#and i expected it to be like most of the books i read at 10/11

[lichtecht]

i am currently on book 3 but this is my contribution

[themyscirah]

People need to stop putting Batman in everything this is painful

[2soulscollide]

tips to level up your writing skills

1. read, read, read

okay, I know, everyone keeps saying it... but it's true, and I truly believe the more you read, the better you write, because you come across different writing styles, different voices, new characters, and worlds. This applies to every writer, from amateur to professional.

2. practice makes perfect

another cliché, right.

but hear me out: I feel so much more confident about my writing skills when I write daily, rather than when I write a bit occasionally. you get lots of work done, see your book coming to life, and get better at it.

3. create an outline before you start writing

guysss, I know many people like to go with the flow, but I would recommend planning your novel before writing it, especially if it is one of your first projects.

when I started, I refused to plot my novel because I thought it was a waste of time, and I couldn't plan it all ahead. turns out that I could never finish my novels, because I started to get lost in the plot. as most of you may know, I LOVEEE to plot now!

4. use active voice instead of passive voice

passive voice is alright sometimes. I like to use it, too. but to create an immersive experience for the reader, you should go for the active voice since it creates more impact.

see something like this:

"the letter was written by Marcus who had tears in his eyes." VS "Marcus wrote the letter with tears in his eyes."

such a basic example (don't judge me!!)... but can you notice the difference? it seems so much more expressive.

5. avoid using overly complex language

repeat it after me: short. sentences. are. valid.

don't overcomplicate it! I know it's tempting to write huge sentences sometimes and make your book seem more complex and professional, but sometimes it just doesn't come out as expected, and we end up exhausting our readers.

6. don't just for yourself

this can be a polemic topic. it's quite common to see people saying you should write for yourself, but let's be honest here: if you're trying to get your book published, you should have your target public in mind while developing your book. knowing your audience to know what works and what doesn't work is extremely important. but hey, you must also enjoy what you're writing!

7. use dialogue!!!

I find dialogue so important, and I love it so much! ensure you develop a distinctive voice for your characters to make them seem real to the reader. also, if possible, read the dialogue out loud and imagine if it would work out in real life.

8. don't be afraid to use metaphors

metaphors will turn a "basic" work into something more sophisticated when applied in the right places. you might want to avoid overusing it because it can ruin the experience, but it's something up to you, and what feels better to you.

9. research your topic before writing

okay, this is pretty self-explanatory. if you're writing about a topic or a location you don't know much about, avoid making assumptions or clichés. instead, do some research, take notes, or even ask chatgpt questions to help you.

10. don't be afraid to experiment and try new things

I was a fanfiction writer for a long time and was so scared to try original fiction because it seemed so much different from what I was accustomed to doing. however, once I decided to try something new, I discovered I liked to do it more than fanfiction. you'll never know until you try it!

11. never give up on your writing, keep practicing and learning to improve your skills

it takes time to acquire new skills, so if you're new to writing, please don't give up! It's fun and a long path, and I promise you'll love it, even more, the more you write!

I hope this was helpful! <3 have a nice day

also, i just released a new freebie!!! it's a free workbook for writers with over 90 pages to guide you through the process of plotting a novel. you might be interested in checking it out!! :D click here

[daughter-lilith]

❅In Every Life❅

Halsin x Fem!Reader | Modern AU, Parallel Universes Part 1

Summary: Another day on modern Earth as you finally wind down for the late night in your quiet home. All is as it should be. All is normal as you prepare for bed. That is, until a tall, hulking man with pointed ears shows up at your doorstep claiming to be your lost love from another time and realm. But he’s a stranger. A stranger who forever changes everything you thought you knew about your life.

Explicit 18+ (In future Parts)

CW (For whole story): Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tension, Oral, P in V, Shifting, Pain, Love, Halsin is Emotional!

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: After 10...11-ish years, BG3 has finally ended my fanfic hiatus. After years of focusing on original novels, I’m honestly so excited to get back into this genre!

For anyone who prefers to read on ao3, you can click here. And for those who prefer third-person POV (what I write most), I have an alternate upload also on ao3.

Lastly, this is technically a 1–2-chapter novella that I'm breaking into about 4-5 parts so it's easier on the eyes. So, apologies in advance if there are any awkward breaks between parts.

You patted the lightweight cream over your face, gently massaging it across your cheeks and up to your forehead until it was evenly spread. Smiling at yourself, you took in your appearance one last time for the night, comfortably dressed in nothing but a fitted tank top and black underwear. You had just finished some extra late-night gaming with friends, and you sighed, remembering that you probably should’ve used that time to write instead. Maybe you should’ve used any free time to write, rather than getting lost in other simple pleasures. The third book of your romantasy series wasn’t going to finish itself, and the deadline was fast approaching. Soon, your publishers will be expecting an update.

Turning off the bathroom light and exiting, you put those thoughts aside for now. Right now, you needed sleep, not to fill your head with worry. ‘I’ll get back on track tomorrow’, you thought to yourself. Your townhome was quiet, save for the distant churning sounds of the dishwasher downstairs. Your bedroom emitted a low light from the TV, though the volume was muted. You walked barefoot across the plush carpet, toward your phone that was placed on the small table next to your bed. 3:03 a.m.: the bright numbers flashed at you. You plugged it into its charger, then laid on your queen-sized mattress.

Grabbing the remote, you shut the TV off, which left your room almost fully dark were it not for the soft, orange glow emanating from the salt lamp near the TV. Snuggling under the covers, you exhaled a breath, closed your eyes, and gradually awaited the sweet lull of sleep. A few minutes had passed maybe, you weren’t sure, your consciousness was dangling on the edge of dreams yet still linked to your waking reality. A sound filled your ears, a familiar rumble that shook you out of your near-slumber, eyes fluttering open.

