#well this wasn't in the training manual

[aaloniel]

"I am in fear - in awful fear - and there is no escape for me"

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Hey there~ If you are still taking requests for Kurt Wagner imagines/scenarios, can I suggest one with a mutant who has plant powers? Plant manipulation is my go to power. Nothing specific, I just really want more Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler content 😊

Mother Nature

Kurt Wagner x reader Words: 1,6K A/N: Alright, first of my requests is done! I made some kind of mix between headcanons and oneshot because it just fit well in my opinion. Also, the gender wasn't stated so I tried to keep it neutral. Hope you like it :)

Let's start with some basics, shall we? In my opinion, Kurt would adore a partner with plant manipulation powers.

Yes, flying and teleporting are all well and good, but plant manipulation? He's absolutely fascinated and will watch you every time you use your powers. And don't you dare stop him watching...

You are, even if it's not immediately obvious, an incredibly powerful mutant. Control over plants means control over almost everything, trees, flowers, grass, even the earth if you try hard enough (through roots, of course). Kurt is a gentleman, of course, and it doesn't always sit right with him if you want to do certain things on your own that he could help with, but oh boy... If he doesn't get weak in the knees when you go into full mutant mode.

The first time he met you was in the old garden shed, which was pretty run-down. He hadn't really wanted to end up there himself, but in retrospect he is very grateful that he did. The professor had never really had time to look after the garden house, which is why you took on the task. And let me put it this way: the first time he saw your powers? The man was smitten from day one.

Plant nicknames. You won't escape them. Neither in German nor in English. “My flower”, “My lucky clover”, “My rose” but also references, especially to mythological creatures “Little garden fairy”, “Persephone”, .... The full program.

When he gives you plants - which he loves to do - he makes sure that they are planted so that you can enjoy them for a very long time. Kurt brings you plants from different cultures and countries, keen to give you as much diversity as possible. However, if he is forced to give you a bouquet of flowers, that's no problem either. You may prefer living plants, but hey - what can you manipulate plants for if you can't bring them back to life?

One disadvantage of your power is that you don't feel very comfortable in an environment without plants. It's fine in the institute, as it's mostly made of wood (dead, but still plant-based), but Kurt makes sure that there are always at least four living plants in your classroom as well as in his room.

Also loves listening to you. You teach a kind of mixture of theoretical biology and practical manual work in the gardens and there's almost nothing better for him than listening to you talk passionately about the plants. Or kneeling down in the garden bed, your eyes gleaming in the sunlight...

Should you move in together later? Be prepared for this man to go all out and fulfill your every request. Nothing is too good for you. Big garden? No problem. Plants all over the house? Already done. House in the country, surrounded by nothing but nature? Your wish is his command.

You have also quickly become his favorite training partner. And that's not just because Kurt can't keep his eyes and hands (and tail) off his partner. For one thing, it helps him to avoid moving objects, because he has learned the hard way how painful it can be to get an ivy tendril in the face. On the other hand, the two of you are simply perfectly attuned to each other. Kurt teleports a little too far to the left? Don't worry, the branch likes to stretch out a bit to catch him. The vine was a bit too short and not quite enough to catch you? Kurt is there to pick you up with ease. In other words, you don't want to compete against the two of you.

Kurt loves it when you make him flower necklaces or flower crowns. They last forever thanks to your power and as soon as you put them on his head? Don't expect him to take them off any time soon. He wears them with pride.

Kurt has always liked nature as he has traveled a lot in his life, but since he's been with you? He's become a huge fan of garden or nature dates. Whether it's a picnic outdoors, a walk in the woods or an afternoon in the greenhouse, he'll take it all. And if you do some magic with your power? He's in paradise.

Speaking of the greenhouse? Although it was initially your project, over time, especially after the relationship began, it has become your and Kurt's project. He doesn't know much about gardening, but he's willing to learn as long as that means continuing to listen and watch you.

Kurt materialized in the middle of the greenhouse and immediately the scent of the different types of flowers, of which he did not know the names, wafted towards him, but he knew that they made you happy and that was all that mattered to him. His eyes wandered around the open room, looking for you, and he realized again how much you had already done.

Yes, he had helped too, but it was you who had done the main work.  Kurt still remembered the dead beds, the dried up earth and the broken sidewalks.

The glass panes were dirty and partly broken and the rain had caused mold to grow on some things. None of the garden utensils, the few that were at least there, were usable and pretty much everyone would have labeled this greenhouse a lost cause.

Not you.

You set to work yourself and improved everything yourself without using much of your powers. Kurt had caught you at the beginning of your project, so he was able to assess the improvement pretty well. You had cleaned and partially replaced the glass of the greenhouse - the latter admittedly with his help, as it was easier for him to reach the panes above - knocked out the path and replaced it with a loose, albeit well-kept, gravel path. The old borders of the beds were torn out and replaced with a large partition to the gravel path, allowing the plants greater freedom to grow.

One day you had grabbed Logan and Scott, Kurt had come along voluntarily, and had taken them to a gardening store to buy the necessary equipment and seeds. Logan and Scott had both grumbled while carrying them, Logan a little more than Scott, but your results were impressive.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of different plant species were growing neatly in every direction and it no longer resembled a greenhouse, but a rainforest that rivaled even the true jungle in diversity. Kurt smiled slightly and ran the tip of his tail over the soft petals of a red hibiscus flower.

You had made it possible for many plants to grow here, even if the conditions were not ideal, but they thrived under your guidance.

However, just as he was about to bend down to smell a new, previously unknown flower, a frustrated groan sounded, which seemed all too familiar. Kurt could already guess where you would be. He disappeared into a dark cloud and emerged not two meters behind you.

For a few moments he gazed at you lovingly as you knelt in front of the lily patch, but he quickly stepped towards you when he realized you were about to snap with anger (last time it had taken a week and a lot of affection from Kurt to remove the rampant thorny vines from the school grounds).

„Liebling," he knelt down next to you and tilted his head. "What's the problem?" You glared angrily at the beds in front of you and began to poke around in them with the shovel. "Snails. Snails are the problem. What's the point of being able to manipulate and grow plants if those blasted bastards eat all my lilies?"

Despite your frustration, Kurt had to smile. "You still haven't given up the fight."

"No," you replied, throwing another slug into the bucket next to you with a disgusted look on your face. "That's my greenhouse. Let them find their own."

Kurt couldn't help but find your behavior endearing and pulled you closer to him, even though you tried to fight it. You might be better with plants, but he was the stronger of the two of you, whether you liked it or not. "My love," he murmured in your ear and you gave up your fight, just snuggled up against him, pouting.

"You can't possibly remove all the slugs, the greenhouse is too big for that. Besides, it's late. Let's go back to the institute. I'll make us some hot chocolate, we'll snuggle up on the sofa and watch that movie you've been wanting to show me for weeks."

You hesitated but his tail wrapped around your middle and the tip slowly traveled up and down your side and Kurt knew he had won.

You groaned in defeat and grabbed the bucket, which you promptly emptied out of one of the windows and closed it. You cast one last angry look at the beds. "You may have won the battle, but I will be the victor of the war."

Kurt laughed softly, wrapping you in his arms again as his tail wrapped boldly around your waist. "You will." With a sweeping motion, he picked you up bridal style and pressed you tightly against him, making you squeal and then laugh. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple.

"Tonight, though, you're mine." You disappeared in a cloud of black and blue mist and let it be said, you didn't think about the creatures that had declared war on you for the rest of the evening.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Reunion

Summary: A short sequel to 5 Times Natasha Came to Rescue Y/n, plus the 1 Time She Didn't Arrive In Time

Authors note: Someone on Wattpad really wanted this and it inspired me to get some writing done for once lol. So here is a small drabble

Word Count: 809

Natasha Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

    Natasha wakes with a jolt and finds herself laying in some grass looking up at the outstretched branches of a nearby tree. This causes her brows to crease as confusion settles in. She's not sure why or how, but she knows this isn’t right. This isn’t where she's supposed to be.

   She sits up to further take in her surroundings and is shocked to see nothing but rolling hills and bright blue skies. The sound of moving water nearby has her shifting her gaze to find a stream. The sight of the water has her realizing just how dry her mouth is so not knowing what else to do, she figures she might as well quench her thirst.

   As she sits up she's struck by just how sore her entire body is. It feels like she's done every exercise in the Shield training manual before sparring a few rounds with Steve. She shakes off this feeling though and trudges forward towards the stream. As she settles on her knees in front of it she notices just how clear it is, and as she dips her hands in they are met with a coldness that only comes from mountain water. 

   She cups them together and eagerly brings them to her lips, letting the refreshing liquid make its way down her parched throat. She takes a few more sips before rising to her feet again, and she looks around once more. What had she been doing to end up here? There was a mission, wasn't there? No. No that wasn’t right, it wasn’t a mere mission. What she was on was so much more than that and was incredibly important. 

   Suddenly a sharp pain makes its way up her spine that nearly takes her to her knees, and the back of her head throbs with such an intensity that she cries out. She braces the back of her head with her hands and grits her teeth as she tries to figure out what's going on. And as the sun catches on the arrow necklace that dangles from her neck, it all comes rushing back. 

   She had been with Clint on a planet called Vormir. A sacrifice was required to gain the soul stone, and she hadn’t let him be the one to jump. She remembers he had tried to save her though, but she hadn’t let that stop her. She had fallen. Which means…she had died. She swallows harshly as she looks around once more. Did that mean…was this the afterlife? 

   She's almost certain that it was, but she can’t ponder on it too long as the sound of footsteps gains her attention. She's not sure who or what she had been expecting, but the person she sees walking towards her exceeds all expectations, and she can already feel warm tears dripping down her cheeks.

   “Y/n!!” she shouts as she runs straight at you, she practically throws herself into your arms and her embrace has enough force behind it that you both go tumbling into the grass below. The feeling of your arms around her once more after so many years has a sob escaping her, and her hold on you tightens as she buries her face in the crook of your neck, “After I lost you, I was lost too. Everyone wanted me to try to move on, but I just couldn’t detka(baby), and I didn't want to either. You were, and still are my everything. I love you so much.”

  But she didn’t have to say any of that, the pair of wedding rings you’d seen dangling from the same chain as Clint's arrow charm had already told you that. You turn slightly to nuzzle your cheek against hers, “I love you too, Tasha. And while I missed you more than I could ever describe, I would have waited even longer for you”

   “I’m sorry” she mumbles, not wanting you to be upset with her 

   “Don’t apologize Natasha, please.” you assure her, “You were so strong, my love. And so brave. What you did…you saved the world”

    She moves her head back enough to look at you properly though her vision is still blurred by tears, “It worked, then?”

   You nod as your hands move to cup her face, “You did it baby, everyone's home now”

   She lets out a tearful relieved chuckle and smiles at you so softly that you can no longer hold back. Without a second thought you bring your lips to meet hers for a kiss that you waited years for, and Nat, who thought she’d never get to experience this again practically melts against you. And she knows then the truth of your words, because not only was half the universe returned home but she was as well. You were her home, and had been the moment she realized she loved you.

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[the-eeveekins]

Suletta is an Amazing Pilot

I still see this idea floating around that Suletta is NOT a good pilot. That this is even a somewhat accepted opinion is WILD to me, because the show makes it clear she is a fantastic pilot. I shouldn't even have to write this article, because one can simply see it by watching the series with their eyes open. To claim Suletta is not a good pilot is to jump through way more mental gymnastics to make that claim than to simply accept what G-Witch is literally showing you.

1) Cradle Planet

At age 6, Suletta has already been training to fly mobile suits. By age 11, she's the best pilot on Mercury. Eri states that Suletta handles her beam sabers with surgical precision and calmly pilots her mobile suit through dangerous terrain that would terrify any normal person. Prospera raised Suletta with the purpose of her piloting the Aerial in mind. She raised her to be the best.

2) Episode 3

So, I'll give reigning Holder Guel the benefit of the doubt and say he only lost the first duel because he dicked around and then got caught with his pants completely down. Surely he'll do better in round 2. Except, even though Guel knows what's coming AND he's in a better suit, Suletta would have ended this duel in about 20 seconds were it not for the Darilbalde's AI saving Guel from a head shot. That this 2nd duel lasts as long as it does is only due to Vim's interference, and even with that Guel couldn't win. Suletta doesn't even use the Gundbits for the final strike of the match, the decisive blow she scored against Guel was all her own piloting.

3) Episode 4

This is the episode most people continue to cite as evidence that Suletta is a bad pilot. But the facts are clear: Suletta was doing just fine in that test and would have passed with flying colors of not for bullies blinding her mobile suit. At that point she was piloting an unfamiliar MS, not allowed to use backup cameras, and needing to navigate using only someone else's word. Anyone would struggle. Imagine trying to drive a car through an obstacle course at full speed while blind with only an outside spotter. And that completely ignores that she was having an emotional breakdown the entire time because she was being bullied. And even then, with each successive attempt, she was improving! Would a "better" pilot have adjusted faster? Sure, maybe, but this wasn't the heat of battle; this was a high school test, and Suletta is using an unfamiliar machine. And Suletta's emotional state was compromised, leading to her struggles. Because that was what this scene was about: Suletta's emotional state, not her piloting skills.

