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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years ago

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Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 5.5K+ Warnings: Language *Disclaimer, Hi everybody. I first of all would like to apologise to those who have been waiting for months for a new chapter, this chapter has been partially written since September, however in that time, my aunt passed away. It has hit me very hard, and during this time, I needed to take a step away from writing, to be with my family, and also to take time to look after myself and my mental health. I’m doing better now, and with that means I am slowly updating my works which have been neglected as of late. So for those who are returning viewers of this series, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming back and waiting with me. And for those new to this series, welcome and I hope you stay with us. Much love to you all!

Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine can be found here! (That’s right baby, we’ve officially reached double digits for chapters!)

Chapter Ten: Darkest paradise I’ve ever seen

Flying into Noumea, your headphones pressed snuggly against your ears, you watch as miles upon miles of crystal blue ocean spans ahead of you. From just about every direction you look through the small aeroplane window, all you can see is blue. That is aside from the tiny speck on the horizon, which you can only assume is in fact, your destination. It seems awfully far away, and a part of you has managed to convince the less logical section of your brain, that you still have plenty of time before you arrive. Before the plan takes motion. Before shit goes down. Or you have months to continue planning your take down of the Lushnick’s…. But as you gaze out the window once more, the tiny speck growing ever larger, your rational mind takes over, reminding you that in less than two weeks, provided everything went according to plan, the Lushnick’s would be yours.

As the plane touches down at La Tontouta international airport, you await the captain’s departure announcement before standing up and stretching your cramping legs, feeling your joints pop, and muscles ache from having spent too long in one position. Once the initial rush of passengers have passed you, you reach up into the overhead compartments and retrieve the navy blue rucksack you had stowed up there. With the bag flung over your shoulder, you disembark the plane, and head towards the baggage carousel within the terminal. Within your rucksack, along with a few emergency items on the off chance your bags were lost, included five various ID cards, all hand made for you by One’s slightly shady yet reliable connection; a wad of Pacific Franc, the currency of New Caledonia, and of course your laptop. One had assured you that the apartment you would be using as a base had all the setup you required, however you felt more confident with your own computer, even just as a backup for an emergency. As you cross the tarmac, you recall the burner phone One had given you upon your departure, the only contacts held within were those of the Ghost’s, though knowing that you still have the ability to communicate with your team before their arrival helped alleviate some of your nerves. Switching the phone off flight mode, you held it firmly in your sweaty palm, half expecting it to buzz to life with missed notifications, as it would if it were your true phone. The influx of notifications never come, there is however one which does buzz through. ‘Are you safe?’

You scan over the message again and again, reading just about every possible subtext into it within a matter of seconds, before finally, you take a deep breath in, hold it for ten seconds, then release. ‘It’s Four, don’t be so dramatic. He actually cares about you.’ You remind yourself, just as your thumbs tap against the phone keyboard. ‘Just landed. Collecting bags then heading to the apartment. Should be there within the hour.’ You reply, pocketing the phone again and keeping your eyes peeled for you luggage.

The phone vibrates again, but this time you ignore it, opting instead to find the Taxi rank now that you had procured your bags. On you way through the airport, you discard you boarding pass into a trashcan, saying a mental goodbye to the alias of Ginevra Connelly. Of course you still kept the ID card with Ginevra’s details in your bag just in case, but the aim was to only use each alias once. One for flying, one for working, and one for personal business. The others were just there if any unexpected events should arise. Once outside, you only need wait a few minutes before a taxi pulls up, the driver popping the trunk of the car for you to deposit your bags. Once the trunk is closed, you slide into the back seat, sitting directly behind the driver. “Bonjour.” The driver offers with a small smile, meeting your eyes in the rear-view mirror.

You smile gently back. “Bonjour.” You greet, before reciting off the address to the apartment in Noumea which One had insisted you memorise.

With a nod of his head, the taxi driver speeds off, either ignoring or simply disregarding all speed signs which he passed. As he drove like a bat out of hell, you check your phone once more. ‘That’s good. Glad you’re alright.’ Four had replied, earning a small smile to creep over your lips.

‘Well, the flight didn’t kill me. Can’t say the same about my driver though….’

‘Axe murderer?’

‘Nothing quite as exciting. Or at least, I didn’t notice an axe when I checked the trunk…. Just a crazy driver is all. You’ll see when you get here. It looks to be a trend.’

‘Can’t wait!’ Before a rapid second response of. ‘Stay out of trouble until I get there please?’

‘I promise.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Love yo-‘ You begin typing, before frantically deleting the characters. As much as you wanted to send the message, you just couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it. Something about sending those words, via a burner phone while you’re in a totally different country, just felt wrong. Perhaps that was the nerves of the mission talking? No matter, you would saver the phrase for when you saw Four in person.

You put your phone away after that, not trusting yourself to continue the conversation with the direction it was headed. You knew Four was still, not necessarily mad at you, but disappointed that you hadn’t told him of your early departure. You were also acutely aware of his fear for you being in a foreign country all alone. You were positive that if it hadn’t been for the sudden announcement of your leaving, then he would have tried much harder to convince you and One to let him arrive with you. Of course, deep down you knew that despite Four’s protective nature, he understood why he was unable to arrive with you, or with the others. But it didn’t stop him from disliking the plan any less.

The driver watches as you put your phone away and takes this time to engage you in the typical taxi, passenger chit chat. “Parlez-vous français?” He enquires, and it takes you a moment to comprehend what he had asked. You had a slight knowledge of the French language, but it was very, very basic.

“No sorry, I don’t speak French.” You offer with a half smile, shrugging lightly as you turn your attention to the scenery blurring past you.

“Ah, a tourist then. Here for a vacation, are you? He continues, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel as he changes lanes in what would be considered a highly illegal maneuver literally anywhere else in the World.

Deciding that if you looked out the window any longer you may become motion sick, you turn your focus to staring directly at the back of the drivers head. “Mhm, I’ve always wanted to visit, go snorkelling, maybe go for a ride on one of those glass bottom boats? Who knows!” You ramble on, though nothing you say is quite a lie. In truth, you had always wanted to visit Noumea, and were supposed to when you were thirteen. You were supposed to go on a cruise to the South Pacific Islands as a birthday present, however that never quite happened. You suppose in the long run, it’s a good thing you never came here as a child, if you had, then this mission may not be going ahead. Or at least not with you at the helm.

“My cousin owns a glass bottom boat, he runs tours every day. Here, take this card, it has his details.” He pulls a crinkled business card out of his shirt pocket, and passes it back to you. You take it graciously, taking a moment to read over it before stowing it away in your bag.

“Thank you.”

As you drive through the city, the driver points out the occasional tourist attraction, to which you nod and play along with the façade you had created. Most things he says go in one ear then out the other, but there is one which catches your attention. “Over the is the hospital. Might be good to know where that is just in case.” He offers with a grin, gesturing to the large building on your left.

Your head whips around to face that direction in an instant, eyes growing wide as you drink in the sight. “That’s the hospital…” You whisper, mouth going dry as you watch the building disappear into the distance behind you.

The rest of the drive is kept in relative silence, mostly on your part. Having finally seen your destination for this mission, it all suddenly felt so real. Inside that building, which should be used for good, were two of the most vile and wicked people you know to exist. They had nearly two weeks left before they met they’re match however, and that thought alone set a chilling grin on your lips.

*****

Once you arrived at the apartment you were faced with a serious problem, a lack of keys to the front door. Surely One should’ve thought of this, he owned the fucking place! “Well that’s just great. Now what?” You hiss to yourself, glaring daggers at the wooden door that currently separated you from your new, temporary home and work space.

Reaching behind, you fish around in your bag in search of your phone. Muttering swears beneath your breath, until finally your fingers clasp onto the cool, smooth device. Scowling at the screen as you scroll through the limited contacts, you press call against One. Standing with your back leaning against the front door, one arm folded across your chest, and your left foot tapping the ground impatiently.

“Don’t tell me you’re already in trouble.” One grumbles after the sixth ring. His words causing your sour mood to only worsen.

“No I am not.” You hiss, lowering your voice to a whisper as you hear voices out on the street.

“What do you need Eight?”

“I want to know how I’m supposed to get into the bloody apartment! There’s not fucking keys!”

There’s a pause on the line for a minute or two, and for the first time ever, you realise that you’ve rendered One, the fearless leader, utterly speechless. “The keys are on the table.” His voice is mumbled, and you barely catch what he says.

“I’m sorry, what was that now?”

One groans, and you can almost picture his frustrated face, perhaps he would even be pinching the bridge of his nose… “I said, the keys are on the table, inside the apartment.”

He sounds disappointed in himself, and rightly so. “Well, that’s helpful isn’t it?”

“Don’t get sassy with me missy.”

“Why not? This is your house isn’t it? Shouldn’t you have a set of keys with you?”

“It’s one of my houses..”

“That doesn’t make this any better.”

“Did you bring your lock pick?”

“Of course I did. The question is, which bag is it in….” You mumble, gazing around at the bags you had discarded by the door.

“I think you know what to do. Good luck kid.” There’s a grin to One’s voice now, and you have half a mind to tell him off for his stupidity, however before you get the chance, the line goes dead.

With a deep sigh, you resign yourself to do the only thing you can, break in. Well technically it wasn’t breaking in, not when you were supposed to be living here, though you imagine that logic may not stand up in court if someone were to catch you in the act.

Withing ten minutes, all of your bags lay open on the ground, items of clothing strewn about the place, as you had frantically searched the brown leather pouch which housed your lockpick tools. Upon finding it, you groan at the mess you had made, stuffing everything back in the bags haphazardly, you would deal with the unorganised mess later.

Gazing around, you double then triple check that there is no one around to see you. The voices on the street had long since faded away, leaving only the sounds of birds chirping, and the distant crash of waves. Confident you’re alone, you bow over the door handle, and begin picking the lock. It occurs to you that perhaps this was One’s plan all along. After all, he was the one to provide you with said lock picking kit. You brush that thought off, and return to the task at hand, fiddling with the handle for roughly fifteen minutes until finally you hear a click. “Eureka!” You declare quietly yet triumphantly. The door swings open, and dusty air breezes out past you, causing you to cough and sneeze. Blimey, this place must’ve been closed up for months!

Inside the apartment, you don’t take too long looking around, you’ll have time for that later. You take note of where the master bedroom is, and claim that as yours by dumping your bags atop the bed, and seek out the bathroom. With everything in order as far as you could see, you take your laptop and bring it out into the main living area where what you can only assume is your area has been set up. There are three monitors set up on a large oak desk, which looked wildly out of place in the otherwise, holiday home themed house. The largest sitting in the middle of the desk, with two smaller screens on either side. It’s not a perfect set up, but it will work for what you need, and that’s all that really matters, especially considering most of your work would be done from inside the hospital.

Settling down at the makeshift study desk, you take a final moment to glance around the apartment, spotting a set of what you presume is house keys sitting on the dining table. “Well, at least One was right about where you were.” You mutter quietly, glaring at the object in question.

*****

Infiltrating the hospital database took far longer than you had initially expected. Over the past few weeks, you had made practice runs of worming your way into other systems for different hospitals around the world, however at no point had you thought to test your access to the hospital you actually needed entrance to. “It can’t be any different to any of the others.” You surmise, squinting at the screen before you, elbows propped up on the desk, and chin resting on your interlocked fingers. Truth be told it wasn’t that much different, not in the scheme of things, however someone, and goodness knows who, had made the entire system nearly impenetrable! Key word being nearly. However, if there was one thing you had learned after years of sneaking your way into systems you shouldn’t, it was that no matter how tricky a program may first appear, there is always a way in! And this system was no different.

One pizza delivery and three energy drinks later, the start of a migraine -which was either caused by your frustration, or the copious amounts of caffeine- and you were finally in! The hospital was, in every sense of the word, yours. The possibilities, oh the possibilities! Your first task only took a few moments, scanning through encrypted lists until you came across the one which housed the contact details for all members of staff. The list consisted of the staff members name, followed by their position of work, contact number and email, and finally a next of kin. Truly, this list looked to have been composed specifically for you and your needs. Copying the details you required for a one Mister Frank Sea, and pasting them momentarily into a word document, you move onto your second task. Page upon page you read through, jumping between links and praying that perhaps this time you had found the correct page, you finally make it to the hospital security system. You blame your caffeinated jittery hands for how long it took you to find. Once in the system, you begin changing over a few simple details, nothing too extreme that could potentially be cause for concern if anyone were to see, but the changes you made were imperative to the mission. The contact name for the security recruitment agency remained the same, however you now deleted out the previous phone number, adding in One’s phone number as planned. Finally came task three, which you had been dreading since you woke up this morning. The guilt of what you were about to do had been gnawing at you all week. You weren’t a bad person, not really; you kept telling yourself, hoping that perhaps if you said so enough, it would be true. You feared sending this email would ruin Frank, that it would destroy him… ‘It’s just business.’ You can hear One telling you, his exact words after you had both come up with this plan. “It’s just business, I’m just doing my job. It’s for the greater good.” You whisper, your voice catching in your throat. You don’t give yourself another moment to dwell on things, and instead quickly write up your email on the address you had created specifically for the mission. The email informs Frank of his urgent presence being required in Scotland to discuss the legalities of his and his wife’s separation, and custody of his children. Holding your breath, you hit send, watching impatiently until the message had left your outbox. By the time Frank would arrive in Scotland, the company you had pretended to work for would be closed for three weeks due to renovations. He would have no way of contacting them to find out why his presence was required, and of course try as he might, there was no chance he would receive a reply to any of his emails to you. So for three weeks, he would stick it out at home, arguing with his wife, all while you take over for him at the hospital.

*****

Soft pinks and oranges had begun to coat the evening sky as dusk rolled in, and for the first time in years, Four found himself staring up at the sky, envisioning a future. A future which didn’t involve hurting or killing people, no matter how evil and vile they were. Just a plain, normal future. He didn’t quite know what had brought these thoughts upon him, they were the types of thoughts he had managed to banish into the deepest parts of his mind. In fact, the last time he had thought about a normal life, was shortly after Six had died. They all mourned him of course, but the reality of losing Six had weighed down on him greatly. And for close to three months, Four had seriously considered abandoning the Ghosts, and starting a fresh life far away from them. At the time though, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t leave the team. And besides, he had no where to go, and no one to run to. But now? Now was different, he had you. The two of you could run away together, leave the Ghosts, leave this life behind. Start over wherever in the world you wanted you, far away from One and his plans of revenge against those who had wronged the world….

He shook his head, the images of normalcy which had formed in his minds eye, fading away, just as the sun was. He couldn’t leave, not when this was the closest thing to a family he had had since he was a toddler. If there was one thing he knew for sure, you don’t abandon your family. His own parents had taught him that the hard way.

Carefully, Four pushed himself up from where he had been relaxing atop his trailer. His back was stiff after having been laid down for what felt like too long, but he paid it little mind. As he leapt down to the ground, a loud yell echoed throughout base.

“Will somebody answer my phone? I can’t get to it right now!” It was One, yelling at the top of his lungs from god knows where, his voice sounded muffled though.

Next came Five’s screamed reply. “Where are you then?”

“Garage!” One yelled back.

“Coming, I’ll get it!” Four watched as Five went darting across base, kicking up red dust in her haste.

For interests sake, Four made his meandering way towards the garage, just to see what was so urgent about this phone call, and why One couldn’t get it. He strolled in, hands in his pants pockets, and hood drawn over his head. His eyes darting between Five, who was reading from a script scribbled in an old notebook while on the phone, to One who’s feet were sticking out from beneath a silver Audi R8.

“Good afternoon, leader security how may I help you?” Five recited in what was either the worst or perhaps best Dolly Parton imitation Four had ever heard. “Oh sure, you need a new head of security? How soon do you need them to start?” There was a pause, and Four stepped further over to the Audi, titling his head to the left as he lifted a quizzical brow. “Asap? Well where are y’all located?... Oh I see, let me transfer you.”

“You alright down there mate?” Four smirked giving One’s foot a gentle kick.

“Yep, never better. Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s just, you’re only like, ten steps away from your phone… Not sure why you couldn’t get it yourself is all.” He shrugged, folding his arms across his chest, and rocking back on his heels.

One pauses for a few moments, selecting his next words carefully. “I just didn’t want to stop what I was doing midway through.”

Four crouched slightly, peering at the floor creeper One was reclined on beneath the car. One of the wheels had popped off entirely, while another on the same side was horrendously bent out of shape. “You’re stuck aren’t ya?”

“Yes I’m stuck.”

*****

Two hours later, your mobile rings with One’s caller ID flashing, grinning you answer with a bright smile. “Good afternoon, Leader security recruitment how may I help you?” You recite in an overly practiced voice, not that the person on the other end of the line could tell, but it sure made you feel better, knowing you weren’t about to trip over your own words. One had done just as was planned, and upon playing receptionist for the security company, had transferred the call directly to you, and now it was time to get yourself employed.

The female voice on the other end of the line begins speaking frantically, telling you about how the current head of security for her hospital had just left unexpectedly, and that they needed someone to fill in for him until they could find out when he would return.

“Ma’am, it will all be fine, I assure you. Now can you please tell me your company code?” You smile, while typing aimlessly into a word document. So long as the woman on the phone could hear you typing, you would not raise any suspicion, even if all you were typing was smiley faces. “I see, and this is a hospital based in Noumea New Caledonia, is that correct? – Mhm no problems at all. How soon do you require someone to commence?” You type out the few details she tells you which are actually important to you, before returning to the faces. “I will have to see who I have in area who may be able to assist you. One of contractors recently moved to the area I believe for a change of scenery. May I put you on hold and see if I am able to call her?” The moment the woman agrees, you place the call on hold and laugh to yourself. The temptation to have an actual conversation with yourself just to keep the charade up is there, however considering as it had only been a few hours of you living alone, you felt you should at least attempt to keep the bouts of insanity to a minimum for now. “Hello, are you still there?” You ask a few minutes later. “Anastasia Breaker will be available as of tomorrow morning, if you could please forward all details regarding her employment to the following email address, then she will see you in the morning.” The woman is nearly in tears as she thanks you, promising she would send the information within minutes. “Of course, no problems. Have a lovely evening, and once again, thank you for choosing leader security.”