Your eyes landed on the light emitting from your phone, the screen completely illuminated. You usually left your phone on vibrate just in case of anything, but it wasn’t typically a disturbance. And you didn’t normally get messages at this time, except for the occasional random notification from someone who likely lived in a later time zone. Still, as the screen darkened once again, you closed your eyes, not worrying about it. You were a decent sleeper, and once you had fully slipped under, the chance of a quick notification waking you was quite slim. But not even a minute later, another vibration of the same pattern. Your eyes flicked open again, followed by an annoyed sigh as you relented and reached for your phone.

You squinted as the brightness already felt overwhelming despite not having fallen asleep yet. 3:12 a.m. You looked over the screen, noting the blue icon of your security camera followed by the text: ‘a person detected in your front yard’. Then another notification directly beneath it: ‘a person detected at your front door’. You lifted a brow in curiosity. It wasn’t unusual for random things to trigger your camera; a neighbor walking about, even at this hour, or perhaps your neighbor’s cat who strolled the streets at the most random hours. Maybe even someone driving off. Either way, you decided you were going to snooze the alerts but not before checking first.

Unlocking your phone with the print of your thumb, you tapped the first notification. Immediately, your stomach twisted and a heaviness filled your chest. The beat of your heart rapidly accelerated, and you could hear it echoing in your head, a panicked thumping. It wasn’t your neighbor’s cat, or someone walking by, or even movement from a car… Through the camera’s night vision, a man stood directly in front of your door, his head angled down so you couldn’t see his face. He had one arm- one huge, muscular arm- leaning against the doorframe like he was dealing with an internal battle to remain standing. Or as though he had the weight of the world on his rather broad shoulders and looked to your door for comfort. His other arm rested uneasily near his side, it looked like his fingers were tapping against his leg, unable to keep still.

Those expansive shoulders flexed in his position, tensed. And he was tall, almost filling up the entire field of view were it not for the height the camera was set up at. Dark hair, maybe a dark brown, you couldn’t quite tell in this light, was half tied up in a bun, the rest of it pooling at his collarbones. But despite his massive frame, what stood out the most to you were his ears. They seemed a normal size for his head, but the top of them curved into a tall upward point. ‘Elf ears?’ you silently questioned, confusion merging with your heightening anxiety. Surely, they had to be a prosthetic or molding, they had to be, and yet they blended with the bottom part of his ears so well.

You were sitting straight up now, the uneasiness in your belly increasing. What do you do? It was rational to call the cops, you knew this, but how soon would they get there? Do you try and scare him off? Threaten him? You lived alone, but he didn’t know that.

A new wave of panic surged as you tried to remember if you had locked your door. Of course you did, you always did. But what if- what if this was the one stupid night that it slipped your mind? What if— your thoughts were halted when you noticed the stranger lifting his head.

You gasped as he stared at the door for a single moment before his eyes roved up towards the camera. He started tilting his head as he looked intently at the camera, studying it, until his head paused, almost like he knew he was being watched.

You were frozen as you took in his gaze, so intense, so focused. The front door light was on, and paired with the night vision, you could tell he had bright eyes. And those eyes seemed to steal your breath, pulling you in even through the camera. There was so much depth behind his eyes: strength, power, kindness even. But another emotion burned brighter than the rest, a sense of…desperation- if you could call it that. A hopeful desperation, maybe. But for what?

As he looked at you, or so it felt like, you found yourself completely captured by him. The mere sight of him seemed to slow the nervous hammering of your heart, and you took this strange moment to take in more of his features. Apart from his ever-enthralling stare, he also seemed tired, like it had been days since he last rested, like he was too stressed to even get the chance. Four, very precise scars swiped across the right side of his face, from his forehead, cutting across his brow. Whatever injured him, it luckily missed his eye, only continuing to the bottom part of his lip and chin. And on the left side, a curving pattern of tattoos swirled along his face, from the top of his forehead to his chin, and maybe even to his neck but it was difficult to tell from this angle. You couldn’t make out the color, but it was clearly darker than his complexion, dark enough to notice.

A new realization simmered in your mind as your eyes were fixed on him, despite the scarring on his face and the tired look in and around his eyes, he seemed…handsome. He was handsome. More than that even, and perhaps that’s what made it more difficult to look away. You shook your head rapidly. No, his looks didn’t matter. They couldn’t matter. He was a stranger outside of your house at three o’clock in the gotdamn morning. ‘Get it together,’ you thought to yourself.

But the movement of his lips pulled you out of your analysis and self-reprimanding, and your heart battered once again as a new wave of anxiety passed through you. He was saying something. You didn’t hear him, as the sound was muted on your end. Your finger hovered over the volume symbol, trembling. Pressing it wouldn’t give your voice sound, but it would allow you to hear his. Before you could talk yourself out of it, your thumb turned on the volume. Instantly, the distant sound of the soft wind passed through the phone. Your heart beating in your chest, you watched the stranger and waited. And it wasn’t long before his lips moved once again.

“Can you hear me?” the stranger inquired, his voice low and gentle through your phone. When he spoke, a cloud of air flowed from his mouth, a reminder of the brisk night. The sound made your stomach tickle, a new sense of nerves but not of fear.

A brief, grave sigh followed his inquiry, and it only confirmed the emotions behind his eyes. He was definitely desperate for something, perhaps even afraid?

You didn’t dare turn on the speaker to respond, your voice suddenly feeling dry as you tried to swallow any bits of saliva you could.

“Please. I mean you no harm,” the stranger spoke again. His brows curved inward, and his mouth slightly turned down. So much suffering in his warm, kind eyes; so much heaviness in his large arms and shoulders.

