cores crushed in an attempted coup by the Observants while the Oan dealt with the King - as if they ever stood a chance.

How a small slackening of the leash could lead to the whole thing being ripped to shreds.

It had been too long since Clockwork had spoken to the other ancients; perhaps it was time for him to change that.)

***

Info: The Observants lied - a ghost with a satisfied obsession can become infinitely powerful in the human realm. They’ll need ecto eventually, just like humans need food/water, but it isn’t a limitation of power. The rings' energy channeling and restriction method prevents the ghosts from forming anyway, but the Observants don’t want to give away too much and risk being turned on and left with no cards to play. They are very aware that the Guardians are using them for resources and see little difference between themselves and any random core mounted on a ring.

Next chapter we finally get to the meet-up!

@kyrianclawraith @jesimilu, @bleuyellow93, @ocearnawrites, @undead-essence, @violet-catsarelife, @sunsetdew0101, @tsukihimeyfan, @the-legal-shipper @spideypoolalways

#dpxdc #danny phantom #clockwork #jason todd #halfa jason todd

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little-diable · 1 year

Text

Be aware of the strangers watching - Spencer Reid (1/2)

Another month, another mini-series. @hidingsikki and I kept watching Spencer TikTok edits those past days, so we came up with this idea. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader has a feeling that she's being watched, so she finally opens up to the team, asking them for help. With Spencer staying in her apartment to help her, their emotions finally come to the surface, resulting in a confession or two.

Warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, drunk sex, stalking, panic, CM themes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (3k words)

header by @hidingsikki

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Part Two

It was early in the morning as (y/n) left her home, running on the caffeine she had just poured into her system. Her tired eyes were focused on her phone screen as she walked towards her car. The sound of a nearby car honking ripped her out of her state, gaze wandering from her phone to her surroundings.

The sun was blinding her for a moment, forcing (y/n) to blink a few times to adjust to the brightness. A few familiar faces walked past her, neighbours that greeted her with gentle words, allowing a smile to widen on her lips. Her gaze kept wandering, trying to focus on her car, already dreading the upcoming minutes of traffic she’ll be stuck in.

Perhaps she could use the upcoming moments to call her family, going after her weekly check-in, perhaps she could even order a few things she’d need for the next few days. Anything to distract her tired mind.

Only now did her gaze seem to find the black car parked near hers. She froze in her step, mind racing, fuck, it couldn’t be, could it?

For the past weeks (y/n) had noticed a certain car following her around, and yet, even though Penelope couldn’t find an owner of the car, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable whenever she returned home from a case, whenever she found the car close to her home. It was always empty, at least when it was parked, not allowing her to figure out who was watching her.

For a moment she debated waiting till whoever was owning the car to come around, so she could talk to them, perhaps even arrest them. And yet she knew that she couldn’t waste any time, forced to make her way into work. She took a picture of the car, adding it to the folder filled with similar pictures, trying to figure out if there was a pattern to it, anything she could use to decipher what was going on.

Her heart kept racing as she drove to work, deep down (y/n) knew that she should finally talk to the rest of her team about it. But something had held her back those past weeks. If there was one thing she hated, it was asking them for help. She hadn’t been around as long as the others, had tried to fit right in, nevertheless, it always felt like the others would pay more attention to her, trying to support her, as if she truly needed it.

And yet, the anxiety thumping through her veins seemed to be enough to urge her on, trying to pick the right words she could speak, not wanting to come off as clueless. Deep down she feared that the others wouldn’t understand her struggles. She was an agent after all, should be able to take care of herself, and yet she couldn’t.

Before (y/n)’s thoughts could try and distract her, she called Penelope, asking her to assemble the others, only needing a few minutes of their time. She was trembling, hoping that she’d be able to ask them for the help she needed, even though she didn't know what kind of help she was desperate for.

“Are you okay?” Derek was the first to break the silence, eyes focused on (y/n) who was standing next to Penelope, taking in the team. They were all staring at her, waiting for an explanation, wondering why she had asked them in here. Her eyes found Penelope’s, silently begging the woman to start this conversation, mouth too dry to pronounce the words burning on the tip of her tongue.

“(Y/n) needs our help. We think that somebody is watching her.” The pictures (y/n) had forwarded Penelope were now being projected onto the big screen, drawing the gazes of their team members away from her. And for the first time since entering the room (y/n) found herself able to breathe, deeply inhaling the air now filling her lungs as if she was drowning.

“When did this start?” Aaron’s voice rang in her ears, not carrying any emotion. Their eyes met, and as he was staring at her with something laced in his gaze she couldn’t decipher, (y/n) found herself stumbling over her words, only able to murmur a soft “For a few weeks”.

“You have a stalker and you didn’t think you should tell us?”

“A stalker?” (Y/n)‘s laugh clawed through her, not able to express the nervousness rising in her system. The team was staring at her, gazes flickering between one another, unsure what they should say to her. She was tense, and had been since she had asked her colleagues for help.