As the phone goes silent, you stand up and stretch, raising your arms above your head. You’d done it, you were in. Or rather Anastasia was in, but no matter who’s name was on the contract, you were the one who would be doing all the work.

*****

For the next few hours, you read through the multiple emails which arrived for Anastasia Breaker, advising you of where to go tomorrow morning, and who you would be meeting upon your arrival. It was nothing too unusual, or anything unexpected, the only downside was that you had been requested to arrive at 6 am. To some that may be ok, normal even. But to you, a perpetual night owl, it felt like torture. After laying out your clothing for the following morning, to allow for a slight sleep in, you lay down in the double bed you had claimed as yours. You knew it would likely end up being shared once the others arrived, but for now, it was all yours. The lights had all been turned out, leaving you in near complete darkness. The only light was that of the shining silver moon, peering down on you through a forest of thick trees. Try as you might however, sleep seemed to escape you. Perhaps it was nerves of tomorrow and your new ‘job’, or maybe it was just the fact you were sleeping in a new bed. No matter the cause, after tossing and turning for nearly an hour, you eventually gave up. Sitting upright, you grab the burner phone off the nightstand, having left it beside you with an alarm on for the morning.

You stare down at the bare screen, so used to your own which was filled with various apps. On this phone however, there was nothing of interest to do. Your thumb hovered over your contacts, and you bite your lower lip in thought. You knew One would be furious if he found out you were using the phone as anything but emergency contacts and an alarm, but at the same time, you found yourself having a rather difficult time caring about him and what he thought while he was so far away. Finally, you press down on the contact, and listen to the phone ring on loudspeaker.

“Hello?” Four’s distinct voice carries through, and you feel a wave of comfort roll over you. His voice alone felt like home, and it almost frightened you to think that, especially considering how brief your relationship had been so far.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Oh, Oh! I’m sorry love I had no idea. This number isn’t programmed into my phone, I genuinely thought it was a telemarketer or something!” He was rambling, and you could almost see the pale crimson blush which would be creeping up his neck and cheeks, as he too realised, he was rambling.

“It’s totally fine, I’m not really supposed to be calling you. But I needed to hear a friendly voice.”

“Who says you’re not supposed to call?”

“One.”

“Fuck him and his stupid rules!”

“I would really rather not.”

“You know what I mean, you idiot.” You can practically hear his eye roll through his words, and you can’t help but smile at that. At how well you know his mannerisms these days. “How has day one gone? Everything going according to plan?”

You nod, before recalling that he can’t see you. “Yep, things seem to be rather smooth sailing for now. I’ll be starting at the hospital tomorrow morning, and from there I can get everything else set in motion.”

“That’s brilliant, at this rate it’ll all be over before we know it!”

You pause for a moment, resting the phone on the pillow beside your head. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“What’s wrong hm? You don’t sound convinced?”

Rolling over, you lay flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “I suppose I’m just trying to come to terms with how quickly this is all happening, you know? Like, I feel it was just yesterday One announced who the targets were, and now suddenly I’m here? It’s all happening so fast.”

“I know exactly what you mean, I can’t quite wrap my head around it all either. But look at how far we’ve come. How far you’ve come! Remember that day when the targets were announced-“

“You mean the day I ran out of the briefing and nearly killed us both?” You interrupt, smirking slightly at the memory.

“Yes, that day. But look at you now, look at where you are! You’ve changed so much in such a short period of time. You’re far more prepared than any of us here at base are, and for us, this is either our second or third mission! For you, this is your first, and you’re already doing better than any of us could’ve imagined.”

“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it so I stop panicking?”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life Eight, I promise.”

“Thank you, I – thank you.” You whisper, rolling to your side and looking down at the phone. You sigh deeply, closing your eyes tight before allowing them to slowly open. “Tell me something that no one else in the Ghosts knows about you.”

You hear him chuckle, a deep rumble which you wish you could wrap your arms around him and feel as it flowed through you. “Do you want something to laugh at?”

“Yes, I don’t want to cry tonight. Make it funny.”

Four hums to himself, and you curl around your pillow, cradling the phone near your chest. “Right, here’s one. Bet you didn’t know I have a criminal record as an arsonist!”

He sounds proud of himself, and for the life of you, you can’t fathom why. “You what now?”

“It was my first charge, long before the cops ever figured out I was stealing, which I had been doing for years before this occurred.”

“How long have you been a thief, Four?”

“A long while… But that’s a story for another time. This is about fire lord me!”

You groan, rolling your eyes at the nickname he had given himself, while leaving a mental note to ask him about his past one day, when you weren’t in the middle of a mission.

“I was maybe 15 or 16, and was with this girl who I thought was made of pure heaven. I practically worshiped the ground she walked on, and daydreamed about her all day every day. To her though, I was a kid who was a year or two younger than her, and she just loved the attention, not matter who it came from. I knew she only spent a month with each of her boyfriends, but naive young me thought that maybe I could convince her to be with me forever. Spoiler alert, that didn’t work out. One night I decided to surprise her when she came home from dance lessons, her parents were out of town for the week, and I figured I would make a romantic evening for the two of us, and would allow her to be my first.” He pauses for a moment, as if wanting to see if you wanted to hear where this was going.

“It’s fine Four, just keep telling the story.” You giggle, shaking your head softly at where this was all going.

“Well I got super fancy, ordered takeout because heaven knows I cannot cook, even managed to nick a bottle of champagne from the local liquor store. It was cheap nasty stuff now that I think about it, but at the time, I felt very grown up. I lit candles all over her townhouse, there were some in the kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms and even the kitchen. I think I went through an entire matchbook that night. So finally she gets home, and I’m nervous as hell. Legs jittery, forehead sweaty, and look the exact opposite of sexy like I had hoped for. She’s all smiles, and even thanks me for setting up a lovely evening. After we eat, she steps outside to have a smoke, and I clean up in the kitchen. The next thing I know, she’s shouting from the front door, and then the smoke alarming is blaring throughout the house. I run outside, and find her staring up at the second floor at her bedroom window, where billows of dark smoke are seeping out. Turns out, she had a cat I didn’t know about, and the fucker knocked down one of the candles, it landed near her bedroom curtains, and the flames engulfed pretty much the entire room. Cops and firemen came, shockingly they didn’t believe me when I said it was the cat. And the fact that I had been in her home without her for so long didn’t help my argument either….”

“Oh my goodness, so you were actually innocent? The cat got you a record?” You laugh, pressing your palm to your forehead.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. That cat is the reason I don’t do romantic anymore.” He grumbled playfully.

“Aw, and why’s that? Cat got your tongue?!” You chortle, you were definitely borderline tired now, because to you, that was officially the funniest pun in the world.

“Oh dear, oh no…. Eight that was terrible, please never say anything like that again.”

“Aww, come on! It was funny!”

“No love, no it wasn’t.”

There’s no use in arguing the point, you knew you were funny and that was all that mattered. “Fine, I’ll stop with the cat puns especially seeing as you’re not feline it…”

‘You are very annoying, you know that right?”

“Of course, but it’s part of my appeal!”

“Whatever you say. But I do think You need some sleep, because you sound hella tired right now.”

As if on que, a yawn slips from your lips, giving away just how tired you now were. “You may be right.”

“Good night love, good luck tomorrow. I know you’ll be amazing.”

You smile at his words, tracing your finger along the edge of the phone. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Ok.”

You end the call, and place the phone back on the nightstand. As you allowed your eyes to drift shut, you can’t help but feel just that little bit more confident that things were going just as they were planned.

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catboymingi · 4 years ago

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birthday boy

navi/masterlist

pairing: hongjoong x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.7k

warnings: just a little language + threats of kicks to the kneecaps

a/n: inspired by me finishing an assignment i had a week for in like two hours because i wanted to write for this gem’s birthday

sadly, responsibilities don’t stop just because it’s your boyfriend’s birthday. but maybe your boyfriend’s birthday can aid as a motivation to get your work done and over with so you can finally smother him in love

it was your boyfriend’s birthday, but sadly, it was also exam season, and even more sadly did your boyfriend care about your grades more than you did. so you were banned from going out with him, even though you wanted nothing more than that, because he knew you were far from finished with an essay that for some reason unbeknownst to everyone in the course made up more than half of your grade. he told you that you’d have a lot more chances to celebrate with him, but you most definitely did not have a lot more chances to do this essay, and while you hated to admit it he had a point. hongjoong had offered to stay home with you, spending a chill birthday with his head in your lap while you were happily - or not so happily - typing away on your laptop, but this time it had been you who banned him from doing that. it was his birthday and he was going to have fun, and if you had to make his group of rowdies drag him out of your shared apartment by the ears then you would.

“but i want to spend my birthday with you!”, he’d whined out, but you remained hard. no way would you let him stay home with you on his birthday.

“too bad, the boys are already on their way and they have orders to not let you leave until you’ve had the time of your life.”

he was convinced it was impossible to have the time of his life without you there, but you were unrelenting, and when mingi did almost drag him by the hair he finally gave in, sending you a last pouty glance before he left with his friends.

while your love was (hopefully - if not you’d beat all seven boys’ asses) having a good time you found yourself staring at the damned screen that kept you from spending his birthday with him, cursing the hell machine and especially cursing the course and the teacher, but then your attitude shifted towards one of determined concentration, because if you managed to get the basics done today you’d maybe get to spend at least a little time with the birthday boy. your fingers tapped away high-speed, most likely faster than you’d ever typed before. now you had something that was actually worth finishing the essay for, and it surprised you how great of a motivation a badly sung karaoke duet with your darling and mocktails that very much tasted like mocktails rather than a decent drink but that you’d still get at least three of could be.

when you managed to get the entire thirteen pages first draft done in the span of roughly twelve hours you realised just how much of a motivation your boyfriend was, because when you’d started for the day your essay pretty much looked like that one spongebob episode where all that was written on the paper was ‘the’ in a fancy font. you’d already read a lot of literature (spent way more time on it than you’d like to admit), so it was just to put your thoughts into words, and the complete lack of distraction along with being so absolutely in love with your boy and wanting to spend his birthday with him had suddenly turned you into some kind of super genius writing machine. not that you’d complain, though, because it was now nine thirty in the evening and you knew that if you hurried to get ready you’d be able to join the boys for at least a little fun. so you messaged seonghwa, threatening him with a kick to the kneecaps if he told hongjoong that you were coming, and asked him where they were so you could come join them. he told you and promised to keep the boys there until you arrived, “and if i have to chain them to the chairs”, which you knew he actually would if push came to shove because he knew how much his friend had wanted you there for his birthday and he wasn’t going to ruin that opportunity just because they’d already left the lousy karaoke bar.

seonghwa had kept his promise, much to his kneecaps’ pleasure, and it was easy to spot the group of loud boys as soon as you entered the karaoke bar. currently mingi and jongho were dueting, a combination you’d only ever see on nights like these where all shame was discarded and mingi no longer worried about being a bad singer. not that he was, but compared to his friends he barely sang, so he seemed a little shy about doing it when it was serious environments where people would judge. now, however, he was happily singing along to some rock song you probably knew but couldn’t name, with the rest of the boys taking the role of unofficial groupies. they hadn’t spotted you yet, but when you let out a loud cheer at some high note that jongho hit flawlessly and that mingi decided to turn into a low note the youngest noticed that someone new had entered, a smile spreading when he saw it was you. mingi was the next to realise, most likely because of his height and the advantage of being on the stage, reacting less calmly than his friend and letting out a cheer himself. that got the other boys’ attention, and you couldn’t wait to kiss your boyfriend when you saw the surprised smile on his face. you were glad you hadn’t worn heels, because the floor was somewhat slippery and you walked faster than would have been responsible if your shoes hadn’t been flat.

“happy birthday, my favourite”, kiss, “best”, kiss, “most amazing”, kiss, “perfect”, kiss, “absolutely adorable”, kiss, “boyfriend.”

you could tell your actions embarrassed him just a little, increasing when yunho groaned out that he felt so incredibly single right now. he quickly recovered, though, asking the question that you knew would come sooner or later, considering the reason why you hadn’t been able to spend the entire day with him.

“but your essay?” you could see that your love hoped you hadn’t neglected studying just to spend time with him, but even though you loved him to no end you’d never do that, if only for the fact that he’d never let you.

“i got the first draft done today, so i’ll beta read and touch up on it the next few days.”

his eyes were wide in surprise again, because you’d been working on the first draft for so long now that he didn’t even remember when you first started (though you’d admittedly mainly read the literature and procrastinated), and now you’d finished it in a single day.

“you know how i can be when i want to spend time with you. especially on your birthday”, you laughed at his expression, and he grinned at you because he certainly did know. the first birthday you’d spent with him you had coerced him to wear a suit through what could only be described as loving blackmail, and you’d put on your prom dress, because even though you were only going to a lousy karaoke bar with his friends - much like today - you’d told him that the day had to be special and you had to look special and he just hadn’t been able to say no to you, especially not when you’d threatened him with kiss withdrawal. then, the second birthday he’d spent with you, you’d baked him a several storey cake, refusing to let him help you even though you were hopeless at baking, instead coercing his friends into helping you with much less loving blackmail and threats of kicks to the kneecaps - your favourite threat, he’d noticed. seonghwa had been the main one to help because he was the only one patient enough to stay in the kitchen with you through all four storeys - a number you’d chosen because hongjoong liked the number four and was also turning 24 so naturally, the cake had to have four storeys. now he was turning 25 and you’d finished a task you’d been working on for about two weeks now in a single day because you wanted to see him. really, he adored you and how much you obviously loved him.

“i know”, he confirmed before leaning in to kiss you, doing so for longer than his friends appreciated, “and i love you for that.”

“i love you more.” dare to disagree, your eyes told him, and he knew that today he would definitely be the loser of “i love you most, no take backs”, so he didn’t even try.

“love me enough for a duet?”, he asked instead, though he already knew the answer would be yes. of course the answer would be yes.

his - both of your - friends cheered for you when you sang the cheesiest love song one could think of, because hongjoong had wanted to make you flustered with the choice of song, only to get flustered himself when you sang it at him in total sincerity. mingi was his choice of shelter once the song was over, and both you and the boys laughed at that, though without any malice. it was a perfect night, it really was, from the moment you’d gotten to the bar to the moment you said goodbye to the others and went home with him, hands intertwined the entire way.

it was still perfect when you changed into your pyjamas - or what you decided to call such, sweatpants for him and one of his shirts for you - and laid down together, his head on your chest because he was the birthday boy and the birthday boy was the one to get held, pressing gentle kisses to the top of his head and being repaid with somewhat awkwardly placed kisses to your chest over his shirt. and it couldn’t get more perfect when you told him you loved him and he told you he loved you, too, and that he was so happy he’d gotten to spend at least part of his birthday with you, because without you it didn’t feel like a real one. and it deserved an oscar for the cheesiest scene when you fell asleep completely intertwined, heartbeats in sync and the moon casting a soft light onto both of your sleeping forms.

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homespork-review · 5 years ago

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Homespork Act 2: The Racism of the Conductor’s Baton (Part 4)

BRIGHT: Even having lived in this all his life, Dave nearly gives himself a serious injury launching stuff out of his sylladex. This is a bit more nerve-wracking than John launching PDAs and towels out of the window.

TIER: I'm personally amazed that he hasn't lost any bits to improper handling of fireworks. That shit can really fuck someone that doesn't know what they're doing up, especially a small kid is at risk of losing some fingers.

CHEL: Particularly when he disposes of them in the garbage disposal - that in itself would probably be okay if one soaked the fireworks in the sink but the blades could possibly cause a spark with the metal filings in the firework… I don’t know if that’s possible but the fact that he chooses to dispose of fireworks that way implies to me that he doesn’t know how to safely handle them. I wouldn’t risk it that way myself.

TIER: Realistically the Strider home is just a huge accident waiting to happen, between all the dangerous stuff just out in the open and strewn about in precarious spots and the fetish puppets piled all over.

CHEL: Speaking of which, Dave notices “HELLO DAVE” written in sloppy bright red inside a jigsaw-piece outline on the crawlspace hatch. Dave knows it’s a mind game but opens the hatch anyway, spilling out a huge pile of Smuppets which completely envelops him. It is from here he sent his previously-seen rant to Rose. Which of course we now have to read again…

GET ON WITH IT!: 8

Now, I must mention here that, in most works, the random jumping around in time would be a count of its own for me. I hate it when that happens, it’s unnecessarily confusing. However, there is an ongoing theme of time, time-travelling, and changing timelines in Homestuck, so it at least serves to introduce us to that.

A note pinned to the hatch with a batarang reads thusly, in mismatched fonts/colours, reading eerily as if two people were writing:

bro. roof. now. bring cal. where doing it man where MAKING THIS HAPEN

At least Bro encourages Dave’s writing project, as that latter part is a SBaHJ reference.

I think we all wanted to see Dave take out some frustration on those things.

Back to John, after making a little fort with the cruxite dowels and bedsheets, he uses the Totem Lathe to make the “totems” of various item codes. As I mentioned above, I feel like this is an unnecessary step in the creation process. Why not just have a way to enter the code directly into the Alchemiter? Anyway, Rose uses the previously-useless “Shale” stash to create some more captchalogue cards, increasing John’s inventory size, and recreate the pogo ride and hammer lost to the punched cards. A randomly-entered code produces a rocket pack with a violin, cinderblock, and flower pot halfway merged inside it, leaving it unusable for its intended purpose but heavy enough to kill imps.

John looks through a copy of “Harry Anderson: Wise Guy” by Mike Caveney, encountering the hole-in-the-ace, or “A-Hole”, card trick. Silly name given here aside, it’s a real trick and the way shown is really how you do it. It gives John an idea, and he overlaps two punched cards and uses them both together, creating this.

FAILURE ARTIST: John is smarter than people give him credit for.

CHEL: Yeah, on further examination I don’t think my assumption that he didn’t know who Obama was was being very fair to him. He’s certainly easily distracted, but I don’t think any of the various cast members can truly be described as stupid.