Your mouth parted slightly, and you found yourself standing now, rocking side-to-side on your heels. Somehow, deep in your core, as his plea rumbled through your phone, you felt the sincerity in his voice. Your intuition was always quite strong, and at this moment, all sense of fear and suspicion began to wane. The logical next step would be getting the police on the phone while keeping an eye on the stranger from one of the upstairs windows. Instead, your thumb found itself hovering over the speaker. Swallowing, you exhaled an unsteady breath and clicked the button, permitting sound from your end now.

“What do you want?” You tried to sound intimidating, but your voice came out softer than you intended, and you clenched your jaw at how vulnerable you sounded.

The stranger’s eyes widened, and his pointed ears seemed to perk up, a surprising hope filling his gaze. A quick mist of air escaped his lips as you heard him release a quick breath. He stepped back from the doorframe, standing taller, and when he spoke again, you could’ve sworn you died right then and there if you weren’t so very clearly still standing. He had spoken your name- well, almost. He used the shortened version, a nickname only your closest friends and family sometimes referred to you as. There was no way he’d know that name.

With a new resolve, you spoke again, this time your voice came out louder, more confident. “How do you know that name? Who the hell are you?”

He said your name game, softer, desperate, his brows once again curving inward. “You’re here, you’re truly here. Please, may I come in? I will explain all.”

Come in? There was no way that was happening… right? The rational part of your brain was like a blaring siren, shouting at you to do the smart thing. But you often moved through life with your heart first, your emotions, leaving your mind to sigh in relief when everything worked out. Or, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your mistakes. You couldn’t let him in, you shouldn’t.

“I will not harm you. Never,” the stranger affirmed, closing off his promise with your name. Another feeling simmered in your heart when he said your name once again, so naturally, like it had left his lips a thousand times before.

“And I should just trust you?” you retorted, your voice a harsh whisper. But your curiosity was developing by the second as you glanced at your robe lying haphazardly in the middle of your bed.

You heard him sigh, his shoulders lowering, a heavy sense of defeat fueling such a simple action. But he didn’t seem irritated or impatient. And the more he peered into the camera, at you, a pool of dread and grief burned into the wells of his bright eyes. An uncomfortable jolt shot across your stomach at the sight. You knew nothing of this man and had never seen him before, but you couldn’t swallow the sorrow that arose in your chest, nearly causing you to forget to breathe. You were always quite empathetic, but this was…unique. Bizarre.

“What does your heart tell you?” you heard him ask, the words so gentle and pure from such an incredible stature of a man.

You blinked rapidly at the question, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Quickly, you tapped the speaker on your phone to silence yourself. A shaky exhale escaped your throat, and you could hear your heart thumping again.

You stared at the man, whose eyes seemed to glow due to the greyscale night vision. You quickly pondered his question…your heart often told you many things, some right some not so much… And yet, as you stared at this man, who stood outside your door in the middle of the night, quick trails of air consistently leaving his lips, your heart answered. Without another thought, you took two steps towards your bed and picked up your robe, swiftly throwing it over you, your arms sliding in with ease. You wrapped it snuggly around your frame, feeling warm except for the skin below your knees that was left exposed.

And now, your heart was guiding you towards the stairs, down the steps, until you were sneaking down the short corridor to your front door. Your phone was still gripped tightly in your hand, and the stranger once again muttered a gentle plea. The sound of his voice caused a prickle across your arms, a new bundle of nerves as you got closer to your door.

Your house was almost completely pitch-black, except for a few flickering lights from alarms, the thermostat, the Wi-Fi modem, and cable boxes. The steady swishing sounds from the dishwasher were the only audible company, but even it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the drumming of your heart.

Coldness hit the bottom of your feet as you left the softness of the carpet and stepped into the entryway. You stopped in front of the tall, burgundy door, the wooden frame the only thing keeping you separated from the stranger. Thankfully, you had indeed locked it, top and bottom, but even that didn’t seem like it would be enough if he chose to get in with force. Glancing at your phone screen, you noticed he diverted his attention from the camera, angling down to stare at your door. You were holding your breath again, unbeknownst to you, and swallowed harshly.

“You’re right there…” he murmured, reaching to place a hand on the door. “Please.”

Your stomach fluttered at his voice; the baritone was much clearer now that you were hearing him from not just your phone but directly outside the door. You closed your eyes, whispering a silent prayer to anyone who was listening. If any guardian angels are listening, now would be a great time to have my back.

You opened your eyes and glanced at your phone. “Just…take a few steps back.”

Immediately, he removed his hand from the door. “Of course.” The large man retreated some, walking backward down two steps.

Satisfied, as much as you could be anyway, you placed your phone down on a small stand near the door, then reached to unlock the door.

One click.

A quick exhale.

A thumping heart.

Another click.

You reached for the light switch next, flicking on the warm-white glow above your head. You began turning the handle, your mind a wild array of thoughts and images of what could happen. But it was your heart in the end that silenced the panicked voices, your heart that gave you the courage to proceed.

Pulling the door back a few inches, cold air instantly prickled your cheeks, causing a shudder to shoot down your back. You leaned your head in between the small opening, instantly locking eyes with the man just a few feet from you.

Your breath hitched. Even standing two steps down did little to lessen the intimidation of his height. His eyes widened as they met with yours, a flash of relief and hope reflecting in his… what looked like hazel eyes. A gleam of silver or blue seemed to glow in the specks of his irises, perhaps from the lighting, but it was otherwise mesmerizing. You could better make out the swirling tattoo on his face, a deep red that only seemed to bring more attention to his eyes. Subconsciously, you ended up pulling the door back more, your body now half exposed to the outside.

The strange man breathed a quick sigh, much more joyful than the ones from earlier. “It’s you. It’s truly you.” A smile spread on his face, deepening the laugh lines on his cheeks. His large arms extended toward you and he took a single step forward.

Instinctively, you recoiled, and he froze, a wave of regret painting his expression.