“The signs are there, think about it.” Derek spoke up, eyes finding her widening ones. It took (y/n) a few more moments to reply, gaze wandering from one team member to the other. Perhaps she should have kept this to herself, not wanting to add more stress to their daily routine. Though with a defeated sigh rumbling through her, (y/n) nodded her head, giving in.

“I have been trying to figure out who it could be, but I can’t think of anybody.” Her words hang in the air as they were surrounded by silence once again, wrecking their brains for any possible unsubs.

“Maybe somebody who watched the press conference you held with JJ?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. Should I change my routine? Should I stay in a hotel for the next few days? But what if they,” her rambling was cut short by Spencer, he called her name, turning his body fully towards her so he could find her panicked gaze. Without giving it much thought, (y/n) reached for his hand, needing to feel him close.

“Leaving will just anger him, you’ll stay, but we won’t leave you alone.” Spencer kept staring at her, watching her deeply inhale, seemingly trying to distract her racing thoughts. “Why don’t I stay with you for a few days?”

“Look at that, loverboy is here to save the day.” Derek’s laugh echoed through the room, shaking up the tense atmosphere that lingered. And yet (y/n) stared at Spencer, wondering if she should say yes to his offer, not wanting to play the victim.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, Spence.” The tall agent only shook his head, squeezing her hand before he let go.

“I’d love to, we’ll have our fun, why don’t I bring a few movies with me and some puzzles?”

Tiredness clung to her as she closed the last file she was supposed to go through today. Her eyes struggled to stay open, grateful that Spencer would be the one to drive them home today. (Y/n) couldn’t wait to spend the evening with him, excited about the movie they’ll watch and the facts he’ll share with her.

“(Y/n)?” Aaron’s voice forced her to open her tired eyes, focusing on the tall man. He tilted his head towards his office, watching her walk closer with slow steps, clearly exuding the tiredness that feasted from her bones like a parasite.

“It won’t take long, I promise.” Aaron squeezed her forearm as he walked past her, plopping down in his chair. “I wanted to go through some details with you. If we want to figure out who is watching you, we should focus on the things you’ve picked up so far. Do you think you’d be able to share some of that with me?”

A shaky breath was inhaled into her lungs, no longer did she feel tired, body and mind fully awake at the mere thought of whoever was watching her.

“There’s not much I can share.” She tensed in her seat, wrecking her brain for any information they could use. “I noticed that the car keeps coming closer. Every week it's parked a bit closer to my home as if it's some kind of countdown.”

“That’s good, thank you. Do you have any idea who could be behind this? Any suspects you’ve talked to that stand out? Family members of unsubs?” All (y/n) could do was shake her head, not able to give an answer to the question that has kept her awake for the past weeks.

“Alright, we’ll find them. Thank you, (y/n).”

“Coffee?” Her tired voice echoed through her apartment, eyes focused on Spencer. He had awoken a few moments ago, ripped from his sleep by her alarm going off. With a nod thrown her way, Spencer moved closer, rising from her sofa to join (y/n) in the kitchen.

Spencer had stayed with her for the past few days, keeping close to protect her from whoever was lingering outside her house. For the first time in weeks, she felt somewhat safe, protected even, truly relishing in Spencer’s closeness.

“Thank you.” He reached for the warm cup of coffee, sending a smile her way as they fell into a comfortable silence. By now they had adapted to some kind of routine, spending time together without feeling the need to engage in endless conversations to distract themselves from an eventual silence falling upon them.

Both found themselves wandering back to the sofa, reading the daily news, catching up with their preferred type of media, using the time before they’d make it to work. Deep down (y/n) found herself excited about the minutes she’d spend with him in her car, driving to the BAU with music echoing through the small space, minds wandering to the topics that wouldn’t let them rest.

“Are you alright?” Spencer’s voice ripped (y/n) out of her thoughts, gaze wandering from her window to his curious eyes. They were just about to leave for work as her eyes had found the car, parked closer to her home than it had been all those weeks before. No words were shared as Spencer reached for her hand, gently squeezing her fingers to communicate that he was here for her, always close to protect her from whoever was watching her.

“Maybe we should put up a camera?” She could only nod her head, not able to express what kept her thoughts racing. And with one last glance thrown out of her window, she followed Spencer to her car.

“No, don’t.” Spencer’s laugh was met by a few chuckles rumbling through (y/n), both were drunk, sitting on the floor with a puzzle between them. Neither of them could remember when they had started drinking, neither of them could remember when they had started trying to clumsily solve this 1000 piece puzzle, and yet neither of them wanted this very moment to end.

“See, I knew it would fit.” (Y/n) murmured as she pressed two pieces together, proudly presenting them to Spencer. She didn’t feel his gaze on her, burning through her with as much strength as he could muster, no longer able to stop himself from reaching for her. (Y/n) kept trying to push more pieces together, oblivious and drunk as one could be, and yet, she froze as Spencer reached for her chin, tilting her head upwards. Their eyes met, shooting tingles down her spine as if she had shocked herself.