4) Episode 6

Suletta holds up incredibly well considering she's using a cobbled-together-in-a-week thruster pack and still at a heavy disadvantage against the Pharact. Not to mention this time her pilot also has a Gundam with the benefit of the Gund Format. And while Eri's data storm resonance may have opened up the final blow for her, it was Suletta’s piloting that pushed Elan to go to Permet Score 4 despite his advantage. And even at Score 4, Suletta was pushing Elan into a corner.

5) Episode 9

This pretty much speaks for itself. Suletta holds off multiple mobile suits at once, eventually finding herself alone against 6 of the best pilots at Asticassia and none of them can take her down. She survives even through her self doubt, even through the GUND format being disabled and having to pilot normally. And then she activates Score 6 and it's all Suletta. Suletta was the one completely outmaneuvering the entire Grassley team, piloting the Aerial AND manually controlling the Gundbits the entire time. While also processing all the information the Gundbits were feeding her about the battlefield. Suletta survived that 1v6 and may have even won it if she was forced to. We'll never know because ultimately Shaddiq fell into Miorine's trap.

6) Episode 12

Gundam vs Two Gundams! Suletta has a new ride and it's arguably the strongest MS in Ad Stella. Still the best mobile suit means little without a good pilot. And Suletta takes on two Gundam pilots actively trying to kill her. Two Gundam pilots that just wiped the floor with Plant Quetta's professional security forces and also have the Gund Format. And yet Suletta fights them both off.

7) Episode 13

Okay, this isn't really fair. Suletta and the Rebuild are far and away superior to anything the lesser Benerit companies can throw at them. But it's still impressive she went through a gauntlet of what presumably the best of the rest could throw at her w/o breaking a sweat.

8) Episode 14

Sophie is ultimately killed by the Gund Format before there could be a conclusive resolution to their fight, but again, Suletta did not struggle against a trained child soldier using a Gundam trying to kill her.

9) Episode 17

Suletta does not lose this duel unless Miorine and Ericht betray her. In fact, it's not even a contest if Guel doesn't use the Darilbalde's AI. He even admits he's not a match for her without it. And to top it all off, the Aerial starts this duel still damaged from it’s battle against Sophie. Guel has some success this duel, and thanks to the AI piloting is able to put Suletta on the defensive, but despite having multiple shots at taking her antenna, he still couldn't close the deal, and once Suletta got serious, it was over. It took one of the best pilots in Asticassia piloting a top of the line new model MS using a top of the line learning and piloting AI just to get a solid shot at defeating Suletta 1-on-1 and he still couldn't beat her.

10) Episode 18

A short scene of Suletta easily passing one of her Demi Trainer tests. All while she's suffering from severe depression due to the divorce.

Calibarn

Her piloting the Calibarn as a whole is a testament to Suletta’s superb piloting skills. Suletta takes on Quiet Zero and Aerial all by herself, and she comes out of the battle with only some superficial damage. Before this battle, Ericht took on an entire SAL fleet of professional soldiers and was wiping the floor with them using her Gundnodes, before even engaging the override. The story establishes that Ericht + Quiet Zero > A fleet of trained soldiers. And Suletta takes her on all by herself and comes out on top. You can't even use the excuse that she benefited from an advantage with the Gund format and piloting a Gundam because so is Eri. And Ericht is perfectly synchronized with the data storm.

And yes, they weren't trying to kill each other, but that is actually more difficult in the heat of battle. In fact, you can see Suletta making the fight more difficult for herself by punching and kicking away the Aerial’s Gundbits instead of simply destroying them because she doesn't want to kill the coven. It's a testament to Suletta incredible skills that she's able to dodge all the incoming fire without accidentally dodging into it, all while dueling her sister without killing her.

And of course, she's doing this all while the Calibarn is trying to kill her. Even with her permet resistance, she is still under constant strain while piloting the Calibarn, you can hear it in her voice the entire time.

The only other argument I see made against Suletta’s skill as a pilot that isn't a double standard rooted in sexism is that the Gund Format elevates her from a terrible pilot to a good one. Which is pretty ridiculous because we don't see that with any other Gundam pilot in the show. Yes, they have a tech advantage being in a Gundam, but the format is not enough to turn a terrible pilot into a one-woman army. Otherwise Suletta would have been easily overwhelmed by Sophie and Norea at Plant Quetta. Would Lauda struggle against an AI-less Guel in a Dilanza, needing Guel to let Lauda score the finishing blow to win, if the Gund Format made every pilot as good as Suletta?

If your only other arguments are that Suletta isn't a good pilot because she pilots a Gundam, she's some form of enhanced human and/or she doesn't directly control the bits for most of the series, those can all be dismissed. Every Gundam MC pilots a Gundam, usually carrying with them a significant tech advantage over their opponents, does that make every Gundam pilot less skilled by virtue of piloting a Gundam? Nearly every well regarded pilot in the series is some sort of enhanced human depending on the setting. Newtypes, Coordinators, Innovators, X-Rounders, etc. Nearly every main series MC has some sort of supernatural and/or super human ability. Are you going to argue that Amuro, Char, Kamille, Judau, etc are all bad pilots being carried by Newtype powers alone? And regarding the bits, not every Gundam series has telepathically or directly controlled bits. Many are controlled by advanced onboard quantum computing systems. Suletta’s situation with Aerial is no different than many famous pilots over the years. No one argues that Lockon is a bad pilot because he's assisted by a Haro.

Every single one of the above arguments is rooted in misogynistic double standards. The things that people argue that prove Suletta must not be a good pilot are things virtually every male Gundam MC has, but are basically never used as an argument against their skills: it's just part of their skill set.

Ultimately you have to jump through more mental gymnastics to argue that Suletta is a bad pilot than simply watching the show and seeing what it's showing you: that Suletta is a tremendously skilled pilot with no peer except Ericht herself and maybe Shaddiq. Someone in Discord mentioned that Suletta as a pilot is very much the equivalent to an endgame Amuro or Kira. She was already raised to be an elite pilot before setting foot in Asticassia, and her only defeat in the entire show was not to another pilot with better skills or a better mobile suit. It was to Miorine, who attacked her heart and betrayed her at a critical moment. The show was not about her growth as a pilot because unlike a lot of young Gundam protagonists, she's already starting with elite piloting skills because she's been training in harsh environments since she was a child. Her only struggles piloting in the show are entirely due to people attacking her emotionally, something she was not equipped to handle due to her upbringing on Mercury. And that is where Suletta’s character growth lies.

I don't like comparing pilots across the different Gundam universes because there are way too many different variables to take into account. But I think the only reason the fandom in general doesn't consider Suletta among the elite pilots of the franchise is because she's a woman. Instead, I see her compared against other female pilots that fans will say are "average-to-bad" and then make the claim Suletta is worse because of some of the above arguments that they don't make for male pilots.

[headspace-hotel]

Dwarf fortress update: world #2

This is going much better since now I know what I'm doing with administrating tasks. My population is at 75 and dwarves mostly happy (or at least neutral) now that i have the food and alcohol running more or less automatically

My strategy for keeping the dwarves happy is basically to just browse through their thoughts and figure out what they would like to have/do.

A lot of them get unhappy when "remembering trauma." Too bad "therapist" isn't one of the workshops.

I have literally thousands of raw mussels. I haven't seen a body of water nearby except for "murky pool". Where are they coming from??

If you make stepladders, the dwarves use them to pick fruit off the trees! I have a tropical biome this time so there is a huge abundance of fruit.

I have a yak herd going and I just kill most of the bulls periodically for fresh meat.

My dwarf children keep getting kidnapped????

The stockpile system is fucking CURSED.

The amount of feeding stockpiles into other stockpiles I have to do in order to get a smelter running let alone forge weapons? Horrible

I was using bins to make items stack, and my weapons stockpile had a bin in it.

After about 3 in-game years had passed, for some reason mining and tree chopping orders just...stopped working. Like the tiles would just stay highlighted for eternity.

This persisted for like. 2 more years in game. I figured out quickly that part of the problem was that all of the axes and pickaxes were gone. I had no idea why. I tried all manner of convoluted looney tunes bullshit to try to make new ones without any wood for charcoal and without the ability to mine anything else. I demolished the wagon for wood, but my dumb ass forgot about the work orders I had set and the wood was immediately converted into doors. So next I demolished all the carpenter shops. It was not enough wood.

Eventually I ended up just buying a bunch of wood from the trading caravan and after a protracted battle with my interrelated network of stockpiles, smelted iron bars. Then set the metalsmith to make axes and picks.

The work orders ran just fine. The mining and chopping still wasn't working. I went to my stocks and tracked the location of the new weapons and was led to a wooden bin in the weapons stockpile.

How. do you REMOVE. WEAPONS. FROM THE BIN

For around half an hour I experimented with stockpiles, attempting to force the bin to disgorge its contents. I made and destroyed many different stockpiles with different settings. When the weapons bin was forced into a stockpile that didn't accept bins, it didn't release its contents, instead it became invisible and somehow stacked underneath a different item in the stockpile.

Finally, I figured out the workaround: I made a garbage dump, went into the contents of the bin and marked each individual weapon within as garbage. I'm pretty sure I marked the bin itself as "forbidden?" Anyway after the whole thing was in the garbage, I un-garbaged the weapons one by one, made another weapons stockpile that didn't accept bins, and after fucking with it for a while I liberated the weapons from the Bin of No Return (which stayed forbidden and in the garbage)

At some point in the process all the weapons ended up forbidden and somehow stacked together in one tile. I had to manually unforbidden all of them and destroy and remake stockpiles and garbage dumps several times.

Mining and chopping orders STILL AREN'T WORKING

I try manually equipping pickaxes and axes to dwarves under the "squads" tab. No dice.

Finally. FINALLY. I go into the dwarves' jobs and set it so the miners can ONLY mine EXCLUSIVELY and set some dwarves to be locked into wood cutting as well. This, on top of everything else, fixes the problem.

Don't use bins. Got it.

A cyclops randomly attacked my fortress. I hadn't trained my military or anything so I was worried it would do a lot of damage, but my dwarves killed it pretty much instantly

I saw under the "engrave memorial slab" tab that there was an option to engrave a memorial slab to the cyclops. Which I did, just in case.

I found an underground cavern. Since I found the underground cavern I have been getting "petitions" every 5 minutes with adventurers volunteering to come kill monsters. I have like 12 of them in my fortress now.

Also a bunch of mushrooms are growing up into the areas of my fortress with dirt floors, and several of them can be farmed as underground crops??? I have a room in my fortress that grows "cave wheat" now

i'm guessing the next step is to train my military but idk where to start with that

[joshslater]

Cat

This is my take on a TF request by octuscle. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I guess it's kind of like what magicians feel like. Sure, you can train all you like in your bedroom, and you can do it in front of your mates, but when you do it for real, for a real audience you get the same jitters before the trick and a certain rush after it. No one noticed how I did the misdirection, how I lifted the phone and stashed it in my pocket in a smooth motion that started well before and ended well after those two events, making it seem completely unrelated and hiding the true intent. I was well out of their sight long before they realized they'd been pickpocketed.

I should have just held the power button to shut it down, make it untraceable until the nerds can open it up, make it lose its mind, and become resellable. Not as a luxury phone as it once was perhaps, but good enough for someone short on cash who was willing to not think too hard about where they got their goods. I should have, but it was like a reflex to press the unlock button once I fished up the phone from my pocket, safe some blocks away. "Chronivac Anti-theft Technology" flashed on the screen and a timer counted down from 10. "Enter pin to deactivate." I frantically pressed and held the power button in various combinations with no effect. Would the phone report its position? I could just leave. Would it make a noise? Wouldn’t matter here, and again, I could just leave.

It did make a short, high-pitched screeching sound and it kind of twisted in my hand. Not like the vibrator went off. More like a static shock, but not quite that either. The sound when it landed on the ground surprised me. A dull rattle and not the normal crisp sound of an iPhone maybe shattering on the stones. Even more surprising was the yellow rubber case with the black Caterpillar CAT logo on the ground. Confused I picked it up and turned it over to find a feature phone in the case, with physical keyboard and all, and on the screen words were scrolling by faster than I could read. I managed some words like "dumber", "stronger", and "stoner". As I stared at the words "manual laborer" I had a nagging feeling I should know what it meant, and that perhaps it wasn't the scrolling speed by the reading speed that was the problem.

The screen said "Wipe complete. All data secured." and turned black.

I tried to remember why I was standing in an empty back alley, but couldn't come up with a good reason. I adjusted my wifebeater inside my dungarees. Dungarees are great because you can play with your balls whenever, but the top isn't really held in place, so it can show you go commando if you aren't careful. I might as well smoke a joint while I figure out where I should be.

[creedslove]

BETRAYED - PART NINE

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: fluff, like, a lot of fluff, implied age gap, mentions of death, and descriptions of a catholic wedding (I just wrote down how they go in my country, but no, it's not *the* wedding you're thinking about) and mentions of smut

A/N: Just one more chapter and we wrap up this story!!! I hope you guys enjoy this one because I know my heart melted while I wrote it!!!

A/N part 2: still can't manually tag people on the works because I use the app and it won't let me do it, that's why I don't have a tag list at all!

3.4k words

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT

One year later

You stood at the altar feeling excitedly but also a little anxious. A bunch of familiar faces stared at you taking in all the details of the ceremony that was about to begin.