The Pogo Hammer works fine in that it allows him to kill an imp with a single blow, but it sends him and the pogo ride the imp was on flying in the process. Fortunately, Rose is able to move his bed quickly enough to catch him. Unfortunately, those larger monsters are still slowly approaching… Exactly how fucking slowly do these things move? It’s not like the distance they have to cover is huge in proportion to their bodies.

John asks Rose why she can’t just lift the bed up to the gate with him on it, but the game doesn’t allow for that - Rose guesses it’s considered cheating. Against Rose’s advice, John decides to nap, lulled by the hypnotic spirograph of the gate, while Rose experiments with the alchemy system. Deciding to sleep while still surrounded by imps adds to our count again:

HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 3

If he has time to nap, he ought to have time to emotionally react, too.

We see Rose in the mausoleum again, the fire getting closer and closer in the window, sparks of firelight flickering around her. Concerned that Dave isn’t helping her, she checks the SBurb server CD for a code to send to John so he can be her server player instead, but it has no code. Outside, the generator overheats and blows, and Rose’s laptop finally shuts down.

Another animation shows what is presumably, and is later confirmed to be, John’s dreams. From a spirograph in a clear blue sky emerge clouds, which take on the forms of John’s dad’s face and various items such as the green ghost, a birthday cake, and a harlequin, the largest and final cloud coalescing into the silhouette of a long-haired girl about John’s age who is obviously not Rose; this, we can guess, is probably GG. This fades into quick flashes of spirographs and pumpkins, and John wakes, surprised, to find GG is messaging him.

TIER: GG once more hints at knowing more about what's happening (like the fact that John's dead nanna is around to give him advice), but is apparently waiting for a specific time to say what exactly. Curiouser and curiouser.

BRIGHT: She also tells John that he needs to wake up. This sounds like a setup for an “It was all just a dream!” twist, but what she actually means is a lot weirder. It takes quite a while to get to that point, however!

TIER: Then there's a Fucking Huge Imp that's decided to impersonate King Kong and it is terrifying, who let this happen. We've got what looks like a boss battle brewing babes!

And then we cut back to Dave, who ascends to the roof with the demon puppet from somewhere worse than hell as instructed in a pretty dope looking and sounding flash. And with another sneak at his elusive as shit bro, we...

Get psyched, and then there's a new kid brought to our attention. Someone that looks quite a bit like the silhouette that showed up in John's little nap

And THEN

We get A Double Psycheout Combo as we go back to the Wayward Vagabond, who is not here for this Retrieve Arms running gag. What he is however is hungry, seeing as he scarfs down a rotten pumpkin between one frame and the next. He also doesn't have the ability to captchalogue stuff, so that's a thing he's got going for him.

Another thing to note is that he has some kind of barcode that brings back “unpleasant memories” he'd rather not think about. After getting some more cans (cans for days my dudes) he promptly declares himself the mayor of Can Town, there presumably being not much else to do while inside the room he's in. Dude seems fond of democracy, and quite obviously has issues with kings.

The guy seems to have an amusing (to me at least) thing about eating green things, nothing is safe. Not even uranium. And though the two green sticks have been munched, the rest of the chalk is used for its intended purpose. He doodles up a town layout, a chess board (with an assist from some motor oil), and then covers the walls in strange planets. A golden planet with a moon, four peculiar planets without anything orbiting them, and pretty separate from the rest a purple mirror to the golden planet. Damn dude this entire wall smells like foreshadowing.

We get a look at the strange screen thingy again, John's window still the only one showing anything, and WV is not familiar enough with whatever this contraption is to turn on the dead screens.

He the manages to accidentally bust out some kind of soda stash and it's like Christmas has come early in the bunker. It's like watching a kid get into the super sugary drinks.

CHEL: Specifically, it’s a reference to this, except it works: "The Simpsons- Homer's first day at work at Home!/" (Watch on YouTube)

TIER:

With that out of the way, we're back to the weird machine, which can show more than John apparently! The other screens are garbled though, especially screen three brings up so many questions. Like seriously what in the fresh hell is that, that right there is worthy of a round of “people not in the fandom explain what's happening”.

There's a countdown visible as well, spanning all four screens, and it gets more or less locked into that. WV then proceeds to shoot the shit for nearly four hecking hours, leaving 13 minutes to go on the countdown.

#homestuck #homestuck review #homestuck meta #homestuck reread #let's read homestuck #literary critique #sporking #Homespork

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taekookismylifeline · 5 years ago

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Title: Collateral (of love and bullets) Pairing: Yoongi/Hoseok Synopsis: Jung Hoseok may not be as successful as he wished to be when he was younger. Instead of being a dance instructor in his own dance studio, he worked full-time at a local supermarket – but at least he is happy, living with his boyfriend of two years, Min Yoongi, in a not-so-crappy apartment in the city. However, when he gets caught up in a robbery at his bank and his boyfriend disappears, his happiness is challenged, along with everything he thought he knew about the people he holds dear.

Chapter: 1

Chapter Two - digging out the bullet and holding it up to the light

Yoongi had left a note, but Hoseok found that he could scarcely run his eyes over it let alone process it. The exhaustion had caught up with him and was tugging at his eyelids, slumping his whole body.

Although his mind was racing, his body couldn’t keep up. He felt he should have been fraught with nerves, but instead he found himself melting into bed, turning onto his side to face where Yoongi would have been sleeping and curling his arms around himself, falling asleep within seconds.

His panic mode must have set in as when he woke up, the sun was streaming through the blinds and the time on his alarm clock told him it was a little past one. His stomach growled. Being held at gunpoint had sure made him hungry.

The kitchen was empty, as was the rest of the apartment. Yoongi must have visited his brother, something he always did without much warning. He didn’t like to talk about it but Hoseok had always assumed that Seung had fragile health.

The note only confirmed Hoseok’s theory as he read it over a meagre breakfast of leftover rice. Gone to be with S, be back soon. I love you - Y.

Hoseok he sat on the couch, the TV on as background noise. The apartment was too quiet with the sound of Yoongi warming up on the piano or humming something under his breath absentmindedly as he got changed or shaved or had a shower. Everything seemed muted without Yoongi.

He had no phone to check for messages or waste time on, and even if he wanted to contact Yoongi, he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Every time Yoongi visited his brother, he left his laptop and phone at home. Hoseok had always assumed it was because there was no connection out there, or Yoongi’s brother was in such critical condition that there was no time to be spared on electronical devices.

So Hoseok was left watching the TV. He had just booted up his laptop when a news announcement wedged itself between the break and the programme he was watching.

The bank flashed across the screen, a serious looking news-reporter displayed in the corner. Hoseok watched, immobile, as the image of police roaming around the same building that his very life was threatened.

Four hostages. A late night break-in. Over fifty-thousand stolen. No casualties. A familiar trend in robberies stemming back five years. A gang, known as the Blackouts, possibly reassembling for the first time in two years? Security on high alert around the Daegu banking district. No suspects as of late...

Hoseok turned off the TV, his ears deafened to the resounding silence of the apartment.

His laptop sat on his lap, the fan whirring captured his attention. His heart leapt into his throat, his eyes landing on the smile on Yoongi’s face. His background was a picture of Yoongi’s twenty-sixth birthday, a few seconds away from where Hoseok had accidentally dropped the cake onto Yoongi’s lap.

He had been so cute that day, even with icing smeared up and down his jeans. He had been even cuter without the jeans, when he gazed up at Hoseok with half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, whispering in a heavy voice that he wanted more, wanted Hoseok more than he had ever wanted anything.

When Hoseok reminded him of it the next day when the two woke up at noon, still wrapped around each other, Yoongi had blushed yet again and turned his head away. But he hadn’t denied it or claimed that he couldn’t remember.

In that moment Hoseok remembered thinking that Yoongi was the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on.

He missed Yoongi. He needed Yoongi, but there was no way of reaching him. He had never written down his brother’s number nor address, so Hoseok had no idea how to find him, and neither did Hoseok want to bother Yoongi if his brother was in critical condition.

Physically, Hoseok was fine, and he knew that he was beyond lucky. If the ‘Boss’ hadn’t ensured that the rookie’s gun had been lowered, he would have had suffered a quick death hours ago.

Hoseok almost bit through his tongue dwelling on the memory of a black mask, eyes void of anything but darkness and a voice cold and spitting.

He tried to shove the image away, focusing on opening his inbox and composing a message to Yoongi. Even if Yoongi hadn’t brought his phone with him, hopefully he would have access to a computer, and he would get it almost right away and reply.

Hey, Yoonie. If you got my texts and replied, I couldn’t get them, my phone’s broken. Stay with your brother, he needs you. When you come back we can order takeaway and watch that weird movie about the crow? I love you. Seokie xxxx

He waited as an hour crept by. He played around on an online game, losing every round. He watched some uninteresting videos about zany TV hosts and waited some more. Two hours.

He received a call on the landline, and he jumped at it to discover it was the police department calling him in for that follow-up interview. He didn’t want to leave the apartment, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to stay inside. He took the train to the police station just to answer with more or less the same answer.

How many of them were there? I couldn’t be certain.

Did you hear any of their conversation? Not really. I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Do you have any affiliation with any street gangs? Any reason that this particular group would spare you? No. I don’t know.

When he returned home, he discovered he was restless, his mind racing. He hadn’t gotten any more information from the police, and neither them from him. He went for a quick walk around the block which turned into a brisk jog, and then a hurried run as if he was being chased. He took another shower before a disappointing lunch of undercooked noodles. Three hours.

Evening rolled around and he switched the TV back on, pulling Yoongi’s blanket over himself and burying his nose in the material. He couldn’t make it to midnight having received no reply. He forced himself into bed, wrapping the duvet around himself.

He flitted around between the realms of sleep and being awake for too long. He felt cripplingly empty and too full at the same time. He clasped Yoongi’s pillow to his chest, catching a whiff of Yoongi’s honey shampoo and his natural sweet scent. The pillow became sodden after a while, his shoulders heaving and his body shaking with the effort of holding himself together.

Fatigued, he fell asleep, although he woke up restless during the night. He forced his eyes shut and when he next opened them, the birds were chirping, and he heard the sound of cars below. The bed was empty, save for him, just like the apartment. His inbox was devoid of new messages.

With shaking fingers, he typed out a new message, barely having the will to do so, before he sent it off. He couldn’t bring himself to wait for a reply either, so he shut his laptop and turned on the TV.

The news was uninteresting, speaking of foreign diplomats and the rising price of supermarket stock. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and then-

The victims of the bank robbery gave their statements and they matched the appearances of the members to be those of the Blackouts. Six suspects, one leader and five accomplices. Security on high alert...

Hoseok knew little about gangs, but even he had heard of the ‘Blackouts’. Ruthless criminals aspiring to make money fast. When he had lived at home, there had been an infamous shoot-out in the Philippines, and the next day his classmates had talked about the gang’s kill streak.

Their hierarchy was built upon who had the most kills, apparently, and the ‘Boss’ was supposed to have executed over one-hundred. It lined up with everything the rookie had said, about how infamously terrifying the leader of the Blackouts was supposed to be, and yet… He had spared Hoseok’s life.

He didn’t want to dwell on it. He didn’t want to risk thinking that the ‘Boss’ had any remorse for human life. Hoseok was just one casualty they couldn’t afford in their limited time span.

He hadn’t known that it had been the Blackouts to threaten his life. Did that make him a war hero of some kind? Most likely not. It wasn’t as if he had fought back. He was ready to comply to the gun, to give into death.

The Blackouts. What an awful name. It suited their image though, cold, dark and hopeless. It gave him a new feeling of fear, spiking through his system.

He wasn’t held at gunpoint by just any robbers. He had almost faced death due to a group of experienced thieves, burglars, murderers.

Hoseok turned the TV off once more, resolving not to switch it on until his mind was somewhat clearer. He supposed all he could give it was time and some sort of distraction. And he found the perfect distraction in the ringing of the doorbell.

“Jung Hoseok, you open the door right now!” A familiar voice yelled out.

Read the rest on AO3!

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psychedaboutstudying · 5 years ago

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Planning your thesis (or other project)

This is a multi-part series on how I wrote my master's thesis with lots of practical tips for anyone at any stage of the thesis-writing process. Today we're talking about planning, which is my favourite topic, and luckily, it's also my birthday!

I made a template to go with this post that you can find here.

Make a Big Plan

When you've found a lab and supervisor, it helps to make a plan as soon as possible. Generally, these are the steps you need to schedule in:

Literature search

Summarising results into proposal

Get (ethical) approval

Probably data collection. If humanities: more reading/watching/listening

Analyses

Draw conclusion

Revision, feedback, revision, feedback, revision!

Divide these things over the time period you can spend your thesis. For example, I knew I had 10 months to finish my master's thesis, so I knew I had to squeeze these steps into that time period. I discussed my planning with my supervisor, even though that felt a bit silly - like I was a child that needed to be checked on. But please discuss your schedule with your supervisor, because there's always this one thing that always takes way more time than you think (plus they can hold you accountable). In my case, as you can see below, for me it was analyses. I planned to do them in two months and thought I would need way less, but she assured me I should schedule in another month.

Make this planning, discuss it with your supervisor, and look at it frequently (if that's not a habit, print it our and stick it to you laptop/work place). A schedule helps you know what you need to do each month and also lets you know if you're getting too far off track. At this point it's useful to take note of other big things going on in your life during that time period. Do you have holidays planned? Courses you are taking? A job? A wedding? You may need to plan around these things, so keep them into account.

I'm aware that everyone has a different time span, but it works similarly. If you only have two months, divide these steps over the weeks instead maybe. If it's a multi-year project, plan it over semesters. Adapt to your needs!

Make in-between deadlines

Deadlines are very useful, because it's very hard to get things done without one. If you look at the planning I made above I had two in-between deadlines: a research proposal after the third month and a first feedback round after the sixth month. On day 1, that first deadline seems far away, but at least you'll have something to work on. And you'll find that the closer you get to a deadline, the more that thing takes shape.

Weekly plan

Now that you have a deadline that is smaller than "hand in thesis", you can again divide this up into smaller steps. The first stage is undoubtedly messy and nothing goes according to plan. That is a promise from me to you. But you have a supervisor-approved general planning, and now you know what you need to do each month, and especially for the first deadline, this is fairly tangible.

Write down what you roughly need to do each week of the next month or so. Then each week, divide the weekly tasks into daily tasks. You can also use this daily planning for meetings and deadlines etc. Daily and weekly schedules are going to change a lot so keep them flexible and up-to-date!

I dedicated four days a week for mostly my thesis, but I realise this was a luxury position that a lot of us don't have. Even if you only have one or half a day, try to schedule that in. E.g. Mondays are thesis days. I don't plan things on Mondays from 9-5 except thesis things. Then each Thesis Day you can get into your Thesis Headspace.

Every day

The first thing I did in the morning was open my planning file to look at the things I planned to do that day, and the last thing I did before I left was update my planning and make sure I had a plan for the next day (or next week on a Friday).

In the morning:

What do I have to do today? Are there time-restricted tasks or appointments? People I depend on or who depend on me?

Know your energy curve and plan your tasks accordingly: for example, I always started with e-mail while sipping on my first coffee, or other simple task (9-10.30) Then I worked on the tasks that required more energy and focus (10:30-15:00) and at the end of the day I would wind down with more simple tasks again (15-17). (This is theoretically very nice, but it rarely works out perfectly. That's okay.)

As you go:

Cross of things that you've done and if any new ones come up, write them down, however small.

Before you leave:

Check if you've been able to do everything you planned. If not, migrate tasks to other days. Does a task need to wait for someone else's response? Schedule in a week from now that you need to contact this person if they haven't responded by then.

Check your list for tomorrow. Any early appointments? Are there certain items you need to bring from home? Are you prepared for meetings? Do you have a list of tasks for tomorrow so that you can immediately start working the next morning?

If you have to keep tracks of hours you worked on the project: write them down, if necessary divided by type of activity or project.

Remember: you don't have control over everything. Things may change. Drastically. Your planning is not set in stone. You don't have control over everything. So be flexible!

I hope this was helpful. I am a planning enthousiast. I kept track of everything I did for those 10 months, every single day. (I consulted that document a lot while writing this post.) Was that necessary? No, but it helped me, because I work better when everything is clear and scheduled and written down. Even if you only do one of these things, you'll be more prepared than without a plan. (I recommend the general plan. That's a life-saver!)

Always keep close contact to your supervisors! They can help you the best.

#studyblr #studyspo #study tips #gradblr #thesis #thesis writing #grad school #college #studying #university #planning #planner #my posts #psyched about studying #thesis101

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invaderhogtwopointohno · 6 years ago

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Row F, Seat 3

For @ettomaru For Kacchako Secret Santa.

4 of 5.

Read on AO3 Here.

—-

Chapter Four

Miserabe Apart, Better Together

“I am sorry Ochako,” Izuku said as they drove in deafening silence away from the airport. She had moved to the car without saying a word and had not spoken for a good twenty minutes. It was starting to lightly snow outside and they were caught up in afternoon traffic. Izuku wanted to be quiet but finally he coulnd’t help himself. “I was just so surprised to see Kaachan again.”

“Why did you call him that?”

“Well… It’s a long story.”

He pulled onto the jammed highway. She looked him over. They had been friends for a while. He was great at helping to set up clients for their business. She appreciated him as a friend and confidant. Anytime she thought that maybe she wasn’t that great of an architect, he was there and ready to defend her work. He had been working for the past several months to win a contract for a massive building in downtown.

“How did you even run into him? The airport must have been crazy massive.”

“We met in the airport, we were on the same flight,” she said and he nodded, making a noise.

“Why did you call him that? And why did he get so mad when he saw you?”

“We knew each other when we were kids. We went the same school, we were in the same classes. Kaachan was by far the best at everything. Then when we were in our freshman year of high school, he was in a really bad accident. He was pinned in his car for hours while they tried to get him out. It was on the news and everyone saw it. He spent the next six months constantly in the hospital and getting surgeries on his legs, and he just got more and more angry. He fell behind in school and by the time he was back to his full health, he was one of the bottom students.”