“Forgive me,” he rushed his words, his muscled arms now hovering in surrender. “I am stricken with disbelief. But I meant what I said, that I would never harm you.”

Without the echo and semi-clarity of speaking through your phone, you could feel the sincerity in his words far more than before. The way his gaze pored into you, the shame that seemed to hover at the idea that he just frightened you, your fear began to wane. Yes, he did startle you just now, but then instantly soothed your anxiety on his words alone. You eyed him up and down, slow, taking in more of his appearance than what could be seen through the camera.

He was even larger. Bulging muscles looked like they wanted to flex in his arms, held back by a strap or belt across his biceps. Green leaves padded his shoulders, decorating the intricate garb he wore. You slightly narrowed your brow in question. He definitely looked like he could’ve just left some sort of Renaissance faire or some comic convention, but at this time of night? Maybe if it was Halloween that would explain things, except it was a few weeks into winter.

Brown armbands covered what you could only assume were thick forearms beneath, and he was wearing pants that were partially concealed by a flowing white skirt- or at least what used to be white. It looked stained, like he had once fallen in mud and he was only partially able to wash away all the evidence. Still, as your eyes returned to him, you certainly couldn’t deny the sculpted ruggedness in his face, his jawline. He wasn’t just handsome, but beautiful even, strange attire and all. And his age, you couldn’t quite measure it. When he smiled, he looked like he could’ve been late thirties. But he appeared a bit older when he frowned, maybe early forties.

“Who are you?” you questioned, feeling slightly more comfortable. You opened the door further, feeling your legs tingle, reacting to the cool air.

But he didn’t answer right away, seemingly lost as his gaze similarly roved over you. But it was slower, more deliberate, and you crossed your arms around yourself, almost self-conscious under his analyzing eye. And even though your robe covered you almost completely, you still remembered you were practically naked underneath. Could he tell that you were?

Clearing your throat, he startled, the leaves shaking over his shoulders, and locked eyes with you again.

“I am Halsin,” he said, confidence oozing in his timbre. A hearty smile followed his introduction, and your caution continued to fade and drift away.

Halsin, you thought. You shifted your mouth to the side, pondering. It didn’t ring a single bell. You had a few lovers in your past, some casual to serious. But there was no way you would’ve ever forgotten such an unfamiliar name, especially if it was attached to the absolute tower of a man before you. You looked at him once more, noting a flicker of hope in his eyes. Hope that maybe you would know something.

“Where did you come from…Halsin?” He frowned at your inquiry, visibly dispirited that his name did not connect with you. “You’re not exactly dressed for this weather,” you continued. His arms were completely exposed, and his clothing certainly did not seem well-suited for the winter. While it wasn’t below freezing, there was an evident chill in the air, a reminder that spring was still well off. You suspected that he had to be at least a little uncomfortable.

Halsin smiled at your observation, a gentle chuckle leaving his throat. “You are correct. I did not think to prepare for which season would greet me. As for where I came from… it is a realm quite far from here.” He glanced away, off to the side as he paused. When he looked back at you, there was a sense of uncertainty in his eyes. “A place called Faerûn.”

“Faerûn…” you murmured, narrowing your brows as your eyes searched his face. “I’ve never-- is that a country? An island?”

His smile remained, though laced with a touch of gloom. “A continent.”

A continent? Not one you’ve ever heard of before. A name like that wouldn’t have been hard to forget, especially if it was one of the continents of Earth. You released a soft breath, trying -and failing- to mask your budding confusion.

You heard Halsin speak, his smooth baritone drawing your attention back up his tall frame. “He warned me you may not remember…but I was hoping…” His words drifted off into the cold air. When he spoke, he wasn’t looking at you, like it was meant to be a side thought.

“Who warned you?” Your breath came out harsh as an involuntary gasp escaped you.

He bowed his head slightly, bringing one arm across his chest. “Silvanus.”

Another name unfamiliar to you. You stared at Halsin, quizzically, and it was clear to him that he understood the gnawing confusion that rattled you.

“Perhaps I can come inside to talk? I am fine with this brisk air, and I do not mind explaining all out here but…” he sighed, concern etching at the corners of his eyes, “you are trembling. And I don’t think it’s from fear, not entirely.”

As he said this, a shudder dashed up your back. You weren’t aware how long you’d been shivering, too baffled by the large man before you. Too distracted by this entire interaction. But a sudden passing wind supported Halsin’s observation of you, and you curled your toes inward, trying to shield them from the cold. The air prickled your lower legs, traveling up your thighs and your back. The robe that clutched your frame was as warm as it could be, but not warm enough to soothe you against the winter’s air.

After a light sniffle, you steeled yourself and stared at him directly. “I’ll let you in, but you have to do something for me first.”

“Anything,” he quickly responded.

“Tell me something about me that only those who know me would know. Just one thing that involves me.”

Halsin rocked back on his right foot a bit, shoulders squaring a pinch as he tilted his chin slightly. He turned his head to the side, his expression deeply focused, thinking. Meanwhile, your heart was amping up again, a fleet of nerves crackling in your gut as you awaited his answer. This was it. This was the moment that would solidify if you could completely throw even more caution to the wind and allow this strange man to enter your sanctuary, in the middle of a winter’s night, alone. Finally, Halsin’s voice filled the night air once more, a soft timbre.

“Your back,” he started, still looking away. “There is a mark there- a small streak- it begins near your lower spine, tracing further down, only stopping at,” he paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. He cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s lighter than your overall complexion, the only such mark on your body.”

You froze, your voice stunned into silence. Your lips parted, but only the warmness of your breath trailed away, forming a small, fading cloud. Halsin finally looked at you again, uneasily pressing his lips together.