You could even spot Pedro among the guests, he looked handsome, as he always did, his hair was a little longer now, making it wilder in a way it made him sexier than before. He noticed your eyes on him and winked, as if he encouraged you in that situation

And that's why being a bridesmaid was so fun. While the focus wasn't necessarily you and your group of bridesmaids, you were all in the spotlight while the bride took long to arrive.

You could practically hear all the thoughts crossing people's minds, how they judged the dresses, the makeups and the hairstyles. It always happened and you wouldn't be any exception, but not that you cared very much about it, as you were so happy for your best friend Nat tying the knot with her dream guy, nothing would bother you at all.

As you felt Pedro's gaze on you, burning your skin, you thought of everything that happened this past year. It didn't even feel real, after you left his home that morning, you never returned. And he kept his word of not coming after you, which was all you needed in order to get your life back on track.

The first thing you did when you got home was to change all the locks to prevent anyone from breaking into your house. It didn't matter if it was Liev, a burglar or Pedro himself. You never wanted to walk into your home, a place you assumed safe and find someone uninvited there. Then, your second part of your action plan was to look for another gym, so you could train without having to change your schedule every single time you didn't want to run into someone in there. You wanted to exercise, to see people, to feel the endorphins flood your body and not step on eggshells all the time. Needless to say, it was a good decision.

Then, you just focused on yourself.

You finally finished your studies, you found a job that made you happier and paid well too. You took short trips here and there, getting to know new places and you also looked at yourself in the mirror and realized you were more beautiful than ever, and that was why you were loving yourself, you took care of yourself and you put yourself in the first place, just like it should've been from the beginning.

You still had feelings for Pedro, of course, but the distance helped manage it, some days you were able to go by without even thinking of him, and others you missed him deeply. You didn't know if his feelings for you changed, but you weren't as close as you once were. However, you weren't estranged either. It was just that your lifestyles got simply too different and your lives took different paths, making it so hard to be around each other.

After Pedro's career took off he became almost impossible to reach - physically at least.

He was already well-known when you two had all that story going on, of course, but now it had reached stratospherical levels. He was a big deal, he was a big celebrity, all your social media was flooded by videos, his interviews and his pictures. You began following his career, from afar, admiring him, how far he'd come, feeling your chest burst with pride every time he was nominated for an award or you saw him walking down a red carpet. It was still disturbing to you to see how much he was harassed by the media, how he couldn't walk down the street without being photographed and how they picked on the whole daddy thing. Sometimes it was a little funny though, seeing him blush and her visibly embarrassed at that. You often chuckled to yourself when you eventually saw his fans writing the sweetest things about him, how they called him their boyfriend or future husband, if only they knew your story, they'd call you crazy for turning him down. Because to them, Pedro was perfect, a prince charming. And to you, he was just a human being, with flaws and qualities, like everyone else.

You two didn't go the whole year without speaking, quite the opposite, your phone would buzz eventually, receiving a text or two from him. And you would often text him as well. Just simple things: birthday messages, wishing each other happy holidays or checking up on each other. Nothing too intimate, but enough to show you still cared and worried about each other.

He watched your stories and liked your pictures, and you did the same. Being there, even if you weren't there anymore. It was confusing, but it worked for a while.

When you realized you were able to see his pictures with fans, co-stars and women you had no idea who they were and your whole body didn't heat up in anxiety and jealousy and your heart didn't drop at your toes, at the mere thought crossing your mind of them being his lay for the night, you knew you were ready to let him in.

Not exactly let him in, you didn't know if he still cared about you like that, or if you would still have anything in common, or if he would even bother becoming your friend again now that he had met some many different people. But you still decided to text him, best case scenario he would reply and you would have a conversation, worst case scenario he would leave you on 'seen' and you would move on with your life, because you lived for yourself now, and not for Pedro.

Of course he replied to your message right away. He smiled big when he read it and couldn't even believe after all that time you were the one engaging in a conversation with him. God knows how many times it took all of his willpower to erase the gigantic texts he wrote you and just drop a 'Merry Christmas' or 'Happy Birthday, mariposa' he'd promised you he would let you live your life, and just like a butterfly, he let you be free but now you were flying to him again - maybe, that was what he hoped at least, so he allowed himself to daydream.

You'd sent a simple text telling him how much you enjoyed his new series, and if he had time next time he was in town, maybe you could go for drinks. He replied almost immediately, saying he couldn't wait.

And your conversation began.

Slowly, you would text through the day about many things, while he was away and lonely, he told you all about his shooting routine and what he did for fun so far away from home.

You updated him on everything knew in your life, seeing how proud of you and happy he really got. You briefly mentioned you were thinking of learning a second language, to which he quickly suggested Spanish.

But when your uncle died you didn't get a text from him. Instead, Pedro managed to get a short break from filming and hopped on a plane. He wanted to be there for you, it didn't matter to him if he was going to be there as a friend or as a possible boyfriend, he just wanted to hold you while you cried because he knew how important family was to you. He wanted to attend the funeral by your side, to dry your tears and tell you comforting words. And that was exactly what he did.

You couldn't believe your eyes when he showed up there, in black and pulling you into his embrace, which reminded you it used to be your favorite place in the world and at that moment, it became your favorite again.

You had no strength to discuss feelings with him, and he wasn't after that either. He just wanted to try and make that moment a little less miserable for you.

But the moment the funeral service was over, Pedro would have to come back to his work again. He apologized a hundred times for not being able to stay longer with you, but you assured him it was alright, not forgetting to thank him for coming all the way just to be with you.

He said goodbye with one of his warm hugs and a peck on the cheek, that landed way too close to your lips, it didn't matter if it was on purpose or not. The damage had already been done.

From the moment you realized he had left his job - the thing you assumed he loved the most in life - for you without expecting anything in return. That familiar warmth in your chest appeared after months and months of it being dormant. It was hard to deny how much you loved Pedro.

•••

You had always heard horrible stories about women who agreed to becoming bridesmaids and had to deal with the infamous bridezilla. You were sure it wouldn't be Nat's case, but those women were not exaggerating when they said you would have to put a lot of effort, energy and even money to a moment that wasn't even yours.

While all the guests were comfortably sitting down, you along with the other girls and the bestmen had to stand up the whole ceremony. You knew the priest was probably saying beautiful words about love and stuff, as you could see the emotion in some people's eyes and how some of them even sniffed and shed one or two tears, but you were just not paying attention. Church services weren't really your thing, you tried really hard not to get bored, but it was too late, you were already bored.

That's why your eyes scanned the whole place, not really focusing on anything in particular, you just hoped time would go by faster and you wished you would all skip to the reception, because there were other things you wanted to do and mostly other people you wanted to talk to. You looked all over the church decoration and though it looked very beautiful and elegant you thought about how you would never have a wedding in a place like that. Then you watched Nat's wedding dress closely. Of course you'd seen it a couple of times already since the early stages of planning and preparing the wedding, but at that moment it looked different and you couldn't stop yourself from wondering if you'd ever get married at all and wear a pretty dress like that. You shook those thoughts away from your mine and looked at the guests absent-mindedly, not watching anything in particular until your eyes locked with Pedro's.

He didn't even blink and sustained your look, he was completely oblivious to a wedding happening just a few feet away from you, as you were really the only thing that mattered to him.

After flying to you for your uncle's funeral, you weren't able to meet again, as he was more and more caught up at work and you also had your own life. So when he got the invitation to the wedding, he didn't think twice before confirming his attendance, though he didn't really care that much about the bride and groom, he was still thankful to them.

You blushed softly and smiled big at him, he wasn't too distant, just a few rows away from the altar, close enough for you to see when he mouthed 'hermosa' making you look down in shyness. You knew Nat and Pedro had seen each other maybe five or six times and the only times she talked to him was to tell him how much her boyfriend - and now husband - loved Mandalorian. So you knew she had only invited him because of you and Pedro had only showed up to the wedding because of you as well. It felt quite good, you had to admit and for that, you even forced yourself to pay attention to the ceremony again.

Once the reception started you thought the fun would start as well, but you were wrong. Now, the bridesmaids duty kept you busy each passing second. First you had to follow the bride and groom to the photo session, then you had to assist the bride to make her big entrance, and after it you had to help her go to the restroom, which was the most chaotic part: four girls helping another lift up layers and layers of cloth in order to be able to pee.

And when you realized, it was already dinner time. As the food was served people stayed at their tables, usually guests were starving after the whole marathon of sitting through a long and tedious ceremony, then endless waiting until the bride and groom showed up.

The whole time you and Pedro exchanged looks and smiles, he even texted you in hopes to talk to you, but you were way too busy to check your phone, at the same time as soon as some guests recognized Pedro, he was bombarded with requests for selfies, autographs and girls throwing themselves at him. And he was way too nice to decline those requests even if it bothered him - though he declined the girls right away.

You thanked the heavens when dinner was finished, you knew the dance floor would be finally open to the guests until you remembered a very tacky wedding custom.

The bride was going to throw the bouquet. You pinched the bridge of your nose in embarrassment, you've always hated that moment, ever since you were a kid and your parents dragged you to relative's weddings.

Just a bunch of women going all savage over a couple of flowers made you cringe to the core, so you stepped aside and waited for the small crowd to gather. You tried to brush it off at the insistence of some people, but when Nat cleared her throat and gave you accusatory eyes, you even tried to argue. But she motioned her head towards Pedro and you saw him waiting for you to get in the small commotion. He had his hands inside his pocket and a dirty smirk, he couldn't wait to see you pick the bouquet, he was sure you'd look gorgeous.

You on the other hand felt embarrassed and awkward to stand there, Nat got in position and showed all the single ladies the bouquet, making them all shout in excitement. She looked at you and winked softly, and you gulped. Oh no, there was only one thing worse than fighting over a bouquet of flowers in front of a crowd of people, and that was definitely receiving the bouquet out of pity.

So when she threw it towards you, you stood still, making absolutely no move and watched it as it flew right past you.

You turned around and saw when two women were almost on the floor, struggling to get the bouquet. Nat frowned at you, confused as to why you didn't get it, you just shrugged at her. You didn't want to get married, there was only one thing you wanted to do, and when you thought you were finally able to do it, the DJ announced it was time for the waltz.

You rolled your eyes, as annoyance spread through your body. It had been hours all you were trying to do was to exchange a couple of words with Pedro, but that seemed impossible.

The guests all gathered around the bride and groom as they showed their rehearsed steps, some people swooning over them but you just looked around, trying to find Pedro, needing to see him and talk to him. But he wasn't there anymore.

Had he gone home? You knew he enjoyed parties, but you weren't sure about wedding parties, especially the ones where he was harassed every five minutes by people who insistently wanted pictures or just goof around a movie star.

But he wouldn't just leave you without saying goodbye, would he? Over the months your relationship became stronger even if you weren't physically close.

You were deep in thought as you felt someone touching your wrist, making you jump a little at the sudden touch and turned around, seeing Pedro standing there.

And he looked good. Very good.

He was wearing a dark suit, all in black. It hung tight to the right places as he looked absolutely like sin. His hair was messy like always and you caught a few gray streaks on his beard and that made you weak at the knees.

You smiled big and held his hand "Pedro! I thought you'd left!"

He raised his eyebrow and chuckled "do you really think I'd sit through a whole wedding and then leave before talking to the only reason why I'm here in the first place?" He held your hand and eyed you up and down, not even hiding how much he appreciated your looks "I don't mean to be one of those bitchy people who come to the party and trash talk it, but when we get married we'll have a lot less church and a lot more party"

Pedro's words stirred something inside of you, even if it was a joke, you felt yourself blushing.

"Too bad it won't happen, I mean, I didn't catch the bouquet so…" you replied in a shy way and made him laugh as well

"Yeah, well, we can figure this out later, right now I'd like to have a dance with the most beautiful girl at the party?" He offered his hand to you, and you hesitated at first

"It depends, Pedro" you saw his confusion, finding it quite amusing

"It depends on what, hermosa?" He questioned curiously

"Where's your plus one?" You saw how he frowned not really getting where you were going

"What plus one, Y/N? I came alone…"

You laughed softly and nodded, taking a step closer and accepting his invitation.

"I was just making sure, you know, I was friends with a guy once and he pulled such a jerk move, where he invited a plus one to a party and ditched her to dance with another girl and ended up taking this other girl home and left his plus one really heartbroken"

A deep shade of crimson spread through his face as he was at a loss of words for a while. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard.

"H-he sounds like a real dick" he replied a little self conscious, not sure if you were joking or playing games

"He really was, but I heard he managed to change into a better person and his plus one even forgave him after all"

His smile was wide and the relief in his eyes was visible as he wrapped his arms around your waist and glued your body to his. It was a slow ballad and you wrapped your arms around his neck at the same time you swayed your hips together.

"Thank you for forgiving me, I really missed you" he whispered against your ear, your faces were inches apart and you closed your eyes, his cologne lingering on your skin. You took your hand to the back of his neck, stroking his hair and feeling it softly between your fingers.

"We needed this, Pedro… I guess now we could start things over" you said and welcomed his lips against yours, as they crashed in a needy contact. You moaned lowly at the feel of his tongue against yours. His hands squeezed your waist and if you could get any closer to him, you would have, because you could swear that was not enough.