She couldn’t even imagine someone as confident and straight forward as Bakugou to have come out of that without any issues.

“Things got bad at school. He was so behind that he dedicated himself to catching up and surpassing everyone to become valedictorian in our class. He worked hard and I admired that about him. But I made the mistake of telling him that. I wasn’t exactly the most well-liked student and I was pretty quiet. So I was an easy target for bullies. Katuski liked tormenting me because it was easy. But I accidentally said something I shouldn’t have.”

“What was that?”

“I told him that I was sorry for what happened to him and if there was anything I could do for him, to let me know.”

She looked at her phone.

“That was a massive blow to his pride. Kaachan doesn’t ask anythingof anyone. He doesn’t like to pitied or looked down on. He was livid. He got so angry that he pushed me, knocked me into a teacher and we were both put in detention because of it. His torment after that was only worse still. But he did what he said he would- he got straight As, got into a good school, and last I had heard, he was a reporter or something.”

“An editor,” she muttered. “That’s why he doesn’t like you?”

“He doesn’t like people looking down on him. To Katsuki, being pitied was worse than being looked down on.”

She could see it. She noticed that he didn’t really like people telling him what to do. She had found herself feeling proud of herself because he thought of her as being worthy of his valuable time. He didn’t seem like the type to just invest his time into just anyone. She felt warmth flowing through her at the thought. She wanted to text Katuski but found that it would be bad right now. If he was angry, she didn’t want to add fuel to that particular fire. So she spent the rest of the car ride home reading as many of his articles as she could find on Ground Zero.

---

For the third time in the past twenty minutes, there was another door slammed in the small apartment shared by four annoying roommates. The editor currently slamming these doors was muttering angry nothings into the air and throwing things around. After the rather unfortunate run in with Deku (the useless piece of crap that had always been a thorn in Katsuki’s side when they were younger) had ruined an almost perfect day. And if that hadn’t been the worst of it, now he was unable to bring himself to text Ochako and as the hours lingered on, she wasn’t texting him either.

Which made everything even worse.

And now he was ready to set something on fire.

Kirishima had picked him up and had heard nothing but a long string of obsenties from his friend ever since the airport. And no matter what he did, he couldn’t get anything out of Katuski. According to his text messages, he had a pretty fine flight next to a nice person and had been waiting for him at the airport. But when he went to pick him up at the airport, it was nothing but yelling and anger. Which wasn’t exactly unusual for Bakugou, but this level of destruction was something entirely new.

Thankfully, the other writers for Ground Zero had all been called to help in the investigation.

“Something is really wrong with the boss,” Kirishima said, looking at the others. They had all worked together at the publication, each a writer in their own department, and four of them had decided to get cheaper housing near the office to avoid missing anything important going on.

“He sent me back my manuscript twice in the span of an hour with nothing but angry red marks all over it,” Sero said, taping back together his latest work that he’d been working on that Bakugou had gotten a hold of and ripped in half. Mina sighed from her spot at the dinning table. They were able to heard Bakugou on the balcony yelling a young writer about his over-use of the Oxford comma.

“Clearly he is really upset about something. He said he got stuck overnight because of the snow, maybe he was mad about that?” she offered.

Everyone had been a bit of a panic when he had texted them saying he was running behind because of a missed flight. With the smaller staff for the holidays, their workload had become even bigger, each writer working on at least three stories a piece and without Katuski’s New Year’s Eve story, they were going to be in big trouble.

“He didn’t seem mad in his text though,” Kirishima said, sighing and looking through his phone.

“Probably just needs to get all of the yelling out,” Kamanari suggested, typing as fast as he could on his laptop with his latest story. Jirou next to him nodded.

“Yeah, maybe you just need to let him be mad. As long as he gets over it soon.”

“Alright, I guess,” Kirishima said with a heavy sigh. He didn’t like it but they were right. Katuski wasn’t usually angry forever… well, angry like this forever. He was just going to have to burn himself out. So the topic changed to the most important topics, who was moving to what department and getting fired in the new year.

---

After pacing the floor for what seemed like a thousand years, Ochako looked at her phone. It had been now two days since she had seen Bakugou and not once had she been able to bring herself to text him. And what was worse, he wasn’t contacting her. And the longer it went on, the more upset she was getting. She wanted to talk to him very badly. She didn’t like it. Finally she deiced that she was tired of waiting for him to contact her and she was going to text him.

Which was a decision she made about twenty minutes before but had managed to somehow not yet send the text.

She was starting to feel dizzy from all of the walking around and she wondered if she was going to be able to do something soon before she passed out. Apparently she could add walking to her long list of things that made her nauseous.

Finally she sat down on her bed and started to write a text message.

Ochako: Hi, this is Ohcako. We met on the plane. And I was just hoping that you got home okay and that you were feeling okay. I know that you were really mad when you left and I was just-

She backtracked. That was too much. She just needed to keep it simple. It was texting. Easy.

Ochako: Hi.

She put the phone against her forehead.

Ochako: Hi, this is Ochako, from the plane. The one who got sick.

She laid down on her bed and stared at her phone. Why was she feeling like a high school girl trying to ask a guy out? She was too hesitant. She doubted that someone as confident and interesting as Bakugou would have such a hard time writing a simple text. AND YET HE HADN’T WRITTEN HER!

She thrashed around on the bed in agony. She wanted to send something. And then a little “ping” went off and she looked at her phone. It was a confirmation that her text had been sent.

Ochako: Hi, this is Ochako, from the plane. The one who got sick wsnriuwqtiguiabn dsm fdjksagnja gangfdngfnmklfadaskma;;dsa;;a,dlsmk.;;.;a

She stared at the screen. For the love of everything that was good in this universe, she did not seriously just button mash when she was thrashing around and sent a completely nonsensical text message? And it was sent. There was no going back. He was never going to-

Her phone started vibrating. She looked down. She was staring at his name on the ringer.

“H-Hello?” she answered hesitantly.

“What the fuck was that? Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You sent a text that made no sense, so I was wondering if you’d fallen or something,” his angry voice went through the line. But he was more concerned than anything else and she felt her heart clench. He was worried about her?

“I-I’m fine, I just… dropped my phone and it was just temporarily possessed by a demon under my bed, no big deal!” she said pleasantly and hoped that her dumb attempt at humor wouldn’t freak him out.

He was quiet for a long moment and she wondered if maybe he’d hung up.

“Sorry… about the other day...”

She laid down on her bed, staring out of the window looking onto the city.

“I should have texted you,” he muttered.

“I am sorry that you were surprised by Izuku. What’re the odds that the two of you knew each other?” she asked and he didn’t say anything.

“Do you have something nice to wear to a party?”

She sat up, her heart fluttering in her chest.

“Uh… no, but I can get something,” she said quickly.

“I’ll text you the address, I’ll see you at 10 on New Year’s Eve.”

And she smiled, hearing him hanging up without a goodbye. It was the best night of her entire life.

---

A/N: God only knows how many times I have sent nonsense texts because I was holding my phone open and just doing random stuff. Lol

#kacchako #kks18 #so late #katsuki bakugou #uraraka ochako

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a-winchester-fairytale · 7 years ago

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Memories ~ Vampires Part 1

Summary: While hunting a vampire nest, you come face to face with the Winchesters again. The three of you decide to work the case together and things get complicated.

Dean x Reader, Sam

A/N: This is a Supernatural series that I have been working on. The "Memories" are meant to provide a backstory between the reader and the Winchesters, so they will span over a few years. I did change a few things about the timeline, but I tried to stick as much as possible to the events of the show. I appreciate all feedback! Thanks a bunch!

Word Count: 2,515

Memories Master list

Dean and Sam stepped out of the police station in full FBI get-ups, debating the information that they had gotten from the case file when they froze. You saw Dean raise an eyebrow at the sight of you leaning against the passenger side door of the impala.

“Y/N?” Sam asked, confused. You had to admit you were a little surprised that he had remembered your name. It had been almost a year since the night you had met them at Bobby’s.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, echoing Sam’s surprise to see you.

“I’ve been here for two days. You guys sure took your sweet time picking up this case.” You smarted off, pushing yourself forward, off of the car. You were headed to the courthouse that morning to pick up some plot maps when you noticed the impala sitting outside of the police station. The two of them exchanged a look and Sam shook his head at you. That dimpled smile you remembered showing up on his face. “Come on, let’s go grab some lunch.” You chuckled.

The boys followed you to a small diner in the downtown strip of older buildings, next to a closed movie house.

“So I went back over the last several years and found a pattern that matches the current victims.“ You began explaining as the three of you munched on the food in front of you. "There were 2 people every 6 months. Same last known whereabouts, all were traveling through the area to go on to other locations, and their vehicles were all found within a two mile radius of each other. All of the bodies that were found had bite marks.” You added.

“Two people every six months?” Dean repeated. “We’ve had four in the last few weeks.” He said, wiping the grease off his fingers with his napkin and looking back at the case files.

“Wonder what changed to cause all that?” Sam thought aloud. He had hardly touched his salad, too engrossed in the laptop that sat on the table in front of him.

“I think there is a new vamp who doesn’t want to follow the rules of the nest.” You guessed.

“What makes you think it’s a new vamp?” Sam asked.

“Well, only half of the people that went missing were ever found. I think the others were turned.” You explained.

“Let me see that plot map.” Sam said. You handed it to him and he began typing, glancing back and forth between the screen and the map.

“What it is?” Dean asked, taking another bite of his burger. Sam held up a finger as he drew three circles on the map.

“Ok, so get this. You said those vehicles were found within a two mile radius?” He asked for clarification and you nodded. “There is a farm, an old silo, and a bar all within that same radius. I say we start there. One of them has to lead us to the nest.”

You pulled up to the ramshackle bar in the middle of nowhere. Very few vehicles and a couple of motorcycles were in the parking lot, but you didn’t see the impala anywhere yet. You took a deep breath and made a run for the door, through the rain that had started just a few minutes ago. When you stepped inside, you saw an empty table in the corner and sat down after removing your flannel shirt and laying it on the back of the chair. You propped a boot on the rung of the chair next to yours and leaned back against the wall, pulling the pin from your damp hair and letting it fall down around your shoulders.

Your visit to the farmhouse had been a complete bust. You only hoped that the boys had better luck with the silo. By the time they walked into the bar, you were scrolling through old case files on your tablet. You looked up and tried to bite back a laugh as they were more soaked than you had been. As they walked up to the table, a waitress politely brought a towel to them to dry off the rain from their faces.

“Thank you.” Sam told her kindly. As she walked away, Dean looked over his shoulder at her and made some flirtatious remark, an impish grin on his face. She giggled at him and walked back to the bar.

“Does that stuff actually work for you?” You asked, squinting in disgust. Dean looked up, pursing his lips as he thought about it for a minute.

“Usually.” Dean answered confidently, a mischievous smile on his face. “Want a beer?” He offered and you shook your head. As he walked over to the bar, you looked over at Sam, confused.

“Seriously?”

“You’d be surprised.” Sam said matter-of-factly. You just rolled your eyes.

“Did you guys find anything?” You asked.

“Not really. We couldn’t get a good look inside the silo, but there wasn’t any activity outside. What about you?’

“Nothing. That house apparently burned down a couple of weeks ago. If the nest was there, it’s gone now.” You told him as Dean sat down on the other side of you and handed Sam one of the beers he was carrying.

“Back to square one.” He said, exasperated.

“Not completely. Maybe the answer is here in this bar.” You suggested.

“So we stay for a while, have a few beers, and check it out.” Dean said, with a grin. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, the excitement of a little fun was written all over his face. Sam just rolled his eyes. He knew all Dean had on his mind at the moment was having a few drinks and flirting with a pretty girl.

You all stayed there for a couple of hours. Sam spent most if it with his nose in the laptop, sipping on a beer and occasionally commenting on a theory he came across to you. You listened intently, enjoying having someone to bounce ideas around with. You always hunted alone, and only occasionally called Bobby if you needed information.

You felt comfortable with Sam, like you had known him all of your life. At first you thought it was because of all of the stories you had heard about the Winchesters, especially all of the things you had gotten from Bobby since you met them last year. You had quizzed him on and off about both of the brothers, until he started to comment on your curiosity and then you abruptly stopped asking. That wasn’t it though. It was more about being able to see the kindness in him.

You studied the customers at the bar. Most of them seemed harmless; an older man that sat at the end of the bar, never moving except an occasional trip to the bathroom. The bartender and most of the other patrons were on a first name basis with him, so you assumed that he was a frequent flyer at that particular bar stool. Although he might have seen something without knowing it, you doubted he would be much help.

There were a couple of college age girls that had come in about an hour after the brothers had joined you. Flighty and aiming to get too drunk made them seem more like possible victims than vampires. You did find it interesting that they spent most of their time looking over at Sam and giggling between each other. You didn’t even think Sam had noticed them and you fought the urge to lean closer to him to spite them.

Other than the two guys Dean was playing pool with, likely trying to hustle money from, that only left the staff and one guy who had been eyeing you since you walked in. You weren’t sure if he was just trying to get drunk enough to approach you or if he was someone you should be considering as a potential vamp. Either way, you tried to subtly keep him in your sights.

You watched Dean mostly. You didn’t mean to, you just couldn’t help being fascinated by him. The way he flirted confidently with the waitress, played a little too drunk with the two guys he was playing pool with, the way he would glance over protectively to Sam when he thought no one was watching. He had the whole room eating out of his hand. He took a drink of his beer, licking his lips before putting the neck of the bottle to his mouth. He did that almost every time he took a drink. The more you tried to ignore it, the more distracting you found it to be.

After a few games of pool, Dean came back to the table with you and Sam. “You got a couple of live ones over there Sammy. They have been eyeing you for 20 minutes at least.” Dean teased. Sam just shrugged it off.

“I know, Y/N told me.” Sam replied, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“We really have to work on your priorities.” Dean said closing the laptop in front of his brother. “Research can wait. Have some fun little brother.” He encouraged. Sam just shot him a dirty look.

“We aren’t here to have fun, Dean.” Sam snapped, a little sadness hiding behind his frustration. Bobby had let it slip that Dean had promised himself to a Crossroads Demon in order to save Sam’s life and you could almost feel the guilt radiating off of Sam every time he looked at his brother. You could see how worn out and stressed Sam was now, obviously using every free moment away from a case to try and find a way to save his brother.

“Try and get him to loosen up, would you?” Dean challenged, turning toward you and resting his hand on the back of your chair. You could barely feel his finger tips on your shoulder blade, making your skin tingle.

“I think it’s a lost cause.” You answered, apologetically. Sam focused his stare at you.

“Not helping.” Sam told you, eliciting laughter from both you and Dean. Sam tried to look angry, but you could see his lips turning up at the edges of his mouth. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing pool to pay for our room?” Sam asked, trying to get Dean’s attention on something else.

“I am. Just coming over here to give them a minute to mull over a double or nothing bet. I told them I had to see if you would lend me some cash.” Dean explained.

It was at this moment that you noticed the man across the room get up from his bar stool and stumble his way over to the table, immediately acquiring the attention of both Sam and Dean. You saw Sam’s left hand reach low to the blade he had hidden in his boot. Dean leaned back in his chair, facing the approaching man, ready to pounce at any sign of a fight.

He paused for just an instant, and then continued the remainder of the way to the table. You looked up at him just in time to see him look you over; squinting and then a sinister smile crossed his face.

“I just googled sexy and got a picture of you.” He told you, suddenly very proud of himself. Sam laughed and relaxed, bring his hands back to the top of the table.

“You’ll get the same result if you search for Not Interested.” You retorted, causing Dean to spit out the beer he had started to take a drink of. The guy stood there for a moment, looking dumbfounded. You saw his expression change and he reached out to grab your hand.

“How about we go get drunk and make some bad decisions.” He tried again.

“You already are.” You said, rolling your eyes and trying to jerk your hand away.

“And you already did.” Dean added, standing up to face him. “Get your hands off of her.” He demanded in a low voice. You watched, surprised, as the guy released your hand and backed slowly away from Dean.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms against your chest, and locking your eyes on Dean. When he felt the guy was a safe distance away, he picked up his beer again. He looked pleased, until he caught the look on your face. He stopped, looking back and forth between you and Sam, who shrugged.

“I could have taken care of that. I don’t need anyone to save me.” You said sarcastically.

“Come on Y/N, that guy was a jerk. I was just trying to help.” Dean said, defensively.

“Well, just don’t.” You snapped back at him. His lips tightened and he nodded. Without another word he walked away, back to the pool table to finish playing with the two guys from before.

The look on his face made you feel guilty, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to take it back. Sam just excused himself for a moment and walked off to the restrooms.

You sighed deeply, not wanting to admit that you weren’t really that upset with Dean for standing up for you. You were more upset with yourself because you liked it. You pulled your over shirt off of the back of the chair and slipped it on, grabbing your tablet and putting it in your bag. By the Sam came back to the table, you were ready to head back to the hotel.

“I’m getting tired and we aren’t going to find anything here tonight. I’m just going to go. Call me in the morning and we can start fresh.” You told Sam.

“Are you really okay?” He couldn’t help but ask. You smiled at his concern.

“Yeah. I’ve just spent too many years fighting to be treated like a person, not just a girl. I had to do it in the FBI training school, and even more so as a hunter.” You explained.

“Dean’s not like that.” Sam said, calmly. Sam knew better than anyone how overprotective Dean could be at times. It had led to Sam making a lot of choices that he wished he hadn’t, just trying to prove himself to Dean. He also knew that the reason Dean was like that is that he felt responsible for anyone he cared about. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to make sure everyone was safe. It made him a good hunter, because he cared about other people. You reached out and squeezed his hand, glancing over at Dean.

Without another word, you went back to the motel. You had a hard time going to sleep, the argument with Dean replaying over and over in your head. You felt guilty every time the look on his face flashed in your mind. You tossed and turned, trying to stop thinking about it, and getting more frustrated by the minute.

