#When you open a new document to try and bang out a scene a few times to get it right and then. The Thoughts Hit You.

[gravedigest]

UH OH.

2K WORDS OF A DIFFERENT AU IN ONE HOUR.

[daydream-cement]

I have a one-shot idea for larissa (depends if the other person could be laurel or someone else) like a simple fluff fic about coffee dates at the weathervane or train rides together hehe

4 Train Rides and Coffee Dates I Said Nothing, And The 1 Time I Did

Characters: Larissa Weems x writer!reader

Synopsis: Kinda what the title says. Just fluffy. A bit of an AU, set in the past. Larissa is just beginning to work at Nevermore as a teacher. 

Authors Note: Sorry anon. You asked me to post this a while ago but the ideas were still banging around my skull. Also we are pretending the train goes to Jericho cause its my world and ur livin in it.

You had been taking the train to Jericho everyday for about 6 months now. You were working on your next big novel, well what you hoped would be your next big novel. Each day you would take the train and then go sit in your favorite coffee shop for a few hours to clack away on your keyboard. The train rides were marvelous, starting near the coast and ending through the woods. That’s where you found your inspiration. Well, that, and one other thing. Her. You didn’t know her name, but she was becoming the main heroine of your plotline. Tall and beautiful. She just sat down at your table on the train and never stopped coming back.

1. The First Time

You had your computer out in front of you, but you hadn’t written anything. Words alluded you this morning, but you weren't going to force it. You leaned your head back against the seat and began enjoying the forest passing by. From all the train rides before, you knew you were pulling into the Burlington station. 

Only one more stop to Jericho. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to focus on the plot line of your story, but your focus broke when someone sat down at your table sitting kitty corner from you. You couldn’t help but glance to your new tablemate. 

You wondered if she might be a gorgon without the snakes. You might as well have been turned to stone because you couldn’t move once you looked at her. Could she be a Greek statue come to life? Was that a thing? Once she caught you staring, you shook yourself out of the trance, staring back down at your keyboard. Sneaking glances in which she would catch you every time, causing her to smile. 

The ride to Jericho wasn’t long enough.

She wasted no time getting off the train, but you did notice her take a last glance at you when she walked from the station. You smiled to yourself, hoping you had made an impression on her as well. 

At the Weathervane, the line was long once you reached the front and much to your pleasant surprise, the statuesque goddess came in. Before the barista rang you up, you leaned in close, “Hey, I want to pay for the woman who just walked in.”

The barista nodded as you pay a bit extra and tell them to keep anything leftover as a tip, “Don’t say anything though. I don’t want her knowing it was me.”

Finally you sat down, pulling out your laptop. You opened your tabs and documents, getting everything right before your name was called. You grab your coffee, sneaking a glance at the white-blonde haired woman who was already looking at you. 

You began writing, ignoring when she went up to order so she wouldn’t suspect you. She stood by your table as she waited for the coffee, not speaking to you or looking at you. You were busy typing out her description, Statuesque with ruby red lips. Her eyes held an intensity and you had to find out what was the passion behind them. Her legs-

“Larissa.” The barista called and the woman near you moved to get her coffee. So that was her name? Larissa.

2. The Second Time

Just like every other day, you sat looking out the window, imagining your new main character in a scene, but quickly it faded to your own personal daydream. She towered over her love interest, her hand coming up to rest on your cheek. You turned your head, pressing your lips to her palm. She smiled fondly down at you. You saw her leaning down, her eyes glancing at your lips.

Your focus was broken when she sat across from you. A scarf wrapped around her head to protect her hair from the wind today. During the train ride, you fake many things to be able to life your head from your laptop to steal a glance. Your face turned red the couple times she caught you, but she only gave you a small smile. 

Once at the Weathervane, you purchased a coffee for you and one for her. She was standing a few people back in line with someone today, another woman. The companion seemed to be pointing things out, possibly giving a tour. 

Much as the routine goes, you sit, pull open everything you need on the computer, name gets called, and you sit back down to focus on your writing. How could you focus, however, when Larissa was so close by. You only saw your muse once a day, you probably shouldn’t waste it.

You take the time to look at her outfit today. You were seeing a trend, neutral colors and shades of white. It emphasized how fair her skin was. You thought it brought more intensity to her beautiful eyes and lips. 

You notice Larissa glance around the shop when the barista tells her that her coffee is once again paid for. You smile to yourself, loving how she had no clue the crush you had on her. 

When she and her companion were called to get their coffees, you stole a final glance. She was already looking. She flashed a smile at you. Did she know it was you buying her coffee?

3. The Third Time

Today you had headphones on. It felt like a classical music kind of morning, trying to suck some inspiration from Claude Debussy. Larissa sat down with you again when you reached Burlington, but what you didn’t know is that she tried talking to you this time. 

“What are you writing?” Her voice was soft, nervous to even be speaking to you, but when she received no answer, her face was hot with embarrassment. She scolded herself internally, she should have known better than to talk with someone with headphones on. 

The train ride continues. You steal the momentary glace. Typing out the ways to describe her nose, her jaw, and her hair. She saw you looking at her, so she held her gaze at you, wanting to let you know she saw you staring. 

She gently shook her head at you, giving a partial smirk, almost like she was teasing you for staring. 

The routine at the Weathervane came and went, only when Larissa waited for her order, she sat at your table. You thought you were having a minor panic attack. You stayed completely still not typing a word. She was looking around the room, stopping to look at you a couple times. Was she teasing you?

When her name was called, she stood up with a smile. She had to have known it was you buying her coffees. 

You watched her leave the coffee shop, When she was outside, you watched her out the window. She chose to walk past the window on the other side of your booth, flashing you a smile as she walked past. 

4. The Fourth Time

This train ride was fuller than usual. You heard through local gossip that it was the nearby school’s parents weekend. When Larissa’s stop came, you wanted to scream at the parents across from you to move out of the way. That that spot was her unofficial-official spot. 

You didn’t hide the fact that you were looking for her at the Burlington stop. Just to catch her eye. You wanted to know if she was there and wanted her to know you were there. 

You spotted her, unable to stop a smile from spreading on your face. You seemed to catch her eye too. She waved at you with a gloved hand from the other side of the train, causing your heart to flutter.

At the Weathervane, you were feeling a little cheeky. You ordered her coffee and put it at the spot across from you. When she came in, you leaned your head from the booth trying to catch her eye. She had already been searching the room for you though. You nod down to the table indicating for her to come over. 

When she approached, you took the time to appreciate how truly tall she was. She looked from you to the coffee and back to you again, “For me?”

You nod with an embarrassed smile.

“I’m running late. Let’s chat tomorrow.” 

You nod once again, words seemed to be caught in your throat. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

Larissa only smiled down at you, seeming to enjoy how flustered you were. She gave a wink, “It’s a date then!”

You could have melted into a puddle then and there. 

5. The Final Time

“What are you writing?” 

Today your typing on the train had been furious. It was actually nervous typing. You knew today was the day to actually speak to her. Larissa was sitting across from you. You were so entranced in your work that you hadn’t noticed her intently watching you after she sat down.

“I-” You glance up from your work. She has her chin resting in her hand as she inquisitively looks at you, “I’m working on a novel... What brings you on the train?”

This generated a conversation that had you leave your laptop in the dust. You listened to her speak about her new job at Nevermore. She loved the kids and thought she thought she would want to take on a leadership role at the school when she had enough experience. You began sharing minor details about past books, but you chose to omit details about this book, not wanting to share the main characters similarities to Larissa. 

You both walked and talked all the way to the Weathervane. Turns out, you were very compatible. You liked the same books and movies. You spoke similarly about the issues plaguing mankind. Conversation flowed so freely once she finally broke that barrier. 

At the coffeeshop, the barista rang you up for two coffees as usual and Larissa smirked at you, “So it has been you buying these coffees? I had a sneaking suspicion...”

“Turns out I’m not too good at keeping my feelings a secret.” She takes the space across from you in the booth and you begin to take out your computer, setting it to the side. 

“Your feelings? Does someone have a bit of a crush?” Larissa’s confidence was soaring as she took the opportunity to tease you.

The level of comfort you felt with her was spurning on your flirtation as well, “Perhaps I do...”

The sound of your names being called interrupts you. She slides from the booth, holding up a hand, “I got it.” 

You turn your attention back to your laptop, pulling open your tabs, just like you do every morning. When Larissa returns, she doesn’t sit across from you, just rather she slides in next to you, “What are you working on? Be honest this time.” 

Her arm moves behind you as she shifts her body to face you, wanting the full scoop on this book you had been working so diligently on whenever she was around.

“Oh, it’s nothing much.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing much.” She glanced down at the 170 page word count, then she lifted her eyes to read the words on the screen. She was skimming, but she thought she had enough information to go off of. Red lips. White-blonde hair. Pin-up girl. “Do I get royalties off this too?”

Her joke caused you to laugh, “It was hard not to- Well you are just so-”

You were fumbling. How do you tell her that she is the most beautiful woman you had ever seen? Well, turns out you didn’t have to. Your writing did the talking or you.

“She was the most beautiful being I had laid eyes on. Her beauty was ethereal?” As she read your words aloud, she almost felt embarrassed that someone felt that way about her. 

“Yes.” You looked intently at her, earning yourself a smirk as she shifted her jaw back and forth, almost like she wanted to challenge you. Instead, she leaned forward to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth, leaving the most lovely of lipstick stains. 

“I have work,” She stood, not ready to hear more compliments today. Turns out she didn’t believe herself to be the ethereal goddess you saw her as. She took her coffee, and kept speaking to you as she walked backwards towards the door, “I will see you tomorrow.”

[whimsyswastry]

Oooh, ME: Leviathan? I'd love to hear more about that from the wip meme.

This one is my pride and joy!!! It's the WIP I've been working on most over the last couple years and is closest to being complete. I hope to have the whole thing edited and to start posting by Halloween.

I was trying to knock out the ending of another story during NaNo 2022, but it wasn't going anywhere. So I opened up a new document and just started writing the most self-indulgent drivel I could think of... and Leviathan was born.

It's a slight AU on the Leviathan DLC. It's how would the relationship between Shepard and Kaidan have progressed if they hadn't seen one another since Horizon and were then forced to investigate the possibility of a Reaper killer.

It's especially self-indulgent in part because exes to lovers is one of my favorite tropes (I love a happy ending), but also because when they land on Despoina, they don't crash land on a debris field of downed ships, but instead find an ExoGeni underwater research facility harboring a few secrets.

I initially started this fic to try and flex my romance writing skills (which are still pretty lacking), but honestly, Shepard's scenes with her bestie (Joker) steal the show:

She banged around in the cabinets, looking for something to eat to keep her hands and mind busy. She found a cast iron tea kettle and several flavors of tea tucked away in the corner cabinet. No telling how old the leaves were, but it was better than nothing. She chose a spicy-scented mixture and added some creamer that Steve had brought down from The Hastings. She took her time making two cups of tea, walking slowly to not spill any of the precious, warm liquid. "How are you doing?" Shepard prodded Joker gently, extending her second cup of tea to him.  "Did you ask anyone else how they were doing?" He snapped but took the steaming mug. Shepard smiled as he cupped it with both hands, savoring the warmth it brought to his fingers. "Not yet." She sat down on the couch, letting his calves fall across her lap. "It was a lot of stairs." She would've let the conversation end there; he'd never been one to complain, much less share about his struggles. But he relaxed against his pillows and sighed, saying, "One hundred and forty-four steps. Not counting the landings. You know what pilots are best known for? Their stair-stepping. We hold an award show every winter. The System's Alliance Stair Stepping for Pilots Who'd Rather Be Sitting on Their Ass Awards." Shepard chuckled and then cursed when the laugh jostled a splash of heat over her lip. "You'll be a shoo-in this year." "I hope so. I was robbed last year." The room was quiet while they finished their tea, only Joker's exaggerated sipping breaking the silence. After he placed the mug on the ground next to the couch, he placed his hands behind his head and asked in a dead-serious tone, "Do I need to hit him?"

[alecxaheart]

Someone's Someone | Bang Chan Oneshot (2)

✎ Genre : CEO AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Bang Chan X Reader

✎ Word Count : 5.5k words

✎ Synopsis : We all just wanna be someone's someone that we can't live without. At this time, Chan was looking for his. And unexpectedly, he was already tied down to someone.

✎ Warnings : Explicit Language

✎ Parts : 1 , 2

" Let's just part ways here, " Saying those words felt a bit disheartening at some point, yet you chose to disregard it.

You walked forwards, while Chan stayed in his position, wearing his coat and fixing his tie. Although, something stopped you. As in you couldn't go forwards as much as you force to. Well when you did force yourself, it only tugged Chan towards you. Turning around, he was already eyeing you. " What was that for?! "

Glaring at the thread, you thought out loud, " Is this string telling me, it can only stretch itself approximately at 7 meters?! "

Twin buildings towered above you two, heavy work's shouting for the both of you. You suddenly feel so small when you found out who this dude was in the company. Either way, you stepped inside the building next to him as if you're supposed to be. You don't have any other choice though unless you wanna be dragged by this buff guy and look like a fool rolling around since the thread is invisible to the public.

" I'm surprised that you don't know who I am, " He stated as you entered the elevator with him. You could tell how much of a fuss this is already when you walked in those doors alongside him.

" Does it really have to be my fault when I only started working here a few months ago, Mr. CEO? " He responded with a chuckle.

" It's Mr. Bang, well, at work. You can call me Chan when we're not. I don't like such formality and bringing work on my rest hours. "

" Oh, so you're that Mr. Bang. The one I hid from last night, " You whispered the last sentence.

" Pardon? " The elevator chimed as you reached your floor, opening its doors swiftly.

" It's.. It's nothing, " You stuttered and hastily stepped out of the elevator while Chan followed. " Why are we on my floor again? Isn't yours like, at the very top floor just to have that stunning view of the world or something? "

" Seems like some fanfiction you got there for me, " He chuckled first while you lowered your head in embarrassment. " But no, my office is at the opposite building, about two or three levels above yours which means it's the middle floor. In addition to that, I have to discuss matters with your boss due to some adjustments that we have over here, " He brought up his thumb to your view, talking about the red string. " Just hand over the documents then wait for me outside by the door, copy? " Chan explained as he stopped in front of a dark oak door, knocking on it three times.

" Adjustments? What- "

" Come in, " The voice on the other side of the door called out. You could've had a short session of hesitations first but this Bang Chan just opens the door widely and gives off such superior vibes that gave you the chills - like he should 'cause he's the CEO, he freaking owns the place. You did wonder why you haven't been fired yet after every informalities you've shown to him. What a great first impression you got there for a Chief Executive Officer, you're never gonna get a promotion to get out of this trashy position.

The surprising entrance of the uninvited and unexpected guest caught your boss off-guard. " Ah! G-Good morning, Mr. Bang! " Ms. Kang frantically stood up and bowed, her phone slipping off of her hands and onto the desk. Looking up, she saw you behind Chan, your hand fidgeting around the strap of your bag while head held down. " And Ms... (Y/N)? " She questioned as she averted her eyes back to Chan.

" Pardon me although I won't be here for long, I'm only handing you the documents like you instructed, Ms. Kang. " You said while handing her the documents. She took a quick scan on it before she gestured you to leave. Following Chan's instructions, you wait by the door as soon as you've shut it. Trying your best to not let curiosity get the best of you and eavesdrop, you distracted yourself by scrolling through your phone and jamming to some Monsta X's songs.

" May I ask what business brought you here to my office? "

" I'd like to compromise. "

It wasn't long that you've thought about getting fired and promotions, not even hours had passed.

Yet here you are, promoted and working as the CEO's assistant on that very day like it's the only choice. Standing on the polished marble floors, opposite side of the building, in his high-class office. It was spacious enough to fit two office desks and a lounge (probably for coffee breaks or small meetings) yet grand-looking with the accent walls and chandelier. The smell of lavender and the nice fluorescent glow it had made it better. Speaking of glow, you suddenly missed Kim Seungmin, the only co-worker friend you got. His bright presence who would constantly bother you from time to time during work hours. You can't really pinpoint whether he is an angel or demon with that fact because most likely you're the one being scolded instead of him. He better be jealous by the time he finds out you're now a CEO's Assistant.

" Ms. Kang got what she wished for in exchange for you getting the 2nd best achievable seat in the company, " Chan continued to elaborate the discussion in the room where it happened as he took a seat, not even bothering to help you fix your new desk if he was a gentleman. Honestly, it's undeniably comfortable being around this man despite you only got acquainted with him this day.

" Seriously? Can't you just promote me with a snap of your fingers? " You whined, arranging all of your things out from the container.

" Maybe if I had the infinity stones, " He first joked and you're not taking it. " Although it's Ms. Kang, there's an exchange for everything with her, " He casually said, looking through his emails with his chin resting on his fist.

" I- " Learn to shut your pesky little mouth, (Y/N). Your own conscience just sealed your mouth from babbling nonsense.

Well, let's think about the bright side. First up, you're promoted, meaning you'll get a way higher pay than before. Second, you're free from Ms. Kang's grasp. Third, Chan seems like a nice and chill boss. If your impression on him will be proven wrong, in any way he couldn't be as worse as Ms. Kang 'cause so far he saved your butt and doesn't mind your attitude.

" Ah, right. You're staying at my house for the meantime, " The book you're trying to place on the top shelf just fell on your head, making you lose your balance and fall to the ground. The loud thump made Chan glance at you, preventing himself from laughing. With your head aching and vision uneven, you tried to process what he said.

" What did you say? " Chan stood up from his chair and made his way towards you.

" I said you're staying at my house until we figure out how to break this thread off, " He answered as he offered a hand for you to take. This simple action made you tense, feeling your face heating up. You gladly took it with weak legs, though you eventually got back to your own feet without his support.

" Yours? Why not mine? I bet it's closer to work than yours. "

" You got a lot of complaints, I hope you know that. "

" No I'm not! Just.. talkative, " You bluffed, pouting. " And fine, your house then. Mine's probably not as presentable as yours anyway. "

This is the red string of fate that kept you two together the whole time, knotted around one another's finger securely. Both of you share the same thoughts while sitting on the couch in the living room of Chan's luxurious penthouse. It did offer extravagant views of Seoul from the top of the apartment, making everything feel so surreal. Could it possibly be malfunctioning? It's supposed to stretch out without limitations as well as it'll be invisible to the naked eye including yours, according to the tales and legends you've heard as a child. Most importantly, how could you break it off?

" Maybe this had to do something with the child, " Chan thought to himself, legs crossed and eyes trained down to the floor. " You cleared our schedule for the week, correct? " He looked towards you, catching your gaze on him.

" Yes, I did. Why? " You couldn't help but be enchanted in his brown eyes. It did look brighter in the sunset than before as the sunlight kissed his face. You wanted to take a closer look at it as to what it may hold within those orbs.

" You know the child back in the train? The one who placed this string of fate around our fingers? " With those words, you were snapped back into reality.

" Child? No? I was asleep, remember? " You looked away and a dog's appearance caught your attention, feeling soft and in 'awe' for it immediately. It had some large brown spots on its white fur, fluffy and has this wavy ears. It looks quite similar to that dog named 'Lady' in "Lady and the Tramp". Noticing that it was really friendly even with strangers, you patted its head lightly as it neared you. Chan witnessed you bond with his partner, smiling. The dog was ecstatic to make new friends with you that it jumped to your lap. Giggling, you ruffled its fur and kissed its forehead. " Seems like you're well loved, baby~ " You cooed, booping its nose.

" She's Berry, by the way. " Chan informed you while watching you play with berry's paws.

" I have to say, she's the cutest, " You flashed a beaming smile at him, eyes forming into crescents. Chan couldn't do anything but smile back, his heart slowly melting at the scene in front of him. You caught the sight of his dimples, which made you think that it's now one of your favorite features he has. If everyday's like this, it'd be such a bliss. Yet you know it'll somehow be just another memory you'll treasure since there will be an end to this.

Back to reality, Chan further tells you the details of the occurrences while you were sleeping. " Ah, right. About the child. If my memory serves me correct, he was blonde headed and had ocean blue-like eyes. He's about 4'6 feet in height and the one who placed this thread around our fingers. When I tried to run after him, he just vanished into thin air. "

" You sure you're not being delusional? " You carefully placed berry down on the couch then made your way to the kitchen.

" Positive. " He replied while petting his companion, who's getting some rest first, before following you. You asked him what his plans were, wrapping your fingers around the refrigerator handle. Opening it, you scanned for available foods due to your stomach being upset in this whole conversation. There's a lot of goods, especially meat. You're assuming that this man eats a lot even when he's on his own. While you were busy with that, Chan thinks of an itinerary for the whole week to get your own lives back. Until, his deep thoughts were interrupted by you.

" How about we eat dinner first so then you can plan properly, hm? You want steak? " You asked, placing the ingredients you need right in front of his view. His eyes just twinkled before you and were already on the raw steak, famished.

" Chris wants steak, please! " Enthusiastically said by Chris, giggling afterwards.

" Steak coming right up just for Chris! " He responded with a small clap, smiling ear to ear. You have to be honest, your first meeting with him is just the worst than any other possible happenings to you two's first meeting. Yet you're satisfied that at least you met him in some way that brought you closer, especially with this string of fate. And today's gonna be a long night for the both of you.

It's very late at night yet your body wouldn't let you rest despite Chan giving you his whole king-sized bed while he sleeps on his divan couch a few meters away, or so you thought he's fast asleep. Although the comforter, mattress, pillows, just the bed as a whole is definitely a 5-star, you can't really sleep easily in someone else's home that you just met. Minutes that felt like hours passed, your eyes were blankly staring at the ceiling. The silence was quite dreadful for you usually at night, which is what you get for watching a fairly ton of horror movies. With a few sessions of hesitations, you decided to break it by calling Chan first. " Psst. Hey Chan. Who designed your house? "

After a short pause, you received a fade sound of shifting and a groan. " A friend of mine. His name's Hyunjin. Why do you ask? " He responded, staring at the same ceiling as you. Arms resting behind his head.

You laid down on your stomach then propped your chin on your hands, facing him. " Is he cute? "

" Seriously, (Y/N)? " He deadpanned. " Also he's already Changbin's anyway so I suggest you stay away unless you want a death wish. "

" Okay, Okay. Chill. I'm just asking, " You rolled your eyes. " I just can't sleep. "

" I already offered you the best bed there is. " Chan looked at your direction and glared.

" It's not that. It's from the fact that I can't fall asleep easily in a stranger's house, that's for sure, " You shifted again in the soft cream cotton bed, letting your body sink. It's like you're laying on a relieving cloud in the heavens.

" We've already passed the stranger level. Let's say we're acquaintances. "

" That doesn't make any such difference especially to my problem but okay. " You pouted.

A long pause surrounded the room, the chills slowly creeping on to your skin. You covered your whole body with the warm comforter, feeling the slumber visiting you little by little. A yawn escaping your lips and eyes getting droopy. Pondering for a second before you let yourself sleep, you took a last glance towards Chan. " Are you cold? " You asked when you saw him without any blankets. He responded with a hum.