His kiss was intense and unlike the other times, he wasn't trying to overpower you and make you accept him playing dirty with your hormones, he was kissing you, feeling you and taking you as his. And you wanted it as much as he did.

When you broke the kiss, he nibbled your bottom lip, caressing your cheek and not giving a care in the world if someone filmed or photographed you.

You danced as if there was no tomorrow, as the ballad was over, you danced with Pedro to any kind of songs that came in the playlist, you had fun and when sexier songs came up, you dance even more, loving how you rubbed your body against his and Pedro never spared any neck kiss or groping your body.

By the time you could feel a tent against your ass, you turned to him, kissing his lips again.

"I guess it's time to get out of here, princesa" he whispered into your ear and squeezed your ass. You moaned against his lips as you couldn't agree more.

_____

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did, it was just so easy to write I was really into it. I loved it so much and I can't believe this series is almost over 😞 also, if y'all don't go soft on Pedro now I don't know what to do, LMAO

[linkyu]

tell me about your defense contract pleage

Oh boy!

To be fair, it's nothing grandiose, like, it wasn't about "a new missile blueprint" or whatever, but, just thinking about what it could have become? yeesh.

So, let's go.

For context, this is taking place in the early 2010s, where I was working as a dev and manager for a company that mostly did space stuff, but they had some defence and security contracts too.

One day we got a new contract though, which was... a weird one. It was state-auctioned, meaning that this was basically a homeland contract, but the main sponsor was Philip Morris. Yeah. The American cigarette company.

Why? Because the contract was essentially a crackdown on "illegal cigarette sales", but it was sold as a more general "war on drugs" contract.

For those unaware (because chances are, like me, you are a non-smoker), cigarette contraband is very much a thing. At the time, ~15% of cigarettes were sold illegally here (read: they were smuggled in and sold on the street).

And Phillip Morris wanted to stop that. After all, they're only a small company worth uhhh... oh JFC. Just a paltry 150 billion dollars. They need those extra dollars, you understand?

Anyway. So they sponsored a contract to the state, promising that "the technology used for this can be used to stop drug deals too". Also that "the state would benefit from the cigarettes part as well because smaller black market means more official sales means a higher tax revenue" (that has actually been proven true during the 2020 quarantine).

Anyway, here was the plan:

Phase 1 was to train a neural network and plug it in directly to the city's video-surveillance system, in order to detect illegal transactions as soon as they occur. Big brother who?

Phase 2 was to then track the people involved in said transaction throughout the city, based on their appearance and gait. You ever seen the Plainsight sheep counting video? Imagine something like this but with people. That data would then be relayed to police officers in the area.

So yeah, an automated CCTV-based tracking system. Because that's not setting a scary precedent.

So what do you do when you're in that position? Let me tell you. If you're thrust unknowingly, or against your will, into a project like this,

Note. The following is not a legal advice. In fact it's not even good advice. Do not attempt any of this unless you know you can't get caught, or that even if you are caught, the consequences are acceptable. Above all else, always have a backup plan if and when it backfires. Also don't do anything that can get you sued. Be reasonable.

Let me introduce you to the world of Corporate Sabotage! It's a funny form of striking, very effective in office environments.

Here's what I did:

First of all was the training data. We had extensive footage, but it needed to be marked manually for the training. Basically, just cropping the clips around the "transaction" and drawing some boxes on top of the "criminals". I was in charge of several batches of those. It helped that I was fast at it since I had video editing experience already. Well, let's just say that a good deal of those markings were... not very accurate.

Also, did you know that some video encodings are very slow to process by OpenCV, to the point of sometimes crashing? I'm sure the software is better at it nowadays though. So I did that to another portion of the data.

Unfortunately the training model itself was handled by a different company, so I couldn't do more about this.

Or could I?

I was the main person communicating with them, after all.

Enter: Miscommunication Master

In short (because this is already way too long), I became the most rigid person in the project. Like insisting on sharing the training data only on our own secure shared drive, which they didn't have access to yet. Or tracking down every single bug in the program and making weekly reports on those, which bogged down progress. Or asking for things to be done but without pointing at anyone in particular, so that no one actually did the thing. You know, classic manager incompetence. Except I couldn't be faulted, because after all, I was just "really serious about the security aspect of this project. And you don't want the state to learn that we've mishandled the data security of the project, do you, Jeff?"

A thousand little jabs like this, to slow down and delay the project.

At the end of it, after a full year on this project, we had.... a neural network full of false positives and a semi-working visualizer.

They said the project needed to be wrapped up in the next three months.

I said "damn, good luck with that! By the way my contract is up next month and I'm not renewing."

Last I heard, that city still doesn't have anything installed on their CCTV.

tl;dr: I used corporate sabotage to prevent automated surveillance to be implemented in a city--

hey hold on

wait

what

HEY ACTUALLY I DID SOME EXTRA RESEARCH TO SEE IF PHILLIP MORRIS TRIED THIS SHIT WITH ANOTHER COMPANY SINCE THEN AND WHAT THE FUCK

HUH??????

well what the fuck was all that even about then if they already own most of the black market???

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 11

Steve had spent the rest of the day alone in his room. He had a feeling the only reason that happened was because the king himself had given an order to the kids not to bother him at all. Most of the hours he sat at the window sill, looking out onto the land that was supposed to be cursed.

But it was quite the same as the land he'd been raised on. What other lies had his family told about this place? About these people? There were still things Steve didn't understand. It felt like a puzzle had been formed with mixed pieces that no longer fit together.

He wondered how long his father took to make his decision to abandon him. Had he paced around? Had he weighed his options at all? Or had it been an immediate breath of relief when he was able to rid himself of his son? Then he thought about his mother.

She was always softer on him, but in the end never failed to side with her husband. Steve felt he couldn't begrudge her for that, but still wished to know if she argued with him even the smallest bit when he did this.

Steve thought he had known his worth. He might not be the son his parents wanted, but he was still a son. Still a crown prince, born and raised to one day rule. They had put so much work into him. They wanted to send him away, yes, but to be trained and come back even more prepared for his future role as king. They were tossing him away like it all meant nothing.

Well they could always make anoth-

He felt the burn of tears coming on before the thought even finished. They would, wouldn't they? They'd just start over with another child. One that they'd bring up right. They would forget all about Steve. They might even go as far as to strike his name from the record. What need would they have to remember him? He had accomplished nothing under their parentage. Nothing of note to them anyway.

So what was next then? What could he accomplish here? Suppose the king wasn't playing a trick and actually meant what he said. That Steve would be under his protection. What would he be allowed to do? What could he pursue?

Well, he made a pretty good pack mule. Maybe manual labor was in his future. Steve laughed to himself at that. From royal heir, to prisoner, to humble servant. He didn't realize how long he'd been in thought until it started to get dark around him. He turned away from the window, about to start getting ready for bed when he heard a tapping and caw.

There was a raven at the window.

Its wings flapped and it was carrying something in its talons, wrapped in paper. Steve looked at it warily and then the bird cawed again in what sounded like annoyance. Steve opened the window and the bird flew in, dropping its package onto the bed. The bird nudged it towards Steve with its beak.

"You brought that for me?", Steve asked.

The raven cawed.

Steve opened it up carefully and inside was a sandwich. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten much today. He then looked to the bird. "You must be one of the king's messengers?"

The raven's expression was unreadable, but then again he supposed most birds' were. Steve sat on the bed and reached forward to pet the top of its head then under its chin. The raven leaned into it like it was enjoying the scratches.

"You can tell your master...thank you. And here." Steve opened the sandwich and took out some of the meat. "Your delivery fee."

The raven took it carefully into its mouth, cawed at Steve, and then left out of the window into the darkening sky.

This felt like another olive branch. The king assuring him that he was safe here. Steve didn't know what his role would be, what he could accomplish or pursue. But he had the feeling that he might be given the time and the space to decide that for himself.

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

The next morning, Steve got ready and was about to leave his room in search of breakfast only to find the king, fist poised to knock.

"Your Majesty?"

"Y-your Highness. Good morning. Didn't expect you to be up so early."

"I'm an early riser by nature", Steve said.

"Then you're just in time for breakfast."

Steve was led down the halls but this time instead of going towards the kitchens, they went into a different room. There was a grand table and at it Robin and Nancy already sat. There was the man from the ambush that Steve recognized but didn't know the name of. King Edward-no Eddie, his name was Eddie, wait, was Steve allowed to call him that? Safer to keep it formal for now. Anyway, the king took his seat at the head of the table.

The only open seat was at the other end, so Steve took it. Nancy didn't look too happy to see him but it wasn't so much that Steve worried about poison in his food. Breakfast was served and the other four mostly kept the conversation going while Steve sat silently chewing. They seemed to be discussing the proceedings of an event happening soon.

It reminded Steve of the festivities happening back home. People would be coming out more, having picnics, and the seasonal fruits that could be enjoyed now.

"So you're not even going to put a leash on him?", Nancy asked, getting Steve's attention.

Eddie grinned. "I'm rather certain his bark his worse than his bite."

"Care to put that to the test?", Steve asked with a raised brow.

"I'd advice against stepping into an arena with Eddie", Jeff said.

"I know I look like a wispy thing, but I can be a heavy hitter", Eddie said, twirling a fork full of egg around.

"I'll believe it when I see it", Steve said. One of the few things he was confident in was his ability to fight.

"I think your time is best spent tutoring someone less trained", Eddie said.

"...You mean Lucas?"

"You want him training Lucas?", Robin asked, jabbing her thumb toward Steve.

"Why not?", Eddie shrugged. "One couldn't ask for a better teacher than a prince."

Steve didn't think it was meant as a compliment. But something warm in his body swelled like it was. Right as breakfast finished, Nancy produced a sheet of parchment and walked it over to Steve, placing it in front of him.

"Your new schedule."

"You made me a schedule?"

"It was the only way she'd allow you free reign of the castle without a binding spell", Eddie said.

Steve had been looking over the assignments when Eddie's words sunk in. He looked up, feeling a mix of awe, confusion, and gratitude. "You're...giving me free reign of the castle?" Of his home?

Eddie smiled in a way that seemed more genuine. "I see no harm in it. Like I said, you're not a prisoner. Think of it as something like an exchange program. Princes travel abroad all the time, don't they?"

Steve looked at the schedule. He noted that each thing had someone with him, almost like a chaperone, sometimes multiple people. If Nancy was the one making this, he was sure it was intentional. But he understood. He hadn't fully proven himself as trustworthy. For the first time, Steve considered if he might kill Eddie if given the chance.

Would his father welcome him back with open arms then?

He shook off the thought, already knowing the answer. If he killed Eddie there was nothing good in it for him.

"When do I start?"

Part 13

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part four.

-

Sephiroth's phone isn't a proper smartphone and has no internet, and he's being very brave about it.

Well, it has something. It is… kinda like a half-assed smartphone? Sorta. It's like that old flip phone his grandfather used to use - probably still does, if he's still alive, somewhere in another universe. It was more brick than a phone - no touchscreen, and the closest it got to any kind of smart features was running an email app, somehow. Sephiroth's phone is a bit like it. It has email - or just mail, apparently. It also has tutorials? Which is useful. Also online shopping? But no apps, no search function, no internet, no wikis, no websites, nothing. It doesn't seem to have photo or video options either - but apparently it keeps track of all his missions.

It's like somehow people invented most of everything that goes into a smartphone - but no one got around to inventing the internet, or anything like it. What a waste!

The tutorials are useful, admittedly, though they're more like manuals, really. Not like cultivation manuals, sadly, more like user manuals. "How to use your PHS" and "what key card opens what floor" and "missions, what are missions" and "materia, what is it and how does it work". There's dozens and dozens of tutorials on the phone, just like you might expect to find in a videogame that couldn't trust its users to remember how everything works. 

The mission roster is, uh. It's definitely something. There's categories, subcategories, levels, and then under those there's info and completion status. And Sephiroth, apparently, does a lot of missions. Like. A lot. He kinda despairs at the idea of having to keep up with it, because it looks like Sephiroth is a workaholic. Though, thankfully, half of the missions are training, experiments in the labs, or experimental training. Still! Isn't he supposed to be the Big Bad? Why is he working so hard?!

The shops' menu on the phone, though very bare bones and lacking any pictures, has his heart leaping with joy - as does the adjacent menu detailing Sephiroth's wallet situation. Which is… very good. Like, Shen Qingqiu wasn't exactly short on change either, he was the second Peak Lord of the most powerful sect in the world - but comparing the Gil Sephiroth has to the price of stuff in the various shops listed on his phone…

Sephiroth has that fuck you money. Guess that's what you get from being a workaholic Big Bad, the strongest and scariest in the evil dystopian planet-sucking mega corporation! You get money. And lots of it.

… Which, along with the details of all the clothing stores on his phone, makes his wardrobe situation even sadder, doesn't it? He should've definitely been able to afford a coat that actually fit him.

Ultimately though, what he figures to be most useful is the mail. There's a lot of it, and it looks like mailing lists are all the rage these days. Because Sephiroth's barely got anything else in his inbox.

News mailing list, SOLDIER mailing list, Shinra mailing list - professor Hojo telling him to go to the labs - another news mailing list, Shinra business mailing list, Wutai News mailing list - Genesis telling him to meet him for a spar - another mailing list, mailing list, mailing list - urgent meeting with Director Lazard - and some more mailing lists.