You had mostly been snoozing on and off when you heard a banging at the door. When you got up and opened it, you were surprised to see Sam on the other side, looking like he had lost a fight.

Next...

#dean winchester #dean x reader #Sam Winchester #vampire #series #memories #fanfic #reader fanfiction #supernatural

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ghostbustermelanieking · 7 years ago

Text

Polaroid AU 4

part one, part two, part three

the majority of this story is based on these bts pictures.

William had been having weird dreams since he was a kid, padding down the hall and crawling into bed with his parents after a nightmare for years until it seemed too babyish. And the worst part was that most of the time, the dreams seemed to come true, in one way or another. He'd dreamed about the cat getting hit by a car three days before it had happened, and the time his dad had gotten really sick and had to have surgery. Once or twice, he'd dreamed the contents of an upcoming test and found his dream to be accurate. (He hadn't minded those too much.) But the ones that had probably been the scariest were the ones in the smoke-choked office and the scary older man sitting in the chair. He hadn't had one of those since he was ten, but they always terrified him for some reason he couldn't explain. The office was full of pictures of people who looked like him, files with long, Sharpied-out passages and CLASSIFIED written in bold letters across the top, ashtrays among ashtrays. He'd had the first one when he was four and had crawled under the desk and refused to come out. The smoking man had called out in a melodic voice and he put his hands over his ears and shut his eyes until everything faded into the familiarity of his bedroom. (He did that a lot in dreams.)

Two weeks after arriving at Mulder and Scully’s, he had the dream again. He was lying on the floor of the nicotine-smelling office, his cheek plastered to the rug. He scrambled to his feet clumsily, looking around. The room was empty. On the desk in front of him was a pile of cigarettes beside an ashtray and a slew of pictures spread across the table.

William drew closer and held in a gasp. He recognized Scully's SUV, parked in front of a sprawling hospital. Covert shots of Monica Reyes and Scully in a lab, Scully in various hospital rooms, Scully and that one guy Skinner in a conference room. William held his breath and flipped further through the photos. An immaculate apartment, the house he was sleeping in right now, hotel rooms. A picture of her with a baby--him. Taking him out of the car, years ago, a stupid hat on his head. He tensed all over, holding his breath.

“William,” said a voice behind him. The smoker. When he turned around, he couldn’t see the smoker; there was a blinding flash of light and the screech of bending metal.

He woke up with a start, cold all over except for a very small spot where Daggoo was curled into him. He gulped in breaths of fresh air, huddling under the thin quilts piled over him. Just a dream, he tried, but he knew that couldn't be true. Scully was connected to the smoking man somehow, and she was in trouble. Things like that had happened with an eerie accuracy too many times to be false.

Light was streaming in through the window. It looked early. Scully might not have left yet, he realized, and rolled off of the bed, sending Daggoo tumbling with a yip. He could catch her. He didn't know if she'd believe him, but if the files were any indication, it might be enough to stop her. His feet slid over the bare floorboards as he went through the hall and to the kitchen. Mulder and his weird friend, Langly something, were sitting at the table with laptops. Mulder looked up as soon as he came in, saying, “Will,” with some kind of pleasant surprise.

“Has Scully left yet?” William blurted.

Langly blinked in surprise. Mulder exchanged something of a stricken look with him and turned back to William. “An hour ago. Why?”

William looked between them, uncertain. Aside from his best friend in the third grade (who'd thankfully thought he was crazy, since they weren't friends anymore), he'd never told anyone about the dreams. About how he could make things move sometimes if he concentrated hard enough. (He loved Star Wars and hated Carrie, if that said anything about him.) But this was important. And if anyone was going to believe him, it would probably be the paranormal investigator in the room.

“You're not going to believe me,” he said.

Langly snorted. “You clearly don't know Mulder,” he said.

William met his birth father's eyes. There was encouragement there, and something of a faint desperation. He took a deep breath. “He knows where Scully is,” he said. “The guy with the cigarettes. He's had surveillance on her for years, and he has pictures of the hospital where she and Miss Reyes are. I saw it in a dream.”

---

Scully had no way of getting in touch with anyone staying at their house; in the chaos of the past few weeks, someone had knocked down the nearest cell tower and they were disconnected from everyone, at least until she and Reyes got into the city. (Langly had hooked up some rogue Wi-Fi hotspot that managed to work with their laptops, but phones still weren’t an option.) Which was part of why she was confused at the unfamiliar number calling her that morning. She didn’t have William or the Van de Kamps as contacts, but the cell reception was still an issue. And she couldn’t think of anyone else who’d be calling her outside of her brothers, but she had Bill’s number (and had talked to him several nights since this had all started, promising to fly out as soon as possible) and she’d begrudgingly programmed in Charlie’s number after her mother. Brow furrowed in confusion, Scully showed the screen to Monica. “A number you recognize?”

She shook her head, confusion flickering over her face. “Just a second, let me call my contact on the inside,” she said, referring to her time undercover in the Syndicate. (Deep enough undercover that she couldn’t reveal her position until after she had William safely in her custody. Scully couldn’t express how much relief had coursed through her veins when she’d seen Monica pushing her way through the crowd on the bridge as the light vanished, shouting her explanations over the blur of voices in the background as a lanky teenage boy stood behind her. She didn't really believe Monica was a traitor. She couldn't.) “Go ahead and answer,” Monica added as she stepped towards the door, pulling her cell phone out of her jacket. “Might as well find out, right?”

Scully nodded, pressing Send on her phone. “Hello?” she said calmly, half-hoping that Mulder or Langly had found a way to call.

Nothing but the harsh sound of raspy breathing into the speaker.

Scully’s fingers clenched hard around the phone. Mulder had told her about his visit to the smoker, hugging her hard with his nose pressed to her collarbone. She couldn’t believe he was alive, but he was. “You,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Why the harsh tone, Agent Scully?” said Spender pleasantly. “I saved your life, after all.”

“What the hell do you want?” Scully snapped, two seconds away from hanging up.

“Just for you to be aware of what awaits you at home.”

Her breath froze in her chest. “What?” she whispered. She didn’t think she could manage anything louder than that.

“I’ve seen men to your house,” he said. “To find your son. And Mulder. And that pesky informant friend of yours. As you can imagine, my interests were compromised…”

“What have you done to them?” she growled. God, she thought this was over, she thought it’d be over when she saved Mulder. And William, William… he hadn’t been in danger in years. But now…

“Nothing yet,” the smoker replied jovially. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

Scully hung up the phone. She burst out of the room, fumbling for her gun under her suit jacket. She rushed past Monica in the hall, ignoring her calls asking what was going on. There was no time. She had to get to them. She found Mulder in her contacts and called him, even though she knew about the cell tower. Maybe by some magic, it had been fixed. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she whispered desperately, yanking the car door open and collapsing in the driver’s seat. She felt like it was two weeks ago, like she was stuck in a desperate cycle of worry that spanned twenty-four years. Mulder didn’t pick up. She called again, putting it on Speaker and jamming into the cup holder. She backed out of the parking space and stepped on it, fingers clenching hard around the wheel as she speeded out of the parking garage.

She drove halfway through the city in a crazed delirium, pressing the little green phone button on Mulder’s contact tab again and again. She had to get to them. Her lead foot was coming in handy. She pressed call again and listened to the empty rings echoing through the car. She was looking up when the car hit her.

---

Mulder believed him. He didn’t have much of a choice; his son had Scully’s eyes and he saw the truth in them. He had to go and warn her. He muttered something about goddamn phone towers as he fumbled for the car keys.

“I dunno what’s going on, um, but I haven’t had a dream about the smoking office in five years,” William was saying, leaning hard against the counter. “I guess you know him… I thought you might, I saw pictures of you in the office… from when you were a kid, I think…”

“Son of a bitch,” Mulder muttered, before he remembered the teenager in the room. “Don’t say that, Will.” He rummaged through the junk drawer rabidly. Where the hell were the keys? Oh, right, he’d left his car at the smoker’s house because that kid Miller had to come scrape him off the pavement. “Shit.”

“Mulder, I can drive you, man,” Langly said, grabbing his shoulder. “I have a car, remember?”

He turned, clumsily, to face him. “Thanks,” he said. “Thank you. We should go, um. We need to go. Will… William… you should be safe out here, but…”

“Wait, I’m coming with you,” William said, in the self-assured voice that he remembered from his own teenage years. No argument. He finally understood his parents’ side of the equation.

“No, you’re not,” he said automatically, in what he hoped was a.stern parental voice, but probably just resembled the panic knotting in the pit of his stomach. “You can’t. It’s not safe.”

“Showing up on a bridge during the apocalypse to donate my stem cells or whatever wasn’t exactly safe either,” William snapped. His hands were balled in his pockets and he had a look of furious determination on his face. It looked so familiar, god, his son.

“That was different,” Mulder snapped back, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. “This is preventable. You need to stay here with your parents.” (Mulder had the same stubborn determination that Scully did to not refer to them as William's parents, but here he didn't exactly have a choice. The word still hurt, still dredged up resentment he thought he'd buried deep enough, but it was the only word to use, wasn't it.)

“They know about here, too. It’s no safer here than there.”

Mulder exchanged a look with Langly, who shrugged helplessly. Their son was just as stubborn as Scully and just as impulsive as him. He wasn’t sure it made a good combination. God, Scully, Scully was in danger, and he couldn’t put his son in danger too. He couldn’t lose either of them, but he couldn’t lose both of them. He took a deep breath and forced his voice to go calm, said, “Will,” softly. “I appreciate you telling me about what you saw. You don’t know how grateful I am. But I have to keep you safe. We don't know if it'll be dangerous or not. Your parents would never be okay with it. You need to stay here.”

William gulped, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I can help,” she said quietly. “With Scully, if she’s hurt. I can help. I did it a couple of times before. Never very much, so I wouldn’t get caught, but I’ve done it on a person before. I can help.”

Mulder took a deep breath, looked at Langly again. Langly looked uncertain; he shrugged at Mulder again, in a way that indicated that he thought William had a point. Mulder took another deep breath, clenched his jaw. “You stay in the car,” he said. “Unless I tell you it’s okay, you stay in the car. You do exactly what Langly or I tell you. Okay?”

William nodded. Mulder exhaled, reached out to squeeze his son’s shoulder. “Okay,” he said softly. His mind was still racing, coming up with all the things that could be happening to Scully. “Okay. You need to tell your parents. Tell them I’ll keep you safe.”

William nodded again, turned and headed back to the guest room, sneakers squeaking loudly on the floor. Mulder turned back to Langly, sick panic building in the pit of his stomach. “Is this a good idea?” he asked softly.

“I guess we’ll find out,” said Langly.

A minute later, William reemerged with the Van de Kamps in tow. Something turned in Mulder’s stomach--he did not have time to argue with them, what was he thinking, this was insane, there was no way he could take William with them, he needed to go--when the husband (Toby, he thought his name was) spoke. “Will filled us in,” he said, hand on William’s shoulder. William looked mildly embarrassed, squirming under the awkwardness. Mulder didn’t blame him.

“Right,” he said, finger brushing over the butt of the gun in his holster. “Right, um…”

“We’re coming with you,” Lillian said, matter-of-factly. The both of them looked uncomfortable about it, like they’d rather be doing anything else, but William must’ve said something to persuade them. He was staring at the top of his shoes uncomfortably.

“Right,” Mulder said again. As long as he could get to Scully and warn her, he could endure an awkward car ride with his son’s adoptive parent, his long-dead friend, and the teenage son he barely knew. “We should get going, then.”

---

She was half-conscious when someone pulled open the door of the car, grabbed her wrist, around the waist, and started trying to pull her from the car. She groaned, blinking through the haze. Her head hurt too much. She heard the hard smack of knuckles on skin, and whoever was trying to pull her from the car let go. And then the over-eager voice of Agent Miller, taking an unusually concerned tone: “Agent Scully! Agent Scully?”

Scully groaned again, opening her eyes wider. “Agent Miller?” she muttered.

“Here, here, let me help.” Miller moved to lift her out of the car; she looped an arm around his neck for balance as he set her on her feet. She stumbled slightly, Miller still supporting her, but somehow managed to stand on her own.

She blinked, pain thumping through her head, and turned to see Einstein handcuffing someone on the sidewalk. She clenched her teeth and asked, “What happened?”

“Agent Reyes sent us after you,” Miller supplied. “We got here in time to see you get T-boned. By the time we reached the wreckage, that guy was trying to pull you out.” He indicated with a jab of his thumb.

She groaned as pain sliced through her ribs when she tried to move. She fucking hated car crashes. “The smoker must have sent him,” she growled, pressing a hand to her bruised side. And then she remembered. “William,” she gasped. “And Mulder… he sent someone after them, he…”

“Agent Scully, calm down.” Miller steered her towards the car gently. “We’re going to get you back to the hospital so they can check you out, okay?”

She gritted her teeth and tried to turn around. “Someone’s going there to find them, I have to warn them.”

“It’s fine, Agent Scully. We’ll go take care of it. They’ll be fine.” Miller moved her towards his and Einstein’s car. “You need to get to the hospital.”

Scully would've argued more, but it hurt too damned much. She let Miller lead her to the car.

---

They'd been driving for almost forty-five minutes when they hit a traffic jam, just inside the city. Mulder swore and smacked the dashboard with the flat of his hand, and then gazed apologetically at the Van de Kamps in the backseat. Beside William, his father shrugged.

(The most surprising thing was how laid back he seemed about all this, William had noted more than once. The second night after they’d regained consciousness, he’d sat in the room with his dad while his mom took a bath and had stumbled over awkward apologies out of nowhere, embarrassed to have spent so much time with his birth mom. That they were there in the first place. This was all supposed to have ended when Scully gave up custody, and William was somehow embarrassed that it hadn’t. His dad had waited for him to finish before saying, “Will, you’re kind of in an awkward position here, son.”

William had gulped. “Yeah, I know.”

“I think you’re doing the best you can, all things considered.” His father smiled and tousled his hair, something William had declared himself entirely too old for in recent years, but didn’t mind so much in the moment. “You don’t have anything to feel guilty for. We didn’t have a choice. Besides, Dr. Scully saved your mother and I, and we owe them for that. And they seem like nice people.”

William gulped again, his mind guiltily turning back to the Polaroid he had ended up keeping on the window sill by his bed. “They are,” he mumbled, feeling like a traitor.)

His mother seemed more uncomfortable with all of this, but she was keeping her mouth shut about it either way. She had momentarily offered William an encouraging smile for most of the uncomfortable car ride. Now, her express twitched into concern as she gazed at the stall up ahead of them.

Fidgeting anxiously in the backseat, William craned his neck to see what was going on. “Someone crash?” he asked of no one in particular, foot tapping absently against the seat.

Langly shrugged. Mulder said nothing. His parents seemed to be avoiding his eyes.

William looked down at his grimy sneakers on the carpet floor of Langly’s car, and all of a sudden he knew. Could see the wreckage of Scully's car in the back of his brain.

It was the summer he was eleven all over again, with his cousin crumpled on his side with his arm at a strange angle and his hands all shaky as he tried to make it work, but it would work. It had to. He was fucking Carrie or a Jedi or an alien or something, and he could help his birth mother. He fumbled for the door handle and stumbled out, hitting the ground running without a second thought.

“Will?” he thought he could hear his mom call, in a panic, but it was hard to hear anything over the slap of his sneakers on the pavement. He wove his way through stalled cars until he reached the block, the wreckage. Sirens wailing in the distance, and some red-headed woman shoving a man in handcuffs towards a car and Scully sitting in the backseat of a second car. There were bruises up and down the side of her face; her eyes were shut like she was in pain.

William jogged to the car, heart thudding. “Scully?”

She opened her eyes, startled, and relief immediately washed over her surprise. “William,” she said, and it was like a held breath whooshing out. “You're okay.”

He swallowed hard, hands shaking as he reached out to touch her arm. “Are you okay? You, um, your car…”

“I'm fine.” She grimaced at the words and put a hand to her side, clearly not fine.

William blinked hard, trying not to look at the wreckage. “I don't want you to die,” he said. Somehow, all he could see was that stupid Polaroid. The way he'd been acting since he got here, the way he snapped at her on that first night. “I was mad at you, but I don't want you to die.”

She smiled, just a little and obviously painfully, but still. “I'm not going to die, Will,” she said at length, like every word hurt. “I'm just a little bruised. It's okay.” She reached out through gritted teeth and pushed the hair out of his forehead. It was such a maternal gesture and it made him think of the glossy edges of the photo under his finger.

William bit his lip hard. “I can help,” he said, feeling utterly helpless despite. And he touched her arm again, concentrated hard. His hands didn’t shake.

When he opened his eyes, Scully looked considerably better. Her face was white, but the bruises were gone. And she was staring at him. “William?” she whispered. Her hand was warm on his forehead.

He didn't know what to do. He pulled his arm away and nodded. Yep, I can do that. Her hand slipped off of his head under its motion. The most telling thing was that she didn't look surprised.

And then Mulder was behind them, calling their names. William turned and saw him pushing through the police cars, the FBI agent from the bridge and the woman who was arresting the guy earlier watching. The same relief that had come when Scully had seen him moved across her face. Mulder reached them, squeezed William's shoulder and reached for Scully's hand. “What happened?” he asked breathlessly, squeezing her fingers hard. His eyes widened at the wreck of her car. “Are you okay, Scully?”

Scully took his hand in both of hers. “It's a long story, Mulder.”

He moved closer and wrapped his arms around her gently, mumbling, “My god, Scully,” into her hair. She was hugging him back just as tightly, nails digging into the back of his jacket. William bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet and purposefully looked away. He liked to make fun of his parents when they were affectionate, but he didn’t know Mulder and Scully well enough for that. He looked past the police cars, where his parents were pushing their way through the crowd.

His mother was half-jogging, but mostly just walking fast like she was trying not to run. “William?” she said frantically when she reached him, obviously pushing back panic. She reached out to smooth his wayward hair. (The gesture reminded him too much of Scully in the moment and it hurt; he wanted to close his eyes against the guilt.) “What happened, baby?” His father reached them, eyes full of confusion and concern.