" A little bit. But I'll be alright, don't worry, " He yawned, eyes getting heavy as he slowly visited dreamland. " Goodnight, (Y/N). "

However, before you reply, you silently get off the bed when you're sure Chan's too tired to even open his eyes again. Making your way around the room with tippy toes until you found what you needed. You've gone over to his divan couch where he occupies it, placing the blanket you found on top of his and Berry's body, who happen to be sleeping peacefully right next to him. With a weak smile, you finally greeted him back before heading back to the bed and your slumber, " Goodnight Chan, Berry. Sweet dreams. "

Almost afternoon came but none of you decided to rise and shine, except for Berry who's starting to get hungry. It was indeed past her usual breakfast time and she doesn't seem to like the sound of having 'brunch'. So then to get what she needed, she has to be the doggo clock for today.

Berry starts barking the best that she could although it didn't make any much effect, Chan only responded by covering his ears and turning away while you stayed unbothered in your deep sleep. She proceeds to hop back on Chan's couch and licks his face, surely an effective way. He immediately flinched at the wet contact and moved Berry's face away from his, slowly opening his eyes to meet an adorable face smiling at him. " Good morning to you too, " He replied followed with a yawn.

The King Charles Spaniel dog makes her way out of the room after accomplishing step one. While Chan took his time before completely getting out of bed - or rather, couch. With a few stretches and after taking a glance at the time, he made his way out of the room to make breakfast. He glanced towards your sleeping figure. Mumbling a silent, " Thank you. " for what you've done to him in the middle of the night before carefully closing the door behind him.

Before he could even reach the kitchen, a tug from his thumb stopped him in his tracks. Chan forgot that the string of fate only has a length of 7 meters. Sighing, he went back to you and thankfully found you still fast asleep.

Chan sat down on the edge of the bed, your back facing him. Once more, his dark brown eyes gazed upon your sleeping beauty state underneath the sunlight. Once more, he admired this mesmerizing view of you for a good few seconds. He lightly tapped your shoulder, causing you to shift your body to face him while responding with a hum. " Good morning, it's time to rise and shine, " He greeted in his husky morning voice, unknowingly smiling sweetly at you. You replied with a groan, covering your whole body with the comforter. " C'mon, let's go and have breakky. "

" You should've woken me up when breakfast is ready, " You whined, your voice muffled underneath the comforter. Chan chuckled then pulled down the comforter away from your face, " I would've if it wasn't for this string. Now come on. ". You groaned, feeling defeated. Sitting up on the bed, you opened your eyes to meet Chan's face filled with softness and joy. Seeing that first thing in the morning made you smile. It was lovely.

A loud bark from outside of the room interrupted, assuming that Berry's dying of hunger. You instinctively hopped off the bed and hastily made your way to Berry, Chan followed suit. At the kitchen, you both found Berry sitting in front of her food bowl, whimpering. " Oh no, the baby's hungry, " You cooed as you knelt down to pet her. " Chan, you can start making our breakfast, " He followed your instruction, putting on an apron and started preparing you two's breakfast.

" Where's her food, by the way? "

" Are you sure we're gonna find him here? " You questioned, walking a little behind Chan at the same train station yesterday. His strides were big and quite fast which made it difficult for you to keep up at his pace. To the point that your eyes were set on the floor where you have a clear view of you two's feet. You're trying to match his pace but you immediately get worned out and fall behind once more. You guessed it was a CEO thing.

" Well, did you see him in any other places? " You fell silent, continuing to keep up with his pace. The fact that you've been asleep during that time and missed the chance to see who's behind this string of fate hit you. Chan's considered lucky to be awake and witness it.

Chan took a glance behind him to see your reaction, only to find you struggling to match with his settled pace. As soon as he noticed it, he slowed down and matched his pace with yours. Confused, you looked up at him. There were no signs of annoyance or pity on his face, and that made you delighted. What a considerate guy.

It wasn't that long until you both got in the train. The two of you sat down next to each other on a vacant bench and let the train lightly sway you as it starts moving. There was a comfortable silence lingering in the train car as you waited for this child to come into your view. Fortunately, the train's not as crowded as you thought it would be so it would be easier for you to spot the child.

After 3 more stops, you started to get distracted. Your eyes boring onto the view of the opposite window side. Chan kept cautious in his surroundings, still having high hopes of seeing the child's appearance. He didn't realize how much time had already passed and sooner or later, they'll reach the last stop. On the other hand, you slowly began to get drowsy. It's probably because you're sleep deprived for the past few weeks, over-working yourself since that Ms. Kang came into your life. You let your head rest on Chan's shoulder unconsciously which surprised him. With that, Chan first made sure you were comfortable, setting aside the thought of needing to meet the child. He hesitated first, though he did ended up wrapping his arm around you and kept you close to him. Feeling relaxed and secured, you shut your eyes as you slept in his warm embrace.

Chan noticed how much exhausted you are during the time he's been with you. He may not know exactly how tough your previous boss was to you, but it did show a huge impact on you. He thought that you looked so fragile underneath his touch, and he greatly feared the moment you might break. So he made sure to be careful with you. But other than that, he felt the urge - the need or wanting to protect you at that moment. He did questioned why, out of all people, he felt it from and because of you.

Maybe, it's because you looked so exquisite especially under the sunlight. Maybe, it's because he thought you looked adorable and amusing at the same time when you whine or complain. Maybe, it's because you're motherly especially to Berry.

Maybe, he just caught feelings for you. That's why he's questioning " why you? ", it was already love.

Unfortunately for the both of you, you never got to encounter the mysterious child once more. Days have already passed, it has been almost a week. Yet to you and Chan's dismay, no signs of the boy at all. The both of you began to lose hope and just give up. Especially you.

You felt guilty for being the least focused between the two of you, leaving Chan more responsibilities. Find the mystic child and to look out for you. You weren't really in the best shape right now, Chan knew that. You easily got tired, tend to oversleep, and you're hella pale, which you knew well that it isn't so you. " I'm sorry, " You mumbled weakly, your legs crossed and back lean on the couch pillows. Trying to not lay down and sleep more since you did just woke up from a faint.

Hearing this, Chan head over to you then immediately refused. " No, no, no. It's alright, no need to apologize. Just focus on getting better right now, okay? " You replied with a small nod, his warm hands were on yours. That simple touch always made your blood color your cheeks and feel so shy. He went back to the kitchen to continue preparing your dinner as soon as he is satisfied with your answer. In the mean time, Berry made sure to keep you busy and entertained.

While Chan's dicing some pork on a cutting board, he took a glance at the red string wrapped around his thumb. He noticed a small difference to it ever since the first day you both tried to look for the child. It had more of a faint color red, losing its opaqueness. Almost like it's about to vanish which is at some point is a good thing. Though it still has its limitations for length and never broke at your own will. He wondered if you have noticed it as well. What would it be like to be back on your own lives? Chan would be lying if he managed to picture that when he felt disheartened just at the thought of it. He got used to your small complaints, you baby talking and spoiling his dog, needing to be taken care of - when you're unable to do it yourself, even the pocket knife in your bag, that he couldn't imagine you being gone. You did became apart of his life afterall and that left him thinking of making you stay. Chan already figured that he's starting to like you back then on the train, 1st day of hunting down the child.

Which got him pondering. Concluding to a theory that maybe, this string of fate isn't going to vanish. It was only starting to get invisible to your naked eye, just like what you originally thought it would function. But it will always be there no matter what. This string of fate just happens to be more translucent the more you both realize how much you love each other.

Chan tore his gaze away from the string, switching to your pale figure in the living room. Once he knew he could leave the food cooking for a while, he grabbed a glass of water and went back to you. " You like that friend of yours, huh? " You referred to Berry's favorite dog plush. Seeing Chan in your peripheral vision, you locked eyes with him. Beaming him the sweetest smile you could muster which he instantly returned. He offered you the drink and you gladly took it into your hands. Taking a sip, you could feel Chan's eyes burning through your skin. Heat rushes to your face just by that. It's frustrating how you're so easy when he's by your side and only with him. Frequently getting the butterflies, timid, blushy, heart racing, distracted by how ethereal he is, and everything related. And you completely denied your feelings for him.

Chan took a seat beside you, now looking at the pitch black night sky out of his window walls. Those dark brown orbs showed a hint of disappointment. Following his gaze, you figured out the reason. The sky's literally pitch black, starless. As well as the moon being nowhere in sight. The melancholic sight did brought a frown to your face and you couldn't stand it. Looking back at him, you realized that there's no need for you to be crestfallen. In fact, you should be in awe.

It seems like Chan took and held the whole galaxy in his eyes that's why the night sky is empty. His eyes twinkling and shining in the darkness. Many must've envied him for that and it feels so surreal to witness it in by your very own eyes. To have it in front of you. And maybe, just maybe.

You do like Bang Chan.

" Where the hell are you taking me, Chan?! " You quietly panicked as Chan led you to an unfamiliar forest. Just the thought of the crawlies present in places like this made you shudder. " D-Do you really think the child would be brave enough to be here when I am already cowering in fear just looking at this? "

" We're not here for that child, " He chuckled at your state, continuing to walk ahead of you and deeper into the woods. Your wary eyes stayed restless, darting from left to right. " We're here to just relax. " Chan's voice began to echo the farther he is away from you.

You started to get pissed at how he started being inconsiderate and how relaxed he is right now, that's definitely not what you know about him. " What the fuck are you talking about?! So we're just wasting our ti- " The sudden raise of your voice resulted a noise in the forest - sounded like a bird flapping its wings. The sound made you flinch then you picked up your pace to get to him. You tugged onto Chan's jacket which caused him to stop and look back to you. " Chan, please, let's just go home. " You hushly pleaded from behind him, your head hung low in fear and embarrassment.

Sighing, Chan held both of your hands in his. Rubbing circles on it for you to ease up. The both of you still connected by the string of fate, which looks like it's bound to vanish soon. He also noticed how you're short in breath. " Easy, easy. Take deep breaths with me, yeah? " You matched his breathing with yours, eventually loosening up in his warmth like always. You just felt so safe and secure when you're with him. " Let's proceed? I promise you that when we get there, it'll be worth it. " He reassured, never leaving his grip on you.

" Chan.. " You whimpered and Chan instantly hushed you.

" If it makes you feel better, I'll never let go of you, " Oh how you wished that'll last forever. " Sounds good? " You nodded hesitantly.

With that, you let Chan lead you towards his destination. The comfort of his hands wrapped around yours never left on the way just like he promised. It wasn't too long until you saw light at the end of the forest. You could hear faint sounds of waves meeting the seashore and birds singing a melody. The fear you had a while ago slowly washed away as you're nearing the place.

Reaching the light, you witnessed the jaw dropping sight of the beach on the other side of the fence. Like Chan said, it is promising and worth it. He guided you in hopping onto an enormous boulder to get to the other side and you didn't complain, you're too drawn into the beach. In excitement, you went ahead of Chan, letting go of his grasp. Your feet immediately ushering you to the seashore where you could feel the cold water at your toes. As soon as you got here, you felt like you were cleansed. As if the sea took every problem, worries and fears away from you. It was healing and just the thought of it made you smile unknowingly. You never knew you needed this until now, it has been years since the last time you've been this carefree.

On the other hand, Chan's seated at his usual place. Where he could take in the whole view. Now that you were apart of it, everything seemed to set into place for his secret escapade paradise. All felt just right. The way you dance with the waves, moving with the sea, completely letting the rhythm of the water set yourself free. Plus the wind blowing your hair, your face glowing underneath the sun, how blinding your smile was at that moment, he cherished it all. " Perfect with no reasons, " Chan thought out loud as his eyes were trained on you. Unbeknownst to him, it was loud enough for you to hear it clearly.

" Perfect? " You questioned, making your way to his side. His eyes widened, alarmed. Chan looked away without hesitation. The tip of his ears starting to turn red in embarrassment. You sat down next to him, knowing that you'll be bringing some sand in your pockets back home. Noticing his ears, you let out a hearty laugh. " Aww, look at you! "

" I know, I know, " He started, covering his ears. " I'm helpless. "

" Huh? What are you talking about? " You asked while tilting your head to the side in confusion. There was a short pause, only the sound of waves continuously ringing in the area could be heard. As well as the sound of leaves rustling while the wind whispers sweet nothings to it and palm trees swaying from side to side.

" Like- "

" If this is you doubting yourself again, gosh Chan you're not the helpless one between the two of us. " You pointed out with your arms crossed. " You're a CEO of a well known company! Plus, who took care of me? You. Who saved my ass from Ms. Kang? You. Who just comforted me a while ago? You. You are never incapable or weak. If anyone told you otherwise, I- "

" I'm helplessly in love with you is what I meant, (Y/N)! " Chan confessed, now facing you.

Then, the thread in your fingers entirely loosened without any of you knowing.

The two of you locked eyes for a minute. Both surprised by everything, especially you. The wind did whisper something to the two of you, too. Yet it's difficult to figure it out at the moment. Even in broad daylight, his eyes still held the whole galaxy. And you could never let that dim.

" You walked into my life as if you've always lived there, like my heart was a home built just for you, " Chan continued, his hand already searching for yours. Looking down at your now intertwined hands, eyes filled with pure love and adoration. " It fits just like a glo- "

Perfect with no reasons.

Chan was taken by surprise at your sudden answer. You cutted him off, attaching your lips to his. Your free hand finding itself cupping his face. He then passionately responded to the kiss, his arm snaking its way around your waist to keep you close - now that the string of fate is invisible and endless. The kiss resulted you to feel so lightheaded. The softness of his lips brought you to euphoria, everything just felt so right in place. In the end, both of you were left breathless. You couldn't do anything for a few seconds after, keeping your eyes closed with mouth agape of you to try let your mind process what just happened.

You did't need for him to explain or give you anymore reasons why he loves you. The string of fate has always been the answer, reason and explanation to your love. Ever since the beginning, you and Chan are destined to meet regardless of the time, place or circumstances. It may stretch or tangle but nothing could break it and never will. You're one another's someone's someone who you can't live without.

End.

[soundsof71]

FIVE ALBUMS YOU NEED IN YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!

aka, My Top 5 of 2020, but I didn’t want to seem too retro!

Yep, I have a classic rock blog. Yep, I think that the best rock and roll in history is being made RIGHT NOW. And yep, ALL of it is being made by women. 

(Shown at top, Nova Twins by Ant Adams [x] and The Tissues by Michael Espleta [x]. I was planning to make a collage of all my faves in concert, but  not all of them were able to play in 2020. Both of these photos are pre-pandemic.)

There’s been quite a bit of movement on this list, and all five of these have spent some time at Number 1 as the year has done (gestures broadly) All This™. Anyone looking for rock and roll is going to dig any of these. 

Rocking out is just the start of it, though. Wrestling with my bipolarity and schizophrenia is tough on a good day, and there haven’t been too many of those lately. The plague has also taken its toll around me, with two family members dead and a third who’s doing better, but will likely never be all the way back. (Mask up, kids!)

I’ve written plenty about how deeply Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers have moved me this year (and will do so again), but in those rare stretches where I’ve had enough spare energy to listen to music at all these days, I’ve mostly been looking for more than beautiful music. Heavy times need heavy lifting, and I find that in heavy music. 

The five albums here have all helped carry me, pointing the way toward light.

1) BULLY, SUGAREGG

Alicia Bognanno is a force of nature as a guitarist, vocalist, composer, and producer/engineer. (While working on her degree in audio engineering at MTSU, she interned with Steve Albini, who remains both a fan and an admirer). A Nashville transplant from Minnesota, she’s still a natural fit in her home on Sub Pop: as heavy as Soundgarden, as hooky as Sleater-Kinney. 

I was blown away hearing her searing honesty while working through her discoveries of her bisexuality and bipolarity (double bi!), and her triumphant roar lifts me out of my seat every time I listen.

“She sings the hell out of [these songs], her voice fraying to the point of combustion every time she launches to the top of her range. This is phenomenal music for converting anger and anxiety into unbound joy.” ~Stereogum, Album of the Week

Also, check this fantastic interview with Alicia in the New York Times talking about what she’s gone through to get here. 

TURN IT UP!

2) GANSER, LOOK AT THAT SKY

Ganser syndrome is a rare dissociative disorder characterized by nonsensical or wrong answers to questions and other dissociative symptoms such as fugue, amnesia or conversion disorder, often with visual pseudohallucinations and a decreased state of consciousness. ~Wikipedia #it me

‘Just Look At That Sky’ doesn’t presume to offer solutions; it’s an honest document of what it feels like to wade through anxiety, day by day, not a survival guide or handbook of answers none of us actually have. Whether or not you pay attention to this, Ganser are simply one of the most invigorating, exciting new bands. ~Clashmusic

I saw one very positive review compare Ganser to a cross between Fugazi and Sonic Youth, but I think they hit much, much harder than either of those. And as you can surely guess, I also deeply relate to their themes of mental illness and dissociation while trying to make it through All This™. But my god, are they TIGHT. This is a BAND.

Ganser has two fantastic lead vocalists, and on “Bad Form”, bassist/vocalist Alicia Gaines wrote the song for the voice of keyboardist/vocalist Nadia Garofolo. Alicia also wrote a FANTASTIC essay on the strains that making an album during a pandemic puts on the mental health of the entire band at talkhouse: “Writing, recording, reaching out, balancing relationships outside and within the band, I found (and still find) myself under-rested and agitated to no particular end. More than not doing enough, I was not enough.” 

(If you can’t relate to that, I can’t relate to you, tbh.)

This video also does a fantastic job of showing dissociation. TURN IT UP!

3) THE TISSUES, BLUE FILM

“Blue Film” is a ten-song shot of dagger-twisting electro-(s)punk. It’s completely addictive from the very first listen. The tour de force is “Rear Window”, an art-punk masterpiece of slashing guitars and mad caterwauling. Copious doses of jaunty poetics and social commentary reward the earlooker patient enough to untangle Kristine Nevrose’s hysterical meowing about intergalactic salt shakers and hysterectomies, but I’m too emotionally invested to look under the hood.” ~ Sputnik Music

“Rear Window” is in fact my most-played 2020 track. TURN IT UP!

4) GUM COUNTRY, SOMEWHERE

It’s not all heavy! But even when I’m looking for something light and hooky, I need a bite, and Gum Country has done it with the kind of swirly, feeedback-laden wall of sound that Lush or Yo La Tengo would make if they lived in LA. (Recent transplants to SoCal from Vancouver, I do think that the sunshine has gone straight to their heads, in the very best way.)

Indie music nerds will know guitarist/composer/singer/front woman Courtney Garvin from The Courtneys, and she really does throw up a glorious wall of sound. I adore this video too! Sweet, swinging, fun -- and yes, the drummer is playing keyboard with one hand while slapping the skins with the other! 

I mentioned earlier that all five of these albums have spent part of the year at #1 on my list -- I think that this one might have spent the longest stretch there. Like all shoegaze, even as hooky as this, the truth of these songs is revealed in VOLUME. TURN IT UP!

5) NOVA TWINS, WHO ARE THE GIRLS?

Now, THIS is heavy! Amy Lee (vocals, guitar) and Georgia South (bass) are fucking LOUD, and insanely intense. A mix of grime, hip-hop, metal, punk, and good old rock and roll, they’re a harder-hitting, more theatrical Prodigy, with a pyre of intensity that recalls the heaviest howls of Rage Against The Machine. Indeed, Nova Twins spent a good bit of 2019 playing heavy metal festivals and toured as openers for Prophets of Rage. (Tom Morello has been a fan and supporter from the beginning.)

As you may have noted in the photo at the top of this post, their musical audacity extends to visuals too: they design their own clothes, hair, and makeup, they art direct their own videos, and more. They impress the hell out of me, and I’ve been a huge fan since hearing their first singles in 2018. I’ll plant a flag and say that Georgia South in particular is the most innovative musician on any instrument in any genre right now, but they’re both absolutely monsters. 

I’m honestly not at all sure that #5 is high enough for this, but I’m absolutely certain that after this video, you’re gonna need to rest for a little. LOL

“Taxi” is the story of two gleefully and creatively violent women shaking up the local crime syndicate as they use a vintage cab for their moving murder scene. This is the movie that Robert Rodriguez wishes he was making with Sin City, if it were combined with Blade Runner and The Matrix. And gangsters. And a snake.

I’m gonna take your crown I’m gonna, I’m gonna bleed you out We demand it by the hour We devour, control, power

I’m gonna burn it down Even the, even the royals bow

So not the same kind of therapeutic work being explored on this rekkid, but you know what? Fucking shit up is therapeutic too! 

Definitely take this full screen, and for the love of fuck, TURN IT UP!

SO. Not done with the best of 2020 yet? I’m sure not! A lot of my favorite songs aren’t on albums (at least not yet), so for an unedited list of everything I’m finding, check out my Spotify list, 2020: Shuffle This List! 268 songs and counting, over 15 hours, and not finished yet. I’m still checking out everyone else’s Best of lists (including yours! Message me links to yours!!!), so will probably be adding to this for most of 2021, too. 

And for more banging tracks by women from 2020, plus a few 2019 gems that I’m still grooving to, check out my more thoroughly curated Spotify playlist Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam. (You’ll see a couple of these tracks there!) I’m working on a YouTube playlist and an essay to properly roll that one out. I’m also still tweaking the ending, but the three dozen or so tunes there are definitely bangin’.

Tell me if you hear anything you dig here, and tell me what YOU’VE found! We’re gonna get through this together.

Yr pal, Timmy

[sevensided]

how did you get into writing fic? i'd love to start but idk even where to begin! I loved adats so I was wondering do you have any advice?

Oh my goodness! I am so flattered you’ve asked me this. Yes, I can absolutely help. I’ll throw a bunch of rambling under the cut.

I started writing fic probably when I was... sixteen years old? A lot of my early works were oneshots. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything plot heavy for the life of me, so I just stuck to AUs or whatever I felt like. I wasn’t in any particular fandom -- I really wrote whatever I had ideas for. I remember I tried once to do a plot-heavy story and I received a review absolutely ripping it to shreds. Like, it was so cruel I cried lol. I ended up deleting the fic. Years later, I get what they were trying to say (basically, more substance, less style), but at the time it cut to the quick. Really, it was only when I was in my twenties that I started writing work that was longer and/or better.

The fandom that helped me actually write plot heavy work was a historical-based fandom. As I’m a historian, it was perfect. I got to use my research skills and knowledge to create works that, above all, aimed to feel authentic. I mainly read historical fiction, so I was familiar with how that genre worked. Miraculously, people loved my work. I think I wrote about ~200k in the period of a year? These were several short stories (20-40k) and a few oneshot filler fics. While I was part of this fandom I also helped organise a Big Bang which was a lot of hard work but was extremely rewarding. Along with that, I interacted mainly with other fic writers, so I spent a lot of time chatting to people about ideas and encouraging other writers, and it just created a lovely medley where no concept was impossible or any line of dialogue too difficult. We supported each other and it was truly like a little commune. I gradually stepped away from the fandom mainly because it was just a part of my life at a very specific time, and almost as soon as that time was over, my love for that story/ship faded, but I firmly believe I figured out a lot of how/what I do now purely through that experience.