“I,” Spencer cleared his throat, gaze flickering down to her mouth, watching her tongue dart out to run along her lower lip. And before (y/n) could even try to ask Spencer what was going on inside his mind, he had pushed his lips against hers, kissing his friend breathless.

The puzzle was long forgotten, just like their drinks, minds fully focused on one another and the kiss growing rather heated. Moans rumbled through the two, moans so sinful they should have broken from their state. But they were in too deep, already caught on one another’s touch, not able to focus on anything else.

“Bedroom,” she murmured the word against his lips, chuckling as he rose with her clinging to him, not wanting to waste any time. Drunkenly they helped one another out of their clothes, barely giving them time to admire their naked frames, fully working on the adrenaline pumping through their veins as if they were working a case.

And yet there was no killer to hunt, there was no victim needing to be safed, it was just the two of them, colleagues that have always fostered a crush on one another.

“You’re so gorgeous, fuck, did you know that there are only 10 percent,” Spencer’s drunken rambling was cut short by (y/n) pressing her swollen lips against his once again, desperately needing to shut him up. Their hands explored one another's body as they fell onto her bed, allowing (y/n) to straddle him, hand finding its way to his twitching cock.

Spencer’s moans rang in her ears like shots going off, body on full alert, not wanting to miss one single fraction of a second. She pumped him slow at first, teasing the agent whose moans grew raspier with every breath sucked into his aching lungs. The atmosphere was crackling, filled with the energy buzzing through them, the heat that stuck to their skin as if the sun was burning down on them.

(Y/n) only let go of him to reach for a condom, not breaking eye contact once as she ripped it open with her teeth, rolling it down his cock. Trembling hands supported her, keeping her close to feel her soft skin beneath his fingertips as (y/n) slowly sunk down on him. Their moans kept clawing through them like the screams rumbling through the victims they'd save, and yet neither (y/n) nor Spencer ever wanted to be saved from this very moment.

“Shit, you’re so big.” She whimpered her words, head rolling back to give her moans enough room to claw through her. Spencer supported her movements, eyes caught on her face, not wanting to miss the expressions tugging on her features. No longer was he able to properly read her, to profile the one he’d always try to protect, not wanting to watch her get hurt. From the moment they crossed paths, Spencer had sworn that he’ll be right there for her, the shoulder to cry on, the arms she could fall into when her world started spinning too fast.

“So pretty, fuck, my beautiful girl.” Heat flushed through her as his praises grew louder, urging her on to move faster, trying to push them both over the edge. Without another warning, Spencer reached for her middle, to flip them around, allowing him to hover above her. He fucked her fast, not holding back as his drunk thoughts commanded him to leave his marks.

“‘M close, don’t stop, Spence’.” She trembled beneath him, eyes fluttering close to hold onto the feeling that started to rock through her system. Spencer kept watching her fall apart beneath him, choking on his name as the feeling got too intense. He fucked her through her high, not daring to let go till he no longer could hold back.

With her name rolling off his tongue, Spencer gave in, collapsing on top of her with a smile stuck to his features. Both were heavily panting, unsure if the past moments have really happened or if their drunken minds have perfected the art of painting a picture so clear, so raw. And with one last smile shared, (y/n) found herself falling asleep in Spencer’s arms.

“I just need a minute, then we can leave.” Spencer called out, leaving (y/n) behind in his living room as he disappeared down the hallway. Both were about to leave for work, called in because of a new case, stopping at his apartment to grab his go-bag.

(Y/n) found herself wandering around, fingertips gliding along the endless row of his books, reading the titles as she walked past them. A smile found its way to her lips as she came to a halt in front of the picture of the two of them Spencer had placed on the shelf. She could still remember the day as if it had been yesterday, they had celebrated her birthday at Rossi’s, capturing a carefree moment.

Before (y/n) could stop herself, she reached for the box placed next to the picture, opening it in hopes of finding more of their polaroids, of the pictures they have taken over the course of the past years. Though the box wasn’t filled with pictures of the two of them, no, it was filled with pictures of her, clearly taken from outside her home.

“What?” The question rolled off her tongue as (y/n) roamed through the box, pulling out pictures that showed her wandering around her home, going about her business.

“What are you doing?” Spencer’s voice rang in her ears, wide eyes drawn from the box to his frame. He was standing a few feet away from her, holding onto his go-bag with one hand, while the other grasped his phone.

“Why do you have those pictures of me?” Her voice dripped with confusion, unsure if she was truly understanding what was going on. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. No, it couldn’t be. “Spencer, why do you have those pictures? Answer me!”

“I’m sorry.” No longer did his voice sound like him, raspier than she was used to, pronouncing words as if he was a stranger she had been hunting down. She backed away, gaze flickering to his door, no longer feeling safe around him, but rather confused, hurt, angry even. Though she didn’t get far, ripped close by his hand clamping down on her wrist, pulled against his chest.

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) tried to speak up once again, though without any luck. The last thing she saw was Spencer raising his hand, and with the back of his gun coming in contact with her head, the world around her began to fade to black.

#Spencer Reid smut #be aware of the strangers watching #Spencer Reid imagine

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