“It’s okay, Mom,” William said. On impulse, he looked over his shoulder at his birth parents. Mulder was bent over Scully in the seat; she seemed to be reassuring him in a teasing way. He pushed hair away from her face and kissed her forehead lingeringly. William looked away again, back at his parents. “It’s fine. I promise. It’s okay,” he said again, and accepted his mom’s hug.

The sirens on the police car sprung to life as it pull away. The feeling of anxiousness that scrabbled around the inside of William's ribs like a live thing finally settled and he breathed out a sigh of relief. They'd be okay.

#i still have no idea where this is going but i liked the idea of incorporating some set photos #xf fanfic #i wrote this #polaroid au

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starsandsupernovae · 7 years ago

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Silk and Shadow

Summary: Peter is dead(?), someone has to take the spidersuit. Enter Michelle Jones Ships: spideychelle A/N: basically i wrote this, but i have a lot i need to write before I continue and idk if people would even like this enough for me to, so if you do want more, like, reblog, comment, something to let me know and I’ll write more after i’m done writing what I have to do!

Michelle folded her arms over her chest. “Yes, I’m fine, completely fine. I barely even knew him.” she spoke into her phone. “No of course I’m sad. I’m not completely numb to the world.” she let out a small bitter laugh. “Yeah, ok fine I’ll see you tonight, coming home for thanksgiving weekend, Mom, I gotta go, I have class now. It’s not like high school, now I actually need to attend the classes to do well.” She hung up, stabbing the ‘end call’ button with her finger.

Of course I’m sad.

She should be sad. It was the proper response after all, the effect after the cause. She could picture it written down properly as a fact- ‘if someone known to

a person dies, then the person will be sad’. But if she had to confront the one thing pervading her mind ever since she had heard the news, not even directly, overheard from two students whispering in hushed voices glancing her way, if she had to identify the lead in the pit of her stomach that hit her as they explained, pity in their eyes, it wasn’t sorrow.

It was anger.

She wasn’t sure at whom she was angry, but the rage filled her nevertheless at the sheer stupidity of it, of the idiocy of how things had happened. Of how one day he was there in front of her, talking about something with some other guy, running a hand through his already messed up brown hair, eyes bright and vibrant, laugh ringing out loud and alive, and the next he was gone. No not ‘gone’. Michelle refused to let her mind do that, make it sound better than it was, like everyone kept saying, as though he was just ‘gone’ for the weekend. He was dead. And he was never coming back.

She kept walking down the path, kicking a loose stone ahead of her, letting her hair fall into her face. She did have class now, about that she had not lied, but that wasn’t where she was heading. She had planned to go back to her own room, but a quick glance in, enough to see her perpetually perky roommate sitting on the bed with two of her friends, confirmed that she needed to look elsewhere for some proper alone time. She made her way back to the back of the building, her mind flitting back to the only person who had found her there, poking his head in with that stupid smile appearing as he saw her.

“What’re you doing here?” She had asked.

“You left your book behind.” He had held it out, and she had taken it, both of them standing awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to say. They had become friends over the senior year, and, the rage faded a bit as she remembered at the end of their final decathlon, the thrill of the win and the grin that spanned his entire face prompting her to pull him towards her, and kiss him. But then….life had happened, and they both agreed that they didn’t want to go to college in a relationship, it didn’t make sense, it wouldn’t work out. Michelle had made half these arguments herself, they were right, they were logical, and she hated them. They were still friends, but over the months they had drifted, him finding new friends and her finding a group of people she could tolerate being around. But she had still kept track of him, in the back of her mind, seeing him out of the corner of her mind. And now she wouldn’t even be doing that. The rage came back full force, an ice cold streak of raw anger, that this should happen, that the life of a nineteen year old kid who was kind of awkward, kind of funny, very smart, very kind, very- very him should end this way. A car accident they had said. Some driver didn’t see the sign, someone had the wrong signal, someone had screwed up, and this was the consequence. And it was just stupid.

She turned to leave, unable to stay in one place, filled with an energy she couldn’t contain when something caught her eye, the tail of knapsack trailing out from under some pipes. She didn’t know why she did it, why she picked up the bag, why she had unzipped it to reveal the red and black suit inside. She didn’t know why she pulled it out, why she looked on the bottom of the bag where she saw a small label, fallen off from something else with the initials P.P. She knew she should put it back. She should leave it and walk away. The rage thundered through her as she held the suit, the owner of which she now knew would never be coming back. In a split second decision, she took hold of the lightning coursing through her veins and compressed it tightly, hiding it away, where she knew it would only grow, where she would have to let it out later, grabbed the suit stuffed it back into the knapsack and left, back to her room, now empty, the girls having to actually go to class. She crossed to her desk, drawing out the suit and let her eyes rove over the surface, turning it inside out and admiring it despite herself. It was more than just multi colored textiles, that much was clear. She found the places where it could be connected to a computer, found the different pockets, the different equipment holders, and just stared for several minutes before putting it back into the bag and crossing to the larger bag she had packed for the weekend. She was going to need more space.

She spent the four hour ride on her laptop, wires trailing into her bag where she kept the suit just under the zippered surface, going through the coding within. The deeper she went the more she realized she needed to get out, this was stark level coding right there, but she felt no fear as to what would happen if she got caught, just a mild annoyance at having to bypass so many barriers to disable communication, security and tracking, the lead in her stomach still present, and still bottled up tightly but ever growing rage in her mind.

She went through the motions of coming home mechanically, the hugs the ‘how are you’s until she was finally alone in her room, with the suit. She took it out gingerly, and, as though watching someone else, a stranger in her body, she donned it, before pressing the spider emblem on her chest, feeling it conform to her body, and the AI come online.

“Peter Parker, welcome b-” the smooth female voice began before cutting off.

“Yeah.” Michelle muttered. “Not Peter. He’s not wearing this anymore.”

“I’m sorry, would you care to tell me your name?”

Michelle paused before giving the name she had stopped going by after high school, the one that now nobody called her.

“MJ”

“Hello MJ. Welcome to the spidersuit! I am Karen. Would you like to view the tutorial?”

“Yes.” Michelle answered immediately, determined to learn all she could, sitting through Karen explaining how it worked and how, in fact, it could help her, not be spiderman of course, she didn’t possess the athletic skill, but maybe, she thought, she didn’t need to. Karen finished the tutorial with-”And of course Peter has experience, you can talk with him if you have further questions.”

“Peter’s gone.” She hated saying it, and realised, talking to a computer she could just spit it out. “Peter’s dead.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry.” Michelle added.

“There is no reason to be sorry. I am a computer. I do not express any emotions. I only work and fulfill my tasks.”

Michelle opened the window of her bedroom and slid out, the suit’s adhesive’s letting her climb down the wall.

“Allright. Let’s work.”

#spideychelle #mj #michelle jones #michellejones #myfics #i wrote a thing!#let me know what you think #does it count as spideychelle? if it develops it will but if i leave it like this....idk

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bloggermagazine · 5 years ago

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Meet The Blogger - Varun Tyagi

In our latest interview series which I like to call “Meet the Blogger”, where I spotlight inspiring creatives on this Blogger Magazine. We caught up with Varun Tyagi who runs Shutter Holictv blog and social media channels. Covering travel, health, fitness and seo. Based in pink city Jaipur, Varun Tyagi is passionate about sharing his adventures in the world with their growing audience. 1. Tell us a little bit about yourself and your blog? My name is Varun, a father to an adorable daughter, a hobbyist cyclist and a blogger from the pink city Jaipur. I am an avid traveler too. I am in love with mountains and love going to up north India once a year taking a break from my day job. I started this blog a year back and since then have written over 100 articles on my cycling journeys, health & fitness, travel, and SEO. I plan to make my blog an authority site for SEO in India. 2. Describe what inspired you to start your blog? * I always had a flair for writing and travelling. However, my day job prevented me in dedicating time for what I love the most. Once of my friend who was into building websites advised me to create WordPress blog site and write articles on it. I was new to blogging world with no knowledge of websites or SEO. My first two blogs realjaipur.com and shutterholic.in were massive failures. I always wanted my blogs to earn revenue and be a self-sustaining blogging platforms. I failed to do it. Then I started learning about WordPress, SEO, how to make money online, how to create authoritative websites that Google loves. Finally after much thought and planning I bought the domain shutterholictv.com, which was the name of my YouTube channel as well. Invested time, energy and dedication paid off and now my site is Google AdSense approved and so is my YouTube channel. I run a lot of affiliate programs on my website. So the blog site has actually become a self-sustaining and regular income source for me. Always believed that persistence is the key to success. Success of failure are just by products which are determined by how much efforts you put in to what you want and crave. 3. How do you motivate yourself to keep the blog up and running? Posting regular content is important not just for your audience but also to maintain your content rankings as Google loves the sites which are updated regularly. I work on a strict schedule of publishing at least 3 posts of more in a week. I don’t mind taking an off from my regular job if I hit a road block in publishing. I keep no exceptions to this. Furthermore, this is easy money, you write and get paid. So there is always a monetary motivation when it comes to running blogs. 4. How active are you on a weekly basis? How often do you communicate with your followers? I am hyper active when it comes to my blogging stuff. I have everything on my phone to communicate with my followers and my social media fans. I keep no latency when it comes to communicating with my avid readers. 5. What do you think is the best social media strategy for getting more visitors to a blog? I believe from the time I started my blog there are four things that have worked for me which I consider as a winning strategy when it comes to social media. Posting regular content and write highly user engaging content. Always remember content is the king.Niche specific share which means that sharing content to relevant platforms. A travel group would not be keen on knowing about SEO to be honest and it makes no sense. Communicate with you audience. I love critics as they help me in improving my content. I do not get angry on trolls and critics they are an integral part of my content revision strategy.Try to be yourself when drafting content and do not share content which does not relate to you. People love stories which motivates them and not some artificially crafted non-sense. 6. Would you encourage other people to make their blog? Absolutely, time is changing. Blogging is something that has potential unlike any other job. You need to work hard like any other job. Especially for people who are not into a regular 9 to 5 job it does wonders for them. My plan to continue my day job for another year post which I would only work as a digital nomad taking care of my blog and work as an SEO consultant. 7. A lot of people think that blogging is an easy way to make money online. Do you have some tips for those people who are interested in making money from the blog? Nothing is easy in this world. Believe me if it was easy everybody would do it. It takes time, unless you hit a jack pot or you have tons of money to invest in paid advertising. I AM TOTALLY AGAINST PAID ADVERTIZING. I like making content which gets promoted automatically rather than me spending money on ads. So blogging is tough to start with but gets easy with time when you start understanding things and how this entire blogging circle works. However below is what I would advise my fellow upcoming bloggers. Be patient, blogging takes time and you are not going to start earning in few months of your blog start.Blogging is a brand new career option. I will not be surprised if your closed one disapproves it. Again make them understand and work hard. Eventually when you start getting returns everyone will understand. Do not use any short cuts or black hat methods for earning online. You can earn a little but in the longer run you will be blocked and your efforts will go in vain. Make a calendar (A daily, weekly, and a monthly plan) and stick to it. No matter if you are in a hospital keep your laptop with you and stick to your schedule. By the way, I did this, was admitted in hospital for about 2 months, had my laptop every time with me and was working whenever I felt like. Connect, connect and connect, even with people you do not like. Collect even the minutest feedback for your blog stuff and give it a thought and if the feedback of suggestion is worth it, implement it. Connectivity with people is a huge boosting factor for your traffic. Finally, do not run behind money. Run behind more traffic and making your blog popular. Money is a byproduct and will come eventually. Bloggers who started blogging only for the purpose of making money have failed. Try to make a different to people’s life and make content which is useful for them. Focus of creating something useful rather than making money. 8. What was the most challenging moment in your blogging journey so far? Everything, I had to learn everything that I know today over a span of 3 years. My earlier failure did have me thinking that this might not be for me. This was the biggest challenge for me. Frequent failures can often lead to blockage of mind thinking about the stuff that you really like. I did not wanted a boring corporate life for me. So I started once again and this time will all the facts learning and analyzing each and every step that I took was well calculated. I learn everything that I need to setup my own blog and this time started with a bang an it’s going pretty good so far. 9. What is your greatest achievement outside of blogging? Well I would say that at one point of my life with frequent blog failures and pretty average office, life actually became boring and monotonous. I weigh about 118 KG and was soon knocking at a door which would mean a long life filled with a lot of medicines. So I reassessed everything that I wanted to do in my life. Took a break from office (Actually quit) Bought a MTB (Geared cycle) and started doing long distances. Below is what I accomplished when I started riding my cycle and soon became a long distance endurance athlete. I frequently do long distance cycling, which constitutes over 100 km. My favorite route is Jaipur to Pushkar which is 140 km on side.I participated in AUDAX India endurance rides and did 200 KM Brevet last year in less than 8 hours and 300 KM Brevet ride in less than 17 hours. This year I intend to do 200, 300, 400 and 600 races which will start from October 2020.I have done Manali to Leh cycling expedition which is over 500 km of mountain terrain on a geared cycle. Have done a lot of trail riding in the mountains around Manali and Kullu valley. This year I have already set my mind of running marathons and more endurance rides. 10. Who is your blogging hero And Why? * There are two to be precise whom I follow on every social media platforms. First is Neil Patel who run https://neilpatel.com/ and is a master when it comes to SEO and anything related to Google and other search engines. Second is Nomadic Matt who runs https://www.nomadicmatt.com/ and has done some extensive traveling in his life and now is a full time travel bloggers. These two are my inspiration when it comes to running my own blog. 11. What advice would you give to a new blogger starting out? Patience & hard work is the key my friend. Focus on your goal, lay out a strategy and just do it. Keep on making improvement on the way. 12. Have you collaborate with brands? If yes, name few brands you worked with Not as if now, I had few blog mentions but that’s about it. I did work for few tech firms as a consultant in Jaipur and Delhi giving them their business SEO insights, however no collaborations as of now. 13. Finally, what are your thoughts about BloggerMagazine? It is indeed a great platforms for bloggers and influencers to come on board and meet. A bloggers data base like this will also help other bloggers to get in touch with bloggers in their niche and collaborate for mutual benefits. Follow Varun Tyagi on his journey at: I run an awesome blog by the name of Shutterholictv.com Connect with me at +91-8440088591 Email: [email protected] Facebook: My Page Instagram: My Profile Twitter: Tweet Me YouTube: My Channel Read the full article

#bloggerinterviewseries #communityofbloggers #influncerinterview #MeettheBlogger #BloggerMagazine

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beautifulramblingbrains · 8 years ago

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Bound By Blood - Chapter 7

Pairing: Eric/OC *Sarah* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M

She’s bound by the love for her family. And he won’t rest till he finds the face to his ghosts.

A/N: This chapter was incredibly hard to find a balance. I hope you like it. @murmelinchen needs an award for helping me through this.

Tags: @dauntlessmetalmom @equalstrashflavoredtrash @badassbaker @red-diary@pathybo @insertamazingwords @feminamortem @halefiresurvivor @suchlonelymuchsoul@elaacreditava @lauraaan182 @synnocence @jcause @glittergiirlgg @platitudinise @frecklefaceb@mimigemrose @sparklemichele @beltz2016 @ariwolff14 @queensoybean @impalalala6799@tomarisela @original46 @tigpooh67 @alida90 @beastcoastbitchez @seriskye

Jack looks miserable while leaning back in the armchair and propped up. His sparse eyebrows are wrinkled and he sits still, concentrating in front of him. Slowly Sarah rises from the floor into view and pulls a puffy-cheeked face. One side of his mouth lifts, so she disappears again and reappears quicker than last time startling him, but he smiles fully.

“Yay!” Sarah exclaims, tickling his feet. His smile doesn’t last long till he frowns again. “Will you stop doing that!” She reaches out picking him up and pulls him into her shoulder, smelling that innocent smell of the small boy and savoring it.

The sound of the door opening makes her turn and get up to her feet. “Eric?” she calls, hurrying to greet him.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, his jacket collar shrouded around his neck, looking at her before walking in and placing his laptop on the counter. He’d been at work for two days straight and Sarah couldn’t remember him ever joining her in bed. She hadn’t asked him what he was doing nor where he was, it was none of her business at the moment and she didn’t want to battle Eric in another verbal brawl. So, she had let it be.

She couldn’t say much for Eric, but her anger she had felt towards him was hard to maintain as the days passed. And she didn’t want to maintain it either - it was tiring.

Eric walks back out without a word and Sarah’s shoulders sag, thinking he’s not coming back. But he grabs at something down by the door, a medium sized box, and walks to a certain, wary distance in front of her and places it on the floor.

She waits for him to say something but he doesn’t. And his posture is stoically reserved. “What’s…” she breathes, looking around the room to anything but him a little nervously. “...in the box?”

He clears his throat, brushing a hand over his mouth and Sarah waits patiently. “Open it,” he says simply.

“Okay… do you want to…” Eric takes Jack, catching onto her hint. Picking at the sellotape, she scoffs, trying to lighten the awkwardness between them. “It’s sellotaped pretty good.”

“Use my knife.” He twists his body and she can’t help but blush while unclipping it from his leg.

Balancing the box on the arm of the chair, she carefully slices through the sellotape and pulls back the flaps, peering inside. “What is this? Is that…” She pulls out a plastic baby blue bar with three dangling cartoon animals while looking at a padded seat folded inside. “...a bouncer? You bought a bouncer?”

“I asked you what you needed days ago. You only gave me two things and I’m not stupid.” Sarah squints at him questioningly. “I know babies are apparently supposed to take over. It’s looking bland in here anyway.” Jack begins trying to eat his jacket, so Eric distracts him, turning him around to face her.

Looking up at him, she smiles. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, you're not the one that’s going to be sitting in it.”

Sarah peers to the bouncer still in the box and shrugs. “I could try but I’d probably break it.” Eric doesn’t appear amused at her joke. Gyrating on the spot, she opts to change the subject. “You look tired.”

“I am,” he admits and is distant as he bounces Jack a few times, not even looking at her.

“Have you been sleeping here?”