Regarding ADATS

With ADATS, it stemmed entirely from wanting to “explain” three months in canon (at the end of season three). I was interested in the idea of season four setting up Will/Mike in canon, and I wanted to test the source material to see if I could draw from what already existed to create something authentic. I began with that simple idea: what happened from July to October in 1985? Then I thought about the major themes I wanted to hit -- family, friendship, coming of age, sexuality -- and I nested them around the bigger concept: how do I get Mike from being ostensibly straight to realising he is gay? That meant thinking of two steps: Mike discovering his attraction to guys; Mike discovering his attraction to Will. Those two concepts were separate “arcs” that needed addressing in different ways. Balance was key to weaving them together and making the reader feel like they knew what was coming (and that they felt smart for putting the pieces together) without just rushing through and going “now kiss!” That’s partly why ADATS needs a sequel, lol: because it’s not finished!

Writing process

The first thing I do when I start to get an idea is I write it down. Sounds obvious. But when you have a killer line of dialogue come to you in the shower and you think “I’ll remember that” -- reader, you will not remember it. You gotta get it down ASAP! I do that the whole way through, as generally I’ll be thinking of scenes I’m stuck on and then it’ll just come to me and I’ll quickly jot it down.

The next thing -- or what I do in the meantime -- is start structuring. I plan. I try to plan a lot. Sometimes it’s okay to write “and something happens here to get them here”, because you’ll figure it out later, but for the most part I’ve discovered that planning is like gold and you can’t get enough of it. I break my work up into generally 3-4 parts/sections, and I treat each section like a mini story. So each part needs a conflict and resolution, and it needs to flow into the next section. You need to have a feeling of things evolving and maturing. Once I’ve planned those little bits, I start thinking about the bigger plot arc and how I can drop in hints along the way. I’m probably not a subtle or skilled enough writer to yet pull off that sort of gasping twist you get in really excellent books, but I’m trying to get there. It’s hard, is what I’m trying to say, but that’s okay, because we’re all learning.

Then I generally do aesthetic stuff. Sounds stupid, probably. But nothing helps me get more into a mood than doing a Pinterest board or -- most of all -- making a Spotify mix. I start thinking about the vibe and the general atmosphere, and then I almost exclusively listen to that mix when I’m working. Sort of like muscle memory? Just to get the creative juices associated with that particular selection of songs.

Another thing I’ll do along with plot structure is character structure. This is a biggie. I mean, a story is nothing without characters. So I’ll just jot down a bunch of bullet points of characters and particular aspects that I want to highlight or remember. I hate continuity errors in fiction. Like, if someone says they work on Maple Street but later in the fic they’re working on Pine Street. I hate that. So I keep note of specific things that my main character might notice at repeated points in the story (colours, places, smells, names, sounds -- so they’re all consistent even as the narrative evolves). That’s another thing -- your characters’ motivations. Not everyone is going to be a huge player, but they all do serve a purpose. The most important character is obviously your main character. I personally think it’s important to let your M.C. be an arse at times. They’re going to be mean, they’re going to misinterpret things or fly off the handle... just let ‘em. Let them be wretched humans, and then bring them back and make them realise what they’ve done. Let them learn! I love consequences in fiction, lol.

At the same time, I’ll probably start writing. We’ve already written down some snippets of neat dialogue or descriptions, but now we should start the actual process. For me, I used to start at the beginning. Usually this was the most fleshed out anyway: I’ll have a clear idea of the beginning and the end, but nothing in the middle. These days, if I have a scene in mind that I can’t forget, I’ll just write it. It will possibly get scrapped or rewritten, but that’s okay, because at least you’ve got it down and now you can devote your brain power to something useful (like figuring out what the middle is supposed to be). I’ll have half a dozen of totally out of context scenes just littered in my Word document that I’ll add to as I go along. Eventually, though, you’re going to start writing properly, and that’s when you write your opening scene.

Opening scenes: super important. Every time I write a scene I think: what is the point of this? What do I want the reader to learn or takeaway? Sometimes you do have filler scenes, but they also serve a different purpose (perhaps to establish a group dynamic or to explore/describe a character’s surroundings). Mainly, though, every scene should push something forward in some way, whether it’s character development or a plot point. So, with an opening scene, I always think you have to establish: where you are; who you are; what they are doing; where they’ve come from (in a philosophical and practical sense); and where they’re going (ditto). That doesn’t have to happen in the first paragraph -- that would be silly. But if you sprinkle that information in over time it’ll gradually build up a picture of your character and that way the reader can get an idea of who they are. You basically need to give a snapshot of what your story is about. This also goes back to the character creator stuff: where they are at the start should be different to where they end up. How that happens is, of course, because of plot, and because you’ve structured everything to the nth degree, we’ve got a very clear progression of that character’s growth (/s easier said than done lol).

General advice

Write down everything: every idea, a bit of dialogue, a description, whatever. Write it down. Doesn’t have to be neat. Just has to be on paper. You can’t remember everything, so if you’re spending time trying to hold those things in your head, it’s taking up space for new ideas to come along.

Structure, plan, structure, plan. Sometimes it’s boring and I hate it. Other times, when I’ve not written in a few days and I open the Word doc and think wtf is this supposed to be, I am very grateful for Past Me for leaving such detailed notes. Seriously, it helps so much. Oneshots don’t really need planning, in my experience. You just get those out there. But multi-chaptered stories really do, even ones that “just” focus on a relationship.

Whatever you want to write, commit to it. Space goblins invade Hawkins? Do it. Eleven and Max find themselves in a cult akin to Midsommar (2019) and must escape? Yes. Just... whatever you want to do, remember that you’re writing it for you. Write what most interests you, what makes you when you reread it go AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!! Because that makes it a thousand times easier to actually get on with the writing when you enjoy what you’re doing.

Write a lot. Every day, if you can, or at least at designated times. Occasionally I have a very specific headspace/vibe I have to be in, but sometimes it just hits me and I’ll say to my partner “I need to write now” and just disappear, lol. The more you write the more you write. It’s so, so, so true. Cannot emphasise this enough. When I wrote that ~200k in twelve months? It was because I literally wrote every. day. Or near enough. Remember that some days you’ll write 200 words, and other days you’ll write 20k (this happened to me with ADATS -- part of the reason I finished it so quickly was because I had sprints of writing 10k+ at a time that only happened because I was in the rhythm of it). Write, write, write. Who cares if it’s crap! No one will see it until you are ready. In the meantime, just write!

Probably last of all (although I could go on and on) is connect with other writers. If you’re struggling to start, sometimes just talking about it can help a huge amount. I hope it goes without saying that you can message me whenever you want, anon or not, and I will talk to you. We can talk about ideas or I can beta stuff, whatever you want! Find like-minded people and talk to them about what you want to do. Another thing this helps is in advertising your work when you do publish. I see a lot of first time fic writers get super down because they publish their magnum opus on AO3 but no one comments. Honestly, it’s because no one knows you’ve published! You don’t have to be tooting your own horn every which way, but just actively talking about your work and even collaborating with other content creators with get you hyped and other people too (and the input and encouragement other fandom members give is just... out of this world. Anon messages helped me finish ADATS when I was really worried I wouldn’t [that’s the truth]. Seriously, support is everything). When you have people excited about your work, you get excited. It’s really as simple as that.

I could go on but this is already horrendously long. I hope even a bit of this helps! If you want to chat or have any more questions, just hit me up any time.

[embyrinitalics]

Calamiversary: Flashbacks

Under the cut are a few unused flashbacks/dream sequences. I was actually really attached to some of these, and for a while I considered making an entire fic based on these two, but with Calamitous taking as long as it has my ambitions for that have fizzled out.

Anyways, I’m posting them in the order they appear in the google doc, but these are so old I can’t remember what was supposed to go where. 😂 Some of the scenes end midsentence, or have editing notes in them still, or don’t make sense because the surrounding scene never happened. Don’t think too hard about it. 😬

There’s about 3k words here, so. Hit that “keep reading” tag with caution!

Enjoy!

  Nightshade

He caught her looking, his expression amused and affronted at once.

“What are you documenting so studiously?”

“Nightshade,” she informed him coolly, and then angled the interface on him more obviously. “And something else, beautiful and strange.”

He loosed a breath, something caught between a laugh and a sigh, and tossed the stones back into the underbrush. “Are you playing with my feelings, Majesty?”

“Certainly not,” she breathed, admiring him in the viewscreen for another self-indulgent half-second before turning it on back on the flora. “I have a compendium to complete. I hardly have time for games.”

“Don’t tease me,” he murmured, folding his arms. “It isn’t easy being in love with a queen and a goddess.”

Her mouth twisted gently, swiping through the interface again and tapping more useless details into the entry. She muttered, “I’m not a goddess.”

He joined her in the grass, rocking back onto his elbow and tipping the interface back with one finger so she would meet his eyes, glimmering softly with the beginnings of a wry smile. “Who said I was talking about you?”

She smiled in earnest, letting the interface drop, forgotten, into her lap. “I wasn’t aware you were well acquainted with any other queens.”

He scoffed dismissively. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I’m sure,” she allowed, reaching to pick grass out of his hair and smoothing the wind-tousled bangs it had tangled in afterwards. She was grateful for the levity—grateful to him, for supporting her even when it meant denying himself.

So grateful...

And she still hadn’t untangled her fingers from his hair, from the soft edge of his hairline and his temple, the smooth line of his brow. He had gone quiet, eyes half closing and diverting, while he let her. He watched her palm for another second, two, and then closed a hand, gently, but firmly, over her wrist.

She swallowed, her hand hanging idly between them and the spell broken. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not stopping you for my sake,” he frowned. “It’s agony not having you, but I’m stupid enough to take what I can get.”

She sighed. “I can have you reassigned. No one would question it—”

“No, we’ve been over this,” he growled, running a hand tersely through his hair. “As long as I wield the Sword, my place is with you. And I can handle it.” Then he hesitated, expression shuttering, and he amended, “Unless you’ve changed your mind, and no longer wish it.”

Her hands were in the grass, eyes fixed on them, and her heart was throbbing in her throat. She couldn’t quite swallow it down.

She whispered, “No.”

  A Meeting

“Link,” she breathed, startled, their eyes meeting for a charged half-second.

He bent his head curiously in a rigid sort of bow, as though he was leaning away from the discomfort of their meeting.

“My lady.”

She waited, paralyzed, for him to move, or speak, or even look her in the eye again. But then, the ball was in her court.

It was always in her court.

But she was unprepared, and unarmored, and teetering dangerously at the precipice of a vulnerability she could not afford. And so, exercising her royal privilege as unmagnanimously as she likely ever had, she fled.

He caught her elbow as she made to pass him, sending a warm jolt up her arm. A rebuke danced wildly on the tip of her tongue, and she might even have used it had there been another soul anywhere within earshot of them. But the hallway was abandoned, and they were alone. His eyes were still fixed on the place she had been, the practiced stoicism in them, the practiced numbness in them, simmering with the frustration that he was harboring beneath.

“I won’t have this conversation with you now,” she reprimanded him quietly. “Not here.”

His gaze slid back to hers, burning, threatening to buckle with impatience or something far more desperate, and she wanted to flinch away from its intensity and luxuriate in it at once.

“When, Zelda?”

She took a meaningful step away, freeing her arm, and coolly arched a slender brow even as her heart sputtered at the cavalier way he used her given name in public.

“When we’re somewhere less conspicuous.”

She expected him to submit, tucking his tail begrudgingly between his legs and allowing himself to be put off yet again, but his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t scold me like I’m some child,” he scoffed.

  The Wilds

The carriage jostled down the path, headed for the milky spires that had been bobbing in and out of view for the last few hours. Her visit to the new reservoir in Lanayru had been successful, and pleasant enough as these sorts of things went, but there had also been a lot of pomp and formality surrounding the whole affair that left her craving some solitude and a good night’s rest in her own bed.

Both of which would happily get her out from under the stormy gaze of her Knight Protector.

Shielded by the walls of her carriage, she let herself grimace and sink a little lower in her seat. They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk in several days, what, with all the preparation for the journey and the constant company of the delegation. And she may have been avoiding him. Just a little.

And he seemed to have begun to notice, if the way his gaze burned into her any time she was careless enough to graze it was any indication.

The carriage jostled again violently as they rode over another pothole. And this time, the whole thing lurched to a stop beneath her as the axle snapped. She sighed, readying a gentle smile as the footman swung the door open.

“Hit a spot of trouble?”

“I’m afraid so, my lady,” he grumbled, offering her his hand.

“Please tell me you can fix it,” she said, brow puckered, letting him help her out and onto the road and trying very hard not to groan. She was not looking forward to walking the rest of the way.

“I doubt it very much, ma’am. But we’re nearly there. You could continue on horseback.”

She willed herself expressionless. The only horses saddled for riding were those of her escorts, which meant—

“I’ll take her.”

She didn’t need to guess who had spoken, or turn to picture the smug look on his face. She plastered an insincere smile over her mouth as his horse’s hooves beat an easy amble behind her for the footman’s sake—it wouldn’t do for him to see her furious or crestfallen or abjectly miserable over something as routine as a ride back to the castle from the man who was largely responsible for such things.

“Very well,” she said demurely, unable to conjure a decent excuse, and turned.

And there he was, perched atop his chestnut mare with an expression arguably more schooled than her own. She took his hand, hiding the warm jolt that ran up her arm, and let him lift her over the pommel, bidding the rest of the entourage farewell as he urged his horse forward and over the ridge.

When they had cleared the crest of the hill and taken the bend for a fair distance, he slowed them to a walk, letting the reins go slack and dipping his head to inhale the warm safflina in her hair.

“Link,” she mumbled, shrugging him off half-heartedly, but he wasn’t so easily deterred.

“We’re in the middle of the Wilds. No one is going to see. Just let me have this.”

Maybe it was the reasonableness of his argument, or maybe it was the note of heartache in his voice, so imperceptible only she would have ever noticed, but either way she let herself be coerced. They rode in silence a while, and she finally relaxed when he didn’t press her for more than that, letting herself lean a little into his chest. His hands rested idly on her waist, fingers curled loosely in the reins.

He said, “I missed you.”

She could feel his eyes looking cautiously for hers, but she pretended not to notice.

“You were with me every day.”

“No. I stared at the back of your head every day. That hardly qualifies.”

“I was busy.”

“You were avoiding me.”

She met his eyes then, ready to object, and quickly remembered why she had made every attempt not to. They looked right through her, melting her defenses and reducing her will to jelly. She sighed.

“I was avoiding you,” she agreed, settling against his chest again resignedly.

“I didn’t blame you,” he murmured, warm breath and lips moving softly against the lobe of her perfectly tapered ear, and her heart throbbed treacherously. “I knew why. It was just frustrating, not being able to talk to you about it."

Her eyes fell shut, stinging with remorse. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t do that. It was as much mine as it was yours.”

“I don’t regret it,” he said, quiet adamance coloring his voice, “not for a moment. Even if it means consequences for me.”

In spite of herself she smiled, warmed to the bone by his sweet assurance. “Even if you’re stripped of rank? Even if you’re whipped?”

“They can’t whip the memory of you out of me,” and then he leaned closer, his warm breath feathering her ear again, “Zelda.”

Not Princess, or My Lady, or Highness, or the plethora of other titles he was obligated to use in the presence of others. Merely Zelda. Because out in the Wilds of Hyrule they were alone, and a stolen kiss didn’t seem such a terrible secret. Even if it was forbidden. Even if she had made it abundantly clear to him that it could never happen again, no matter how sweet and perfect and wonderful it had been.

She sank back into him, letting the steady beat of their gait and of his heart lull her into a rare peace.

  Realization

When I woke there was moss against my cheek, the cool dew of early morning clinging to my lips and eyelashes. The vision from the night before danced in breaths and lights as I blinked myself lucid, like the ghosts of a dozen sunset fireflies. I wanted to chase them, down, down into a dream, into an illusion, and wrap myself in it like a blanket. And then, like a wish fulfilled, soft lips alighted on mine, encouraging me awake.

“Good morning,” he murmured, pulling me closer by the hand splayed over the small of my back, and that didn’t strike me as odd in the slightest.

I snagged fingers in the collar of his shirt and buried my face in his neck, breathing him in as I grudgingly left the dream behind, as I spiraled towards his warmth. He smelled like the forest, and nights spent in the wilds, and it was so good it made my eyes tremble shut.

“It can’t be morning,” I whispered, sighing, and he pulled me into his lap, humming in agreement, and pressed his lips to my pulse point.

The wind rippled across the plains, across the wilds, tangling in my hair and twisting it sideways, and neither of us paid any mind. It was too rare that we found ourselves like this, lost in each other and lingering in that quiet stretch of peace between sleep and waking to the world.

“I need to get you back,” he said, but even as he did wrapped his arms around my waist in silent, subconscious objection. “You’ll be missed.”

“Then let me be missed.”

His lips on my neck angled higher, gently coaxing me down, and just as they obligingly found that delicate spot behind my ear, he whispered apologetically, “We can’t.”

I resisted the urge to scowl, resting my forehead on his. He was right, of course. But that didn’t mean I had to like it. My eyes eased open in time to watch the sunrise over his shoulder.

Another dawn. I knew there couldn’t be many left before the Calamity finally stirred from its long slumber, restless, feverish, hungry and ready to devour the world…

And then I realized how little of this made any sense—how incredibly blue his eyes were, how the voice I had been using wasn’t even mine—and the jarring disconnect between who I was and where I was broke the illusion apart.

  The Blade of Evil’s Bane

She opened her eyes as she felt a weight being lifted off her back.

And then she watched as Revali drove the Master Sword through Link’s middle to the hilt. (chapter break, then she freaks out, catches him, and his eyes start to roll back)

“Don’t you die on me,” she shouted through furious tears, pressing her fingers to his forehead. “Don’t you die!”

And then light filled her from the inside out as she bridged their minds, glaring across the world like a sun rising from within.

He sat across from her at her writing desk, still blurry from the haze of her tears, but she could hear the sardonic smile on his voice.

“Is that an order, Princess?”

She wanted to berate him, wanted to scream and fight tooth and nail against his apathy, but she couldn’t find her voice—not without loosing everything else that was threatening to spill out. She stood and crossed the room to nowhere, trying to shield herself from his ridicule. He sighed, following slowly.

He turned her around gingerly and took her face in his hands, studying her carefully while he thumbed her tears away.

“Why do you cry over me?” he murmured. “By rights I should have been dead thousands of years ago—even if I had defeated Ganon. This era will go on without me. I’m nothing.”

She took a sharp, stinging breath, and whispered, “Not to me.”

His lip quirked up in spite of himself, a familiar, roguish half-smile alighting on his face that made her heart stammer. “Never cry over your soldiers, Princess,” he scolded her gently. “They’re only too happy to die to protect you.”

“Don’t give up,” she warbled, a fresh rush of tears spilling out of her eyes, down her cheeks, over his thumbs still cupping her face. “Please don’t. Not like this.”

“Hyrule will go on. So will you.”

“I heard what you said to Urbosa,” she accused him, reaching for something, anything, that would make him hold on for just a moment longer. “You were wrong. I’m not confused. Not anymore.”

That gave him pause. His eyes searched her, gradually shedding the armor that they had always worn, piece by heavy piece, revealing the tired, consuming sadness beneath.

“Don’t cry over me, Princess,” he murmured, drifting closer. The bridge of his nose brushed softly against hers as he angled her face higher, poised to lance through her walls even as his own crumbled. “It pains me more than you know.”

He took her lips in his own, deepening the kiss obediently when she parted for him, and a sound lifted out of her. She wanted to lose herself in him, dive headlong into sating oblivion and never surface. But she found the will to pull away.

“Then don’t do this,” she urged, breathless, against his mouth.

He lingered, warm breath ghosting heavy on her lips. His voice was quiet, husky, desire tempered by regret. “Overcoming the Blade of Evil’s Bane is not so easily done.”

“I can save you,” she whispered, stepping closer, stripping away the needless space between them. “Never doubt that.”

“I have never doubted you,” he said, so tenderly her heart squeezed. “I’ve always known you were capable of so much more than you ever dreamed. But this—”

“I won’t let you go. I’ll order you back from the grave if I have to.”

He sighed at that, a defeated, hollow sound, and her lips parted gently in surprise. “I’m just so tired.”

And then he gasped, like a drowning man drawing breath after so many minutes, and the dream bled out into light.

She blinked away sunbursts and the blindness that followed, stumbling haphazardly back to reality. Link was in her arms; the hole through his stomach was gone.

 Ruins

The sunlight dimmed into night, luminous stone embedded in the sculptures lighting the darkness like softened stars. The ruins grew into an atrium, looming over the gathered order of monks and their commander. Her knight stood as far away as he dared, near the entrance, should there be a disturbance. It was nearly as far away as he had had the will to station himself in weeks.

“The final sensor towers have been erected, and Naboris is nearly ready to be deployed,” a monk was saying, the tattoos under his eyes catching starlight as he spoke. “Her pilot is in the final phases of training.”

The proclamation didn’t garner the reaction anyone was hoping for; the Queen merely nodded, lips pursed. Another monk shifted, as though weighing the wisdom of disturbing the silence that had settled uncomfortably over the assembly, before he decided to be bold.

“I had an idea for another Beast. Nothing so large or so complicated as the others. Something for Hylia’s Chosen—”

“No,” the Queen murmured. “There isn’t time.”

His teeth met with a click. He sent a sidelong glance to her knight, standing with his back against one of the pillars flanking the entrance, but he shook his head in subtle warning, and that put pain to it. He seemed less and less inclined to voice dissent recently, and everyone suspected they knew why.

“Then we’ll redouble our efforts with the Divine Beasts we have,” he offered instead, wearing a reassuring smile. “We won’t fail you, Your Highness.”

She nodded again, smiling tightly. They were dismissed, and her knight drifted closer, moving towards her as the others filed away. She was still sitting on the ground; he offered her his hand, and she met his eyes. She took it, lifting to her feet, and didn’t let go, squeezing softly.

She whispered, eyes depthless in their uncertainty, “But will we fail them?”

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The Past in the Future ( Ethan x MC, Eleventh x Clara): Part 1

Summary: After unknown substance was deployed in senator Ed's hospital room by his aide, three people got trapped inside, while a man claiming to be the Doctor coming out of nowhere. Will it be possible for the Doctor identify the unknown substance that presumably is deadly and elevated through time? Will he be able to find a cure along with the brilliant diagnosticians team that never was found before to prevent millions of deaths? Are his suspicions correct about origins of the substance? And how this seemingly unimportant person got this mass murder weapon in a first place?

Words: 4632

Authors notes: Open Heart and Dr. Who crossover

A/N 2: tags will be in reblog.