There are not that many personal messages, honestly. A few requests for a spar, and that's about it. Is that all he does for fun? What is Sephiroth, Liu Qingge 2.0? All he does is work and spar! Just skimming through his schedule makes him feel exhausted.

At least thanks to the mailing lists - and phone's bare bones calendar app - he'd figured where he's at, story-wise. Pre-Crisis Core, pre-Genesis' whole thing, pre… just about everything he remembers from each game.

Wutai war is still going on. And, rather distressingly, Sephiroth has a lot of Wutai missions coming up.

That's… not ideal.

Resting the phone against his lips in thought like he once held a fan, he sighs and tries to think it through. 

There's a squeak as the other SOLDIER steps out of the stall. Must've been the door hinges. "Sir," the SOLDIER says, carefully.

"Mn," he answers and tries to look as Sephiroth-like as he can while also projecting an aura of don't talk to me, I don't even know your name at the man. It works, because the man clearly doesn't want to talk to him.

It's very useful, having a villain halo.

The SOLDIER washes his hands like he can't wait to get away and then hesitates at the door. "Sir, I - there's someone -" the SOLDIER says, tentatively and then flounders at his slow blink. "Someone will be here soon."

With that said, the SOLDIER flees before he can think of a suitably Sephiroth-like answer.

Someone will be here soon? …Okay? Why? 

Making a face, he looks around in confusion and notices that one of the bathroom lights is burned out.

Oh, someone will be here for the light? Right, of course, he's the scary Big Bad here, can't subject the scary Big Bad to a less than stellar environment. Heh, guess that's an upgrade of sorts!

He… really didn't want it. 

It's all rather concerning, really. What is he actually supposed to do here? Go on missions, train, clad himself in barely fitting leather with a ridiculous amount of buckles, and go to war? Over building a life-sucking factory? By a vaguely western, very unsubtle Big Oil Allegory, at that. In what was a vaguely Chinese-coded land, too. The whole thing was very iffy, from what he remembers! He doesn't want to get involved!

And then what is he supposed to do, play out Sephiroth's life to its fiery, insane conclusion? Resurrect and then attempt to destroy the world?! Like all the good Big Bads of old! But he isn't even sure when that is supposed to happen! The timeline in these games is super vague!

At least with PIDW there was a very clear end goal, ah! It was awful and trying to survive had given him grey hairs, but there was a clear forward momentum and an end point! If he survived past it, then… then he won? Maybe?

He hadn't survived past it, though.

He'd died.

… Again.

Closing his eyes, he sighs against Sephiroth's phone, shaking his head. Depressing, depressing, it's so depressing! He'd really grown to like his life as Shen Qingqiu too! All his cute disciples, his books on Qing Jing Peak, his art works, all the things he'd got… all the things he'd done… the friends he'd made…

And Binghe…

Ah, his sweet, terrifying Black Lotus. As scary as Binghe had been towards the end, he's really sad he wouldn't be able to see Binghe grow into his own! Reading about the protagonist growing stronger and overcoming all obstacles had been his favourite part. And he'd rather been looking forward to watching it. Safely at a distance, mind you, disguised in another, unknown, body, under a new name and everything. Because if Binghe found out he survived…

Well.

Probably just as well. This is a new world and maybe, just maybe, he can now -

There's a sound that is an awful lot like an explosion, and he nearly drops his phone in shock as the restroom door is nearly blown off its hinges with the force it opens.

"What torment hath your soul suffered," espouses the runaway idol standing dramatically in the doorway, "to find the end of your journey here, of all places?"

In the immortal words of Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky.

W. T. F?

-

No System needed to gamify the world when the world is already a video game!

[findmeinthefallair]

An Uncommonly Discussed Trauma Symptom

Disclaimer: This is in no way a substitute for therapy: it’s only psychoeducation. Please consult a therapist and/or hotline and get the help you need if you are experiencing mental health difficulties, especially if experiencing distress or issues that feel unmanageable.

Warnings: Mentions and discussion of suicidal ideation, death, abuse and violence.

Special thanks to @ashanimus and @childlikegoblinqueen

Ever heard of "the sense of a foreshortened future"?

If you have suffered trauma over a sustained and long enough period of time, you may find that you can't imagine yourself living long. You can't see yourself reaching milestones, because it hardly makes sense to your mind that you can go on for that long...given how much you have felt like you've escaped danger, given just how many close calls you have had in life.

Yet the sense of a foreshortened future is a separate thing from suicidality.

If you have both of those together though, it really isn't fun because they may feed one another in a cycle, in the way that symptoms under the same mental health condition have the potential to do the same.

It isn't a desire for pain to end (which is what suicidality is), more so a generated expectation that takes root, and a framework which a survivor tries to fit their experiences into, with the goal to get things to make as much sense as can be. Because it's often the easier thing to devise a simple formula, to feel certainty and to manage one's expectations: rather than embrace the grey areas of uncertainty about how life will turn out.

It's almost as if this feeling of a foreshortened future is in a tug-of-war match between what appears to be solid reasoning, and a person's natural survival instinct along with the hunger for a meaningful life.

This symptom isn't on the *official* criteria for a psychiatrist or clinical psychologist to make any diagnoses, it is not listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5) or International Classification of Diseases, 10th Revision (ICD-10). But informally it is sometimes categorized as an avoidance symptom under both PTSD and Complex PTSD, and also under longer-term depression.

(however, I think it can extend to other conditions. The key criteria is it emerges from repeatedly experiencing horrible things until it makes sense in one's head to expect themselves not to last much longer)

If you hop onto Google Scholar to find proper research about it, the findings are very scarce because it's hard to define it, empirically measure it and quantify it in the first place.

Again, it's not the same as suicidal ideation because a foreshortened-future view is an expectation, while the latter is about a desire.

I wasn't taught about this symptom in any training and supervision before becoming a licensed therapist, nor did any of my own therapists bring it up as psychoeducation when I saw them. It was only through online articles on informal websites that I stumbled upon the phrase and it all clicked for my long-term experiences.

But I feel it is good knowledge for anyone providing psychotherapy to bear in mind.

In The Owl House, the grimwalker lore weaved into Hunter's arc, can shockingly be linked with this symptom, symbolically and thematically.

But the show's age rating means it would likely be too dark for the writing team to explicitly incorporate it into Hunter's dialogue.

Hunter was a lamb marked for the slaughter early on.

He has questioned his survival and ability to thrive.

The following article on Psychology Today describes Belos's long-term influence on Hunter pretty well and provides info that strengthens the points I'm making in this whole post:

Link

It's bad enough that before Hunter and Luz found Belos's mindscape, he struggled with the fear of failure to the extent that there was already the raging inner battle between his primal survival instinct and the already knackered part of him that sought eternal rest from his suffering (showing up as suicidal thoughts):

Fast forward a number of episodes...and we see the looming horrors in Hollow Mind that culminated in Hunter's discovery of what his predecessors went through:

followed by permanent rejection by his parental figure:

The power held by a foreshortened-future view, and its potential to isolate you - to make you feel like you're invisible, or a ghost - can be strong.

What Hunter said to Gus in the following screencaps sums up what it feels like pretty well:

In the context of having an abuser, it emerges from the negative beliefs they impose on you. It gets tricky if those beliefs are internalized, and which may remain internalized even after you get to safety and away from said abuser. Internalized until they become what you expect of your life.

It's about those thoughts which you know in your rational mind are lies, but you feel their apparent truth. They go more silent when you practice self-care but they return to try and reel you in again, and to a degree, they succeed in getting you to believe them all over again, before you renounce them once more.

Being in the C-PTSD Club along with Hunter, I personally experience the feeling of a foreshortened future as a voice deep down which almost always says that life feels too long and it therefore feels absolutely weird, like it doesn't make sense. Life feels too long, contrary to that commonly heard cheesy quote, "Life is too short to blah blah blah".

When I reached milestone birthdays like my 21st, it was confusing and made me irritable, feeling an itch deep down that I could not scratch.

The voice asks me why the heck I'm still around when it apparently doesn't make sense. It's a pervading feeling which can be pretty annoying, though I have it far enough in the background that it's like noise instead of being a source of distress.

It's not the easiest thing to explain this, but Hunter may have confusing thoughts creeping into his head like "Caleb didn't last long, why would I?" whereby such thoughts have a strange feel to them. They aren't exactly hard rules, nor are they distant enough that they can be easily brushed aside. Brain hurty, emotions spooky.

After the horror of this night:

I can definitely see Hunter wrestling with this symptom from time to time. No doubt. It was a major loss of autonomy and control that would significantly aggravate what was already brewing deep down.

I'm doubtful that the crew even established this on purpose (unless they actually consulted trauma experts and/or experienced mental health practitioners), but...this one symptom ties in with grimwalker lore so perfectly...it's hella fascinating that all Hunter's predecessors' lives (including Caleb's) were cut short. Prematurely.

They came with an expiry date set by their abuser: something very characteristic of this foreshortened future feeling, though not unique to survivors of abusive home environments (e.g. if you experienced natural disasters over many years, yet had a loving family, you could also feel like you may not live long). And Hunter's experience of seeing the grimwalker graveyard in Hollow Mind is a shockingly visceral and visual metaphor to symbolize a concept like this, which matches perfectly with his symptomology as a Complex PTSD survivor.

The battle for inner peace has a high price: it is ongoing, and extends beyond him being physically free from Belos. Because Hunter can't just trim away the Belos-related memories from his earliest years and formative years. He can't forget, but he can choose to give those memories less attention, and choose not to let them take the steering wheel in the long-term.

In my opinion, the possession scenes don't just portray the physical experience of an abuser returning to try regaining control or restoring the status quo of having the survivor in their grasp.

The scenes also represent the abuser's imprint upon the survivor that lasts beyond the duration for which Belos is present in Hunter's life. Belos is the kind of abuser that is so insidious that he knows he could leave some marks that outlast his directly physical presence, in the event that he meets his own end. He would have definitely thought about this. Leaving the kind of grisly reminders that won't ever technically fade away (not to be confused with how they can certainly "fade further into the background" via therapy, new positive experiences and the support of loved ones).

For example, the patterns of the permanent scars on Hunter look so much like the patterns on Philip's own face and body. When possessed, the markings were dark green, later faded to the colour of scar tissue once Belos leaves his body.

As we all know, it's hella sad to imagine Hunter having to look at himself in mirrors throughout the rest of his life. It was awful enough that he had the haircut-related panic attack.

If we tie all that back to the symptom of a foreshortened-future view: Hunter might be left with a spooky nebulous feeling (that will alternate between coming back to haunt him, and subsiding) that he too has some expiry date that is different from how the people around him naturally and confidently expect to live a substantially long life. As a cult survivor with C-PTSD, Hunter can't afford the luxury of those natural expectations.

I don't mean that he might plan a day in the future to end his own life, not at all. But he may have a strange ghostly expectation of how long more he has till his life may come to an end, and he wouldn't be sure of how this subconscious expectation came about.

The darker days of navigating the confusing mess of his complex trauma may feel like exhaustion from paddling and swimming to keep your head above water to breathe.

Speaking of water and drowning, plus the theme of sinking down vs. rising back up above the water surface...the fact that Camila jumped in to bring him back up, his friends helped to pull him out, and Flapjack passes new life to him...this is also some crazy powerful symbolism for surviving complex trauma.

Falling back on a support network, your "tribe", that won't abandon you.

My other Hunter analyses (link) go into more detail about his support network and why he needs it.

I was talking to a friend about all this: she has relevant lived experience and mentioned that poor Hunter would reach a milestone birthday and perhaps cry at least a bit on that day, maybe even during the birthday party: out of sheer confusion. The confusion would be silently screaming "But...this doesn't...make sense?". And he might feel confusing waves of darker emotions along with a strange sense of joy.

He may make a decision to start a family with Willow, and a confused questioning voice will bother him now and then with "How are you still here, doing this and living to see this?".

(...also, when is his birthday...? Is it documented in some Emperor's Coven records that they will find..? Even the mere concept of having a birthday is messed up for him to think about, given the purpose behind his creation)

Complex trauma changes its survivors' relationships with the world, not just with people, and this can even apply to their relationships with things like joy and how joy is experienced.

Flapjack's absence would have bred survivor's guilt. It might translate into Hunter questioning whether he is worth the love and effort his friends put in for him. This feeling could emerge at random moments over the years in his life.

Visually, I feel that these two frames - the lighting (which I'd say is unique among all his scenes because they are parts of his arc that stand out so much), his pose, his expression - somehow capture the experience of how complex trauma is chronic and long-term:

The currently most known C-PTSD memoir out there, What My Bones Know by journalist Stephanie Foo, has some content that I feel matches nicely with what Hunter is experiencing in the two separate scenes above.

The author describes something she calls "the dread" (if you get the book, it's first mentioned on page 51). I would call it the amalgamation of multiple things such as shame, the fear of impending harm, self-doubt where you question whether you did something wrong, fearing that someone hates you, etc.

And basically, good lord my poor boy in the first screenshot..with that expression of suspecting what he thought was Belos's presence in the room: something about it fits the book author's words, feeling like she was "on the precipice of fucking everything up".

That's certainly something that would cross Hunter's mind multiple times as he processes the worst night of his life. That he could have done something to prevent all that.