A beating heart thumped loudly. Yours or his? Of course it had to be yours. But the way he was staring at you, the slight tremble in his lips, a brief rock on his heels, he was nervous. Uncertain. Perhaps desperately hoping he was right. Visibly, he did not appear to be an easily nervous man, that he could ever seem to lack any confidence, and yet you felt his nerves even more than you saw it. And he was right- the birthmark that trailed down the end of your spine. Only a few would know of it: your parents from when you were a child, your closest friends who helped zip your outfits up on occasion, and some ex-lovers who were lucky enough to have you in a position of giving them such a view.

It wasn’t something you hid per se, but you didn’t really flaunt it either. In most, if not all pictures of you, you were either clothed or facing forward. Maybe some passerby caught a view of it at beaches or pools, but one had to be really paying attention.

“How…” you breathed, searching his eyes. “How did you know that?”

A brightness washed over his face, and his shoulder evened, standing taller. “Because I know you. And I could never forget you… my heart.”

His… heart? A flush of warmth filled your cheeks. Something in the way he said those words, the way his unwavering eyes focused on you, meant something to you. You meant something to him.

Sure, you could mark him off as some weirdo stalker, that had to be it. It was the only thing that made sense. But an unpleasant tickle poked your gut at the idea, like the very thought of him being such a thing was an insult. And looking at this mountain of a man; who dressed like he came from another time, with large, perfectly pointed ears and a large scar that didn’t seem to be fake… No, he wasn’t just some stalker.

“May I?” He gestured towards the space between you and the door.

You bit the side of your bottom lip, heart thumping. Another rush of wind passed over your feet sending a more vicious chill up your legs. So, you leaned fully to the side, pulling the door back as far as it could go. Halsin seemed to release a breath of relief, before stepping up and towards you. You nearly gulped as he did, almost forgetting just how much taller he was since he was initially standing a few steps down.

He kept his gaze on you as the distance closed, and his large frame nearly filled the entire entryway. You watched him intently, neck angled up the closer he came. Instantly, the scent of pine and sandalwood filled your nose, amplified by the warmth radiating from him. How was that possible? He had been standing in the cold for some time and yet it was like the setting sun in the middle of summer had just entered your home. You almost smiled, overtaken by a sudden sense of peace and tranquility. Of strength and protection. Of the wild and the power that came with it.

Halsin continued to peer down at you, a nearly-there smile on his smooth-appearing lips. You weren’t the shortest person in the world, but you’ve never felt as dwarfed as you do now. Halsin moved by you, careful not to invade too much of your personal space, which was almost impossible in the small entryway. Finally, you broke contact with him and turned to close the door, one final breeze blowing inside as you did. You closed your eyes briefly, shooting another quick prayer before turning around and hustling past the hulking man.

You moved towards the kitchen, feeling the weight of his steps calmly following. You almost turned the main light on but hesitated; the idea of the bright light illuminating the whole room suddenly made you nervous. It was much brighter than the one by your door. This would mean facing him fully, without the presence of faint shadows to help mask any emotions. That and, you were still very much in your robe with just a tank top and your underwear beneath. Your hair wasn’t a mess per se, but not exactly presentable for a guest. Or for whatever he was. So instead, you turned the rotating switch, activating the spherical ceiling lights. A warm, dim glow gradually filled the space as you turned it halfway and stopped. Just enough light.

“Most intriguing,” you heard him say. You didn’t understand what he meant but decided not to question it. There were already too many questions, and you wanted to get to the most important ones first.

Stepping toward the island at the center, you finally turned to face Halsin again as you stopped at the side of the counter. Your kitchen was decently sized and typically didn’t have an issue with a couple of people being in it at once. But Halsin absolutely dominated this space. You noticed his eyes searching behind you, at a very particular area with a quizzical expression. Looking over your shoulder, nothing but more counter space, the sink, and the dishwasher. Was that what he was looking at?

“Oh, I can turn it off if it helps,” you said casually. Maybe it was distracting him. You leaned towards it and hit the pause button instead of canceling it entirely. Instantly, a new silence filled the room, and you were already missing the steady, rhythmic whooshing sounds of the washer. At least it drowned out the sound of your heart which now all too familiarly thumped in your ears.

Turning back to Halsin, who was already looking at you, made you fiddle with your fingers, trying not to cower beneath his gaze. This was your space he was in, your home. So you steeled yourself as best as possible, steadying your breaths, and held his gaze, waiting.

But Halsin continued to watch you, once again trapping you under the powerful pressure of his stare. You licked your lips, tense, and you could’ve sworn you heard his breath hitch.

“Halsin?”

He blinked. “Forgive me, I am just…” he exhaled, smiling, “taking you in.”

Part 2 here! Hope you enjoyed! Would you have opened the door?👀👀 & Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the final part either as a comment or in tags if you reblogged, that way you can binge it or just simply be notified when it's complete!

[wutheringskies]

Re-reading MDZS; CH 1 - 11

rereading mdzs out loud with my bestie and we're only doing 2 chapters a day, and discussing everything and here are things I never noticed:

1. from the start, the narrative exposes us to how Wei Wuxian is when he's upset: he's unfocused, walking off the wrong way, disliking his reflection, organizing his thoughts, crying but not saying he cried.

2. despite being miserable, when lil apple tries to cheer him up, he thinks "the poor donkey even went out of its way to drag him" and decides to be get up and move on. it's not an in-built setting - it's not a "being born chronically optimistic" but rather a conscious choice.

3. frankly i never noticed just how sombre his tone is in the first couple of chapters. it's quirky and sarcastic but sombre all the same.

4. also, this guy is literally a Lan. like I'm sorry, he probably has a degree in the Lan Sect. he keeps explaining everything about them.

5. Sizhui already made such a huge impression on him that the first thing he thinks of when he sees Jin Ling is that he's of Sizhui's age.