Ethan x OH MC (Beth Valentine)

Eleventh Doctor x Clara Oswald

**Warnings: death, deadly substance**

“He is not even a real doctor,” huffed Ethan rolling his eyes when the man on a screen called himself the Doctor for a dozenth time.

“Shush,” said Beth putting her finger over his lips. Her body pressed closer to his making herself even more comfortable in his embrace.

It was a movie night at her friends’ apartment. The first one after she moved out and moved in with Ethan, but one of many since they started dating. He still couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he finally gave in to his feelings.  

Some funky looking character made a comment about life being too short at the gala they hosted to save the hospital, and here he was sitting comfortably in the armchair surrounded by Beth’s friends. His friends. He thought, still somehow amused that he had a group of people he could call friends and who were willing to spend time in his company. His eyes drifted to Beth placing a soft kiss to her forehead making her lips quirk slightly from the gesture.

The movie that Elijah chose this time was the Dr. Who’s Christmas special that was very fitting to the season and the weather outside. Fluffy snowflakes falling to the ground and wind howling in the chimney. Christmas lights illuminating the street.

They sat together ignoring the glances they got from others around them. Her legs thrown over his lap and one of his hands placed gently on her thigh, while another was wrapped around her shoulder bringing her closer to him. Her head pressed to his heart. His eyes not leaving her small frame pressed to his body, watching her drift into sleep listening to his heartbeat. Here and now he was happy, unburdened yet by the knowledge of what tomorrow will bring them.

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

The next day started as usual. Diagnostics team got a new case, patients were queueing for the free clinic, and surgeries happened a few floors below where Beth was heading. 

Little did they know what was about to happen. Unsuspecting what horrible event will unfold right in front of their eyes and how they will become entangled in a race against time to save the lives. Hoping that time will be gracious and give them enough to save the lives that could be saved. The lives that could be lost as soon as Beth Valentine would step into senator Ed's room. Unsuspecting yet, that a day from now her name could be the one of four others lost during senator Ed's assassination attempt.

Beth was already near to senator Ed’s room when she noticed some woman running inside after hearing raised voices. Sharing a troubled gaze with Danny and Bobby she rushed toward the room right behind them. They looked in shock at Travis who was standing with the black canister in his hand yelling at everyone to stand back from him and senator, while the girl still tried to reason with him. Muttering to him over and over that there should be another way and that violence is never an option.

Beth could see how Travis’s face contorted in anger, when his gaze landed on the woman whose eyes were looking unblinkingly on the canister in his hand. His fingers curling dangerously around its trigger and he pulled on it, spraying the content of the can into the air. The same instance the girl reached out for Danny's hand as if anticipating what will happen next. Her hand gripped his, pulling him away shielding him with her body, while Bobby jumped in front of her, throwing both of them out of the harm’s way just a millisecond before getting a blast of spray in his face. He felt how the room started to spin around him and he dropped to his knees, gasping and choking from the substance that got into his airways. And while everyone got covered in the thin layer of oily sheen the senator managed to run out of the room just a second before canister deployed, leaving five other people behind.

And that was it. The moment when the course of history got changed. The moment when two complete strangers stood in front of the window looking at the scene unfolding in front of them. The moment when their lives could get changed forever. The moment when they needed to trust in the kindness of strangers and believe that together they will be able to save the universe or at least two women and a guy who could be still saved. The moment when Ethan was just a second too late to grab Beth’s arm and pull her out of the room or walk in himself, altering the future even more. Just a second too late to prevent this from happening.

Ethan stood still looking at the woman behind the glass, feeling how his heart pounded in his chest. Feeling the fear and pain growing inside him. Blaming himself for asking Beth to check on senator just before he would have time to do this himself. Blaming himself for being just a second too late. 

He could see reflection of another man appearing by his side, something flashing in his hand with a green light before disappearing quickly into his pocket. His eyes widening and his hand reaching for the glass to knock on it to get attention of the petite brunet girl who he didn't know and who was squeezing Danny's hand. A look of pure shock in her eyes.

“Clara,” exclaimed man beside him frantically tapping on the glass before waving his hands at the girl. Her eyes darted from Bobby's laying body on the floor to the man. Who was looking in shocked bewilderment and disbelief on the scene before scratching the back of his head and straightening his bowtie. He looked at the scene with expression that matched Ethan's but seemed to be holding a knowledge. The knowledge of hundreds of years in his eyes, carefully hidden behind the young face and the bang of hairs that fell over his eyes. The knowledge that was forgotten with time and space. The knowledge of future. The ridiculous thought suddenly popped in Ethan's mind seemingly from nowhere. The thought that he discarded immediately even before he could register it fully.

“What the hell just happened,” mouthed Ethan, looking at Bobby's unmoving body before meeting Beth's gaze watching how she shook her head solemnly after checking his pulse. His eyes looking inside the room through the window noticing how quickly paled the face of unknown girl and she swayed clutching the bedpost in the last moment before falling. Noticing how Danny reflexively covered his mouth when the nausea rolled over him. And Beth's muffled cough sounded from the room. His eyes moved to look at her, ready to go inside without even thinking about consequences.

"I wouldn't do that," the man's voice warningly sounded beside him, when his hand reached for the door handle ready to open the door. Instantly, feeling a firm grip on his hand not letting him in before he even could hear Beth's weak voice asking him to stop.

“Who are you?” Ethan asked momentarily confused why he cannot enter, before furrowing his eyes at the man, wondering what this stranger is doing here.

“I’m the Doctor,” the man replied turning his head to Ethan with a glint of excitement and disbelief mixed with fear toward some yet to be solved mystery. 

“Doctor who?” Ethan asked. His eyes not leaving the man's in front of him as if trying to decipher who this man is.

"Just the Doctor,” shrugged ridiculously looking stranger, taking out an Identification Document and flashing it to Ethan.

Centre for Disease Control. Secret subdivision U.N.I.T. John Smith aka The Doctor. Rode Ethan, his eyes flicking to the man's face before moving back to ID in front of him. U.N.I.T... Who the hell are they? Did they sent him here? But why? What was so dangerous in that thing that they felt like interfering? And more importantly how did they know this will happen? wondered Ethan examining the slightly psychic paper. He warred internally for a moment longer still unsure if he should trust this man who looked somehow fascinated by the seemingly deadly substance. The man who appeared from nowhere and seemed to be knowing far more than he led on.

“Do you know, what was in that canister,” Ethan asked finally looking flatly into man’s eyes.

“No...,” the Doctor replied with a hint of hesitation in his voice and a quirky smile, as if he knew more than he was ready willing to admit. “But I'm your best hope to figure out what it is.”

Ethan looked sceptically at the man wanting to say something but instead asking him: “Who the woman is? You called her name earlier? Is she with you?” 

“Yes, she is with me.”

“Who is she?” asked Ethan insistingly.

“She is a friend,” simply replied the Doctor, throwing his gaze to Clara. Just a friend. He thought, suddenly feeling how his excitement slowly started given way to worry in the face of something that he didn’t anticipate to see here on Earth. Something that was from both the distant past and distant future. Something that was alway evolving and changing as a living organism. Something that didn’t have a cure in both of these timelines. The mystery that needed yet to be solved. The one that usually would fascinate him, but not when his Clara... his impossible girl was in danger. Knowing that from now on he will need to race the time, watching how the life of the woman he cared about deeply would be slipping through his fingers. Knowing that from now on the time will become fixed instead of flux. Knowing that from now on he will need to come up with something very clever to solve the mystery that was never solved.

His expression changed to thoughtful trying to understand how this substance could ended up on Earth, hoping he was wrong about its origin. Watching Ethan making a phone call to C.D.C. unsure of how U.N.I.T. could help, at the same time shouting orders in between to evacuate patients from the rooms around the epicentre. His knowledgeable eyes looked around watching how everyone hurried to execute the order. When the floor finally became empty, except of the few people left behind, Ethan came back standing in front of the window, watching through the glass at the woman he cared about. His face pale and his pupils dilated in horror no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Standing near to the man who seemed so calm from the outside not even suspecting that his hearts were pounding violently inside his chest and his brains were spinning with the million thoughts and scenarious happening at the same time.

“We need to move. Now,” quietly said the man in ridiculous outfit, pulling Ethan out of his thoughts.

“How did you know this will happen,” Ethan barked, turning his ocean blue eyes to meet hazel green depth of the man’s who studied him carefully as of trying to decipher how much he could tell him.

“We didn’t...”

“Stop it...,” Ethan interrupted him abruptly. “If you wouldn’t know, you wouldn’t be here, and the girl...,” he nodded toward the ward his eyes flitting to meet Clara’s. “Wouldn’t be trapped in there.”

His eyes lingered on the petite woman for a moment longer, studying her paled features. His watchful eyes not missing how her knuckles went bone white, holding onto the bedpost, when she tried to stand straight. Not missing, how her breathing became struggled while she gulped for air. Not missing how her eyes flickered to the man at his side who withhold something and he couldn’t get the grip of it. He couldn’t read him as easily and it bothered him, eating at him from inside. He sighed heavily before meeting the Doctor’s gaze still waiting for his reply.

“We did't know,” repeated Doctor. 

“Than what were you doing here?” didn't give up Ethan. 

“I was sent here, but I had not idea what I will be dealing with. Dr. Ramsey, the only thing I can tell is that we don’t have a lot of time. We have twelve hours at most. If this thing is what I think it is. It will progress quickly and I have seen it already many... many years ago. You either believe me or wasting the time that we don’t have thereby exposing them to the inevitable death. Please Dr. Ramsey, just this once, for the hell of it accept the help that is offered.” the Doctor snapped. His hands placed firmly on Ethan’s shoulder, looking deep into the man’s eyes, searching them.

“Okay...,” Ethan finally said after another bit of hesitation, closing his eyes for a split second before making his final decision. Knowing that he would do anything for Beth even believe the madman who appeared out of the blue looking too excited and too knowledgable about the situation. “But just to be clear,” he added, turning away from the window separating him from Beth. His cold steely gaze fixed on Doctor. “I don’t care who you are and who you work for or whatever the hell U.N.I.T is. This is my hospital. My rules. And these are my team members that are trapped inside. Are we clear?”

“Sure Doctor. But we need to move, now. Remember it is spreading quickly,” the Doctor said touching the glass lightly before twirling around ready to follow Ethan and leave the ward behind. At least for now.

Quickly they both went through the hospital’s halls toward the diagnostician's office. Twenty eight brains already trying to process the information they had. Preparing the plan. Three hearts racing in their chests, troubled for the future. The nerves pushing them to move quicker. And one thought occupying them both. We need to solve it.

“We have a case,” Ethan said to the two people already in the room. “Unknown substance was deployed inside senator Ed’s ward. Senator Ed luckily for him escaped even before this happened. But Robert Gunderson, Danny Cardinal, Beth Valentine, Travis Perry and Clara...”

“Clara Oswald,” the Doctor continued after Ethan stopped. “They are all trapped with the unknown deadly substance. It affects everyone with different speed. Based on my observations and what we know already it mostly depends on how much exposure the person got to the substance. But may also depend upon other factors of which we have no knowledge of.”

“Who are you?” June asked suspiciously, folding her arms over her chest. “You know suspiciously a lot about what happened.”

“I'm the Doctor,” he replied getting his psychic paper out of his pocket and flashing it to the two other doctors. 

"What are you even doing here?" she asked watching him carefully, trying to read him but failing. “Seems to be quite a coincidence for you to be here, don't you think?”

"June...," warningly said Ethan, raising his eyebrow.

"What? Don't say that you didn't have the same questions," shrugged June.

“That is so human,” muttered Doctor, dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration, tossing away the bang of hair falling over his forehead. “One person is already dead and we don't know who will be next. And instead of trying to do something to help them, first thing you are doing is trying to read me and what motives do I have to be here?” exclaimed the Doctor. His hands flailing around. “You need to just trust me. As soon as FBI and C.D.C. remove Travis from premise you will not get any meaningful answers as they will be gone with the body. But if we work together we can do that, we can find what was in this canister. We can find the cure and safe them. But for that to work, you just should to believe my word.”

“You seem to already know what it is,” sighted Ethan. “But fine. As you rightly notted we have no time for that,” said Ethan, turning back to June and Baz to announce his plan. “First we need to get everyone’s blood samples and then will work from there. We need to check how quickly the symptoms appear, and we need to make sure that this isn’t impacted by anything except to the substance they got exposed to. You two go with me,” Ethan said moving past Doctor to the changing area where hazmat equipment was stored.

“I’m going with you,” said the Doctor with determination in his voice.

“Good,” Ethan barked through the gritted teeth, knowing that he had no time to argue. At least not now. Mumbling to himself quietly.

I hope he knows what he is doing. And hopefully will not get himself into any troubles as his companion already did.

After ten minutes wearing hazmat suits four people entered the isolated room, watching how C.D.C. rolled out Travis, taking all the answers they needed with them. The Doctor could feel how his hearts squeezed painfully when his eyes landed on the woman sitting on the bed. Her head bended while she struggled to breath. Her face deadly pale as if all her liveliness left her, leaving only a shell behind. Her chest rapidly raising and falling as if her heart rate elevated almost to dangerously quick pace. And her body was shivering in the warmth of the room as if TARDIS was landed them once again on the South Pole in 1983 leaving her exposed to the cold, in nothing but her summer dress.

Without any hesitation the Doctor moved toward Clara cupping the sides of her face in his hands lifting it up to meet his eyes.

“Clara...,” he whispered tenderly, pressing his forehead, hidden behind the hazmat suit, to hers. His gloved hands brushed gently at her cheeks, listening to her soft pained breathe leaving her lips.

“I... I thought... I thought I could prevent it from happening. I thought I can save them,” the girl admitted. Her shoulders slumping with defeat.

“Oh Clara... my Clara... my impossible girl,” the Doctor said before cupping the back of her head with his hand. The other wrapped firmly around her, pulling her closer as he did once before after saving her out of his timestream. After she saved him, tearing herself into a million pieces, into million versions of herself. Living and dying through time and space, over and over again. Something what she was ready to do for Doctor and now he must find the way to save her.

“Doctor, what will happen now?” Clara asked softly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Now we will need to figure out what it was and how to deal with it. I would have done it much quicker with my scanning device, but I...”

“You cannot,” Clara finished the sentence. “Same as you cannot just tell them...”

“Sorry... I’m so so sorry, Clara,” mumbled Doctor.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” murmured Clara rubbing soothing circles at his back before whispering to his ear. “Doctor, I believe in you. I believe that you can fix it. And if even you cannot fix it than no one possibly ever can. So Doctor what now?”

“I guess they expect me to draw your blood. Do I just poke you with this or what?” he tried to laugh it off corners of his lips lifting slightly in a weak smile,, showing her the syringe. His hand reaching for his hairs to drag his fingers through them out of habit almost knocking off protection helmet. His voice cracking a little watching the weakest of smiles lightning Clara's face. “I never done that before,” Doctor admitted, feeling how his hearts thundered violently against his chest. 

He half expected Clara to protest asking for someone else to do that. But instead of any protest that could leave her lips she simply holded her arm to the Doctor. She watched him carefully palpating the vein on her arm, gently pressing a needle into her skin, breaking it carefully to draw her blood. He could hear Clara’s soft gasp watching how her teeth dug into her lower lip until he withdrew a syringe filled with her blood sample.

“Done,” he said surprised, passing the sample to Ethan, genuine smile spreading his lips.

“Great,” Ethan said, putting sample to others before turning back to Clara. “Now, Miss Oswald how do you feeling? Nausea? Stomach cramps?” he asked, sliding a blood pressure sleeve over Clara’s hand, taking her vitals.

“I feel nauseous and also my vision is blurred. Besides in the last half an hour or so my mouth tastes weird... kind of metallic,” she said involuntarily reaching out to scratch on her hand vigorously until Ethan stopped her putting his hand on top of hers, looking at angry red marks on her forearm.

“It seems like irritation patch. When did you get it?” Ethan asked carefully studying Clara’s hand.

“Must be a new symptom,” Doctor notted. “She didn’t have it even a few minutes ago. Also her blood pressure dropped significantly.”

But before Ethan could ask how the Doctor knows that, Clara’s small voice broke through.

“How do Danny and Beth are feeling? Do they have the same symptoms?”

“They have slight nausea, but apart from that...,” Ethan replied with a sigh and the slight shake of his head.

“It’s okay. I’m glad that they are okay,” Clara smiled weakly squeezing firmly Doctor’s hand to prevent herself from scratching.

She could feel how her stomach twisted painfully and she doubled with a groan, covering her mouth. With a great difficulty she rolled out from bed she was sitting on and staggered into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later. Her face was slick from sweat, when she moved toward the bed. Her body swaying and Doctor quickly moved toward her catching her just a moment before her legs gave up, carrying her toward the bed to lay her down.

Ethan's eyes flitted to Beth, watching her sit at the edge of the other bed, her face clammy and her forehead rested against the bedpost. Her eyes half closed, while she spoke in a quiet hoarse whisper to Baz and June, still trying to attend to her symptoms and help them with as much information as she could. Asking all the right questions, trying to brainstorm the ideas ignoring the rising nausea. Quickly they came to the conclusion that Bobby's heart attack came so fast that they couldn't be completely sure what caused it.

“It could be anything, From allergies to the stress. We cannot say with certainty that his heart attack was caused by this substance,” Beth groaned leaning over the side of the bed and vomiting the content of her stomach into a sick bag that Baz held readily for her.

“So what do we have?” Baz asked looking around the room before turning to look at Ethan.

With a tremendous effort Ethan looked at him swallowing hard, willing himself to focus on the information that they had on hands.

“Vomiting, stomach cramps, blurred vision, metallic taste and irritated skin,” Ethan said, watching toward Danny as he reached to his hand absently scratching at it. “Miss Oswald also had her blood pressure dropped precipitously. I measured it again,” clarified he with a sigh.

“It can be anything viral, bacterial, chemical, fungal, and hundredth of things could cause these symptoms,” noted Baz exhaling in frustration.

“Than we need to get these samples tested immediately. We'll start with the most likely options and keep going from there,” said Ethan, watching how Baz and June already passed back through the disinfecting room, lingering behind a few moments, gazing at Beth. Finally, with a heavy sigh he moved toward the exit entering the room when he heard Doctor's pensive voice behind him, talking quietly so no one else could hear.

“But what if we start from the most unlike causes, the most difficult ones. What if the canister contained something that is unlikely to be cured. What if the cure is yet to be found?”

“Then everyone in here are doomed. And this is something I don't want to think about,” said Ethan without meeting other man's eyes.

“Just think about this. Because if this is the case every second counts,” said Doctor, passing by Ethan, ready to had toward the laboratory. But before he could do that his attention was caught by petit girl with dark hairs standing by the window. Her eyes red with tears. Her hands wrapped tightly around her midsection and her gaze fixed on the man laying on the bed.

“Are you a friend of his?” he asked, approaching the girl and standing beside her looking through the window.

“Yes. We... we are friends,” she said barely audibly. “And Clara? Is she... is she your girlfriend? I heard you called her name. Was here before all this happened. We were about to have lunch,” she clarified, noticing his perplex gaze, when she called her by name.

“No... Noooo, she... she definitely isn't my girlfriend,” he laughed uncomfortably. “Friend, yes... Definitely a friend. But girlfriend... No, no... Definitely not a girlfriend. Why would you even think so?” Doctor squealed, feeling how his face flushed almost ready to say his infamous Shut up, but the sad almost painful look on her face stopped him midword.

“Sorry, you just looked like she is your girlfriend. Didn't know this is a painful subject for you,” shrugged Sienna, but before he could reply anything she asked quietly. Her voice even quieter than before. “Will they be okay? Everyone keep saying that they will. All of my friends say that they are strong and young and that they will pull through that. But will they?” she spoke as to herself, but he knew that all these questions were directed to him, while he stood silently by her side listening. “Everyone says that Dr. Ramsey is a genius. Not as I doubt him. I know he is. And the way Beth and Danny, who both work closely with him, refer to the man. I know he is, but he still is only a human. I even not sure why I’m asking you all of this. You clearly are only human as well, but still... I feel like you are the only person who will be honest with me. So Doctor answer me, will they be okay?”

“Honestly... I... I don’t know,” replied Doctor, turning to look at Clara who was laying against the pillow with her hand grasping her stomach in another fit of cramps. “but what I know is that time is precious and every second of it is a gold. So I cannot promise you that they become magically okay, but what I can promise is that I will do everything what I can do along with a brilliant diagnosticians by my side to make it happen. I'll fix what still can be fixed. And if needed will make sure that help will be asked,” he said honestly, placing his hand on Sienna’s back and patting it awkwardly.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said with a weak smile that touched her lips for the first time since he approached her.

“For what?”

“For being honest,” she said. Watching in amusement how the man scratched the back of his head abashedly. The corner of his mouth lifted in a shy smile and his cheeks tinted pink as if not expecting her to say that. After a moment of silence the Doctor backed away awkwardly waving his hands as if remembering something before twirling around and rushing toward the laboratory, leaving Sienna alone. Leaving her somehow believing to the man who seemed to appear from nowhere.

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst @the-soot-sprite @choices-bound @tsrookie @caseyvalentineramsey

[lollercakesff]

And They Were Strangers

Jyn Erso has been prepping for this for months. Years even, if you count the endless hours she'd spent running pools and hosting watch nights with her college roommates. She'd choreographed hundreds of dollars in auctions for remaining teams and had led multiple nights where her and her friends cooked their way around the world with the country of the week. The memories were great, sure, but to say she didn't feel a connection with this path in her life would be a lie. Something drew her in, tied her up, and convinced her that this - this - was the thing she needed to do before she died.

And now it was time. She was ready. Mentally… Physically… Hopefully.

AN: Will I finish writing this? I have a plan... But is it worth my time?

But the path to her next adventure was currently being blocked by some too-tall goon with haphazard hair and piercing dark eyes who kept getting in her way. First at check in, then in line for security, and now at the boarding gate. They’d practically been together, crossing paths and crashing each other, since she entered this damn airport and it was starting to really get to her. 

"Are you planning on getting on this plane or just standing in the way?" Jyn growls under her breath when the man doesn't move forward with the gate agent's call.

"What - Oh," he leaps forward a step and hustles towards the woman, pulling his passport from his pocket as Jyn sighs and checks her papers again. 

Her new American passport feels heavy in her hand, its empty pages a sign of things to come. She was on her way to Los Angeles where she was scheduled to show up at her first and only briefing for the next season of the Amazing Race. The producers had promised a full day of orientation covering the rules of the race and how the team match up would work before the "trip of a lifetime" began the next day. She was trying not to stress about it but she didn't quite know what she was getting into. 

This was the first season where every team in the race would be a set of strangers. They'd all meet at the briefing but it wouldn't be until the start of the race when they'd learn who their partner was. The producers had billed it as the season of 'fate' where they tried to pick a winning team by pure dumb luck with names drawn from a hat. Or so she'd been told. Who knew how it would really work.