With so much pre-existing worry that his friends and family might actually hate him, the possession scenes and Flapjack's death would definitely shake his foundation and I'm sure he isn't past this kind of ingrained thought pattern at all:

Second, the book author calls C-PTSD a shapeshifting "beast" (page 316). And when she fights it, she must use a different strategy depending on what form it takes, and that it will keep coming back from time to time in another form. Which is why there is a particular exhaustion one feels from having to adapt to each battle.

For Hunter, the second screencap of him fighting Belos's coercion in a direct physical manner is the first of many battles he has to win in his mind, even after Belos is gone for good. Outlasting whatever invisible assailant is trying to get him, as he faces inevitable episodes of being retraumatized in the future: these are called emotional flashbacks (one of the symptoms of C-PTSD).

Being a survivor of complex trauma who experiences a weird sense of time via a foreshortened-future view, can feel like being on the outside looking in.

But! To end this meta on a hopeful note, I should reiterate something from my most recent long meta about Retraumatization vs. Self-Soothing, the first part of Hunter's important speech in Thanks to Them touches on wild magic and palisman. Wild magic represents freedom, while palismen (quoting the Bat Queen) represent close bonds in relationships, emotion, and conviction.

Applying this to how we can navigate the swampy waters of a foreshortened-future view, Hunter can use his newfound freedom and sense of agency to create the story he'd like to tell about his life. It is pretty much impossible to avoid bringing beliefs from our young formative years into adulthood. But expectations (which have a direct link with emotions we end up feeling) of ourselves and of life can be altered over time, so they become less rigid and instead more open to new possibilities.

He has an inquisitive mind which is a big plus point in understanding the impact of what he has been through, and I have full faith that he'll do just fine in that regard because of the courage we have seen in him.

Among the hobbies he explores in the future, flyer derby will be one example of an excellent outlet for him because of its physicality: trauma and grief are not only emotional battlegrounds but also highly physical ones. The body is also very much involved e.g. feeling the lead-like weight of depressive moods in one's body, feeling the physical tension of hypervigilance, etc.

It's fantastic that he has Luz, Willow, Gus and company, he will have a very meaningful career, and he'll have everyone else in his large found family.

His story...his heart...his resilience and vitality...it's all truly inspirational.

We might learn even more about the grimwalkers in the finale and that would undoubtedly prompt me to do a shorter Part 2 on top of this meta.

[tobiasdrake]

I wonder, is it possible to look at the way Raditz, Nappa, and Vegeta fight (maybe Bardock's team, too, if you think Toriyama had enough involvement in those animated projects) to reconstruct any general principles of Saiyan martial arts training?

I talked a bit about Raditz and Nappa here as well as going into a particular Saiyan technique I find interesting here.

It is interesting to note that both Nappa and Vegeta are proficient in that technique to varying degrees, while Raditz is not. Raditz is completely basic as a fighter, having not even trained out his tail weakness when Nappa and Vegeta have.

Though it's not clear if this implies that the elites as a whole receive better instruction than the low-class Saiyans, or if Nappa's simply reaped the benefits of following Vegeta around more closely than Raditz, and doing whatever he does.

Though they do have some distinctive arts, such as the previously discussed remote detonation technique. That both Nappa and Vegeta are familiar with it implies a bit of standardization. In fact, Vegeta knows all the top-tier Saiyan arts.

He can even rattle off the science behind Oozaru transformations. He's kind of a nerd. That's an interesting note to keep in mind when thinking about his relationship to Bulma.

(He's also vain about his beauty, fun fact.)

Dude was putting off the Oozaru transformation because it's ugly so he didn't wanna.

By Vegeta's admission, the fake moon technique is one of the most advanced techniques in Saiyan martial arts. And. Uh. Yeah. Yeah, compressing the planet's atmosphere with a continuous ki sphere in order to create a finely tuned reflection of sunlight that produces a certain kind of radiation....

Yeah, that sounds complex as fuck. No wonder only nerds super-elites like Vegeta can do it.

The Oozaru is the primary mechanism by which Saiyans destroy worlds.

With that in mind, it makes sense that the ultimate and most complex Saiyan martial art is the ability to manually induce this transformation. The most devastating thing a Saiyan can ever do in a fistfight is find a way to become the Oozaru despite environmental limitations.

Their battle plan revolves so heavily around this transformation, they've even developed battle armor that stretches to accommodate the vast increase in size. Everything they do as hand-to-hand fighters is a fallback for when the Oozaru is not available.

As he notes above, Vegeta specifically chose a full-moon night to attack Earth on in order to let him and Nappa access their full power - Though Nappa died before the moon came out. And also Piccolo blew up the moon after Nappa and Raditz entered their spaceflight stasis sleep, so that was a non-starter.

Raditz wasn't intending to fight when he came to Earth; He was just here to pick up his brother and things spiraled out of hand from there. So he didn't have the luxury of the full moon or the technical skill to compress atmosphere and compensate.

What this means is that a large portion of Saiyan battle strategy has never really been depicted. The only properly trained Saiyan warrior in Oozaru state we've ever seen was Vegeta here.

And he's fighting a Goku who already burned out his body from a Kaio-ken x4 he couldn't contain, so the competition is next to zero. Goku lands some solid hits on Vegeta because... Well, he's Counter-Fighter Goku. He's the master at breaking down his foe and making the most of whatever he's got.

Motherfucker you've been on death's door for the last five minutes how dare

Goku is obnoxious to have to fight. Truly.

But because the only proper fight we ever with a fully-trained Oozaru is against the like 5% Goku has left in his tank, we never get to see the Oozaru properly tested. Whatever its full capabilities truly are, that remains known only to them and the races they've destroyed.

As for Bardock, Toriyama had little involvement beyond assisting with character design, as is typical of his involvement with the anime specials. Though it's interesting to note that he loved the Bardock special. Toriyama rarely even bothered to watch the anime of his own work, but he had high praise to sing of Bardock.

"I really like the story of Bardock, Goku’s father. It’s quite dramatic, and the kind of story 'I absolutely wouldn’t draw' if it were me. It was like watching a different kind of Dragon Ball in a good way, so I thought it was nice."

Bardock captivated Toriyama for being a take on Dragon Ball he, himself, wouldn't have been able to make. Which. Made it funny. Years later in Dragon Ball Minus. When he tried to make it. And arguably proved himself right. But I digress.

Toriyama liked Bardock so much, he even canonized the special for the manga.

Toriyama fucking loved this special. This rarely happened. The only other time a character created for the anime ended up appearing in the manga, it was to canonize the concept of the Kaios being a set of Four Heavenly Kings rather than the one guy.

Papaya is a fruit and fruits work for Frieza. What are you not telling us, South Kaio? I'm on to you.

And then, decades later, the bestest boy of Dragon Ball Super.

Love him so much.

[dylanblakesgal]

Cooper Howard qotues

Why, is this an Amish production of The Count of Monte Cristo or... just the weirdest circle jerk I've ever been invited to?" – The Ghoul after being awoken

"Well, what makes you think I'd give a good goddamn about that?" – The Ghoul to Honcho about a bounty

"Well, I tell you what, boys, whenever somebody says... ...they're doing one last job, that usually means their heart's not in it. Probably never was. But for me, well... I do this shit for the love of the game." – The Ghoul to the bounty hunters

"You right, friend, about one thing. This right here was your last job. My paycheck wasn't quite what you expected, but... well, you know what they say. Us cowpokes... ...we take it as it comes." – The Ghoul while murdering Honcho

"Now, last night a bounty came in through all six agencies. A hefty price on the head of a man that fits the description of that fella right there. Now, I may not know much, but I do know a bidding war when I see one." – The Ghoul about the bounty for Dr. Wilzig

"Well, now, that is a very small drop in a very, very large bucket of drugs." – The Ghoul after being shot at by Lucy

"You got to be fucking kidding me." – The Ghoul after seeing Maximus' arrival

"Well, I'd say come up here and get me, but... it's hard to walk upstairs when you're wearing a 12-piece cast-iron skillet set." – The Ghoul to Maximus.

"Well, I guess basic training ain't what it used to be. 'Cause you drive that thing like a fucking shopping cart. Rule number one: read the manual." – The Ghoul taunting Maximus

"Yeah, well, the Wasteland's got its own golden rule. [...] Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time."

"Well, Lucy MacLean, it ain't all canned peaches and marmalade left up here, sweetheart. Sometimes a fella's got to eat a fella." – The Ghoul while harvesting Roger's remains

"I'll bet that outfit makes y'all fell like a big man, don't it? Well, I know 'cause, well I used to wear one back in the day. There was only one problem with it. There was a flaw in the welding just below the chest plate. I wonder if they fixed that in this new model? I guess not." – The Ghoul confronting the Brotherhood.

"Oh, you want another autograph, young Henry? Feo, fuerte y formal." – The Ghoul to Hank MacLean.

"When your daughter said her last name was MacLean, well, I just couldn't believe it was the MacLean. Hell, this kid used to pick up my wife's dry cleaning. Now, I've waited over 200 years to ask somebody one question. Where's my fucking family?" – The Ghoul confronting Hank MacLean.

"War never changes. You look out at this Wasteland, looks like chaos. But there's always somebody behind the wheel. And that's who I want to talk to. That's where your daddy is headed." – The Ghoul to Lucy Maclean.

John Hancock quotes

Of the people, for the people."

"Plenty of folks wanna make life hard for people just tryin' to survive. I'm not willing to stand for that kinda shit."

"What kind of settlement requires a test for entry?" – Referring to Covenant.

"Whoa, the Downs. Hope we're not going anywhere for a while." – Referring to Easy City Downs.

"That kinda bull is the reason I became mayor in the first place." – Referring to The Big Dig

"Damn. Hey, look, if you wanna get outta here..." – If taken to Nate/Nora's corpse in Vault 111.

"If someone needs help, we help 'em. If someone needs hurting, we hurt 'em. It's not hard."

"Like it? I think it gives me a sexy, king of the zombies kinda look. Big hit with the ladies."

"Hey, does that play "Red Menace?" Love that damn game." – Accessing a terminal

"Looks like you can use a little pick me up." – Said when initiating dialogue with him as a companion (and him giving the player character a random chem)

"Whoa ho ho, I like you already! Walk into a new place, make a show of dominance. Nice." – referring to the Sole Survivor killing Finn

"Listen close. It's the last thing you're ever gonna hear." – When Sinjin tells the player character to stop speaking as The Silver Shroud

"Christ, it's bright in here. Clearly they didn't consider some folks might be nursing hangovers. " – Possible comment when entering Vault 81.

If completing The Big Dig with Bobbi No-Nose:

"How you doin' killer? Arms tired from all that digging? You know, my strongroom is surprisingly empty now..."

"Now if it was just the money, I'd rough you up, break a few bones, and then we'd be square once you paid me back. But you killed Fahrenheit. That means blood for blood."

When traveling naked:

"Hey Emperor, love the outfit."

"Let them stare."

"Don't mind me, just enjoying the view"

When committing Cannibalism:

"Suppose they're...beyond caring at this point"

"You...you do what you gotta"

"That one...all yours"

"At least you have the politeness to wait til they're dead"

When using chems:

"Two a day, keep reality at bay."

"Lean back and enjoy the ride."

"That's a good one, take it all in."

"Never trip alone."

When getting Addiction:

"You feel as bad as you look?"

"Wow, how much did you take?"

"'ay, you should slow down, and that's ME saying that"

When not responding while talking with him:

"Did I say something wrong?"

"You wanna talk? Make me a little nervous over here."

"What gives? I thought we were talking."

"Did your chems just kick in or something?"

"Like talking to a brick wall."

"Hmm, lights are on but no one's home."

"What? Mole rat got your tongue?"

"Uhm... You alright?"

"You check out on me?"

"Anybody in there?"

"That's right. Take it all in

After committing to a close relationship

"Words don't begin to do it justice. You, you're the best thing I got."

"Guess you're the piece I'd always missing...that and that toe I still can't find..."

"It's like I found a part of myself I never realized was missing... which happens sometimes when you're a ghoul."

"Nothing to lose but each other."

"Moments like this, I know all that karma stuff is bull. Because no one like me should be this lucky."

"You sure you wanna be stuck with this ugly mug?"

When Lover's Embrace is activated:

"Morning, sunshine."

"Well look at you. I must still be dreamin'..."

"Don't mind me... just enjoying the view."

Upon picking up junk:

"Careful! You don't know where that's been."

"That actually worth something?"

"If anybody could find a use for that."

Upon looting a corpse:

"Time to collect."

"To the living, go the spoils."

When the Brotherhood of Steel arrives in the Commonwealth:

"Holy shit." – When witnessing the Prydwen's arrival.

"Brotherhood knows how to make an entrance. I'll give 'em that." – When commenting on the Brotherhood

Cooper Howard VS John Hancock quotes these two has some good quotes it's hard to pick one for me I say both anyways you can use these for Headcannons, Edits, Memes, and so on I just put these here so it's easier for some people to use them I also tag people if your interested talk in the messages there open I have so many things I want to make but the next one is going to get Cooper Howard and John Hancock with Serena I was thinking doing a Picture Edit with some quotes and yes I do requests too.

[flowersareverypretty]

All The Different Ways We Heal

Summer of Bad Batch 2024, Week 2: Injured

(Ao3)

No editing done, so be mindful of errors

Everyone has different ways they heal from injuries. 