6. Wei Wuxian IS traumatized about Jiang Cheng. His reaction is simply to run off into the distance. He DOES NOT like being around Jiang Cheng, and his opinion about him is not good, as he keeps adding comments about Jiang Cheng's arrogance, his anger, and comparing him to Lan Wangji (knowing JC hates being compared, and I personally think this was something he never allowed himself to do.)

7. Jin Ling was such a jerk under Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao's tutelage. Like, sincerely.

8. Lan Wangji does not even acknowledge Jiang Cheng.

9. Also, a comment that my friend and I made: MDZS is a book about Lan Wangji, with Wei Wuxian casually throwing some trauma on the pages in between. Like, goodness, the narration from Wei Wuxian's point of view rarely describes a lot. But come to the point of Lan Wangji and this guy won't shut up. His clothes, his face, his voice, his sword, their meaning, the clan rules, what they stand for - Wei Wuxian tells us more about Lan Wangji and the Lan Clan than about his own life.

10. Wei Wuxian was so in love with Lan Wangji. Since he saw the Lan Clan this guy was on his head. THE FACT WEI WUXIAN CAN RECOGNIZE LAN WANGJI JUST BY 2 STRUMS OF HIS ZITHER after 13 years of being dead!!!

11. When Lan Wangji held his hand, he was breathing hard and his notes on the flute kept cracking

12. Wei Wuxian is so good at meditating btw

13. Wei Wuxian describing Lan Wangji's voice as "deep and magnetic" and "stirring the heart" like bro trust me Jiang Cheng's not feeling any tugs upon his heart, and Jingyi is most probably just scared.

14. Wei Wuxian is such a flirt with women - his best flirting tactic is "give them space" 😂😂

15. Wei Wuxian did not ask, expect or even comment upon the absence of gratitude from the villager clan after saving them and instead even thanked them for providing him with information.

16. Wei Wuxian is so keen on people's behavior. Noticing the orb of souls that could've been saved if people were more focused on their duty than catching a prey like Wen Ning, understanding people's discomfort etc.

17. He's such a good teacher, earning the respect of Lan students just like that, asking good questions, not even complying with his own worship, and appraising them when they get things right and also playfully scaring them with Hanguang-jun's punishment (what a husband)

18. Wei Wuxian has great self esteem but poor self worth, but he's working on the second part.

@zenenini

[jewish-vents]

Goyim are wearing on my last nerve. I get the Mr. Rogers "look for the helpers" quote thrown at me regularly, people go "oh just don't watch/read/listen to them" when I mention someone being antisemitic, and act as if Jewish people who are upset are at fault for looking at something we knew would make us upset. And that's just not how this works.

I have never gone out of my way to look at something that makes me upset once in my entire life. I block people and stop using sites that upset me. I installed a Firefox extension to help filter content. I unsubscribed from every YouTuber that I used to watch who was antisemitic, installed an add-on to make them never come up in my feed, and installed an add-on to hide comments underneath videos from me. I've had to drop all my friends. I don't do anything to be visibly Jewish. I avoid any political content anywhere I see it. I have so, so many words filtered on multiple sites.

And the stuff that's allegedly my responsibility to just not watch/read/etc finds me anyway.

Try to watch YouTube? Antisemitism. Try to look at some fanart? Antisemitism. Watch the news? There it is. Searching for a D&D group? It pops up yet again. Look for some Animal Crossing design codes? Once more, with feeling. Walk to the dining hall from my dorm? Right there, in my face, yelling full volume. Go to class? The professors will make it a routine feature of lectures. Walk to the grocery store and back to get food so you can avoid the encampment? The cashiers are chatting about (((the Jews))). Search for something on Etsy for your mom's birthday? It's in the search results. Open up a website you go to for recipes because you want to cook until you feel less stressed? "Top 10 Recipes Stolen By Israelis". Buy a book at the used bookstore to read to take your mind off of things? An entire display is all anti-Israel books, right there to greet you when you walk in. Go to the thrift store to donate things you made or repaired? Your reward for this good deed is a sign in the window with the 'from the mountains to the sea' quote. Go home for a weekend to hang out with your family and naively think in a little town you wouldn't encounter antisemitism? Right-wing people drunk on conspiracy theories talk about their baseless beliefs right on the street where you can hear it through the windows.

There's this thing in psychology called DARVO. Deny, attack, reverse victim and offender. And it perfectly sums up the "nice" goyim's responses. The world isn't the offender, it's you. You're not being hurt, you're the one weighing everyone down with their negativity. They never address the root issue, that being that antisemitism is rampant, they just divert their attention onto something else, something pleasant to think about.

The problem with DARVO, like other abuser tactics, is that if you use it too often, it stops being effective. 11 months in, it's over the threshold. I am no longer going to feel guilty for noticing things are messed up.

If you don't want me to notice it, then change it. The easiest way to get people to stop complaining about the state of the world is to make it even marginally less bad, just enough we can convince ourselves there's hope for the future. But goyim can't do that, because that would take effort and involve admitting they have maybe done a single thing wrong in their lives. And their whole self-confidence rests upon the lie that is abdicating themselves from responsibility for their own actions.

I used to be angry at them. Now I'm annoyed at myself for ever expecting better. Genuinely, I do not know why I ever thought they were capable of being any better than they are now. There was nothing going on to prove to me that they had the capacity to be decent to other people when it wouldn't get them public praise, and most goyim are motivated entirely by extrinsic validation from their peers.

There is no anger left. There's just disappointment. And it's not even disappointment in them, because this is the best that they can do.

.

[please1mistress]

Does the spiral draw you in? Are you sitting comfortably? Yes? Good. Now, I want you to relax... That's it; deeper and deeper. Rest your hands in your lap... Feel your shoulders loosen as your troubles melt away... If you're reading this at work, tune out your noisy co-workers... Now, while staring at the picture below, speak out loud in calm, resolute, and preferably ethereal voice: "I will read this blog post. I will click the "like" button below when I'm finished. I will read this blog post...I will click the "like" button below when I'm finished."