"Next!" The agent calls and Jyn scurries forward, passing her documents over and brushing her bangs from her face. In another second she's motioned through and she's heading down the gangway and onto the plane. 

When she gets to her seat her frustration returns tenfold as the man from before has settled himself in her seat by the window, his seatbelt already clipped and his attention turned towards the action on the tarmac. 

"Hey, you're in my seat," she greets, stuffing her duffle in the overhead bin.

"F? Window?" He answers with an almost-accent and a quirk to his lips. Jyn frowns and steps into the row to let the people behind her pass.

"Yes. That's my seat, can you move please?" 

"I was sure I had the window, I feel claustrophobic if I can't see out - "

"Yeah, I'm sure. Can you check your boarding pass?" She asks, cutting his sob story off before it can even get started. 

"Can't I just have it this one time? It's a short flight," he answers, making no move to relent. Jyn sighs and drops into the seat next to him, her eyes closing tight as she urges the irritation to ease. 

"Fine. But this is bad karma and I hope it comes back to bite you in the ass, asshole," she grumbles the last part, determined to insult him but not loud enough to cause a scene. The man coughs as if to hide a laugh and Jyn hates him even more, pulling up her hood and taking out her headphones.

She was going to spend the next two hours in a music haven, mentally far from this man and the constant bumping of her elbow that came from sitting in the aisle row. Soon she'd be in LA at her hotel and then she'd be on to a new country, with a new language and culture that she'd have to work with to get her team to the finish line. Then she’d do it again and again until they won. Or they lost. She didn't like to think about that last possibility so instead she closes her eyes and hits play.

---

The hotel bed is more luxurious than anything she's ever slept in in her life and when she wakes it's with a curse as she realizes she's almost late to the briefing. Hustling around the room, she nearly crashes onto the floor when her pants get tangled and she loses her balance. Cursing out her alarm, her beautiful sleep, and the time difference, Jyn pulls on her t-shirt just as she pulls open her door and slams into someone walking past her room.

"Shit, sorry!” She gasps as she rights herself and pulls back. When she looks up it’s to find the man from the plane. The one who wouldn’t give her back her seat. The one who’d been a pain in the ass all day. “You!” The man’s eyes widen and he looks around him like he’s being Punk’d, surprise in his brow. 

“From the plane?” He counters, as if he was still struggling to place her. 

“Yeah. What, are you following me? How did you know to find me here?” Jyn growls, crossing her arms. The man cocks his head and furrows his brow, looking at her as though she was crazy. 

“Follow you? I’m here for… A thing that has nothing to do with you. If anything, I’d think you’re stalking me,” he adds sharply. Jyn scowls and shakes her head, her watch beeping with her five minute alarm. 

“Sure. Fine, whatever. I won’t be here long enough to have this happen again. Have a good life!” She shouts as she hurries off down the hall, her hand flung up into the air and her middle finger pointed towards him. 

She takes the stairs down to the conference room because getting stuck in the elevator with that jerk would put her nerves over the edge, their already frayed status from the late wakeup making her more punchy than usual. By the time she barrels into the room and grabs a plate of the breakfast, the producer is calling everyone to a seat. 

Jyn moves towards an empty chair and begins measuring up her fellow racers, her eyes drifting over one person and then the next as they settle in a semi-circle around the speaker. Some of them were incredibly fit, others a bit paunchy but she figured they could probably take her in a memory challenge or two if it came down to it. Most of them were on the younger side, maybe in their twenties or thirties, though there were a few who easily slotted into their fifties at the very least. She didn’t want to be ageist but she secretly hoped she’d get paired with someone who could keep up with her at the very least and she didn’t really peg any of these older folks as marathoners. 

“Welcome, good morning everyone!” A young woman calls out, drawing their attention to the front of the room. Jyn sits up and nimbles on a muffin, trying to look intimidating to the others around her who she assumed were doing the measuring up as she had just been. 

“You’re in my seat,” a voice says over her shoulder. Jyn’s stomach drops and she frowns, looking back to find the man from the airplane and the hallway standing behind her. “Don’t worry though, I’m not going to make you move, I’ll just take this empty one here.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jyn hisses, clenching her hands and nearly crushing her muffin to pieces. 

“Nope,” he responds as he sits in the chair next to her. An insult is on the tip of her tongue when the woman calls out again and really takes control of the room, beginning with a welcome spiel before moving right into the security briefing. After the team has explained every terrifying aspect about the world in explicit detail, Jyn looks around the room and finds half of the contestants with a concerned look on their faces, the other half grinning wickedly at the challenge. Beside her the man keeps his expression reserved though his eyes are calculating, the look making her guess whether he was regretting his choice or simply bored. 

After the welcome session, they’re broken up into groups of four and are led to a table in the corner of the room. Jyn sighs a breath of relief as the man is placed in another group, his presence finally dissipating and allowing her to focus on the tasks at hand instead of the prickling skin she felt whenever he was close. 

Hours pass and the contestants are moved around the room to different stations where they focus on different aspects of the game. There’s logic tests and geography quizzes which she passes with flying colours but when it comes to the language skills and memory games she flounders, her attention twisting towards her fellow contestants. She spends half the time trying to measure up where they stand on these activities, who would be best suited to the way she wanted to run this race. 

Her strategy - based on years of watching the show - was to run with brute force. She would power through on the physical challenges and when it came to figuring out a puzzle she was set. She just needed a partner who would be able to keep up and rush into everything just as hard. Smarts weren’t what won you the race, it was being able to push your way through anything and she had trained to do just that. 

“Everyone now has an hour for lunch. Feel free to get to know each other and remember, these folks might be your competition or they might just be the person you cross that finish line with!” The producer from earlier calls as the stations are closed and the participants are left to loiter in the room. 

Jyn feels like she’s in a social experiment as she beelines towards the food table to take a plate. She loads it up with everything she’s going to miss for the next few weeks - caesar salad and french fries and pasta salad that looked too delicious to miss. When she settles at a table she’s quickly joined by a handful of others, the conversation easily picking up from the morning activities.

“I’m Bodhi Rook, you?” The man sitting next to her says around a forkful of salad. Jyn looks him over quickly and notes his tall frame and long hair, his thin frame and open expression. He could be a good partner - she’d seen him race through some of the challenges with an efficiency she admired. 

“Jyn Erso,” she answers, lifting her hand to offer a shake. Bodhi takes it and squeezes it before turning back to his food, diving in as she looks around the table at the others. “You heard anything about how we’re going to be assigned teams?” She asks after a few minutes, her water lifting to her lips. 

“Not really. My group thought maybe the stations were to see where our strengths were so they could match us up better. But I was also told it would be a name in a hat, so who knows what they’re planning.” 

“Yeah, I heard the hat thing too. I hope there’s a little more thought put into it,” she responds with a shrug. Bodhi nods and lets a laugh escape. 

“Either way, I think I’ll be okay. I just like the adventure of it, you know? Don’t really need to win the whole thing,” he says around another bite. 

Jyn frowns and looks at her food, debating internally whether she could be paired with someone who didn’t want to win the whole race. If she had to admit it - though she’d never say it on camera - she wasn’t here just because she liked the show and wanted to see the world. 

She was here because she needed the prize money. 

The thought creeps up on her and she pushes it back down, stuffing it into her chest like too many clothes in a carry on bag. She didn’t have time to think about it now, not when she should be sizing up her competition and thinking about U-Turn and Yield strategy. No. She needed to focus. 

“What about everyone else?” Bodhi asks the table when Jyn still doesn’t respond. She turns her attention to the people around them, listening as first a bright eyed Luke Skywalker and a gruff Baze Malbus explain their motivations before moving on to Leia Organa, a beautiful but strategic thinker, and her cocky puppy-dog-tail for-the-day Han Solo easily admits he’s only here for the money. Jyn can’t help but think he might be her real competition if they don’t get paired together, the gleam of a quick buck in his eyes adding to his boisterous energy. 

Taking another glance around the room, Jyn weighs the rest of her competition as they sit at two other tables. Sixteen racers in total, all with different motivations and experiences that they bring to the table. They’d be eight teams and the producers had all but guaranteed it would be a tough race with all of them having secret strengths that were admitted in their bio videos. Jyn can’t remember what hers ss but by the time she turns back to the conversation at hand, she already knows one thing is for sure - she’s going to win, even if it kills her. 

After lunch they’re broken off into individual briefing rooms where they’re given their racing issued equipment and a final check in with the producers before they’re sent off to their rooms to pack. In the morning they’ll all be meeting in the lobby to hand over their backpacks before heading to the starting line. 

When the race starts their first activity will be finding their matched backpack with a coloured bandana tied to it. The racer with the matching bandana will be their partner for the duration and it will either be a successful match or a story of just how quickly Jyn can crash and burn their team. 

Throughout the evening she tries not to think about it - pushing away thoughts of how hectic tomorrow would be, how much adrenaline is already rolling in her veins and just how is she supposed to sleep tonight? To distract herself she focuses on potential strategies depending on who she paired with in the morning. Baze could work, or she’d even probably be successful with Han if they didn’t rip each other's heads off. Bodhi would be a great candidate - he seemed relaxed and competent, but Jyn didn’t like that he wasn’t driven by the final prize so much as he just wanted to have an adventure. 

No, she could pair with most of the people she’d met that morning. With the very real exception of the man from the plane who she’d learned was named Cassian Andor. There was no way they would be able to work together to even get out of the States, their partnership tanking before they even took their first flight. She was sure of it. And so when she falls asleep that night it’s to the thought that she had a one in fifteen chance of failing and those were pretty good odds. 

---

Morning comes in a rush of excitement and insanity and a paranoia that she’s forgotten something even though she’s checked her bags at least a dozen times. When she gets to the lobby, the assistants take her old bags and mark them with her tags before collecting her race bag and shoving it onto a luggage cart with the other packs. She’s directed to a holding queue where the racers mill about, snacking on the continental breakfast and filling their water bottles. 

Twenty minutes later and they’re piled onto a bus. Thirty minutes later and they’re being placed around an empty field with only the production crew circling them and a pile of luggage in the center of the field. Jyn thinks she spots her bag with a blue tag and she grins, looking around at the nervous faces she was up against. 

“You’ve got this,” she whispers to herself as Phil Keoghan begins his speech from near the luggage pile. Adrenaline spikes in her blood and then there’s a horn and she’s racing forward, scrambling for the luggage pile and her bag with its bandana looped through the arm. She pulls it free and stumbles back, looking around at the other racers as they take in their own colours, desperately looking for their partner. 

Not Bodhi. Not Baze. Fuck, not even Han. She scours the faces and colours until she sees it - blue, like hers! She steps forward, her smile widening having finally found her partner. 

But then she looks up. And her eyes meet her partner’s. 

Dark brown meeting green.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Guess you’re stuck with someone with bad karma,” he says evenly, the nerve of it making her want to pull her hair out. She curses again and grabs for his arm, dragging him towards the clue box for their next instructions. They didn’t have time to waste on pleasantries and witty comebacks, not if they wanted to win. 

She could do this. Brute force was all it would take, right? 

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Initiates -- Original AC OC Fic

8//12/2020: Okay so yup here’s my OC espionage story that I’ve adapted for the AC universe. I proofread it once and will probably edit it again when I reread it in like two days lol. Thanks to @alexiios for solving my temporary naming crisis lol. If you want me to post OC fact files (if you enjoy this), then hmu/lmk! I loved writing this (like months ago) and I want to give you guys SOME content, so I hope you’ll have as much fun reading it as I had writing it! Tagging people that might enjoy it? (plus @/alexiios lmao don’t want to spam you with mentions)

Hard to believe that this is only 2242 words but ok go off i guess

Feedback greatly appreciated, as always!

WARNINGS: Violence, car crash, hospital mention, blood mention

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @britishhotassassin // @rahdahleigh // @iceboundstar // @sofiewithat // @mythandmagik (I’m guessing your url changed aha)

“I think I’m gonna check,” Jake lightly knocked his knuckles against the wooden table. 

Zoe lifted the corner of her hand. “I raise thirteen.”

The last card was placed onto the table. Last chance to bet. “Twenty-six,” Jake gazed through his eyelashes, raising the bet once again.

Groaning, Zoe threw her cards onto the pile of chips in the middle of the table, two fives staring her in the face. “Fine, you win.”

“As per usual!” Jake laughed as he slapped a pair of kings down in front of him and collected his chips. 

“Jesus! You always get the good hand!” Jake flashed a look of offense. 

“No I do--” He was briskly interrupted.

“Name one time you’ve lost! I bet you cheat.”

Before he could reply, someone walked through the door of the lunch room. “Nick?” Jake’s voice laced in confusion as his smirk dropped.

“Break’s over. We need you both.” 

Startled, the two followed their boss into a briefing room. “What’s the problem?” Zoe asked, leaning against the table. Jake sat down on a chair next to her, kicking his shoes onto the polished wood beside her. He popped some gum in his mouth before undoing his top button of his checked shirt; the two of them opted for a casual office day. Zoe and Nick both declined as he offered them each a piece. “Really? It’s strawberry…”

“Not now, Jake. We have a missing agent. You are two of our best trackers; no one else in the whole department is as… experienced. We need you to find him before it’s too late.” A picture was brought up; blond hair and brown eyes. 

“He was last seen at these coordinates-- get on it.” Nick left the two in silence as he dropped two files on the table and left the room.

Zoe picked one up and slid the other one Jake’s way, hitting his shoes. Sitting straight, he leaned forwards to take a closer look. “I have the agent.”

“I’ve got the leads…” Zoe mumbled with a frown, sifting through the relatively thin file that had been accumulated over the past few days. CCTV screenshots, cases previously solved that could harbour motive for revenge, and a few other documents referring to things she had never seen or heard of before. “Hey, Jake?” 

“Hmm?” He looked up with interest, his chewing paused.

“Have you ever heard of Abstergo Industries?”

There was a silence as he thought. “No; is it one of those massive corporations?”

Zoe’s eyes roamed various images of murder scenes, all having one thing in common; jewellry in the shape of a cross, circled in red ink. “Something like that…”

Did Nick mean for us to see this? It feels classified…

“So his name is Matthew Anderson. Twenty-six, unmarried, single child, no children. There is literally no record of him anywhere; no school record, no criminal record, no family record; nothing. Only things like “Favourite coffee shop”. The man’s an enigma. Why would anyone want to kidnap him? There’s no evidence to justify a ransom or leverage of any sort…”

“It does seem strange, but it might have something to do with this Abstergo place. Let’s go to that coffee shop and see what we can find.”

Jake followed Zoe towards the armory; full of necessary gear and equipment. The pair grabbed what they needed, namely the issued pepper spray and tasers. Their badges waited for them, along with any IDs they may need. “Ready?” Zoe debated bringing a firearm, but decided against it; there was already going to be one in the glovebox. 

All Jake did was wink and smile, donning his jacket. “Always.”

----------

They spent the rest of the afternoon searching for answers in the coffee shop. Social media, local news posts, Police records-- even private databases -- all with the keyword, ‘Abstergo’. Jake left to the counter after a while to buy more coffee for the two of them; their eyes had begun to sting from staring at a screen for so long. Zoe was writing some information down in her notepad when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced to see someone dressed  in a grey hoodie and tracksuit bottoms. They had hidden their features under their hood, but Zoe could tell that they were looking in her direction. Hiding behind fallen hair, she rubbed her palms against her jeans. 

Jake returned with her latte, placing it down before sitting to nurse his cappuccino. He noticed how unsettled she had become. “You okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” After he spoke, he licked the milk mousse moustache from his upper lip. 

Zoe smiled, his actions calming her slightly. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just…” She lowered her voice. “There’s a guy over there. He’s just… staring.” Jake quickly flitted his gaze over in that direction and then back at his partner, his head unmoving.

“He is a bit creepy, isn’t he?” he mumbled. “Feel like getting out of here?”

“Please.” Jake left to get takeaway cups as Zoe started clearing the table. 

The sun had already begun to set as they left the coffee shop and got into an unmarked van designed for undercover work. As they were driving down some narrower country lanes, Jake noticed something out of the rearview mirror. “Uh, Zo’?” She hummed in reply from the driver’s seat, preoccupied with the road. “I think someone’s following us.”

“What should we do?” she asked, turning left. For the second time that day, Jake was interrupted. A bullet shattered one of the back windows.

“Not much!” Jake took the pistol out of the glovebox and began firing back.  Zoe stole a glance behind her. 

“Look out!” Jake grabbed the steering wheel and pulled. The wheels veered out of control and the van tumbled. It rolled off the road.

The vehicle eventually stopped, lying capsized on the grass. Footsteps approached the door. “Yeah, boss; we got ‘em,” a gravelly voice stated. Jake, barely conscious, never moved a muscle. “Roger,” the voice said again, and footsteps started to recede. 

“Zoe,” Jake groaned. He got a quiet mumble in response. His nose alerted him to the imminent danger they were in; the smell of petrol. Trying to move, he winced at the sudden throbbing pain in his head.

And his torso.

And his back.

He took a step to remove his seatbelt, bracing himself as he hit the roof below him. He groaned as his upper back collided with the ground. “Hey, Zo’.” Jake crawled below her and tried to unbuckle her seatbelt with a sense of panic. “Damn,” he cursed. The seatbelt wasn’t going to loosen willingly. He searched for any solution and found a glint in the half opened glovebox by his feet. He had rediscovered his pocket knife. 

Quickly, he pulled it open and stuck it in the seatbelt box, jiggling it around; waiting for the click.

After a few painstaking moments, the restraint opened. He ripped it off and Zoe fell onto Jake’s torso, immediately winding him. 

“Come on, Zo’; we need to get out of here.” His arm clung to her waist and he wriggled out as fast as he could from the flammable scrap. He was relieved as he inhaled fresh air; flushing out his lungs from the scent of leaking petrol. 

Once they were clear of the vehicle, Jake laid Zoe out of sight and began to lightly touch her face. “Wake up, Zo’. We need to leave!” There was a minimal groaning response; but she was still conscious-- with her eyes half open. “That’s good enough for me.” With difficulty, he scooped his partner into his chest, stood up shakily, and tried to walk in a straight direction. 

“FREEZE!” He stopped, closing his eyes. His arms were trembling in exhaustion, and his heart begun to palpitate. “Turn around—slowly.” He listened, clutching Zoe tightly.

“Come on, mate,” Jake tried, making earnest eye contact. “You don’t want to do this.” His eyes scanned the gun pointed at the two of them worriedly. 

“I don’t think that you’re in the position to tell me what to do.” The same voice, body turning in the shadows, triggered his radio. “Sir, they’re still alive.” A static grumble was all that could be deciphered in Jake’s ringing ears. “Yes, boss.”

The gun began to aim. “Don’t move.”

The safety clicked. “It would be in your best interest to close your eyes.”

Jake waited, watching the trigger, steeling his already hardened glare. 

Nothing happened.

Until, in a split second, the gun moved from Jake’s chest to Zoe’s. 

“NO!”

BANG!

Bodies were sent flying down the hill Jake had painfully trekked up. They rested at the bottom of the hill; lying still-- breathing stiller. “They’re finished now, boss,” the voice quipped. 

There was a sound of car doors slamming and a car engine starting, and it began to drive away.

It was still for a moment…

Until Jake grimaced. One of his arms were trapped under Zoe’s body This time, she was out cold. Jake wiped the grime off of his forehead, before being engulfed in a stabbing pain. He let out a broken cry.  Zoe was unharmed; a concussion was assumed, at worst.

But Jake was shot. And he was bleeding out. He choked on his words; the pain kept swallowing them. 

What he needed was an ambulance--and fast.

He only had one arm to move his body, and it caused him the most pain he had ever felt. 

“Argh,” he groaned. “Z-Zo’.”

He had to find something-- anything-- to call for help. He searched his pockets, but he knew that he wasn't prepared for situations like this.

… But maybe Zoe was. 

“Zoe,” Jake attempted to shake her awake. “Please, wake up!” 

There was minimal movement. 

“Help me out here, love...” He pressed against his side with his hand, whilst his other worked on slipping out from under Zoe’s body. Eventually, he managed to retrieve his trapped limb. 

There was no blood on Zoe’s clothing, and Jake reassured himself that she was unharmed-- relatively. 

He placed both his hands on his side, focusing on stopping the bleeding as much as possible. A wave of nausea overcame him; the heat from the flaming vehicle caused his stomach to churn almost endlessly as he glanced down. Blood was seeping through his fingers, and Jake’s vision was becoming increasingly blurred; he allowed himself to close his eyes, wanting nothing more than to pass out. He felt his mind begin to cloud over, but there was a certain buzzing in his ears. It was faint, but it was there…

The last thing he heard was his name being called by a half familiar voice.

He only hoped that it wasn’t too late…

------

Beep after beep after beep… his ears would explode any moment now. He tried to inhale through his nose, and quickly had the urge to itch as something constantly prodded inside his nostrils. 

Task 1 -- open your eyes.

 His eyelids felt content to stay obstructing his vision, yet his instincts said otherwise, and they obstinately broke apart.

It was dark. That was his first observation. 

Being in what he assumed was the hospital, the stereotype inclined him to believe that bright white lights would be the first thing he would see. That certainly wasn’t the case. The moon cast through the half open blinds, the entire building held an air of kenopsia.

Jake, still feeling drowsy, decided to wait until the sun rises to make any moves; all he knew was that he was safe, and he could allow himself to let go. 

----------

He closed his eyes for a second, and the sun was up, being met with a familiar face.

“Hey,” Zoe smiled, tension relaxing her shoulders. 

“Hi,” Jake replied, a smug grin playing on his lips. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? I’m not the one in a hospital bed.”

“Just making sure.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Jake chuckled. “You know me; I’m full of surprises.”

There was a calm silence that clouded over the room. “They said you were lucky, you know. You’ve been out for three days.” Zoe looked over at the IV drip that was taped to his arm. 

“The best three days of your life, I bet?” he chuckled. 

“No, no; Jake, they were the worst days I think I’ve ever had. Don’t pull a stunt like that ever again -- for both our sakes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. A few rapid knocks on the door interrupted the moment, and Nick came through the door. “Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Not bad.”

He sighed. “You probably have some questions.”

“So many questions…”

“You don’t even know…”

He raised his hand, silencing both voices. “Once you’re both ready, I will answer them. But for now, you’ll rest and recover. I apologise for… all of this.” He turned to leave, but stopped as if he forgot something. Without a word, he pulled out a coin, flipping it in Zoe’s direction, who caught it automatically. He nodded intently, and left. She shared a look with Jake, turning the now recognisable token in her hand. It wasn’t any form of currency, but instead had a certain insignia minted in the centre; a rather obscure looking ‘A’. If it was an ‘A’ at all…

“What do you think it means?” Zoe asked.

Jake shifted, slightly groaning. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, will change everything.”