As cadets, the members of the bad batch were no strangers to injuries. Many were minor cuts and scrapes or forming bruises here and there. But sometimes they would end up needing stitches to sew up large gashes or casts to heal broken bones. 

When Hunter was on the receiving end of those types of wounds, the other knew to keep as quiet as they could. Hunter’s senses were already at heightened levels because of his enchantment; pain would triple that, leading into a constant state of overstimulation until he was able to fully heal. 

So once Hunter curled up on his bunk after a nasty injury, he would be left alone. The others would make sure to bring food and water or anything else he might need but nothing more than that. If there was ever a fight starting up in their quarters, they would quickly leave and continue on in a place far from Hunter’s hearing. 

Wrecker was a different story. He was often injured given that he would charge into battle simulations head first without prepared backup. It was common to find him snuggling up with another member of the team after a serious visit to the medbay. If, for any reason, he wasn't able to cuddle his brothers, he would use Lula as a substitute. 

The others never really minded Wrecker’s need for physical touch. They knew it helped him feel better and were always ready to be his next snuggle victim. They would often find themselves falling asleep in his arms.

Tech was the most interesting of the bunch. The first time he got injured, everyone was surprised when beelined to Hunter and leaned against him with a satisfied sigh. He had seemed like someone who wouldn't like to receive any kind of touch, especially in pain. But no, Tech seeked comfort from his brothers. After a while they noticed he didn't just do that when hurt. If Tech wasn't able to stim through tinkering or if it just wasn’t satisfying enough, he would lay his head in Hunter’s lap as Hunter ran his fingers through his hair. It was a way to relegate himself. 

They also realized that Tech liked being able to hear his brothers when relaxing. It was a way for him to make sure they were nearby. Most afternoons would end with Hunter’s hands in Tech’s hair with Crosshair and Wrecker retelling stories from earlier that day. 

When Crosshair was ever injured, he enjoyed when his brothers doted on him. When they would bring him food or fluff up his flat pillows. He appreciated the acts of service each did for him as he healed. Tech would sit by his bedside tending to a bandaged cut or replace a dry wetcloth on his forehead if he had a fever. 

Interestingly enough, Crosshair also seeked comfort from the others humming soft tunes. No one in the squad was able to sing every well but they would often hum any familiar songs they knew. They wouldn’t complain doing so either if it allowed Crosshair to relax any tensed up muscles.

When Echo joined, they learned that he liked just being able to hear the voices of his comrades. The only trouble was the constant aches or sores he would build up from the implants he had. It was common to find Echo resting with Tech leading against the bunk’s frame as he read from a training manual or a new article study that Tech recently found. 

If Tech wasn't available, then Echo would start a conversation with one of his other brothers. Most of the time it was Hunter, they end up talking about the missions they had been on and the people they had met during them. It was always able to distract Echo from the constant pain he was in. It made him appreciate what the squad does for him. 

It was a major adjustment when Omega entered into their life. She wasn't one to rest after getting injured. Oftentimes, she would try to hide the injury and no one would know until long after she had healed from it. Hunter and his brothers had hope it was something she would grow out of. That she was only doing so to look tough to her brothers. But they were wrong. Hunter had almost fainted when she casually walked into their home on Pabu after a day out and announced she had broken her ankle. 

She was never one to stay down. They would have to force her to lay down and rest. It only ever worked half the time. She would comply just to make them calm down and then once they left, she was back up and off doing her own thing. It was one of the many reason why Hunter worried for her when she joined the rebellion.

[karahalloway]

Morally Grey - Part IV: Covert Affairs

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Morally Grey

Synopsis: Drake meets his handler...and realises that he is in deeper than he thought...

Word count: 4,200

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, lemony-ness, references to death and carnage)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: I know this is not necessarily what people were hoping that I have been working on (poor Intentions keeps getting sidelined...! 😫) but this is where my brain has been for the past month.

A/N2: Associated clips from the movie for this chapter are below:

I jerk awake with a start.

The russet light of the late afternoon sun pools into the room, smearing the sheets tangled 'round my legs in a warm crimson.

My brows draw together. How and when did I end up in bed?

Running a hand down my face, my mind tracks somewhat groggily back to the events of this morning...

...to land bodily on me fucking Gale right there on the kitchen counter.

I shake my head. No, that can't be—

The rustle of the sheets draws my attention, and my gaze collides with the mess of honey-gold curls spread across the pillows...

...and the bare shoulder poking out from beneath the covers.

My eyes clench shut. "Shit..."

I shouldn't've touched her. That's what set this whole thing off. I should've just kept my hands to myself, or offered her a damn serviette. But I hadn't been thinking, and I'd let the heat of the moment carry me across the very clearly marked line that I've been told never to fucking cross.

Because a kiss — or two — is one thing. Not sanctioned by any official means, and definitely not one you'll find allowance for in any kind of training manual. But the rules are one thing, and real life is another. And if push comes to shove, a kiss can double as a well-timed distraction, or even as a potent lure. And Christ knows it's saved my ass more times than I want to count...

But locking lips with Gale had been different. It'd felt different. There'd been no thought, no planning, nothing even close to resembling a rational choice... Just a wild shot cracked off into the night with no target in sight.

And while I can BS myself 'round the circumstances that led to the first instance — the adrenaline, the cortisol, the heated argument — I sure as hell can't acquit myself regarding the second...

...except by virtue of the fact that I'd wanted to do it.

I'd wanted to taste her again, to hear her gasp against my mouth as her nails scraped down my skin. I'd wanted to leave her breathless, to make her forget her name, and scream out mine instead.

Because as good as she'd looked in that lace dress, that get-up had been a mere smokescreen. A calculated camouflage designed to achieve her objective back at the manor.

And it wasn't until she let her hair down that the mask slipped off... and I caught a taste of who she really was.

As beneath the firecracker façade and the biting wisecracks lay an almost naked authenticity that I thought had been wiped from this world... or at least from the world that I now inhabit. There was no bullshitting this girl, and she wasn't gonna hold back, neither. And honestly? That was like the taste of a damp breeze after an endless summer of drought.

Cracking my eyes open, I sneak a glance over at her. She's still asleep, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, her features verging almost on innocent...

...except there'd been nothing innocent about the way she'd fucked me right back.

A low groan escapes me as I'm hit with the memory of her legs slung over my shoulders, her hands gripping the marble above her head as she slammed back against me with each violent stroke.

Sweet Jesus, she'd felt good...

As if to reaffirm that assessment, my dick twitches against the constraints of the sheets.

And even though I know it's a bad idea to pursue this liaison even a fraction of an inch further — you don't mix business with pleasure, period, let alone in this line of work, where emotional entanglements will literally get you killed — the only thing I want is to lose myself in her all over again, consequences be fucked.

Which is why — against my better judgement, and against every goddamn protocol — I find myself reaching across to run a fingertip across her delicate skin.

Because let's face it... I'm already up shit creek. So, I may as well ditch the paddle.

Her nose scrunches into a brief mou of disapproval, before she grabs the top of the covers to twist away from me...

...presenting the bareness of her backside in the process.

My gaze dives south like a fish on a lure to trace down the smooth expanse of her back, before settling on the dark cleft nestled between her cheeks... and the promise of its final destination.

Because if that's not a blatant fuckin' invitation, I don't know what is.

Kicking whatever reservations I may have left to the curb — which, if I'm being honest with myself, ain't a whole damn lot to begin with — I slip a hand 'neath the sheets.

Finding the warmth of her skin, my palm tracks briefly upwards to round her hip, before sliding down towards the coveted V between her legs.

She stirs briefly in response to my explorations, but doesn't quite come to...

...which makes me wonder just how far I can push my luck before she catches me out.

Shifting my weight slightly, I prop myself up onto an elbow, gaze trained on her face as my fingers seek their target.

Coasting over the soft flesh of her mons, I hear a low moan rush out of her as she moves against my hand.

My dick bucks against the small of her back like an over-eager hound on a leash, impatient to be let loose. But I keep myself in check, letting the anticipation build one hair's breadth at a time.

Because it's sure as hell gonna be worth it.

Slipping a finger into the heat of her folds, I seek her clit... and groan out loud when I come into contact with the veritable wellspring hidden within.

Because to say that she's wet is an understatement. Every inch of her is still coated in the aftermath of our combined climaxes and my fingers come out soaked.

Damn, that shit should be 'gainst the law...

But as much as a part of me wants to skip the foreplay and just yank her backwards onto my raging hard on, I force myself to take a steadying breath.

Because we erupted outta the gate once already today like a pair of wild broncos, jumping each other before our clothes had fully hit the deck.

And even though that'd been exactly what we'd needed after last night, this time I want to dial it back a gear... to feel her out... to make it last.

As who knows what kind of shit IMF is planning to throw our way when I finally pull my renitent ass outta bed? We could be going deep undercover... Behind enemy lines... Or even off-grid...

So, I'd rather steal the moment now, when I know I have it, than kick myself down the line when neither of us'll be able to avail ourselves of each other.

Because let's face it — Constantine yanked me off of my overdue vacation. So, as far as I'm concerned, he owes me a fuck-ton of time in lieu. And I'm planning to claim it. With interest.

"Mmm..." she moans, vindicating my decision as I start to tease her slick bud.

She twists against me and I drop my head to feather a kiss on her shoulder, drinking in her unguarded reactions as I pull her steadily towards the precipice of consciousness.

Her mouth parts with a more audible gasp as I find her sweet spot. "Drake..."

The sound of my name cascading off her lips like a breathless prayer causes my teeth to sink into her skin.

Fuck, that's hot...

"You awake yet?" I growl, tacitly pressing the issue with the addition of another finger.

"What if...I say... no...?" she mumbles, arcing against me half in protest, half in unabated need.

"I'd say you're a dirty liar," I counter, trailing my tongue up towards her neck.

She scoffs breathlessly, fighting the inevitable. "Yeah, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Walker?"

"Perks of the job," I smirk, nipping her ear.

She snorts back at me. "Not sure I'd call that a perk...!"

"Trust me," I grit, snapping her to me. "It's a definite perk."

She yelps as I roll her on top of me in one quick motion, leaving her spread-eagled with her back pressed against my chest.

Wedging her legs apart before she can think to argue, I shove my fingers deep inside her.

"Drake!" she cries, nearly lifting off of me at the sudden intensity.

"Case in point," I smirk, snapping a strategic hand over her breast to pin her back down against me.

She arcs into my hand. "You're such an ass..."

"You sayin' you'd rather wait a decent interval?"

She lifts her arm to tangle her fingers into my hair. "Who wants to be decent?"

"That's what I thought..." I drawl, circling her nipple with a lazy thumb while curling my fingers inside of her.

"You treat..." she gasps, even as her body strains for more, "...all your accomplices like this?"

"You mean, like this?"

"I— Ah...!" she gasps, free hand slapping onto my wrist in desperation as I add a third finger.

"I can stop any time..." I say, sliding in and out of her with deliberate slowness.

She snaps a hold 'round my dick. "Liar."

I swallow a groan with some difficulty. "Got me there, girl..."

She bursts into a laugh above me. "Guess we're just as bad as each other, aren't we?"

"Baby..." I grin, gliding my hand up to her neck. "There ain't enough time in the world for any of this to be bad."

"You say that now, cowboy..." she purrs, teasing me just as relentlessly as I'm teasing her. "But you're a spy in bed with a thief."

"Your point?"

"Right and wrong got left at the door."

I scoff dryly. "D'you wanna go find it?"

"It's a bit late for that..."

I frown. "Thought thieves weren't supposed to have a conscience..."

"Everyone picks up bad habits..." she admits with a rueful exhale.

Something in her tone gives me pause.

Slipping my fingers out of her, I tip her face towards mine...

...to find her hazel gaze welling with uncharacteristic vulnerability.

"Hey," I say, brushing my thumb across the underside of her jaw. "If you're having second thoughts—"

She shakes her head. "It's not that."

"Then?"

"Can I really trust you?" she whispers, almost too quiet for me to hear.

"To the grave," I affirm, holding her gaze.

She snorts softly. "Why do I believe you?"

"'Cause it's the truth," I say simply, rolling her beneath me. "I meant everything I said on that bridge."

"That's what I was worried about..."

"Why?"

"Because," she sighs, wrapping her arms 'round my neck, "this whole thing would be a lot less complicated if you were just another regular two-faced jerk..."

I shake my head with another scoff. "Think that's the first time anyone's called out honesty as a personality flaw."

"I've been disappointed one too many times..." she admits with a rueful roll of her eyes.

"Any chance of setting the record straight?"

"You can try," she shrugs coyly. "But it won't be easy."

"Good," I drawl, closing the distance between us. "I like a challenge."

Her lips tilt up to meet mine, and as I sink back into her, a realisation hits me like a freight train.

I'd do anything for this girl...

It's pitch black by the time I step out onto the street.

But that doesn't mean the city is asleep. The exact opposite, in fact.

The warm sea breeze catches my still-damp hair, bringing with it the shouts and laughter of the locals and tourists thronging the city for the annual Lantern Festival.

And — to be fair to them — it really is a sight to see. Thousands of hand-made lanterns are cast aloft to drift lazily across the city, carrying the hopes and dreams of their makers skywards.