“You missed me?” He smirks and Sarah blushes over his words. When she doesn’t respond, the corners of his mouth drop and he passes Jack back to her, straightening out his jacket. “I’ve had a lot of work. But I have been sleeping here. It is my home after all.”

“Oh.”

“But on the couch.”

“That couch is tiny.” She snorts, her eyes flicking to the couch for a moment before looking back at him.

“It makes do for the few hours here and there.” She watches Eric unzip his jacket and he throws it over the back of the chair. “I’m working from home this afternoon. The four walls of the office were beginning to close in.”

Sarah peers to the window at the bright and sunny day outside, then to Eric who is setting himself up on the table. “I was thinking that perhaps I could take Jack outside. It’s not good for him to be cooped up in here all day.”

“No.”

“Eric, I can’t stay in this apartment. I don’t do anything apart from watching Jack.” Sarah tries to keep her voice from sounding like she is whining.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He taps away on the keys, leaning an elbow next to him as he waits. “You don’t need to do anything.”

“I want to go outside!”

“No!”

She takes the few steps between them to stand next to him. “Why?”

Eric sighs through his nose and peers up agitatedly at her. “Because I don’t trust you if we are going to be honest here.”

“It’s a walk, not a spy meeting. I’ll have Jack with me.”

“And that makes it even more futile that you don’t go outside.”

“Well, then at least around Dauntless.”

“No, Sarah.” He uses his hand to express the words in finality, but she keeps pushing.

“What about down the hall and back? Is that allowed?”

“No.”

“Is that really your decision to make? You can’t keep us locked up in this tower.”

“Yes, it is.”

“This is all beginning to span out just like it did in the past. This is what you did before-”

“I said no and I mean it!” He shuts the laptop in his agitation and stands. “I’m not saying it for the fucking fun of it! I’m saying it because it’s dangerous. And you will not leave this apartment till I say so. Do you understand?”

Sarah fights the surge of tears that rise from being spoken to in such a way. “I don’t understand, Eric. I don’t.” She hushes Jack who begins squirming agitatedly. “I’m not a soldier you can command.”

“No. But you are the Mother of my child and we are at a crucial time right now. You being out there is dangerous.” He clicks his tongue at his loud tone and strokes the back of Jack’s head as the small boy begins whimpering into Sarah’s shoulder. “Jeanine knows I’ve found you. There are too many people around us not to know. If I allow you out there and something happens, that’s on me.”

“Not even in Dauntless?”

“I don’t trust any of the people around me. Not at the moment.” Eric makes a point of tucking the hair behind her ear as he talks, softening his expression. “As soon as this is over, you’ll be safe.” He watches Sarah bite at her lip, the whites of her eyes slightly tinged pink while she looks away from him. “Do you trust me to keep you safe?” She nods and he wipes a stray tear away. “Okay, so let’s get this straight. You are not going outside without my say-so. And I’m going to ask you again, one last time. Is there anything you need?”

Sarah shakes her head. “Just… please don’t leave me alone for so long. I need someone to talk to.”

His nostrils flare and he exhales sharply. “Last time we spoke you said you didn’t want to talk with me. Look at it as me giving you exactly what you asked for.”

“I was angry,” she mumbles when he steps impossibly closer.

His face begins to form a sneer and she knows whatever is about to come out of his mouth next isn’t good. “Sometimes when we are angry, we say what we truly mean.” His sight lingers on her bottom lip when he runs a thumb across it. “Maybe not in the most educated way, but there is honesty behind it.” He places a hand on the small of her back, ushering her towards the bedroom. “Now go put Jack to bed and be quiet, I’m busy.”

Eric shakes his head as he watches her walk away. Maybe he was a little harsh. But he can’t help it. His trust was extremely limited and she’d broken it. And he wondered if that was ever going to return…

Whether it was from the lack of physical and mental activity or a play on her thoughts in general, Sarah can’t sleep, staring at the bars of Jack’s cot next to her in the darkened room. Long ago her eyes had adjusted, and she began to see the shifting of shapes and shadows the more she stared around her.

She huffs, rolling onto her back, wondering whether Eric bothered to stick around. Peering at the outline of the door, she realizes it’s awfully quiet. Curiosity gets the best of her and she had barely thought it through when her body moves, seemingly with a life of its own.

Quietly she tip-toes to the door which is open ajar from when Eric had last checked on them and she had pretended to be asleep. He didn’t realize she was awake at the time. She’d watched him tuck Jack’s blankets in, shutting her eyes as he turned towards her. Lying frozen, she had tried to keep her breathing steady as she felt him hovering over her. Eric had brushed his fingers over her hand, moving further into the covers before retreating quickly.

For a while, her mind had spun and she was convinced she had dreamt it. It was just another added reason to why she couldn’t sleep.

The small hallway is dark, and the only light comes from the kitchen, illuminating the table, but Eric was nowhere to be seen. She frowns, not because he isn’t there but because his laptop is, and still opened with folders scattered beside it.

She looks back at Jack one last time before walking into the open living space and heads straight for the laptop. Touching the plastic casing, she admires how spotless it is and smiles, thinking of a peculiar image of Eric cleaning it himself. There’s a map beside it, marked with different highlighters, times and weird area names scribbled next to certain places. She lingers on the information written next to what she knew as Abnegation’s train tracks that run parallel at one point next to their faction - the same place close to where Lizzie had died.

A soft noise brings her out of her thoughts. Flat on his back Eric looks extremely cramped on the couch, his legs dangling over the armrest. He appears troubled and not in the slightest graced with a restful sleep. The soft noise she had heard was none other than the twitching of an arm that was hanging over the edge of the couch. She notices the hand resting on his chest is balled, and when stepping closer, the flickering of his features in his sleep.

She didn’t have to guess that he was having a nightmare, that he was apparently still plagued by them even now. Yet, he had slept soundly on the first night when she had arrived - that or he was good at hiding it.

Sarah looks to the bedroom, contemplating going back to bed and leaving Eric be, perhaps speak to him in the morning when he had calmed down. She gnaws her bottom lip, looking back to his restless form - if she woke him now, she feared she would have to face his grumpy fury. But then again, maybe he wouldn’t be...

She makes up her mind eventually; knowing she couldn’t sleep with him like this on the cramped couch and walks up to his side. Kneeling down, she prepares herself for that intense, questioning expression he had mastered and that was so uniquely him.

Tilting her head, her loose hair hangs in waves and she sighs before reaching out with a shy hand towards his dangling arm.

“Eri-” Her fingertips barely press against his skin when his other hand instinctively flies out and latches around her wrist painfully. She’s yanked off-balance to her side and lands on her ass. He twists her around effortlessly, his forearm resting under her chin as he pulls her back towards him between his knees and she just about yelps when he applies pressure to her throat with his forearm. “Eric!”

The tensed muscles that were ready to wipe her from existence, slowly relax and he pants behind her, lowering his face to the side of her head.

She can feel his hot breath and the clammy sweat on his skin. “It’s me.” He doesn’t let go, and she tries to gently stroke the threatening hold he has on her even if she felt shaken herself from the whole experience. “It’s me. It’s Sarah.” He takes a deep breath and eventually releases her.

For a moment she rubs at the friction of her nightwear and his arm that was slung around her neck before peering over her shoulder at him. He wipes at his head, which is dipped low, then leans back to strip off the damp black shirt he’d been wearing. Sarah looks away.

It’s a minute before she manages to get to her feet and Eric watches her, still appearing to be vying on the edge of caution. She holds out a small hand towards him and whispers, “Come to bed with me?” She smiles sheepishly as if it would somehow help convince him. There was no intention behind her words, merely the fact that she hoped he would sleep better.

Eric takes her hand after a brief moment of hesitation and she leads him slowly to the bedroom. In the doorway she releases him and clambers quietly into bed, checking on Jack momentarily. Eric takes off his pants, then rounds the bed to his side. Sarah follows his movement, in fact, they barely lose eye contact the entire time.

Rolling to face him as he flips the covers over and lies on his back with a sigh, through the sheets she fumbles to lay a calming hand on his bicep. He frowns down at her innocent gesture for a moment before closing his eyes and relaxes.

When Sarah feels him shift on the bed, she thinks he is about to reciprocate her actions. But when he doesn’t, she tells herself she is content with the fact that she was allowed to touch him. One small step at a time.

Mark knocks confidently on Mary’s door with a pleasant smile planted on his face. He clears his throat and stands taller while waiting patiently. Today he was going to ask Mary to have dinner outside with him.

The door opens to some woman he has never seen before. He would be an idiot if he couldn’t see the snarl already lifting at her lips when giving him the once over. But he could truly say her graying, frizzy hair was horrendous regardless. No wonder she looked bitter.

“What do you want?” she snaps and now Mark is thrown off and he gapes at her. He hadn’t prepared for this. “Well? Cat got your tongue? Are you mute?”

“Uh...no. No, no. Is Mary there?”

Meredith eyes him with suspicion. “What do you want with her?”

Mark tries to keep his voice light, though he was beginning to get annoyed. “We’re friends.”

The woman snorts and laughing she says, “Not anymore!” As she tries to close the door.

“Mother!” Mary catches it before it can close on Mark. “I’m here. Sorry, I was just getting ready for school.” Her eyes slide across to the irritating woman beside her. “A little privacy?”

“Sarah told me to keep my eye on you,” she retorts, folding her arms.

“Sarah also knew Mark and he had dinner with us plenty of times.” She raises her eyebrows at Meredith before stepping outside and pulling the door to. “I’m sorry you had to come face to face with that. She is-”

“Something else?”

Mary smiles. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Where’s Sarah?”

“I needed to speak with you over that. There is something you don’t know.” She plays with her fingers nervously. “You won’t freak out?”

“Over what?” There’s a slight etching of a suspicious frown on his forehead and he adjusts his cap in distraction. “I’m not the freaking out type, Mary.”

“Well. Erm. To put this all rather simply. Sarah is Eric’s ...I don’t even know what to class their relationship. But anyway, Jack is his.”

“Fuck.” Mark’s eyes widen and he wipes the sweat beginning to form down his temple. “Shit.”

“Language!” Meredith shouts from inside the door and Mary slams it shut.

“Eric took them back to Dauntless,” Mary finishes, scowling at the door.

Mark nods a few times. “I heard about a baby and a girl. I didn’t know it was Sarah, though. I just thought it was someone in Dauntless.” He wets his lips and shifts into a more relaxed pose. “You know, I knew there was something not right…”

Mary laughs. “Oh really, Mark?”

“No, I’m bluffing, I actually didn’t have a clue.” When the laughter dies down, and Mary scratches at her neck, looking like she was just about to leave, Mark steps forwards to stop her. “Listen, after school, do you maybe wanna hang out?”

“Hang out?”

“Er, like, we could have dinner outside? Then go for a walk or-”

“You want to have a picnic with me?” She smiles but her eyebrows are drawn together in her question. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“If you want to call it that?” His face shifts and he becomes unsure when she doesn’t reply. “But… it doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be. I don’t want to make you feel-”

“Okay.”

“-uncomfortable or anything. I know that it seems kinda awkward to use the word ‘date’ because it seems so official, right?”

“Okay, Mark.”

“Some girls don’t even like to date these days, it’s like base three first thing-”

“Mark, I said okay!” Mary grabs his arm. “Stop. Stop talking. Relax.” Mark exhales his anxiety. “I want to go on a date with you. So... I’ll see you after school?” She turns back to open the front door and knocks it straight into Meredith’s inquisitive face.

“Oh...yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as you finish.” Mark walks away with a fat grin, listening to Meredith complain that Mary had broken her nose.

Eric watches Sarah picking at her breakfast, barely eating any of it. He finishes his mouthful and clears his throat. “I’m going to the training room this morning. Do you want to come or not?”

Sarah frowns at first and tries to keep her words passive, “Is that really a good place to take Jack?”

“Barely anyone will be there. Heavy schedules at the moment. Up to you.” He shrugs and forks some more food, shoving it in his mouth and watches her contemplate, much to his annoyance.

“Will we be there long? Jack has a nap around half nine, ten.”

Eric checks the time. “It’s eight now, we’ll be there an hour max.” Jack coos from his bouncer Sarah had put together first thing that morning. The small boy is placed on the floor directly between them, facing the table as they eat.

Getting up, she places her fork to the side and still avoids his eye. “I’ll just go tie my hair back.”

When she walks away, Jack stops fidgeting, tracking her movements and sporting the same particular glare as his father when his wobbling head rests back lazily to gaze up at him. “Yeah, I hate her hair tied back too,” Eric says, shoving his last piece of food in his mouth and chews quickly. Jack begins mouthing his fist ferociously and Eric snorts, for a second it looked like he was copying him.

Eric works on the bags, his movements are fast and completely lethal to the point Sarah winces a few times, imagining the outcome of being his opponent or somebody he disliked. However, she smiles when he turns to her, giving her just a brief flicker of consideration. He didn’t smile back and she struggles to figure out what he was thinking. But it was obvious he was lost in his thoughts because she began to interpret the bag as an outlet.

Sitting on a mat to one side, Sarah watches from afar, entertaining Jack on her lap who is becoming more agitated and grumpier as the minute's pass. The noise of the doors opening has her peer over, her heart almost stopping when she spots Wayne, his one good eye noticing her instantly. She gathers herself and Jack and moves over to Eric, standing on the other side of him while he questions her with a frown.

Eric’s expression doesn’t change when Wayne comes to stand next to him and leans in to whisper something in his ear. Sarah can feel the color drain from her face and she’s stuck on the spot when Wayne casually strolls up to her. He reaches out to pat Jack’s head, “Ah, so here’s the little lad everyone's talking about…” Despite his good-natured demeanor, Sarah turns Jack away protectively. “I won’t hurt him, I promise.”

Sarah looks at Eric briefly, then back at Wayne again as he plays with Jack’s hand. “Hey there, little guy,” Wayne talks sweetly. “How you doing?” His beady good eye snaps to Sarah who is still intensely staring at him as if she had seen a ghost. “You alright?” A part of his mouth twitches, knowing exactly what he was doing.

She’s still stuck on the spot, although suddenly her senses come to. “Don’t touch him!” she hisses and pulls Jack away, hugging him close to her. “I want to go. I’m- I wasn’t ready to leave the apartment. You were right,” she mumbles, touching Eric’s arm.

It wasn’t so much trying to protect Wayne, it was the thought of violence around Jack. She also didn’t want Eric to get hurt or ruin anything else between them with more details of their past. In all reality, if something happened to Eric, she would be left with Jack unprotected. And at the moment with their relationship still very much unstable, Wayne had the upper hand in any arguments, because at least Eric remembered him.

Wayne takes advantage of the situation and plants the seed quickly in Eric’s head. “So, you’re scared of Dauntless soldiers, but you’re in Dauntless, love. You gotta get used to it.”

“Can we go?” She tugs on Eric, ignoring the one-eyed idiot’s comments. “Please.” She slips her free hand down into his, but Eric is quick to pull away and she looks to the floor, embarrassed at his rejection.

Wayne scoffs. “Ain't that sweet?” His face the utter depiction of glory.

“Fuck off, Wayne.” Eric turns back to the bag.

Wayne smirks at Sarah before she watches him leave.

“This is nice.” Mary leans back to enjoy the sun on her face. Mark had provided a sandwich dinner which was hardly enough but it was the thought that counted. He’d driven them out to a plain land with old streets below and sat them upon a grassy hill to enjoy the view. “You come here a lot?”

“This is my thinking space,” he admits. “I come here when I need a moment.”

“We won’t get in trouble for being here?”

“I won’t…” He looks at her through squinted eyes from the sun. “But you would.” He smiles when her eyes widen.

“What? Why didn’t you say anything?” She wasn’t really angry, in fact, her voice was unbothered entirely.

“I can sense your inner rebel.”

“You are a major geek, you know that?” Mary laughs. “No piercings, no tattoos...what faction did you say you were born in again?”

“Dauntless, you little turd.” He throws a piece of grass at her. “And I can’t really say much about you because... well, you’re perfect.”

Flattered by his words, Mary blushes and sits up to cross her legs, letting her fingers skim the grass in front of her. She thinks back to her times with Wayne for some reason. He took something from her she would never get back and it shames her, wondering that if Mark ever knew then would he lose interest in her? “I’m not perfect,” she mumbles shyly.

“Everyone has a different type of perfection. In my eyes, you are it.” Mary watches him, relaxing on his elbows, eyes closed, not having noticed her become uncomfortable.

“I should really be getting back.” She stands suddenly, grabbing at their rubbish and blanket they were sitting on, pulling it out from underneath him to which he startles.

“Hey!” Mark gets up to face her. “Did I say something wrong? What’s the rush?”

“Nothing. It’s just getting on. I should be getting home. My mother will be pulling her hair out.” The thought wasn’t unpleasant.

“Okay,” Mark says while watching her frantic movements. “Do you want to do this again? Another time?” He adjusts his cap, unsure of her behavior.

“Maybe.” Mary stumbles trying to fold the blanket and Mark catches her, his expression twisted in concern. “I’m fine, really. And yes, we can do this again.” He seems satisfied for now and smiles, helping her pick up their remaining items. He walks out ahead and turns back with a goofy grin she can’t help but snort too.

“What?”

“It’s just you.” He waits for her to catch up to him and elbows her lightly. “How did you even pass at Dauntless?”

“Hey now! I thought being rude was beyond Abnegation.” Mark studies her intensely and she feels shy beside him. “I’m a pretty good soldier. Apparently.”

“Do you take a lot of girls on dates?”

Mark shakes his head. “I have never asked a girl out on a date in my life. You were the first. That’s permission to now feel special.”

“I’m looking at someone special right now.” Before she has time, Mark knocks her hair out of her bun and jogs off ahead of her with the hair band in hand.

“Mark! Give it back!” She felt kind of stupid running after him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Mary catches up to him at the truck and he holds the door open, resting his arm above him. “I’ll give it back on one condition,” he says, grinning mischievously.

“I’m not selling you my soul. Plus, your Dauntless is really starting to show now.”

Mark ignores her statement completely and admires her cute wrinkled nose as she tries to appear firmer than what she was. “You have to kiss me.”