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 11 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

11: Alternative Paths

The police officers told him they needed to ask him a few questions. What they forgot to mention was he would be locked in a small, remarkably bare room for five hours with a police officer who was dead set in viewing him as a suspect. Danny had never been more relieved to get out of a room before in his life. Yeah, he understood family members needed to be questioned due to the statistics surrounding such crimes, but seriously! Did someone as scrawny as him really look like he could have hurt Winston that badly without getting any sort of injury in the process?

However, he couldn't really blame them for being suspicious, especially when it came to his whereabouts the previous night. How do you rationally explain you were chased by a murderous robot-ghost-thing? The obvious answer was to avoid the topic all together. He hoped he was convincing enough when he said he and his friends had taken a walk in the evening and returned to Sam's house to watch some movies. He specifically avoided mentioning the park. There was no telling what the officers would think if they learned he might have been around when it got torn up. He was actually kind of surprised no one in the precinct had mentioned it.

A few times during his interview, he had nervously flattened his bangs a few times, hoping to hide the cut he had suddenly remembered getting at the beginning of his terrifying adventure. The officer interviewing him had noticed the motion, which caused him to leave it alone the rest of the time he was in the room. Surprisingly, Danny wasn't asked about it. A little wary after he was finished and allowed to exit the room, he touched the spot only to find smooth skin. It took a lot of self-control to not dash to a reflective surface and examine his forehead. There was no use in making the officers more suspicious. As weird as a missing cut was he could wait until he got home to check.

Scratch that… he could check after he found a place to stay for a while. As he was about to exit the station, an older officer kindly reminded him of the fact his house was currently considered a crime scene. After apologizing for a lack of effort from the staff for trying to contact his family and promising to personally look into it in the morning, he directed Danny to a nearby phone situated at the front desk.

Danny was a little surprised at the kind attitude of the officer as he had been dealing with a special type of dick for the past several hours, but it was a nice change. Shaking his head a little, he moved to the phone to call Sam, praying she was still awake as it was approaching midnight. Both of his friends told him they wanted an update, but with it being late and he being emotionally, physically, and mentally drained, the only topic he wanted to discuss involved where he would be staying for the night.

As he was dialing her number, the door to the station opened and a tall man strolled in. The newcomer was tall and rather thin. He wore a clean black business suit which appeared to be expertly cared for and rather expensive. Gray hair had been slicked back into a neat ponytail, and calculating cold blue eyes surveyed his surroundings. Danny dropped the phone in surprise as he realized the man in front of him was the one and only Vlad Masters.

The sound from the phone brought him to Masters' attention, causing the man to adopt an unsettling grin. "Why here you are! I've been looking all over for you!" The tone of his voice and his expression adopted a semblance of concern, but it did not reach his eyes. "I was so worried after I found out what happened to Winston. My condolences, but I'm glad you're safe and sound."

"Don't talk about Winston like he's dead!" Danny snapped. "Look, can you just go away? If you haven't realized, it's been a pretty bad day for me, and I don't feel like talking to you right now."

"Of course. How inconsiderate of me. After everything you've been through today, you must be exhausted. Come, I'll make sure you're well taken care of."

It took Danny a moment to grasp the implications of Vlad's statement. "Wait… what? There's no way I'm going with you!"

"Poor boy, you must be more tired than you realize." The businessman pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a dramatic sigh. "Don't you remember? It was determined that you would be placed into my care if anything were to happen to Winston."

"That's news to me!"

"Excuse me, but what exactly is going on here?" The sound of the officer's voice made him jump. He had forgotten there was another soul in the room. However, he couldn't be more relieved. Being in the room alone with the businessman was an unnerving thought. It was even more relieving when he realized the officer seemed to be equally suspicious.

In a truly professional manner, Vlad introduced himself and explained his relationship to Danny as well as his involvement in the custody battle. Again, he mentioned how he was now to act as a guardian in Winston's stead.

"I already told you, I'm not going anywhere with you!" Danny growled as he glared at the man. Something was very wrong with the picture. Winston didn't trust Vlad, and there was no way he would let him fall into the billionaire's hands.

"You have to forgive the boy. We had a little spat the last time we saw each other, and I'm afraid he hasn't forgiven me," Vlad apologetically explained to the officer.

"Spat? You broke into my house?"

Before Vlad could respond, the officer held up his hand to halt the brewing argument. "Mr. Masters, do you have some sort of proof you can take the boy?" Vlad's expression quickly changed from shocked to insulted as the officer spoke. "Surely a man of your standing can understand our position. With the way Mr. Wolfe was attacked, we cannot rule anyone out as a potential suspect. With you being involved in a custody battle and Danny's status as a minor, we are rather uncomfortable sending him on his way like this. I'm also fairly certain you weren't notified of the situation…" The officer's eyes narrowed as he appraised the man. "Which leads me to wonder how you found out."

"One of my staff members was going to drop off some papers at the house when she saw the police cars and asked what happened" Vlad explained with an impatient air. "But that's not important right now…"

As he watched Vlad begin to argue with the officer, Danny couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude. For whatever reason, the officer did not seem to believe Vlad's story and generally seemed concerned for his wellbeing.

Everything seemed to be going in his favor when Danny was nearly bowled over by a sudden blast of cold air rushed by him. Startled, he started looking around to find some possible source… and open window, a vent, something to explain it. While he tried to wrack his brains for some other answer when the normal explanations were ruled out, he noticed the officer stumble slightly. He didn't think anything of it until the man rubbed his forehead and excused himself for a moment.

Rather unsettled by the officer's display and being left alone with Vlad, Danny moved back to the phone to attempt to resume his call. Though he was able to reach Sam's house this time, a presumed butler answered and informed him that "Miss Samantha is asleep and no longer taking calls for the night." While Danny was pretty sure it was a lie, he went with it and asked the man to give a message to her when he could.

Displeased by the turn of events, he was about to try calling Tucker when the officer returned to the room. Something did not seem right as he looked at him. The man's posture seemed stiff, and his eyes were unfocused and reddish. Wait… Danny blinked and rubbed his eyes before checking again. The man's eyes were actually red! Weren't they brown before?

"Sorry for the inconvenience." The officer's voice had an unusual mechanical quality to it… almost as if the words he was saying weren't actually his. He held up a document of some sorts as he spoke again. "It seems like someone did verify this earlier, but just forgot to place it somewhere it could be found."

"Does this mean everything's in order?" Vlad asked with a voice filled with hardly concealed delight.

"Yes. You can take the boy. We'll be in touch within the next few days to let you know how Wolfe is doing."

"Splendid! Come on my boy, it's time to go!"

Danny backed away as Vlad beckoned to him, nearly tripping over the desk in the process. His mind was screaming all sorts of warnings at him. The entire situation felt wrong, but he had no idea how to escape it. Vlad was blocking his way to the front door, and he doubted the few officers left in the building would appreciate a desperate search for the rear exit.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded as his eyes darted between both men before he pointed at Vlad. He knew he probably wasn't going to get an answer, but he hoped he could stall the man long enough to come up with some sort of plan.

"Pardon me? Whatever do you mean?"

"Y-you know what I mean!" While he tried to keep the anger in his voice, it was quickly giving way to panic. Vlad kept moving towards him wearing an increasingly predatory expression which was really creeping him out. Strangely, the thought of accidently falling through the wall crossed his mind. Unsettling as it was, it was a far better situation than the one he was currently in. "The officer's not acting right!"

Vlad replied, but his words were drowned out as a strange coldness started to seep into his body, quickly filling every aspect. He tried to escape, thinking it was somehow tied to where he was standing, but his legs wouldn't respond. They felt heavy and strangely detached; his arms were beginning to feel the same way. He tried to yell out without any success. He soon realized his mind was being pushed further away from the sensations of his body and into something like a dark crevasse to be stored and forgotten.

But the coldness was not finished. It briefly brushed against his mind and seemed to whisper in an almost familiar voice, "Relax… It'll be safer for you and me if you do…"

Danny's last conscious thought before the darkness completely took him was to wonder if he was ever going to wake up.

….

When he came to, Danny found himself lying on his back and staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling. His mind felt groggy and his body heavy. Though he wasn't sure, he felt as if he had been asleep for quite some time. Sitting up, he tried to remember how he got where he was… only, he didn't know where that might be.

Looking around, he realized something wasn't right. The room he was in was rather large. It was a bedroom, not much different from Sam's, only it didn't have any posters or the same dark decorations. In fact, the room was mostly white save for some wooden furniture. Even the four-poster bed he was sitting on had a white comforter and curtains. The only real decoration in the room was a painting on the wall directly across from him which seemed to show military conquest with… a paranormal influence. It was rather grotesques.

The blank room gave him an uneasy feeling. Although it definitely wasn't, it gave him the feeling he was in a jail of sorts. Unnerved, he slowly got up and moved to the room's single window. After moving the curtains aside, he cursed as he realized the glass was heavily frosted, preventing him from seeing any scenery. His next move was to try the door, but it was locked.

After a panicked few minutes trying everything he could think of to attempt to open the door, he placed his back against the door and slid down it. What was he going to do? The better question was what was going to happen to him? With the room being blank, it gave him no indication of what he should expect. He should, he supposed, be thankful for it, but the wait might be too much for him to handle. What was the old adage? The suspense is worse than the actual event? He really hoped that wouldn't be the case.

xxxxxx

The sound of one of her parents calling for her to come into the downstairs wafted through the room, however, Sam was dead set on ignoring the summons. There were far more important things on her mind than dealing with whatever new 'daughter improvement project' they had come up with.

She was incredibly worried about her friend who neither she nor Tucker had heard from in a little over two days. At first she thought it might be due to being overwhelmed by suddenly finding out the man who raised him had been severely attacked and/or the police being jerks, but a call earlier in the day really concerned her.

She had been thinking about calling the police in the morning (while skipping class due to a feigned illness), however they beat her to the punch. Around eleven, she had received a call from one of the detectives asking her if she had heard from Danny. She told him no right before demanding to know what was wrong. Though it took a little bit of coaxing (and a reminder of her parents' influences), the officer admitted they had no idea where the boy was. He disappeared after his interview with another officer, and though they hated to admit it, after failing to contact him or anyone else who might have the boy, he was being labeled as a missing person. Her immediate response was to insult the competence of him and the rest of the force as the boy had gone missing from underneath their noses, but after she calmed down a bit, she promised to help in whatever way she could.

Sam sat down on her large purple clad bed and stared up at one of the posters on the ceiling as she tried to understand the situation. Her friend, who seemed to attract terrible and odd events, was now missing. Danny had tried to contact her the night he disappeared, but her family had forbidden her from further calls when she had returned home that night after they learned about the attack on Winston. Somehow, they had gotten the notion whatever had harmed Winston could attack her if she continued to talk to Danny. Though it was kind of nice to know they cared, they had taken it way overbroad.

But what was strange about the situation was there was no security image of Danny leaving the precinct. The officer had explained to her they had installed cameras a while back after someone had tried to break in to the office in an attempt to steal their guns. Due to safely concerns, they regularly had them checked, but the night Danny disappeared, they had a major malfunction. There was an image of him entering the entrance area, but after a few minutes, the image distorted so badly they could not make heads or tails of it. It also seemed to return to normal rather suddenly after a while, but Danny was long gone by then.

A look at the clock told her she was going to have to wait a while before she could contact Tucker. Unlike her, he had been forced to go to school. She had no idea if he already knew Danny was missing, but no matter what, he was going to help her try to find him. Tucker was the probably the only person in town who could possibly get an image off of the damaged security tape, and the only other person (besides her) who Danny had trusted with his issues. They had to try and do what they could to help him.

…

"So, any luck?" Sam asked the boy currently sitting on her rug surrounded by any number of other electronic equipment. He had been staring at the screen of his PDA with an intense look for quite some time.

She had managed to contact Tucker mere moments after he was finished with his classes for the day and explained the situation. After freaking out a bit, he told her he would be over soon after he made a quick stop. He arrived about forty minutes later looking more determined than he had ever seen him while carrying a bookbag filled to the brim with tech supplies she had never seen before. After asking if he needed anything, Tucker quickly went to work with his task.

"…Whoever did this to this footage is really good…" he eventually replied after a few more minutes of silence.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked hesitantly. It was rare to hear such a tone in Tucker's voice when it came to technology. He could usually work his way around a system in a few seconds, minutes if it was more complicated, but this was really causing him problems.

"It's hard to explain… Usually, people just modify existing images when they don't something seen, but this guy actually managed to replace some of the footage with an error screen…"

"So… it's gone… Like completely, gone? You can't trace it or anything?" There was no way for her to hide the hint of panic in her voice. If Tucker couldn't bring up anything, no one could… which meant they weren't going to have anything to use to find Danny.

A small laugh escaped Tucker, which caused her to stare at the boy. "Jeez, Sam, you shouldn't think so little of me. Who do you think I am? This guy, though good, made a small mistake. I guess he got interrupted or something because he started just covering up the image after a while instead of changing it. To most people, it's nearly impossible to catch, but it's there. Just give me a little bit of time…."

"A little bit of time?" Sam repeated as she watched him frantically work with his PDA. "How long are we talking about?"

He hit a few more buttons on the screen before he looked up and smiled. "Does 'now' work for you?"

"Tucker, you're amazing!"

"I know, I know. But it's nice to have my fans remind me."

Sam pulled down his hat in response as she sat next to him on the floor. "Anyways, do you have the entire footage?"

"I couldn't get part of it due to the replacement… but it looks like a little less than half was just modified…. So, let's see what no one wanted us to find…." He pressed a button on the screen and a fuzzy image began to appear. On the footage, they could see Danny backing away from someone standing near the door. It was difficult to make out, but judging from Danny's posture, he did not seem to be happy to see the person. After a little bit, Danny stopped retreating and followed the unknown man out the door.

Without any prodding, Tucker tried to see if he could clear the image a little or at least clear up the image of the suspect. After frantically trying several different techniques, he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. According to him, even though the person had changed methods, they were still able to damage the rest of the footage.

"I'll continue to work with it when I get home," he promised. "This is going to require some big guns for me to get something useful out of this. But don't worry; I'm not going to give up. After he saved our lives, I think this is the least I can do for him."

…..

Tucker had been booted from the house as soon as Sam's parents caught him being there. Thinking back, she was a little surprised he had managed to sneak past them in the first place since they were particularly good at catching people going up to her room. They had punished her in response by having her stay in her room for the rest of the night, which didn't bother her in the least bit.

Around seven in the evening she received a call on her cell. Noticing the number, she picked it up as quickly as possible, hoping her parents didn't hear it ringing. "Did you find anything?" she asked the caller as a form of greeting. The caller's reply was spoken too quickly and frantically for her to understand. "Whoa, slow down Tucker! I can't understand you!"

"Sam… it's worse than we thought!" came his panicked reply. "I managed to identify who was in the police station with Danny."

"Yeah? Well, who was it?"

"It was… Vlad Masters…."

Sam barely registered the phone slipping from her fingers and landing on the floor. How could she be so stupid? She knew that man had an interest in getting hold of Danny and should be the first logical suspect, but she didn't realize he would have stooped so low.

Angry with herself, she reached down to grab her phone so she could calm a frantic Tucker but stopped midway as a thought crossed her mind. How were they going to be able to get Danny back from a man who had mastered in lies with an unimaginable fortune to back him up?

=============================================================

I just wanted to point out that the way these officers are depicted is due to experience. The ones in the borough where I grew up were usually nice, but if they had it in their minds you did something wrong, you could be treated like trash. But at the same time, they're the reason why my childhood bully wasn't excepted into the NFL - they slapped him with assault charges when he decided to get into a fight while he was in college. I have mixed feelings. The officers from the neighboring borough were wonderful.

[pedros-mustache-main]

just a job

summary: working wardrobe for the new film ‘bohemian rhapsody’ is not all its cracked up to be. until it is.

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: language, ~suggestive~ themes (but who am i kidding? we’re all here for that)

a/n: i’m continuing to work on the next chapter for “even now” but this has been in my drafts for awhile, so i thought i would finish it. enjoy, loves! xoxo.

you hate your job. really, you do. despite what your younger sister believes, it’s not glamorous and it’s not well-paid. it’s simply a 9-5, clock-in & clock-out, leave-work-at-work gig to hold you over until your final semester at university ends.

at twenty-seven, you could have two degrees by now. instead you have zero—and a startlingly amount of student debt amassed thanks to your two attempts at completing a single degree. it’s been complicated, to say the very least, and you don’t like to dwell on past failures.

you consider your job a necessary evil. there’s no one to pay tuition bills except you, so when your cousin landed a position in makeup for a new film and mentioned the need for a wardrobe assistant, you applied. the work is simple, mindless even. you take measurements, offer your opinion when asked, and catalog the different costumes. you’re truly a glorified hunter-gatherer: you hunt through the rows and rows of possible options and bring back what’s needed. 

still, it’s a job, and it pays the bills. for the most part, you stomach it. there’s loads of downtime, giving you ample opportunity to study or write a term paper. your co-workers are nice enough. they live completely different lives, surrounded by the latest fashion magazines and sketchbooks full of costume ideas. your workspace—a child-sized deck in the corner of the trailer—is covered in maths books. your future in mathematics lends itself to things like tailoring and fabric measurements, but it’s not the same. there’s an obvious disconnect; you try your best to smile and fit in, anyway.

your cousin, morgan, finds you on a lonely tuesday afternoon. it’s drizzling outside, so her hair is puffy when she enters the trailer. 

“this damn weather,” she mutters. though she’s your first cousin on your mother’s side, she grew up in australia, and her accent, thick as it is, never fails to make you smile. “i swear, if gwil comes back and his wig is all frizzed out, i’m gonna pop a lid or something.”

“that bad outside?”

“humid as hell and still raining.” she sets her paper coffee cup, stained with purple lipstick around the edge, on the counter. “how’s the paper comin’?”

you glance at your work, at the empty word document on your laptop screen, and shake your head. “it’s not. i tried to start but i just...” your words drift away, incomplete but crystal clear at the same time.

“hey.” morgan crosses the narrow trailer to squeeze your shoulder. “stop doubting yourself.”

peering up through your lashes, you shrug. “i don’t know if i have what it takes to a researcher, that’s all.”

morgan scoffs. “that’s horse-shit and you know it! think about it: you like maths, for some strange reason, and you like medicine, and you want to marry those two and become the best biomedical blah-blah researcher the world has ever seen. and be smoking hot at the same time. don’t give up on yourself now, [y/n]. not when you’re so close.”

you rise from your chair and lift your arms over your head to stretch. you know she means well—hell, you’ve been through this all once before—but your fears persist. with a good-natured roll of your eyes, you close your laptop. “you’re supposed to say that. you’re family.”

“maybe, but it’s the truth.”

the trailer door bursts open, and you glance at the faded clock on the wall. post-lunch break. time for a scene change and costume switch.

your boss, richard, climbs the trailer steps, his glasses fogged over by the weather. he tosses a plastic-wrapped lunch plate on your desk before feathering your cheek with a kiss. his beard scratches your face, but you return the air-kiss, still feeling slightly ridiculous any time you imitate his standard greeting.

“sorry, lovie. you’ll have to eat later. the boys are on their way and we only have them for a few before the cameras start rolling again.” richard sheds his leather jacket and runs a hand through his rain-slick hair. “morgan, you’re taking up too much space. shoo, honey, shoo!”

“right, of course! i’ve got to go wrangle gwilym’s wig anyway.” before exiting the trailer, morgan lifts her brows in your direction. “remember what i said, okay? it really is the truth.”

shuffling to the door, richard waves his hands in a shooing motion. “yeah, yeah, we get it. you’re family and you love each other. scram—and i mean that in the nicest way possible.” once morgan disappears, he points to the back of the trailer. “i need you to find those god-awful corduroy pants. joe has to wear them today and last time i checked there was a tear up the inseam.”

you do as your told, squishing your way to the storage area. four clothes racks—one for each of the boys—take up the majority of the trailer space. aside from a bathroom the size of a postage stamp and an area for fittings, it’s a tight squeeze. that squeeze is made even tighter anytime one or more of the borhap boys makes their entrance. their personalities are distinct and their friendships are loud; it should be endearing, but it often leaves a headache grating at the back of your skull from all the noise. 

from your place jammed between joe and ben’s clothing racks, you can hear him—joe—as he makes his way to the fitting stool.

“okay, but listen to this, richard.” his voice is muffled by the mink coat your head is pressed against, but you already know the routine. he’ll start with some ridiculous anecdote then work his way to a joke or two, peppering in a smattering of questions for good measure. it’s the same nearly every day. 

joe is kind. they all are. but joe, specifically, is the most gregarious of the bunch—a bit much for your quiet tendencies. he makes you laugh on occasion, but the majority of the time, his personality is too big for the sandwich-sized trailer. you’d never tell him that, of course, so you often spend most of his fittings with a haphazard smile on your face, your mind millions of miles away.

corduroy pants retrieved, you wiggle your way to the fitting area. richard has his hands full with rami, attempting to peel a black-and-white checkered unitard off the poor man, so he gestures to joe with his foot.

“fix that inseam,” he says, his voice strained with effort.

joe has a wry smile on his face when you look at him. “look, [y/n], i normally don’t take my pants off on the first date, but i’ll make an exception for you.”

you toss the pants at his chest. an girlish blush crawls up the back of your neck, so you turn away, rooting around on your desk for your sewing kit. to further enflame your face, you cringe when you hear his jeans unzip and drop to the floor with a soft whoosh. your fingers stutter over the assortment of books, papers, and fabric materials on the table. 

what has you so nervous, you aren’t sure. joe is handsome. again, they all are. you suppose it’s the idea of having your face inches from his crotch as soon as he’s clothed. not for the first time, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. a biomedical researcher would never have to deal with this.

“m’lady, i am ready.”

the plastic surrounding the sewing kit bites your palm as you hold it tight, turning to face him. “don’t be so smug. it’s not cute.”

joe frowns. he looks slightly ridiculous, like a small child, in his wig: the straight bangs, the uneven locks of hair brushing the collar of his shirt. he looks like john deacon; at least, you assume he does. you’re no expert. still, his frown coupled with the wig and the striped shirt and corduroy reminds you more of a primary school boy than rock god oozing sex appeal. it’s discombobulating. 

“you’re a hard nut to crack, [y/n].”

lowering to your knees, you nudge his legs apart with your knuckles. already, you feel a lump rise in your throat. “yeah?”

“i’m in here every day and i don’t think i’ve made you laugh once.”

“that’s not true.” you search the recesses of your mind for a memory, but can only think about how, if you move an inch to your left, your forehead will brush the fold of his pants near his most delicate parts.

(god, you need to get laid. between a flurry of dead-end jobs and university courses, you can’t remember the last time you had a good romp in the hay just to blow off some steam.)

joe doesn’t seem at all bothered by your proximity. that is, until you run the flat of your hand down the inseam of his leg. you swear you hear him hiss, but maybe it’s just your imagination. regardless, he jumps a little, and you look up with a wince.