Which is great.

But wishes ain't gonna save the world. So, I still got a job to do.

Adjusting the lapels of the hastily thrown-on leather jacket, I cast one last glance back at the building — and the lone glow of light emanating from the upstairs window — before plunging into the crowd.

I hadn't planned to run the clock down so much. But Gale was apparently a more potent distraction than initially advertised. And by the time I'd even thought to come up for air, it was already well past sundown.

Not that I strictly give a damn.

What I do on my own time is my business — no one else's. And I'd chosen to do Gale. Three more times, in fact. Plus, once more in the shower.

But, unfortunately, I'm now running behind schedule and I need to step to it if I'm gonna make the meet before the end of the 48-hour deadline.

Weaving through the throngs of tourists and locals crowding the narrow streets, I head east towards the city's old quarter.

Hawkers thrust flowers, lanterns, and light-up pinwheels at me, but I brush them off, intent on my destination.

Turning a corner, I arrive at an unassuming gap between two buildings. Slipping into the alleyway, I come upon a faded, wooden door. Locating the intercom, I quickly tap in my unique agent identifier to activate the obligatory retinal scan.

One quick database check, and the lock clicks back.

"Welcome, Agent Walker," chirps the automated voice as the door swings open.

Stepping over the threshold, I find myself in a brightly lit foyer that is in stark contrast to the dilapidated exterior of the building.

Modern minimalist pendant lights illuminate the space, making the spotless Carrara marble that decks the floor shine as if it were wet.

"He is expecting you," advises the receptionist from behind her desk. "Upstairs, first floor."

"Thanks," I nod, turning towards the elevator.

Pressing the call button, the doors ping immediately open and I hit the request for the first floor. One short ride later, I'm stepping out onto industrial carpet.

"Right this way, Agent Walker," indicates a suited Joe sporting a buzzcut and an earpiece.

I shake my head as I fall in behind the guard. The White House wishes it had this kind of security...

Arriving at the pair of double doors, the guard swipes a keycard to let me through.

Constantine is standing on the far side of the room, hands tucked into the pockets of his immaculately tailored suit, gazing out the window.

"Festival's a pain in the ass," he declares, watching the revelry at street level. "You have to wonder how the city manages to avoid setting itself on fire... Please, sit."

I pull out a leather-backed chair from beneath the large tempered glass table and park myself in it.

"I presume things went to plan with Miss Gale?" he asks, back still to me.

"More or less," I admit.

"Good," he nods. "At least that's one thing that hasn't blown up in our face..." Turning to face me, he adds, "I'm sorry I barged in on your vacation."

I shrug. "Sorry I didn't let you know where I was."

"Wouldn't be much of a vacation if you did..." he counters. "We all need time off every once in a while."

"Yeah, well," I say dismissively. "Best laid plans and all that..."

"Quite," he chuckles, spreading his hands over the top of the table. "We'd both be out of the job if nothing ever went awry."

"True," I agree. "But you're sorry and I'm sorry. So—"

"Why did you phrase it like that?"

I frown. "Like what?"

"You're sorry," he repeats, eyeing me intently. "And I'm sorry."

A scoff slides out of me. "You've got to be shitting me..."

"I am very much afraid not," he murmurs, sliding a tablet towards me.

I catch the device on instinct, eyes still on my handler. But whatever he knows, he's not willing to reveal. At least not yet.

Swiping my thumb across the screen to unlock it, I am confronted with a video file.

My finger hovers for a split second above the play icon, wondering what the hell this is all about, before I tap down onto the glass.

Here comes the rabbit hole...

As expected, the familiar face of Dr. Balen Arion fills the screen, albeit older and more haggard than when I last saw him close to a decade ago.

"Do you remember, Draven, when we first met?" the recording asks. "You convinced me that there was a chance of a better world... if each of us made better choices. Well, old friend, I am sorry to say that I failed... As in my zealous pursuit of our hero Bellerophon, I stumbled instead upon... a Chimera."

Balan reaches up to rub his eyes painedly beneath his glasses.

"History will be the final arbiter of my legacy, but in the meantime, I beg you, Draven, come to New York and accompany me to Geneva, immediately. But, however we travel, I must arrive at my destination, within 20 hours of the time-stamp of this message. I fear I can entrust this to no one but you. As we say, 'I'm sorry and you're sorry'..."

The video cuts out.

"Do you have any idea what in the blazes he's on about?" asks Constantine.

"An idea?" I mutter, still staring at the screen. "Yeah."

"Which is?"

"That it's a good idea to pick him up in a hurry. And a bad idea to fly him on a commercial carrier." I flip the tablet back to the end of the table. "So, let's get to it. Is he still in New York?"

"Dr. Balen Arion is dead," Constantine declares. "So is his colleague Damien Dan. But that happened earlier."

My head snaps up. "How?"

"The American Airlines flight he was on went down over the Atlantic. The search for survivors is still ongoing, but at this point, all 467 souls onboard are lost, presumed dead."

Something doesn't compute. "How the hell did you convince him to get on that plane without me?"

A ghost of a smile flicks across the old man's lips. "Oh, you were there..."

My guts hit the floor. Oh, fuck.

"Arion gave us a tight deadline," Constantine explains, opening up another file on the tablet and shunting it back to me, "So, when we couldn't find you, we had to replace you. Christian Rhys was the obvious choice."

The device skids to a stop in front of me and I watch with growing aggravation as a physiognomic algorithm maps out my features before transposing them onto Chris' to create a virtual mock-up of a full-face mask.

Of all the damn—

"Agent Rhys doubled you, what...?" The old man's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Two, three times?"

"Twice," I grunt, tossing the tablet back at him again.

Constantine catches the device with one hand. "What did you think of him?"

"We're not exactly compatible," I bite out acerbically. "Isn't it a little late in the damn day to be asking me that?

"Not necessarily..."

"Jesus fucking—"

The tablet slides into my eyeline again.

"Official AA records list a Captain James T. Arnolds as the pilot for the ill-fated flight," Constantine advises, as a slideshow of photos plays. "And as far as the media and all governmental agencies are concerned, Captain Arnolds met the same watery fate as the rest of his crew."

Images of what the rescue effort could salvage of the wreckage spin past on the screen.

My jaw tightens. Damn, that's a shit way to go...

"However, that is not quite what happened," my handler reveals. "It appears that the poor captain ran into a spot of bother with ground control. Something about lost and unclaimed luggage..."

A gruesome photo of a beat-up body spilling out of a duffle bag in ways that should not be physically possible flashes up before me.

"So, we're dealing with a hijacking," I surmise tightly.

"It would appear so, yes," Constantine nods. "Whoever downed that flight was skilfull enough to cover their tracks and make it look like an accident. Well... Almost an accident. Captain Arnolds' body turning up unexpectedly at Heathrow certainly raises some awkward questions."

I flick the tablet away. "As does an IMF agent gone rogue."

Constantine meets my eye from across the table. "So, you think it was Rhys."

I scoff. "Arian was a world-renowned microbiologist who specialised in DNA-RNA recombination. Whatever he was in such a hurry to get to the WHO in Geneva was obviously valuable enough for Chris to bring an entire plane down over."

"With a name like Chimera, I presume it's safe to assume that we're dealing with some novel form of virus?" my handler muses. "One that has the potential to be turned into a bio-weapon?"

"Given that Arion started his career in a Drakovian basement trying to weaponise the common cold?" I ask sardonically. "Yeah... That's a definite possibility."

Constantine nods. "In that case, you've got to recover this so-called Chimera and bring it to us."

"No shit," I agree. "We just need to figure out who he plans on selling this thing to."

"That is where Miss Gale comes in."

"How?" I snark. "By getting her to pose as the buyer? No way. Even with her skills as a thief, it's—"

"That isn't quite what I meant, Drake..."

I frown. "Then...?"

"Miss Gale and Agent Rhys had a relationship," Constantine advises evenly. "One that he took very seriously. She walked away, and he's been wanting her back ever since. I have been assured that she is our surest and quickest way of flushing him out."

"So, let me get this straight..." I bite out with more difficulty than I'd've thought possible, given that I only just met this girl. "You want to use her as some kind of swallow to set up a honey trap op?"

"If you want to put such a crude label on it," comes the dispassionate response. "The goal is for him to confide in her — the identity of the buyer, the details of the meet, anything that may be useful — and report back to you. If sex is required to fulfill that objective, then she is well within her rights to resort to it. No one's going to judge her for her actions. She is a civilian, after all."

"You made it sound like I was recruiting her for her skills as a thief," I accuse, my voice dripping with acridity.

"Well, then I mislead you," Constantine admits, spreading his palms. "Or you made the wrong assumption. Either way, we're merely asking her to resume a prior relationship, not do anything she hasn't already done."

My lips pull back to reveal teeth. "She's got no training for this kind of thing..."

"You mean, to go to bed with a man and lie to him?" Constantine smirks. "She's a woman. She's got all the training she needs."

I shoot up from the chair, fists clenched.

Constantine meets my eye calmly.

I turn away, jaw tight. "I don't think I can get her to do it."

"You mean it will be difficult?"

"You haven't met her," I tell him dryly.

"Well, Agent Walker," declares the old man from behind me. "This is not Mission: Difficult. This is Mission: Impossible. Difficult should be a walk in the park for you."

I run my hand through my hair with an acerbic scoff.

Saddling and riding a damn croc would be easier...

"But it is not my job to tell you how to do yours," Constantine continues conversationally. "So, if you can think of a faster, more... palatable way to get to Agent Rhys, you are welcome to try. Just be mindful that time is not our ally. Since the plane crash, there has been a marked uptick in bio-weapons-related chatter amongst the denizens of the dark web. Our guess is that whatever Rhys is planning with Chimera, it is imminent."

"Noted," I grunt, still trying to figure out how the fuck I'm gonna break the news to Gale without her castrating me... Or worse — stealing the keys to the Porsche and vanishing into the night.

"If you feel that some... leverage may be helpful, feel free to show her the images on that device," Constantine instructs, sliding the tablet back to me once more. "A picture is worth a thousand words, after all..."

"You want me to appeal to her conscience?" I snort, turning around.

"The fact that she agreed to come with you indicates that she has some measure of compunction."

"Yeah," I snark, snatching the tablet up. "Damn sure she'll be regretting that decision by the end of the night."

Christ, this is gonna be a shit show…

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Picture credits:

Drake - Bed - Harper - Dossier

[libraford]

The good news is that he found a different job and next week is his last week and I only have to work with him 2 more times and only one of those times will I be alone.

Tech talk and rant below.

But in my opinion, we should have fired him earlier on because two weeks into the season he was unclear of what any of the equipment apart from the camera actually did.

The camera takes the picture.

The lights light the subject.

The computer matches the subject to the picture.

The transmitter connects the camera to the lights wirelessly, so that when you take the picture the lights flash automatically.

The sync cord connects the camera to the computer so that the image is displayed on the screen.

The skyport connects the lights to the computer so that they automatically adjust.

Its just all the electronics going through a circular systems check to make sure they are firing properly and matching it up against our white balance test. I know it sounds complicated, but its literally just a circle.

I understand that this can be complicated for someone who is used to 'click button, get picture.' But having the same problems over and over again because he doesn't understand the proper procedure and doesn't look at the checklist that he swears he never received even though I gave him my laminated copy and having to fix all of the problems that are literally because he didn't respect me enough to listen when I explained it to him cuts into the time that could be spent getting ready.

Now we are a month and a half in and on Tuesday he asked me what the skyport does.

If your skyport fails, you have to adjust your lights manually.

Therefore... skyport makes the computer talk to your lights.

And every time something fails, he says 'this would be so much easier without computers' and I'm like. Fine. Okay? Try to match 900 student names to photos without a computerized indexing system. Try getting the light to be consistent without a startup exposure test.

No sense of troubleshooting, which isn't very difficult. If something isn't right, restart the computer and try again. If you get a repeat of the problem, call Freddie from IT. But usually, a reboot fixes most problems.

But then he started breaking the rules, and in a very intentional way. Like at first it was 'oh I didn't know I wasn't supposed to show them the photo' even though we went over this in training. Then it was 'well, I'm not supposed to show you the photo but if you come back here while I'm adjusting my lights I can't stop you.'

At first it was 'hey, Jay, remember what Freddie said about the no-touch policy during training? I know you want to make the kids like you, but its very unprofessional to ask them for a high five, especially since these schools are very strict about their own no-touch policies and also did we not just go through a wholeass pandemic?'

And now students are complaining about him physically adjusting their posture with his hands.

Like... I don't mind bending the rules a little. But before you can bend the rules, you have to understand why the rules are there, so that when they are bent there is a good reason. The rule about showing photos is there to make workflow consistent. The no touch rule is for the safety of ourselves and the students.

But breaking the rules constantly just out of disrespect means that I can't bend them myself. I have to be a hardass. I hate being a hardass. But if I'm not a hardass and someone tells me that he's violating our no-touch policy, the company gets in deep trouble.

Not that he'll ever... ever follow my advice on the subject because as previously mentioned- he respects no one here. He has 15 years experience as a photographer and is too good for this place. Why would he listen to someone under 40 with three years experience dealing with schools?

His pictures aren't even very good. They're average.

Just two more jobs with him and then he's off to do something else and gods I hope he's better at that than he is a school photographer.