Mary’s world begins to spin and her cheeks burn. “A kiss is earned.”

“I showed you my thinking place…” he mumbles, watching her clamber inside the cab. He rushes round to his side and once in his seat, he turns to her and smiles. “I don’t show anyone my thinking place. And I still have your hair band which won’t be returned until you fulfill my condition.” He holds it up in front of him triumphantly and laughs when she tries to snatch it from him. She falls into him and the air changes between them. Something more serious washes upon both their faces and Mary leans in closer, watching as he can’t help but look to her lips. “Only if you wanted to, that-”

“Mark, shut up,” she barely breathes, and he gulps, nodding in acknowledgment.

The only other person she had kissed was Wayne who had taken control and took her first kiss quickly, without much regard for what she was feeling. Mark, however, relaxes and lets her take her time. Her kiss is light and slow, only placing her lips upon his. He responds ever so slightly, brushing a hand down her arm before allowing her to move back. She smiles at the blush on his cheeks before she moves away and holds her hand out. “Hair band, please!”

Sarah lies on her back, waiting for Eric to join her in bed. She smiles through the darkness at him as he appears in the doorway, starkers from his shower and uncaring for being so exposed in front of her. He doesn’t say a word nor returns her smile.

She remembers in the past that Eric wouldn’t allow her in bed clothed. She didn’t like it back then, but with time it made her feel wanted, loving how he appreciated her body.

Now he doesn’t seem to care, and as he lies down, pays her no attention at all. Maybe what he said back at the house was true. That she was just a babysitter and her only duty being here was to look after Jack. It seemed with a clean memory, he didn’t like her at all. Things were different since he had found about what she had done.

Eric was distant with her and as she watches him turn his back, she can feel the hurt rise from her chest; especially as her eyes drift down to the nightdress with the bow he once admired so much.

She felt stupid, interpreting that he cared the night before when he allowed her to touch his arm until he fell asleep. That there was still some hope...

Hope.

That was all she ever relied on lately.

The pain of his disinterest squeezes in her chest and she rolls to face Jack, someone who she knew appreciated her.

As the days pass, the routine begins to grind on every single one of Sarah’s nerves and with that her attitude and patience dwindles. Not only had she done what she did for a reason, she was now being punished for a situation she had never helped to create and even denied it several times. But all Eric seems to focus on is how hurt he is, and how betrayed he felt.

He’d done exactly what she had imagined and hidden her away. During the trips to the training room, everybody they passed knew who Jack was, but no one ever paid any attention to who she was, barely acknowledging her existence at all. She knew no one, spoke to no one. Even Eric had stopped talking to her apart from anything to do with Jack.

At least Jack and Eric had bonded. He felt confident taking his son into his arms, picking him up as soon as he walked through the door. Their one moment she thought he may speak to her as a human being was when he commented on how tiny his feet were, inspecting each toe, before leaving for work without so much as a goodbye.

Sarah couldn’t figure out how to break the vicious cycle they were falling into. However, she was determined to do just that.

Brushing her hair down and fluffing the waves, she applies lip balm, rubbing her cheeks for blush and wearing just a thin dress. The times when Eric came home were varied, all she had to do was wait. And tonight she is lucky.

She busies herself with cleaning when he enters. Eric kicks off his boots in the hallway, his head snapping up to the unusual sight at such a late hour. She smiles and his frown only etches deeper. Reluctance suddenly sweeps through her, he seems pissed. But it was too late now to back out.

When he makes a move towards the bathroom, she steps in front of him. The expression on his face is comical, disbelieving in what she was doing. “Is there a problem?”

“No…” she breathes, hesitant on her next steps.

“Then move,” he growls.

Sarah grabs his jacket as he tries to pass her when she doesn’t move. “Eric wait. Can we just talk?”

“I have nothing to say,” he grumbles and shrugs, but his eyes deceive him as they dance down to her chest. “What would we talk about anyway? We have nothing in common.” His voice is biting, goading for her reaction but she tries to keep calm.

“About anything? About your work? Why are you so busy? You’ve been stressed-”

Eric grabs her jaw, pushing her back as he walks forward, snapping from his passive demeanor in an instant. “Of course I’m fucking stressed! Did you miss the part where I have to share my home with a lying gray? That I have to watch you every day and wonder what I ever said or did to you?” He scoffs, tilting his head and possessively drops his hand between her neck and shoulder. “Some days I even wonder what it was like to fuck you. Maybe we should talk about that?”

Sarah’s lip trembles from the shock of his outburst. But she knew it was coming, he’d been brooding for days. “Anything is better than nothing,” she says, her voice pointedly firm and holding his intense gaze.

“Do you want to fuck me now?” He pouts. “I’m all for it. Be interesting to see if my speculations are correct. I’m not all into that tender shit. But, you probably know that, don’t you?”

“If speaking to me this way makes you feel any better, then go ahead. Let it all out, Eric.” She yelps when he spins her, pushing her into the counter and she tries to steady herself against it. His chest is heavily weighed onto her back and one hand curls around the top of her shoulder, the grip painful.

“Get it into your thick skull, I don’t trust you! And I never will... Some pretty clothes and chapstick aren't going to change that.”

She pushes back against him, her voice tight, “I still love you, Eric. I know you know that it’s true.”

“You didn’t love me enough!” His voice bellows beside her ear and he releases her. “Just like my whore of a mother. I have no respect for people who fucking bail when times get tough.” Now he grabs her face to implant his words, and she stares up at him wide-eyed. “If you loved me, you would’ve known I don’t trust easily. You wouldn’t have left...” He shakes her in an attempt to keep her attention, although with his face flush in anger he had it fully. “And my mom was lucky that illness killed her first. Because if I got my hands on her...”

“I’m not afraid of you! You can try to scare me all you want, degrade me, but I know it’s just a front-”

“You know nothing!” He takes a deep breath and his hands shake when he brings it up to the bridge of his nose. “Get out of my sight,” he mumbles at first, then quickly snaps his head up to her and grabs her shoulders, pushing her to the bedroom hurriedly. “Go! Get away from me!”

A sob escapes Sarah and she rushes to close the door. Jack begins whimpering, then yells when a smash and multiple bangs erupt from the kitchen.

“Shh,” Sarah comforts him, drawing him to her chest and sniffs. “I’m going to fix this. I promise.”

The next morning, he joins her in the bathroom while she showers. Sarah knows he’s there from the sound of him entering, and she can see his looming figure out of the corner of her eye behind the glazed shower door. Just the splatter of the water hitting the tiles drowns them in this moment, and she begins to feel hot knowing he was watching her; though just her outline, within such a short space between them

She’s just finished her hair when he pulls the shower door open. His eyes flicker up and down, then he holds her gaze.

“Get out the shower.” With his voice stern, she rushes to get out, quickly drying and walking into the messy living space from last night in just her towel, stepping over a rogue broken plate. With Eric in his full uniform, looking every part professional in his role, she fears the worst.

“I’ll be gone most of the day,” he eventually says, barely looking at her. So she copies him, dropping her sight to the floor as the feeling of her damp hair begins to drip down her back. “It’s something I’ve been working on and I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Sarah briefly lifts her head to see the gun holstered to his leg, which begs her to ask, “Is it dangerous?”

“Dauntless is on lockdown. Nobody is getting in or out until I get back.” Ignoring her question completely, he points to the table. “Feel free to take Jack for a walk anywhere but outside. You can’t get out, so don’t try. And you are being watched... The code to the door is written down on the side, along with contact details if you need anything and a temporary phone. Use it if you have to.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“You should be. Everything rides on today.”

“What’s today?”

“The day we accidently stumble upon the factionless.” He smirks to himself.

Sarah frowns at him, not really understanding. “What does that mean, Eric?”

“It means keep your mouth shut. It’s taken me days to come up with this plan by myself without releasing the order to anyone else. If they know that we are about to intercept them and predict our movement, I know then that the only other person aware of my accidental route is you.”

“You know I have nothing to do with the factionless, or Jeanine. It was a one-time thing and it was personal. Absolutely none of it was involved with the factions.”

“Do I?” He raises his eyebrows questioningly. “It’s convenient though, isn’t it?”

“Is this why you won’t touch me?” The words are out before she can stop them. “You think I’m a spy or... rebel?”

“Touch you?” He exclaims in exasperation, his composure switching to condescending as he throws a hand up and down her body. “This whole time all you have thought about is me touching you?”

She wrings her hands and stutters. “Before, even when we didn’t get along we still-”

“Stop it, Sarah! Listen to what you're saying. You wiped the man you used to know for better or worse and you have to live with that. Maybe once there was a time we fucked... but that’s gone, because of you.”

Sarah’s voice is caught in her throat at his hateful, disgusting misuse of what she meant. “Why are you saying this? Why are you trying to hurt me?” She sniffs, wiping at her face as her inner anger begins to build and she clamps her eyes shut. “Don’t you think I’ve been punished enough already? All the crap I’ve had to deal with over the months!”

“I’m trying to make you see sense in that fucking small world you live in. It’s obvious that I wasn’t an important part in your life otherwise you wouldn’t have done what you did. I have a faction to run, and at the moment that comes before you.”

“The factions always came before me!” She pants and he looks to the floor. “What did Wayne say to you?” she demands, knowing the only person Eric listens to is that weasel and the dramatic decline between them had started when Wayne had been there, smirking and gloating in front of her.

“Nothing that I don’t already know.” Sarah loses her composure when he steps forward, running the knuckles of his fingers down the side of her cheek and changes the tone of his voice to something unusually smooth. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be doing what I have to, to take care of you and Jack.” He simpers, “Though, I hope you have a good memory of a time where you were loved.”

She can’t bear to stand in front of him any longer, she turns quickly and runs down the hall to lock herself in the bathroom.

Eric hurries after her but the door slams just in his face, so he rests a hand high on the frame, listening to her sliding down the inside of the door, sobbing. His jaw twitches and he gnaws the inside of his cheek as he leans further into his arm.

What was he going to say to her anyway? What was the point? He shuts his eyes and exhales, filled with an inkling of regret.

He knows she’s just beyond the treated wood, and he puts a hand to the level of where her head would be, sighing as he does.

Before he leaves, he makes a quick stop to peer down at Jack, memorizing his tiny features and the way his arms were thrown up over his head while he slept unknowingly to the chaos around him. Then he cuts ties with his emotional attachment as he marches through the front door, squaring his shoulders and acting as if a gray girl and a small child never stole his heart.

#eric coulter #eric and sarah #chapter 7 #bound by blood #sequel #jai courtney #fanfiction #fanfic #divergent #insurgent #eric divergent #eric divergent fanfiction

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selfhelpskillss · 5 years ago

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12 Things To Help You Focus: Easy and Useful Tips That Actually Work

5 / 5 ( 1 vote )

It is not a boast to say that staying focused and determined contributes a great deal to our success, not just in our career but also in our life. It is the gateway to every desired cognitive ability, such as reasoning skill, perception, critical thinking, decision making, and many more. Yet, it is easier said than done to stay on track of your target in the world full of temptations.

Learning how to focus is not hard, yet it does require patience and willpower. In this article, I would love to share some simple things that guarantee to boost your concentration skills, which has proven useful for me until now.

12 Things To Help You Focus

Eliminate Distractions

The most obvious way to enhance your concentration is undoubtedly to keep yourself away from everything that can steal your attention.

Believe it or not, there are a variety of things that interfere with your ability to focus, such as phone notifications, noise, news, social media, and trivial programs on your computer. Also, your co-worker, friend, or family members may interrupt you without acknowledging it.

One recommended solution for this problem is to carry out your work somewhere unpretentious and quiet in nature , such as the library or a private room.

If not possible, at least try to tell the people around you not to disturb you for a while. Last but not least, avoid using phones as much as possible if it is not necessary for your work. It seems hard at first, but a small change leads to big progress, isn’t it?

Mindfulness Meditation

Not all distractions originate from external factors. Internal disturbances like exhaustion, fatigue, worry are unavoidable too. But don’t worry! There are many ways to overcome these nemeses from the inside, and mindfulness meditation is a highly advisable method that has been well supported by many researchers.

Studies have shown that mindfulness meditation does wonders for your mental health and your ability to focus. In theory, it means that you would become more mindful of your actions, which suggests that you pay extra attention to everything you do.

It will take some time, but eventually, the practice of mindfulness will train your brain to direct your attention back to the main subjects whenever your mind wanders off from it.

Have A Small Cup of Coffee

Several researches have proved the effects of caffeine on mental focus. It is a natural way to reduce fatigue, enhance alertness, and ultimately boost concentration. Therefore, having a small cup of coffee is one of the easiest ways to improve your mental focus.

However, you should keep in mind not to consume this liquid too much, as caffeine overdose may negatively lead to anxiety and insomnia. Healthy adults are advised to take 300 – 400 milligrams of caffeine per day. Meanwhile, that for adolescents should not exceed 100 mg.

Apply Pomodoro Technique

Pomodoro technique is a popular time management method that was developed in the late 1980s. The goal is to minimize the influences of internal and external disruptions on your attention span and focus ability.

Basically, this technique uses a timer to break down your working time into short breaks. Here are the six steps of the process:

Pick out ONE most crucial task that needs to be done as soon as possible.

Set the Pomodoro timer for 25 minutes.

Focus and work on the task. If you are interrupted during the process, then you will have to end that Pomodoro and start a new one.

Work on the task until the timer rings, then put a checkmark on the paper.

Take a short break for around 5 minutes, you can indulge in your hobby or doing something relaxing.

Once you have earned four Pomodoros, extend your break time into 20 minutes. During this interval, your brain will assimilate new information.

Avoid Multitasking

Although multitaskers can perform several things at the same time, it does not mean that they can work as effectively as other people.

Scientists have proved that handling more than one job at a time increases anxiety and distraction, which eventually impairs work quality. Furthermore, the time spent on switching between tasks is longer than you may think since there are many distractions that can take your mind off your work.

Moreover, new studies have suggested that multitasking pose detrimental risks on brain health. Do you know that your brain can only focus on one thing at the same time? Forcing your mind to take on two tasks (or even more) all at once not only impairs your working memory, but it also reduces your IQ points.

Trying to overcome multitasking undoubtedly marks a significant step in improving your attention span. One recommended way is to prioritize your tasks, which means that should work on the hardest task first. It also allows you to be in a much better frame of mind for the following tasks.

Make A To-Do List

Though preparing a to-do list may seem a bit time-consuming, it offers more benefits than you think. This habit can save you a huge amount of time on figuring out what needs to be done now and then. Besides, it allows you to keep track of your work in an orderly way.

Yet, a to-do list is not just about listing all the tasks. For better efficiency, you should also categorize your tasks in terms of priority.

For examples, The “Musts” are the most important things that need to be finished as soon as possible. Meanwhile, the “Maybes” (or any names that you like) list other tasks that you can work on later if you have time.

Take Care of Your Diets

We all know that diets can have an immense impact on brain health. Therefore, consuming the right food can help to boost your concentration and enhance cognitive functions. However, not all types of food have that kind of effect.

In order to stay fueled, try to balance the healthy fats, complex carbohydrates, and lean protein in your daily meals. Also, remember to stay away from fast food, processed food, and sugar overdose. Last but not least, don’t forget to keep yourself hydrated.

Here are some food that we highly recommend for your ability to focus and better mental health, such as:

Egg

Dairy food (not with high sugar intake)

Fish

Green vegetables

Nuts and chocolate

Fruits: avocado, blueberries

Tea and coffee

Sleep Quality

Obviously, sleep deprivation prevents your mind from working at its best. With the hectic pace of modern life, getting enough sleep seems like a faraway wish. Yet you need to keep in mind that the long-term lack of sleep negatively impairs your concentration and memory.

For the sake of your health and your productivity, hit the dreamland at least seven hours a day. But what if you find it hard to fall into sleep despite lying in your bed for hours? Here are some recommended options:

Avoid drinking coffee after lunchtime

Avoid using electronic devices (phones, laptops) one hour prior to sleeping time

Make sure your bedroom is cool and quiet to sleep

Do some light exercises in the afternoon

Try Doodle

The power of doodle to human’s concentration ability can take you by surprise Specifically, doodle helps people to stay focused better by gathering their thoughts together in a well-structured manner.

This method encourages our creativity and requires us to pay attention to the main points and come up with our own summary of the topic/ Furthermore, it is a key to big-picture thinking.

Brain Games

Brain games are a fun and simple way to reinforce your attentiveness and concentration. Many studies have suggested that engaging in brain games for approximately 15 minutes a day can have outstanding effects on human’s concentration.

Here are some recommended games to train your brain, which have been proved to work by studies and researches:

Sudoku

Scrambles

Word searches

Jigsaw puzzle

Crossword

Chess

Brainteasers

Breathing Techniques

One practical and quick tips to regain concentration is controlling your breaths. Not so many people know that breathing has a direct influence on human brain chemistry, which in turn builds up concentration and strengthens brain health.

If you feel that your mind starts to wander off, try taking some deep breaths to guide your focus back on track. On top of that, there are some simple deep breathing exercises that help with your mental focus:

Box breathing

Alternate Nostril Breathing

Anapana method

Read Books

Another way to help you enhance focus is by reading books. Reading helps you to pay attention to details and improve your brain’s memory and cognitive functions.

Therefore, once you know how to focus on reading a book in an appropriate amount of time, practicing concentration at work will be a much easier task.

First, start with some easy-to-read books or books from your favorite genres to know how to recall information and link details. Then, try to level up your reading techniques with other book categories. Books on self-improvement are an ideal suggestion to try since they are highly practical and are usually written appealingly.

Conclusion

There are a variety of different things to help you focus, not just only the 12 tips mentioned above. In order to know which one works best for you, consider trying a few of them and checking on your results.

However, remember to be patient! The changes will not come overnight; they are the outcomes of your long-term efforts.

If you have further questions on this article, feel free to reach out to Self Help Skills. Thanks for reading!

source https://selfhelpskills.net/things-to-help-you-focus/

#selfhelpskills selfhelp selfhelpbook selfhelpbooks selfhelpsuccess

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