Is it really that simple to hypnotize you? Whether or not you believe in hypnosis, neuroscientists are now showing that the practice does indeed produce measurable effects in the brain. Hypnosis is more of a “natural” state than people imagine. You are experiencing it several times throughout your day and it doesn’t need a swinging watch to put you into a hypnotic sleep! Some people are more receptive to hypnosis than others and can expect to experience rapid changes in a course of hypnotherapy

Answer the following twelve questions in this hypnosis test to see if you and hypnosis are well-suited.

1. When the television is on, can you “switch off” and lose track of what you are watching?

 A. Frequently; “What was the name of that program?”  B. Sometimes  C. Rarely

2. When reading a good book, can you “close off” to any external distractions?

 A. Regularly; “noise, what noise?”  B. Occasionally  C. Never

3. When you go to the cinema or theatre, can you feel emotional when you see something sad?

 A. Frequently; “I’m tearful now!”  B. Sometimes  C. Hardly ever

4. When you close your eyes, how quickly can you fall asleep?

 A. Within 10 minutes (ZZZ…)  B. Within 30 minutes  C. When the alarm goes off!

5. When chatting to a close friend, do you lose track of time?

 A. Nearly always  B. On occasions  C. Can’t stop looking at my watch!

6. When you see someone else yawn, does it become contagious?

 A. Repeatedly, I’m yawning right now!  B. Now and again  C. Rarely

7. Do you salivate when thinking about sucking on or sinking your teeth into a sour, juicy lemon?

 A. Most of the time, “Get me a napkin!”  B. Sometimes  C. Hardly ever

8. When you like a new song, does it keep going round and round in your mind at the most inconvenient moments?

 A. Regularly, “La-la-la…”  B. Occasionally  C. Not very often

9. If you close your eyes, can you visualise a journey from your house to the nearest shop?

 A. Images are clear & detailed  B. Can visualise some details of the journey  C. Vague details; “Is there a shop near me?”

10. Would you (or others) consider you to be a creative person?

 A. Yes, I use my creative skills nearly every day  B. Sometimes  C. Rarely

11. When you drive to a familiar place e.g. work, does your mind switch to auto-pilot?

 A. Nearly every day  B. Sometimes  C. Hardly ever

12. If you see a crowd of people looking at something, do you tend to look in the same direction out of curiosity?

 A. Most of the time  B. Some of the time  C. Rarely

if you answer mostly A or B to most of these questions, then chances are, you are a very good hypnotic subject. Hypnotic subjects tend to have: creativity, focus, curiosity, imagination, suggestibility. The fact you are reading this tells me that deep down you want to be hypnotized. You desire that feeling of dropping and sinking for a strong and powerful hypnotist like myself. It can be as easy as me telling you that you've been hypnotized from the start of this blog, and your minds open to my words deeper each time you read my blog. Now, be sure to re-post this and draw others to me. Good boy or girl.

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Review

firstly, i just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in and encouraged me in doing these liveblogs! this has been such a fun project to work on, and reading these books for the past nine months or so has been a bright spot in what has otherwise been a relatively tough period of my life. i’ve really enjoyed getting to theorise about all of the lore of these books and make horribly ill-advised emotional attachments to inevitably doomed characters

more fun statistics that no one asked for: this liveblog was the longest, at about 20,000 (!!) words. my GtN liveblog was 12000 words for comparison. i have no excuse other than i like to talk

NtN definitely was an interesting diversion from the other two books so far. it wasn’t exactly a breather, since it was still incredibly heartbreaking and horrifying, but it was fun to see a part of the worldbuilding very different from what we’ve seen before. as much as I missed both Harrow and Gideon, i liked that it gave other characters time to shine outside of interacting with them. it was fun to see more of Palamedes, Camilla, and Pyrrha, and how those characters act in a vastly different environment to the Nine Houses

although NtN was essentially telling two different narratives, John chapters vs Nona’s, it still didn’t feel particularly disjointed - i think it was thematically held together by being a bit more grounded than the other books so far, sci-fi and fantasy elements notwithstanding (contemporary issues like climate change and nuclear war, & John’s world being a setting far closer to our own vs Nona’s domestic life & very real problems of living in a warzone)

i also loved getting John’s perspective in the chapters narrated by Harrow, his point of view and recollections were equal parts funny, terrifying, and fascinating. he’s certainly got a … unique perspective on the world. it was just a slow horrifying journey trying to figure out how the world ended, knowing that it was doomed but not exactly how it happened

Muir really has a talent for endearing you to a protagonist, and Nona was no exception, I absolutely loved her, and just, her whole story and how tragic it was physically hurt me. i also wasn’t expecting to get as attached as i was to Hot Sauce and the school gang - i hope we get just even just a mention of what happens to them in AtN

tldr: 11/10. reading this series is like the emotional equivalent of voluntarily getting stabbed in the heart repeatedly. i have absolutely no clue what I’m going to do with my life now that this is over for the meantime, other than go crazy in a locked room with a red string conspiracy board trying to figure out whats going to happen in Alecto the Ninth

speaking of, obviously its not a pressing issue since to my knowledge there isn’t even a release date yet, but i’m not sure if i’ll do a liveblog for Alecto when it comes out? on one hand the most fun bit about liveblogging has been the reaction from everyone who’s already read the books and we’ll all be in the same boat of not knowing what’s going on when Alecto comes out, so i don’t know how much of a point there is? on the other i would very much enjoy doing it anyway, and i’m a perfectionist so it would be nice to have completed all of the books like that. so i guess it depends on how impatient i am to read the whole book when it comes out lol

[adastra-sf]

Stephen King’s Top 20 Writing Tips

King is one of the most successful speculative fiction authors of all time, and among other honors won the National Book Award in 2003.