“sorry, cold hands. i’m just looking for the tear.”

he nods, a definite flush to his cheeks.

the tear—a whopping four inches from top to bottom—is nestled near the back of joe’s left thigh. you might be able to get away with a bit of fashion tape, but richard has an eye for detail. he claims the camera can pick out every loose thread, every minor snag. 

drawing back, you pop open the sewing kit with a click. “you’ve made me laugh before,” you say. it’s a lame attempt to break the silence, but you’ve never claimed to be the best conversationalist.

“huh? oh.” he hesitates. his eyes narrow, but there’s a playful glint to his gaze. “you’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“no, it’s the truth. there was that time with the... dinosaur story. and the other time with the baseball thing and your brother.”

he runs his pointer finger over the fingers on his opposite hand, eyes rolled toward the ceiling as he counts under his breath. “so, twice?”

you nod. “at least.” with a flourish of your needle and thread, you warn, “cold hands coming in again.”

he shifts to stand a little wider. his arms cross over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. “twice is good. i can live with twice. my normal goal is twenty times at minimum, but i can adjust.”

you fall silent. once you’ve located the rip, you give it a good tug, testing to see whether it will tear more before you’ve finished the job. it holds, thank goodness, so you place the needle at the base of the rip and start threading it back and forth. 

you don’t turn when richard announces, "be back, [y/n]. rami’s stuck. we need baby oil from makeup.”

at this, joe laughs. his hand slaps his opposite leg, his body heaving as he all but cackles. you jostle with the force of his amusement, and the needle stabs the exposed flesh his thigh. this time he does hiss, pulling back on instinct.

you grimace. “sorry! you moved!”

“that’s your excuse? you sure you didn’t plan to stab me?”

“why would i do that?”

“‘cause you think i’m annoying!”

“i don’t think you’re annoying—not all the time, anyway.”

“aha! so you do think i’m annoying!”

you huff. “joe, please. i’m just trying to do my job.”

perhaps it’s the weariness in your tone that drains the good-natured grin from his face. maybe it’s your confession, which you hadn’t meant to confess. whatever it is, he clears his throat and looks toward the mirrors on the wall across from him, arms snug over his chest again. you return to the tear.

the silence stretches thin with tension. you’ve wounded his pride, you know, but you aren’t sure why it’s shut him down. you’ve interacted only a handful of times, and you try to keep professional, distanced, any time you do interact with a cast member. his suddenly-cold exterior is peculiar. 

“can you turn around for me?” he does so without complaint. his ass looks good in the pants, you’ll give him that, and this vantage point gives better access to the top of the tear. a win-win, you suppose. 

“what did you mean by twenty times?” you ask. “your normal goal being twenty times?” another lame attempt at breaking the tension.

he shrugs. “it’s stupid.”

tear repaired, you stand. “no, i want to hear. please?” 

gently, you tug his arm so he faces you again. you glance over his new outfit, searching for minuscule imperfections. you can feel his eyes search your face in a similar manor, and your face grows warm under the scrutiny. 

in lieu of an proper response, he kisses you.

the sudden contact causes you to drop your sewing kit to the floor. the plastic breaks—you can hear the crunch—but you don’t care. it’s been a long time since anyone kissed you and a longer time since anyone kissed you properly. his lips are soft and skilled, slow against your own. you rest your hands on his forearms, let him kiss you until he pulls back.

your skin feels like it’s on fire, and your chest is tight with anxiety. you swallow hard, eyes darting back and forth between his.

“i don’t like it when girls i like think i’m annoying.” his voice is thick, but his words remind you of a schoolboy’s again. it’s endearing; you smile.

“i’m quiet, that’s all.”

“i’m not.”

“i know.”

“usually i can tell if a girl is interested by how many times she laughs when i talk. twenty times and over, i’ve got a solid in. you’ve never given me an in.”

“i suppose twice is a little below the mark.”

he leans forward, as if to kiss you again, and your eyes flutter shut, but his nose merely brushes yours. “go out with me... to dinner. let me make you laugh again.”

you know you should say no. if not for the sake of professionalism, for the simple sake of proving your sister wrong. she’d told you at the start that you would meet someone and it would be dreamy and romantic and totally Hollywood. you’d promised her you wouldn’t.

but joe is cute. and even though he’s loud and chaotic, there’s something about him. he’s like a magnet. despite when your head aches because he and ben are singing too loud, you’re drawn to him. there’s no use denying it.

“one date,” you whisper, holding up your finger. “i’ll give you one date to let you try.”

“how do i know if there will be a second?”

you have to laugh at his boldness. his grin widens at the sound.

stepping back, his hands dropping from your hips, he shows three fingers. “that’s three times. i think that automatically qualifies me for a second date.”

“we haven’t even gone on our first!”

“doesn’t matter.” he hops down from the dressing stool and presses a loud kiss to your cheek. “pencil it in. two dates, back to back.”

“joe—”

he pauses at the trailer door. his toothy smile flips your stomach. “i’m being annoying, i know.”

before you can laugh again, you bite your lip. “get out of here, you idiot.”

he purses his lips in an air-kiss before bouncing out the door.

you grab the broken sewing kit from the floor. straightening, glance at yourself in the mirror. 

your cheeks are flushed and your lips look freshly kissed, but you’re smiling. maybe not laughing, but smiling. joe’s the first guy who’s made you smile in awhile. he’s made the stress in your chest relax, and the constant worry at the back of your head slow.

that ought to count for something. maybe even a third date.

[naivesilver]

I'm trying so hard to work out which of these fics could possibly be Pinocchio or August related and let me tell you...I am struggling with these vague and intriguing titles... how about 'fair folk' and 'fair enough' because I'm curious. AND also '28th of August' because i WILL be sad if that isn't an august fic

AHSJGGHAGGFDKJH first of all, thank you for the ask

Second, I regret to inform you that there are only two Pinocchio fics in that list and they’re at the very top because they’re the ones I’ve worked on most recently. Make of that what you will :^)

Ask me about one of my WIPs

Soooo let’s crack this open:

Fair enough - This one is the oldest of the three Word documents and it’s palpable from what it contains. There are, in fact, two fic incipits inside, one of which is a Sonic Hunger Games AU (who’d probably been stagnating there for a while when I last updated the file - very 2015 of me, I’d say) while the other is the sequel to this Barduil AU I never got around to finish.

I’m not sure of where I was going with the THG AU, or if I ever did more about it beside assigning characters to districts, but the Hobbit fic I had a vague plan for. Since the first installment was a Harry Potter/Triwizard Cup AU, I wanted the sequel to involve Bard and Thranduil meet again decades after their school years and pick things back up from where they’d left them. Don’t judge - these were still my teenage years, okay?

(You’re not getting a snippet of either, though. The Sonic one is in Italian and the other is in terrible, clunky English. I’m sparing you the trouble.)

Fair folk - I’D LOVE TO GET BACK TO THIS UGH basically it’s a Vecpio fic where Espio is a fae trying to lure a clueless Vector into giving up everything for him. I had everything set up - the pacing the atmosphere, even Charmy’s involvement (I’ve got that scene ready almost word for word) - but since the issues I’ve had with Vecpio fics last year I dropped most projects about that ship and this one in particular never went past the first vignette. Not saying I will never finish it, but who knows when it will happen or how much the result will be changed as a consequence of this.

Anyway, here’s a snippet! I liked the way I started this one, so I’m not ashamed of it:

There is a glint of recognition in the crocodile’s eyes, and he squares his shoulders, wary even as he steps closer. “Bloody hell. Do you go around scaring people like that all the time? You almost gave me a heart-attack.”

Espio very nearly smiles. Bravado is always a welcome diversion, particularly when it’s as flimsy a façade as it is now. “Sometimes.”

The man scoffs. He’s only a few strides away now, but still he doesn’t seem anymore unsettled that he was at first. He doesn’t sense anything wrong in the air, then, nor does he notice the ring of flowers grown around Espio’s feet, a perfect circle of snowdrop and hellebore.

That’s nothing new. They almost never notice – not until it’s too late, that is.

28th of August - Sadly, no relation to the dumbass man of the same name. You know how I said earlier that I’d had issues with Vecpio fics? This right here is the culprit - or well, one of the culprits.

Basically what happened was, since I’d written a Vector fic based on the IDW Sonic comic (and specifically the Zombot virus arc), I’d decided to do an Espio one at the end of that arc too. Except the pressure I put on myself to make it as “good” as the first one, a pretty bad mental health episode and general creative insecurity mixed poorly and I kept starting and abandoning the story because it didn’t live up to my expectations. There are about six or so versions scattered in my WIP folder, with progressively more random titles as I tried to trick myself into not stressing over it any longer.

It took me a four month break from Vecpio fics and almost every other kind of writing, @freenklin-labby being the most supportive creature in existence and some big priority reassessment for me to be able to publish the final version. It was WAY shorter than this WIP and a few of the others, but it coming out is a miracle on its own. And this is a good chance to show off where I started, now that this fucker doesn’t scare me any longer.

So here you are:

It’s not that he fears what he might find inside. He can see it from where he stands already, their stuff strewn carelessly on the floor while Charmy picks his way through it, looking for who knows what among the rubble. And it’s not the smell, either, the damp, rotten stench that Espio remembers from all the other buildings he helped fix, filling every nook and cranny and leaving a lingering aftertaste on his tongue.

Neither would be enough to deter him, on their own. He’s many things, and not a lot of them good, as he’s come to realize while they were on the run, but he’s no coward. He won’t be scared off by the havoc Eggman’s scheme left behind – even if the zombots were very thorough in their mindless fury, it seems. Even their TV, pretty banged up as it already was, looks as though it has been punched through. The floor is littered with sharp pieces of glass from the broken screen, enough that he’d tell Charmy to be careful where he puts his feet, were the kid not flying up and about already.

No, it’s the door that’s troubling him. Or, well, lack thereof: the hinges are still there, already beginning to rust after being exposed to the elements for so long, but there’s no trace of the door itself. Not even a splinter.

[letshaikyuu]

𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “When the FBI busted down my door, the last thing I was expecting to see was a hot, young agent. But then, our two worlds collided and I couldn’t let him leave my side.”

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: A FBI!Kuroo Tetsurou x Writer!Akaashi Keiji short fic

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of blood, crime scenes and any other material needed for mystery novels

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This story is just me being inspired from a prompt that I have seen on Tumblr and decided that this pairing suited it the best.

𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞  - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕

It is not surprising that at whatever Akaashi strived to do, he was always the best. When he was seven, he picked up drawing and happened to win a competition just a few months later. When he was fourteen, history was a subject he found intriguing and competed in for the rest of his school days. Pictures are plastered on his family's wall where he is holding up 'First place' trophies. So when he decided to pursue a Literature and Creative Writing degree, his family was more than welcome to support him with his dreams. He published a best-seller during his second year and his teacher assigned him as one of the assistants, offering him a spot as a professor when he finishes his Master's.

Akaashi was not interested in teaching. Even during university, he felt the stuffy air of the classroom and bustling voices of the other students to be very irritating and too much of a hassle for him. His parents paid extra to accommodate him in a single-bed dorm so he would have the most peace any university student would want. That dorm was the same place Akaashi wrote his second novel: 'The Lost Case of Neverland', a mystery novel he found very peculiar and interesting to write. That was when he decided to focus his talent on writing solely mystery novels.

There was no doubt that he was a very mysterious person himself. Even now, at 27 years of age and standing in an empty living room with boxes around him, Akaashi was still an enigma to many. He moved, rather out of the blue, to this little town called 'Brightwood'. Population 600, Brightwood was the perfect place for Akaashi to settle down and pursue further writing escapades. Finding a house that was affordable and isolated from the rest of the houses on the only street in town, he bid farewell to his parents and a handful of friends before moving.

Someone who had the needed amount of money to happily live in a big city has now moved to a run-down, closed-off town that hardly has anything going for it? It wasn't even located on the map. His parents were nervously awaiting for him to call and let them know that he had finally arrived at his new home, but what shocked them immensely was a text message from Keiji that was sent right before he entered the town:

'There is no signal in this town. You won't be able to reach me while I'm here.'

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

A few days have passed since the boxes have been neatly placed in the corner and minimal furniture found it's way into the house. The state of the house was not something to be proud of. House n.66 was the cheapest house in town. Once owned by an old couple that passed away from old age in said house, the state was awful. Floorboards that were creaking, the roof that was leaking and there was always a spider a day crawling its way out into the open. But, this was exactly what Akaashi was looking for.

'A mystery novel isn't a mystery novel until the writer puts himself in the character's shoes,' Akaashi would say to people who asked him how was he so good at writing mystery novels. All of his novels had this eerie feeling. It was not fit for a nightly read because they were terrifying, but they also never let you leave their content because of how engrossing they were. He couldn't count the number of times someone would ask him if he was possessed by a demon or if there's a ghost haunting his home. Akaashi would always say maybe.

His good looks were pleasuring for the eyes as well. A lot of women came up to Akaashi during book signing events and asked for an autograph on the weirdest of places. He was never able to hide his annoyance, but they always seemed to decipher that as something sexual and not the complete opposite. It usually took Akaashi getting dozens of numbers and sexual compliments to snap and ask that the book signing ends early. Even though his temper was unappealing to some, no one decided to leave his works because they were that amazing.

When the campaign for Akaashi's upcoming novel 'If I Were A Killer' started, people could hardly contain the excitement at the thought of another phenomenal novel in their hands. Rather unwillingly, Akaashi gave a short interview regarding the upcoming release and stated that if everything goes as planned, the novel should be published in a few months. He also added that he will be completely unavailable to the public eye for the time being so that he can finish his novel in peace. That interview was the last time Akaashi was seen in the public eye.

Now, with a cup of black tea in his hand and the fireplace quietly crackling in the background, Akaashi was ready to work on the final chapters of the novel. It was a novel that challenged him greatly as an author because it differed from his other work quite greatly. His editor was not too keen on this novel, it was too heavy to read and felt as if the storyline would be too difficult to understand:

'Akaashi-san, I don't think such a novel would be greatly appreciated in the public. It seems like it will be very hard to read-'

'I've already made my decision and the plot has already been developed. I do not plan on changing anything Furudate-san.'

'But Akaashi, isn't it extremely difficult to write someone who's a serial killer?'

He only smirked at the words of his editor and continued drinking his already cold tea. 'You don't know Furudate-san,' Akaashi glanced at his editor, something mysterious glinting in his eyes,' just how much that topic interests me.'

His editor didn't want to admit how the obvious coffee stain on his suit appeared. 'My hands were just shaking,' he said to the dry-cleaners, but the evil-like gaze he got from Akaashi was something he would never forget.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

It was proven to be a very easy task for Akaashi. Before moving to Brightwood, he spent hours researching everything there was to know about serial killers and their ways of work. From what triggered them to how they dispose of bodies. Akaashi had everything written down in his documents. One of the main reasons he moved to Brightwood is that his novel was set right in this little town. You could say that he was invested in this novel, paying attention to every single detail and writing it with such ease. So, when he found out about such a small town, he figured it was the perfect setting for his novel. What doesn't interest people more than a serial killer wreaking havoc in a small town like Brightwood, where everyone seems to 'know' their neighbors that well?

'When shit happens, everyone is everyone's enemy. Nobody is safe from the obvious hate and mistrust. Who was once drinking coffee in your backyard is now suspected of murder? Who was once dropping newspapers on the street is now sentenced to life in prison? Can you trust the people living with you? How can we be so sure of what's going on in another person's mind? Life wouldn't be this interesting if we knew everything, would it?'

The night was very calm, the perfect fit for Akaashi to add something new to his ever-growing novel. The complete silence would be nerve-wracking for most, but it suited Akaashi perfectly. He enjoyed not hearing the bustling noise he couldn't get rid of in his dorm or continuous shuttering of cameras during promotion periods. He was alone with his thoughts. Perfect for writing mystery novels with serial killers. Once he finished writing the predicted part for today, Akaashi closed his laptop and went to drop off his dirty dishes in the sink. He was crossing the hallway with his empty mug in hand when he heard a commotion on the street. 'There must be some kind of party going on out there,' Akaashi shook his head at the thought, thinking back to the day he first moved to this town. The neighbors were quick to welcome him and offer any kind of needed help. They were also preparing a welcoming party for the newcomer, but once Akaashi found out about it, he immediately shut it down and said he wasn't the type for parties.

'Maybe that's why nobody has visited me these past few days.'

While he was thinking back to his neighbors, the commotion outside was becoming clearer and louder. It started to feel like they were right outside his door, banging up a storm. To Akaashi, the constant noise reminded him of pencil tapping on the desks in his university classes, just much more boosted. He could feel his brain pulsating in his head, any kind of loud noise irritates him greatly and his annoyance starts to show. Trying to calm himself down as much as possible, he took a deep breath and continued his way to the kitchen. Not even a step further, his front door was suddenly on his floor. The entrance was completely bare. It should be showing the clear night sky, but all Akaashi saw were dozens of people dressed in black, equipped with heavy machinery. Unceremoniously, the empty mug was shuttered on the ground and Akaashi was down on his knees with unknown people surrounding him.

'FBI! DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW AND HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!'

The last thing Akaashi saw before his head and body were forcefully pinned to the ground was the shattered mug on the floor and a mop of messy black hair. He looked too hot in Akaashi's eyes and it wasn't fair that he got to wear that smug smirk on his face while Akaashi was here mopping the floor with his body. Akaashi isn't a puppet. He was always the puppeteer.

══════════════════

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @mysticrainpain​ @kawaiibaka96​ @kashika​ @brokutoforever​ @shangyinn-ig​ @miyulovestowrite​ @heccingdead​ @kellyyween​ @death-waves-to-me​ @bareeganbaree​ @caxsthetic​ 

[namjoonchronicles]

cognac & nicotine | nj

↳ pairing namjoon, you

↳ genre drama, suggestive smut, fluff

↳ words 2k

↳ warnings no chill, hidden love, pining on each other but too prideful to admit, namjoon’s a lawyer, graphic description of bed scene, nicotines and alcohol abuse, i miss writing namjoon and got a little frisky

“Don’t catch feelings.”

Fast forward for about three months, and you’re tangled in his sheets, woken up by the sound of the front door clicking shut. The cologne he wore left lingering in the room you shared just a few hours before. His side of the bed is empty, obviously, but there’s a note by the bedside table that sparks a smile on your face. Careful not to let the sheets reveal your bareness underneath, you scooted over to it to see them clearer, and what he wrote in scraggly writings,

“You’ve been served.” With a smiley at the end.

It made you chuckle, how his sophisticated humor eases in. Within these four walls, you still feel a little shy to what it has witnessed. There's the sound of the busy traffic travelling up his penthouse and strangely, it felt like home. It didn’t really register into your brain how massive this ordeal is until you try to step out of his bed and felt the need to clutch onto something to help you walk. You bit your smile and found relief in the fact that he wasn’t watching. He would have made fun of it until the ends of the earth. Looks like he was right, you’ve technically been served.

His lawyer robe disappeared from the hangers, and so is his document bag. That suggests that he left for work already. Which was good for him because you wouldn’t have let him leave if you see him in his black-white attire. Those long trousers, extending his long legs, belt buckle and the white dress shirt underneath his blazers and cufflinks--simply spell erogenous to you. He knows he captivates you in those fit and knows how to use them against you. There’s toast on the table that he spreads with butter and coffee mug ready underneath the coffee maker, still piping hot. There’s traces of his hobbies in this house; the photos he took, the boxing gloves, the figurine collectibles, his anime CDs--he’s just a big little boy.

There’s a bookshelf in the corner of the living room that just represents the lawyer in him. They’re neatly arranged, in alphabetical order, colors, and editions.The books are heavily manifested with notes and scribbles once you flipped them open, and it shows how hard he studies or how confused he was. All the question marks between this pages. He makes you smile even when he’s not here. This is another level of infatuation, now, isn’t it?

Infatuation, the word resonates in your mind.

How do you navigate this? How do you tell your father, his boss?

How will you explain those breathless wars on top of his desk at work when no one is around? How he pushes you against the file cabinet and devours you with his mouth, leaving handprints on your ass? How he has you sprawled on the files he’s supposed to read because you wouldn’t stop sparking his mind, into the dirty things you could be doing? Or how the late night drives almost always turn into something else? How sins taste like nicotine and cognac, laced on his tongue dancing with yours in the depth of night, in the backseat of his car. Soft music playing in the background and all you feel is his hand on your skin, your name in desperate whispers.

How would you explain the way his eyes look at you like he’s undressing you in his mind, amidst the office meeting you had no role in? How can you explain the way his hand cupped your buttcheeks in the lift, far in the back when no one saw and the flirtatious smile that’s thrown everywhere but to you? You know damn well that you would put your life through hell if your parents knew. Now that you’re in his penthouse, your fears began to pile on, one by one. You start listing the things that you hated about him, hoping it will make you hate him.

Those intentional touches, lingering stares from across the room, and how you find excuses to be at the office longer than you should. All those needs to stop.

Why is it that, when happiness finally finds you, you chase it away? Because happiness doesn't last? Because your past has proven to you that it is temporary and you wanted forever but you know it doesn’t exist. When your friends scold you about thinking to break the bonds before it becomes one, it hurts you. It hurts you because you thought of all the years, and all the time you spend with them, you thought they would at least understand your incapability, your flaws and defects. But they don’t. And if the people you trust your life with don’t understand you, you expect Namjoon would?

You shut the door behind you like you would your thoughts. His bathroom is very much like him, organized in its functions; shaving utility, facials, toiletries. And in the reflection, you caught yourself in a pensive expression and it dawned to you just how sad you looked. There’s a mark between your nipples that he left, and you remembered that you left a few on him too. He invaded your mind all too frequently nowadays. With his soap, you smell like him. And your hands glide over your skin where his palms was, the water trails down the valley of your breasts, in the back of your neck and between your buttcheeks. There’s a hickey on the inside of your thighs that tingles when you run your forefinger on them and you take the chance to mimic his hand movements in between your legs.

Drying up your hair, strapped in his robe, you searched for his bed sheets to change the soiled one he had on. Then you throw them in the washing machine while you ate the toast he made. Your phone had been laying face down on his kitchen counter, abandoned since he feels you up the moment you stepped into his space. He was some type of horny last night. It has been a while and you weren’t exactly responsive to his messages for the past few days and he grew needy. It doesn’t help that the new chambering lawyer enters exactly when he was piled with work and a difficult client going through a divorce. He wants to call and rant about it to you, but you’re always so occupied with the new member that he feels slightly neglected.

Standing in the bathroom to check his attire before the trials begin, Namjoon unbuttons the top two buttons of his dress shirt to have a peek of the hickey you made. For some reason, he likes to keep this as a trophy and it be quite a remembrance that if he could have you, he could have anything he wanted. You are the benchmark in his life. It’s a surge of motivation that could seem unconventional to most, but if you knew Namjoon, you know that he is everything but conventional.

He fairly admits that he was extremely affection deprived yesterday, that a simple glance from you would send his blood throttling straight to his groins. But he had to behave because your father was around to welcome Jeon, the new chambering lawyer that would be attached for four months, just like Namjoon was, before he was offered a position there. And for some reason, took ninety percent of the day. He was bitter. And extremely horny. He had to find excuses to have you come to his house and he knows it’s going to be hard because you’re not so gullible, but he hopes you would pretend because he doesn’t know if he’s gonna make it tonight without you. Nothing would have sufficed.

When you rang him to let you know you’re at his doorstep, handing the file he purposely left on your table, his heart leaped and courage set in. He knows there’s no going back to what was. He wanted you and wanted you so badly, his brain malfunctioned.

“Yea just place them on my desk down the hall….” he orders. “Do you not have hands?” you stared at him quizzically but walked in nonetheless, thinking that he might have a good reason why he said so, because he’s not usually so tactful. The sway of your hips as you walk in makes the cognac in his hand taste weaker than it usually is and he downed them whole and grimaced at the after taste. You’ll set those files in seconds, and he has to come up with another useless errands to make you stay longer than you probably should.

“I missed your coffee, you didn’t make me one because of that Jeon,” his voice grittles from behind the shell of your ear as you sort those files on his desk. The tail of your eyes glide to the view of the opened bottle of half-drunken cognac at the corner of the table and you mentally shook in disapproval. He just can’t stop drinking, can he?

“You usually get one from Starbucks downstairs, I didn’t think I had to make a jar,” you shrugged your shoulders, eyes focused on the files, shifting the orders to fit the schedule he had. He was leaning his shoulders on the door sill, hands in his pocket, dress shirt on, rolled up sleeves to his elbows, when you turned around, and the flicker in his eyes he passed you through his bangs was enough to bite your tongue. As if he had read your thoughts, he bits his before shifting his weight to another feet, bobbing his head down like he’s shy of his thoughts and barely in control.

“It’s been a week....” his voice pierced through the silence. “I noticed,” you leaned on the edge of his mahogany table, crossing your arms, giving away nothing. “Didn’t bother you?” he cleared his throat.

You responded by twisting your lips and unfold your hands to march towards him, pulling him by the belt loop and he towers above you with little to no hesitance, greeting you lips first. The kiss grew hungrier and hungrier until you’re backed up against the leather sofa of his office. Halfway through the lip-lock, you have your fingers fumbling on the buttons of his dress shirt, to unbutton them. His grip on your rib cage intensifies, pulling your dress up so he could run his hand on the back of your thighs. And then he parted, while you whined bitterly.

“Bed?” he breathlessly suggested. “I don’t care,” you matched his desperation.

He chuckles handsomely and leaned down to carry you over his shoulders before speeding down the hallway to his room. He throws you on the bed when he notices that you’ve unbuttoned him enough to help him off of those work attire. He unbuckles his belt achingly slow, with a hint of flirtatious smile on his lips, asserting his dominance in a way. As he watched your hand rubbing on yourself to keep the arousal going, he ran his tongue along his lips and told you to watch him as you touch yourself. You’re so far gone and he is barely getting your attention now, so he couldn’t even undress properly because of the look on your face was so inviting. He delved in a demanding manner, possessively taking over your hand and harshly whispered in your ear that he wanted his fingers there.

“You wore the dress I liked,” he nibbles on your earlobe while you responded in whimpers, shivering underneath him. “It’s the one you wore that night when we fucked in my car,” his voice was intoxicating, and he is making you drunk with his words. “I wore the dress I like,” you hissed through your teeth, feeling the familiar clenches below your waist, “You just happened to like it.” He chuckles darkly, smiling against your skin while his hands rode your dress up enough for him to bare your thighs and froze when he realised that you wore nothing underneath.

“You…” “What about it.”

Someone flushing in the bathroom takes him back where he is. Right. The trial. He’s donning a lawyer robe and he walked out looking rather dashing. Here it is. The very thing that makes him drink and smoke. He hates his job, but he loves you. His contract is ending soon.

With countless nights wondering where he stands, he hopes you know that you’re the reason why he even thinks his job is sexy. But how long can you hide this tryst from the public eye? With Namjoon’s constant need for touch, and the barriers your father has set?

And because of him, love will always taste like cognac and nicotine. Will this lungful drag of cigarettes, nicotine in his system, help him cope with what he’s about to lose? Will the liquor laced tongue make him forget the taste of your skin? What can he do? He caught feelings. He knows he wasn’t supposed to.

.

.

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copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost

[bapyess1r]

I Like You A Lot

WARNINGS: cursing and violence

Pairings: Chloe Frazer x Nadine Ross x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch, @courtenbae

A/N: I’m gonna put the “Read More” after work

Chapter 16

Sunny’s POV

“Gaaahh!!” I exclaimed, the girls laughing as I spat out the water that involuntarily splashed into my mouth as I climbed the spectacle of a ruin. Granted it was “clean”, you never really know. We’d finally come across Belur. It was beautiful. More beautiful than Halebidu in my opinion. A hidden underground city clearly fed by the aqueducts, water delicately falling over the cliffs; wild vines grew by the clean, misty air, almost a complete serenity at first glance. That was until a massive explosion sounded, disrupting the natural silence as it rang out through the massive cave. Annoyed, the three of us began to climb in that direction. To the very top. The longer the job went on, the more comfortable I began to get with heights again. Pretty soon, it would be no sweat at all.

I watched the two women climb up to the last platform, Nadine reaching out for me as I was the last to arrive. She pulled me up and patted me on the shoulder with a small smile and we made our way up a set of stairs. Smack dab in the middle was a gorgeous golden sculpture of Shiva, Nandi, and what Chloe thought might’ve been his eldest son. At the top of the stairs was the entrance to where we needed to go next but of course, it had been blown to bits. I cursed to myself and scratched my head in frustration.

“Damn...there’s got to be another way inside…” Chloe said, taking the words right out of my mouth as I looked around the small garden that bloomed in the middle of the area. She shook her head as she walked about, chewing her lip. “They’re trying to slow us down.” she grumbled.

“Well they fucked up. We’ll find a way. We always do…” I said with reassurance as I stared hard at a possible alternative solution to our problem at hand. Smoke was pouring out of a small window nearby. “I wonder….” I grumbled, walking over to it. I climbed up and looked inside. It was a bit hard to see from the smog but it seemed like a decent little tunnel inside. I crawled up and further inside to double check and stuck my head out. “This way, there’s a path here.” I told them and they followed me into the tunnel.

We took the tunnel into a room with a massive pool in the center. Across the way we’re two men, standing guard at the entrance to the next room. Dropping from the high exit, I spotted them. “Damn!” I heard Nadine swear as she and Chloe hopped down behind me. Immediately, I pulled out my .9mm and took aim, pulling the trigger without a second thought. Normally you know what happens when you do that… Which is why I wasn’t at all prepared for what would happen next. A sudden spark erupted from the man; a flash of fire and the loud bang of the explosion absolutely obliterated him, injuring his partner as he was sent head first into the nearby wall and collapsing the entryway in the process. The three of us exclaimed rather loudly, Chloe’s brows raised as Nadine clasped her hands over her mouth. I threw my arms over my head as my jaw dropped, taking a few steps back.

“Holy shit!” I gasped, looking at the crumbled scene.

“Must’ve had a deadman’s switch…”

“Well shit.” I huffed, staring at the pool of water before us. The longer I looked at it, the more I realized how dark the middle of it was. I wrinkled my brows and walked towards it. Another tunnel. I shook my head, blowing out a puff of irritated air. ‘Alright, Spurrs. Guess you’re Michael Phelps now.’ I thought as I dropped to the ground and dipped my legs into the cold fresh water. I shivered a little. We’d been drenched in water for hours and as much as it usually wouldn’t bother me, I was tired of being so pruney. “It’s deeper there in the middle. I’m thinkin’ there’s a passage?” I said. Chloe’s crazy ass… jumps in the water without even a moment of hesitation, swimming as deep as she could.

“Frazer!” Nadine exclaimed, rushing knee deep into the water to look where she’d gone.

“Oh Jesus…” I grumbled looking down after her as I stood. After a couple seconds, she appeared to the surface, gasping for air. She pushed her hair off of her face as she began to tread the water.

“You were right! There’s a light at the end. Looks like a bit of a swim though. Can your lungs handle that, love?” Chloe joked, splashing water at me playfully. Nadine giggled a little and I just nodded my head, fighting off a smile.

“You should be a comedian. This treasure hunter bullshit doesn’t suit you.” I said sarcastically as I joined her in the water.

Just like that, the three of us dove into the less than temperate waters. We swam down until I spotted the breach at the bottom. Nadine and I followed Chloe down the tunnel, pushing ourselves along by the slippery algae covered walls. When we reached the other side we began to swim to the surface. Half expecting Asav’s men, I pulled my gun immediately and pointed at the area before us. When I could tell the coast was clear, we climbed out of the cool waters; wringing out our clothes and hair, wiping off excess water from our faces. Behind the stairs before us was a beautiful stone and gold carving into the wall; women. I didn’t need any more information on that subject. I just felt in my spirit that they had important roles here. Like this was their city. We took the stairs into a shorter hallway. What we found in the next room seemed to take Chloe’s breath away. The ceilings were high and open, letting the sunlight fill the octagonally shaped room. It was light colored stone all around with gold trim, shelves lined around the room stacked tall with dusty artifacts. Moss and grass grew between cracks all over the place. My eyes widened as I looked around, marveled by everything in sight. I let out a loud whistle and picked up a ring that felt like it had been made from solid gold. It was certainly heavy enough to make the assumption...

“Boy, I betcha we could make a pretty penny offa all this….” I mumbled, admiring the green jewel sparkling in its golden bed. Suddenly, Chloe looked at me a moment and snorted.

“Oh God, you even sound like him.” She said, scrunching up her nose as she picked up a stack of thin pieces of wood, examining it briefly.

“Like who?” I asked, crinkling my brows.

“Like Sam.” She said simply. I scoffed in amusement.

“Minus that horrid accent he’s got.” Nadine interjected, snickering as she looked at a few items herself. The girls shared a laugh as I sucked my teeth and tried not to laugh myself, tucking the ring into my pocket before looking around again. There was a little bit of everything; jewelry, instruments, maps, documents, tools and pottery…. It was an interesting little stop n’ shop for me. I kept finding jewelry to take back to my friends and for myself even. I looked over. Chloe’s shoulder as she picked up a lovely piece of pottery. Small but well detailed.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I dunno… powder…? Maybe herbs.” She mumbled. I judged her in the side with my elbow gently, wiggling my brows mischievously.

“What kinda herbs?” I smirked. She put the pot down and shoved me away from her with a chuckle.

“Not those herbs, you pothead!” She said and I snorted as I went to explore more. I ran my fingers across the untuned, rusty strings of a veenar that stood in a corner as an unpleasantly untuned sound echoed in the space. I walked by to pass between the shelves and smack dab in the middle of the room was a beautiful gold and marble sculpture; almost a natural spotlight shone on it, magnifying its beauty even more. My eyes grew the size of plates as my feet seemed to gravitate towards it. Chloe and Nadine came in on the other side, also lost in its beauty. An army of strong golden men, their bodies and shields riddled with arrows as they carried a humongous white marble tusk on their backs.

“I think my new favorite thing is Hoysala art…” I commented. The detail was so exquisite! I’d never been moved by a piece of work until this. Everything we went through almost seemed worth the strife. I watched as Chloe crouched to its level to admire it on its pedestal.

“It’s an altar of some kind.” She commented.

“Looks like the king suffered dearly for his people.” Nadine noted. I nodded as I felt my brows meet in the middle. Chloe stared at it for a moment and as she turned to look at us, I could see the gears turning in her head again. Her bright eyes narrowed as she paced a bit.

“They weren’t just protecting the Tusk…” she began.

“What else would they go through all this fuckery for?” I found myself asking aloud.

“Historians believed it was a symbol of power and dominance but… I reckon they misunderstood…” she said simply, one of her hands began to fidget with a cuticle.

“As most do….” I murmured.

“This tusk…. It was a symbol of their people… a symbol of their culture…” she sighed. I could feel my face twist up as I thought about what these men must’ve gone through for their home.

“So…. ‘For Belur!’ I guess…” I mumbled.

“Precisely…” She said, kicking up dirt with her muddy boots. Nadine bent and placed her hands on her knees to get a closer look at it and blew off a bit of cobwebs and dust from the top of it. Along it we’re a few pieces in a straight line but one seemed to be missing. I narrowed my eyes as I strained them to catch the detailing on the pieces.

“What the…?” I mouthed to myself as Nadine seemed to notice it too. She leaned even closer before shouting out softly.

“Oi! Frazer… these look like that thing you’ve been fiddling with.” She said looking back at her with a look of shock. I huffed out some air in surprise, myself. Chloe frowned as she pulled the small golden figure of Ganesh from her pocket as stared at it sadly for a while. When she was ready, she took a deep breath and walked towards the altar to place it among the others with a shaky hand. I saw her struggling with it so I rose to my feet and placed a careful hand on her shoulder. She let it go and dropped it in its spot; then all of the others seemed to lock into place. A perfect fit. I gasped a little as Chloe let out a vulnerable and shaky sigh, lowering herself to its level. She stared at it intently for a moment then looked at us with a sad expression.

“My dad was here….” She said chuckling faintly, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to find the words that could explain all that she felt. “... ‘Something big’, alright…. God… why didn’t that stupid bastard tell me?” I could see the tears beginning to well up in her bright blue eyes as I squeezed her shoulder. She took a deep breath to gather herself but her voice cracked all the same.

“You said it yourself— He wanted to keep you safe.” Nadine said solemnly, pushing a lock of Chloe’s hair behind her ear. She turned her gaze back to the figures before her and shook her head in disbelief, sitting down on the ground with her back against the altar. Nadine and I took a few steps back to give her some space. She massaged a spot in her temple and chewed on her thumbnail as she wept silently, her hands shaking. Eventually, Nadine knelt down at her side and placed a rough but gentle hand on her forearm, stroking at her tanned and dirty skin. Chloe lifted her head and looked between us both.

“I can’t let Asav get that tusk.” She said to us in a weak voice, but it was brewing with determination. I could feel my brows crinkling again as I nodded, suddenly sharing that same determination. Nadine shook her head and looked her partner deep in her eyes.

“No. No, we can’t.” She said. A smile began to curl on her lips as she looked at her. It was small but grateful. I placed a hand on her knee and squeezed it gently in agreement.

“Thank you…” she whispered to us. Nadine seemed to shake herself off the trance from staring into her eyes for too long and chuckled.

“Thank us after we get out of this alive…” she smirked and Chloe laughed, herself.

“Fair point…” She sniffled, wiping away her tears on her dirty red shirt. With that, the both of us reached out a hand to help her up and she dusted herself off (pointlessly so).

“Don’t forget Ganesh.” I told her, knowing she’d probably want to keep it. Chloe’s brows shot up and she turned around to lift it from its slot. Just then, the wall in front of us dropped slowly, revealing a new entryway.

“Aha… glad I brought this then.” She said with a smile before tucking it away again.

We continued on, climbing, swinging, and swimming until we found ourselves emerging from a bit of clear blue water in front of a massive statue of Shiva. It seemed to be the only thing in the room. All the grandeur of Belur was beginning to hit me now. Everything was just breathtaking and beautifully built and constructed. This statue being another great example. It took awhile to figure it out but between the three of us, we found that all the arms set off channels of water, trailing down two of Shiva’s long arms. Speaking of arms… My arms were burning as I tiredly climbed the hourglass shaped drum. After setting off all the channels, we noticed a level above us that needed exploring. So with curiosity, we aimed to climb higher. The drum suddenly began to rise again to a platform at Shiva’s shoulder. Upon stepping onto the lush grass that grew there, a doorway opened up for us. Nothing seemed to surprise me about Belur anymore. That was until we took the stairs inside. The stairway took us up to a platform atop the statue’s head where a massive gold crank wheel sat.

“That looks promising.” Nadine mumbled as I began to spin the wheel. A rumble sounded and the hands of Shiva came together, pooling water into a gigantic bowl sat before him. Once it was full, a sudden stream of prismed light burst from its forehead. Shiva’s Third Eye. The light shone on a statue across from us as a chandelier began to drop from the high ceiling. “Christ, this is a lot.”

“The Hoysala sure don’t do shit halfway, eh?” I commented, inching myself to the edge of the platform to look down. ‘Fuck— why’d I do that for?’ I thought, taking a deep breath. “Lemme go first so I can get it over with.” I grunted. The girls smirked and stepped back as I pulled on my rope, swinging my wrist around as I aimed for the chandelier. I shook my head nervously, never taking my eye off of the spot I wanted. I let go of the rope and by the grace of god, the grapple hooked onto it. “Lit. Now… the scary part…” I said, tugging on the rope to make sure I wouldn’t fall. ‘Alley oop!’ I heard Sam’s voice say in my head and I shook my head, rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of it. I took a deep breath and stepped off the platform, never letting my grip loosen as my body swung across from the statue to the platform before me. I let go and grabbed onto the edge with a squeal, climbing up to solid ground as quickly as possible. I laid out on the floor and took a massive deep breath. When I looked over, the girls were dancing in place, clapping and cheering like proud parents. I threw a thumbs up and exhaled in exasperation.

“Go, Sunny!” Chloe cheered with a giggle as she readied herself to swing across. I chuckled and rolled over, rising to my feet to look around at the number of statues placed along the platform. I walked up to one, examining it, and noticed the pedestals they stood on were rotatable.

“Hmm…” I said aloud, placing my hands on my hips. I had barely noticed the girls had made it across already.

“What’s ‘hmm’?” I heard Nadine ask.

“If I turn this statue…. do y’all think I’ll die?” I asked stupidly as I turned to face them. They both made various but honest expressions.

“Well… if you did die… it’d make a bitchin’ story at your funeral.” Chloe replied with widened eyes, pursing her lips. I raised a brow and shrugged before stepping up to the pedestal.

“Shit, that’s all I ask.” I said, scrunching up my face as I began to turn the statue. Somehow, I didn’t seem all too worried about dying anymore. I turned it carefully and the colorful light split into two, bouncing off of the prism it held. I gasped suddenly knowing what I had to do. “Do all these statues have mirrors?” I asked.

“Looks that way, yeah.” Nadine replied. I looked at the chandelier we swung on and noticed another prism that sat inside it.

“What are you thinking, China?” Chloe asked.

“All of these beams? Need to meet there…” I gestured with a pointed finger. Chloe smiled and smacked my ass.

“Good work, Sunflower.” She winked at me. Feeling proud, I nodded as we began to split up and divide the work.

It didn’t take very long to do. Most of the statues were turned until it came to one of the last ones. The top half was broken. “Well dag nabbit… Now what?” I huffed. Without even thinking, Nadine climbed the pedestal and picked up the mirror, stone hands still attached to it. I chuckled as she raised the mirror above her head like the others.

“You make a phenomenal statue, Nadine.” Chloe commented as she leaned on the pedestal to admire her. Nadine blushed and averted her gaze to me.

“Hurry up and finish this. This thing’s heavy.” She said as Chloe stepped back to take a picture. “Really?” She huffed. I grinned, giggling a little as I ran over to the final statue. It had to be rolled to meet the beam and positioned just right. “Be careful, Spurrs! That ledge doesn’t look sturdy.” She told me. And she was right. It was already leaning down a little too much for my liking. But I sucked it up and stepped onto it slowly, holding my breath like it was going to magically make me weightless or something. As soon as the statue was positioned properly, another rumble sounded.

“Well that did somethin’...?” I said, not really quite sure if something indeed happened.

“So I can put this down now?” Nadine asked.

“Um…. yes?” I answered, making a face. That thing must’ve been heavier than it looked.

“Wait! Not yet!” Chloe shouted, running over to my side to see what was going to happen.

“What’s happening? I can’t see from here!” Nadine asked as the two of us watched all the beams strike the prism in the chandelier and form one singular beam that pointed towards the bowl of water before Shiva. I shook my head in confusion, placing my hands on my hips as I looked to Chloe for the answers.

“All this water… It’s a cleansing ritual.” She mumbled. Luckily I was close enough to hear her.

“What’s happening?!” Nadine asked again.

“Oh! You can put the mirror down now—”

“SHIT THEY’VE FOUND US!” Nadine exclaimed as I heard a door by the ledge across the room open up.

Acting quickly, the two of us ran off of the platform. But before I could step off of the ledge to follow her, I heard a loud whistle coming my way. I stopped to turn and see a ball of fire flying towards me. “SHIT!” I exclaimed, pushing my legs as fast as I could but the warhead hit the ground I stood on and began to lean. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I swore as the ground began to slip from beneath me. Chloe reached out for me but I’d already slipped and began to roll. The statue rolled the same direction I did and right off of the ledge. I was headed the same way. Soon as my body began to fall, I felt Chloe’s hand grab hold of my wrist. She pulled me up as fast as she could and I followed her across the breaking ledge to “safety”. I could hear Nadine’s gunfire and I immediately took cover behind a wall, pulling on my gun. I lifted my head and closed my eyes to give myself half a second before jumping out to shoot the men accosting us, powering through without stopping. The three of us took them out one by one, heading for the door they’d just come out of. We could get out that way. For a moment, I was sure we’d made it home free until another warhead hit and the ledge beneath our feet crumbled. Chloe hung off the edge and I held Nadine’s arm as she reached out for her partner.

“HURRY! TAKE MY HAND!” She shouted.

“I’M TRYING!” Chloe cried out, her voice straining as she stretched her arm as far as she could. She was almost there, their fingertips brushing against each other’s. I leaned forward a bit to give Nadine a little more leeway when the ledge broke off completely. The three of us screaming for dear life as we all came crashing down. The water hit my skin like hot fire as I fell in. My skin stung and my body ached, yet I still had no time to think. I had to swim around the dark waters to avoid the falling debris. When I popped my head to the surface, I began to look around for the girls, swimming to land. I could hear faint splashes behind me and painful groans. Suddenly, I wasn’t panicking so much. I crawled onto solid ground, my body feeling heavy as I coughed and heaved, dragging my body along. I wiped the excess water from my eyes and opened them to be met with a couple pairs of dirty heavy boots. I sighed dramatically as I felt a pair of hands grab me by my sore arms and cuff my wrists. When I looked up, the girls were being cuffed as well and Asav stood before the three of us with an amused smirk.

“Well that was quite the fall. You had me worried!” He smiled sarcastically. That smile faded rather quickly as he tucked away his gun. “Come. It’s time for a reunion.” He said and his goons dragged us away, following him to the bowl before Shiva. Already sitting there, tied up and pitiful (but safe), was Samuel Drake. His long arms cuffed behind him as well. His bright blue shirt now wet and soiled with dirt just like us but tenfold. “He wouldn’t give you up— despite my efforts to persuade him.” Asav grumbled as the man who held me tossed me to the ground next to him. I fell on the wet surface as he lifted his big old head to face me, revealing a ghastly swollen and bleeding black eye.

“Heeeey, sweetheart!” He said, weakly. And I sighed in exhaustion and relief. What was I going to do with this man?