His memoir / writing manual, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, offers a wonderful look inside his writing process. Here are 20 rules for writing success gleaned from the book:

1. First write for yourself, and then worry about the audience. “When you write a story, you’re telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story. Your stuff starts out being just for you, but then it goes out.”

2. Don’t use passive voice. “Timid writers like passive verbs for the same reason that timid people like passive partners. The passive voice is safe. The timid fellow writes, 'The meeting will be held at seven o’clock,' because that somehow says to them, ‘Put it this way and people will believe you really know.' Purge this quisling thought! Throw back your shoulders, stick out your chin, and put that meeting in charge! Write, ‘The meeting’s at seven.’ There, don’t you feel better?” [note: something like "We meet at seven" is even more active.]

3. Avoid adverbs. “The adverb is not your friend. Consider the sentence, 'He closed the door firmly.' It’s by no means a terrible sentence, but ask yourself if ‘firmly’ really has to be there. What about context? What about all the enlightening (not to say emotionally moving) prose which came before ‘He closed the door firmly’? Shouldn’t this tell us how he closed the door? And if the foregoing prose does tell us, then isn’t ‘firmly’ an extra word? Isn’t it redundant?”

4. Avoid adverbs, especially after “he said” and “she said.” “While to write adverbs is human, to write ‘he said’ or ‘she said’ is divine.”

5. But don’t obsess over perfect grammar. “Language does not always have to wear a tie and lace-up shoes. The object of fiction isn’t grammatical correctness but to make the reader welcome and then tell a story… to make them forget, whenever possible, that they are reading a story at all."

6. The magic is in you. “I’m convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing. Dumbo got airborne with the help of a magic feather; you may feel the urge to grasp a passive verb or one of those nasty adverbs for the same reason. Just remember before you do that Dumbo didn’t need the feather; the magic was in him.”

7. Read, read, read. “You have to read widely, constantly refining (and redefining) your own work as you do so. If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write.”

8. Don’t worry about making other people happy. “Reading at meals is considered rude in polite society, but if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second to least of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects. If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.”

9. Turn off the TV. “Most exercise facilities are now equipped with TVs, but TV—while working out or anywhere else—really is about the last thing an aspiring writer needs. If you feel you must have the news analyst blowhard on while you exercise, or the stock market blowhards, or the sports blowhards, it’s time for you to question how serious you really are about becoming a writer. You must be prepared to do some serious turning inward toward the life of the imagination, and that means, I’m afraid, that [the talking heads] must go. Reading takes time, and the glass teat takes too much of it.”

10. You have three months. “The first draft of a book—even a long one—should take no more than three months, the length of a season.”

11. There are two secrets to success. “When I’m asked for ‘the secret of my success’ (an absurd idea, that, but impossible to get away from), I sometimes say there are two: I stayed physically healthy, and I stayed married. It’s a good answer because it makes the question go away, and because there is an element of truth in it. The combination of a healthy body and a stable relationship with a self reliant woman who takes zero shit from me or anyone else has made the continuity of my working life possible. And I believe the converse is also true: that my writing and the pleasure I take in it has contributed to the stability of my health and my home life.”

12. Write one word at a time. “A radio talk-show host asked me how I wrote. My reply—’One word at a time’—seemingly left him without a reply. I think he was trying to decide whether or not I was joking. I wasn’t. In the end, it’s always that simple. Whether it’s a vignette of a single page or an epic trilogy like The Lord Of The Rings, the work is always accomplished one word at a time.”

13. Eliminate distraction. “There should be no telephone in your writing room, certainly no TV or videogames for you to fool around with.”

14. Stick to your own style. “One cannot imitate a writer’s approach to a particular genre, no matter how simple what the writer is doing may seem. You can’t aim a book like a cruise missile, in other words. People who decide to make a fortune writing like John Grisham or Tom Clancy produce nothing but pale imitations, by and large, because vocabulary is not the same thing as feeling and plot is light years from the truth as it is understood by the mind and the heart.”

15. Dig. “When, during the course of an interview for The New Yorker, I told the interviewer that I believed stories are found things, like fossils in the ground, he said that he didn’t believe me. I replied that that was fine, as long as he believed that I believe it. And I do. Stories aren’t souvenir T-shirts or Game Boys. Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered, pre-existing world. The writer’s job is to use the tools in their toolbox to get as much of each one out of the ground intact as possible. Sometimes the fossil you uncover is small, a seashell. Sometimes it’s enormous, a Tyrannosaurus Rex with all the gigantic ribs and grinning teeth. Either way, short story or thousand page whopper of a novel, the techniques of excavation remain basically the same.”

16. Take a break. “If you’ve never done it before, you’ll find reading your book over after a six-week layoff to be a strange, often exhilarating experience. It’s yours, you’ll recognize it as yours, even be able to remember what tune was on the stereo when you wrote certain lines, and yet it will also be like reading the work of someone else, a soul-twin, perhaps. This is the way it should be, the reason you waited. It’s always easier to kill someone else’s darlings that it is to kill your own.”

17. Leave out the boring parts and kill your darlings. “Mostly when I think of pacing, I go back to Elmore Leonard, who explained it so perfectly by saying he just left out the boring parts. This suggests cutting to speed the pace, and that’s what most of us end up having to do (kill your darlings, even when it breaks your ecgocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.)”

18. The research shouldn’t overshadow the story. “If you do need to do research because parts of your story deal with things about which you know little or nothing, remember that word back. That’s where research belongs: as far in the background and the back story as you can get it. You may be entranced with what you’re learning about the flesh-eating bacteria, the sewer system of New York, or the I.Q. potential of collie pups, but your readers are probably going to care a lot more about your characters and your story.”

19. You become a writer simply by reading and writing. “You don’t need writing classes or degrees any more than you need this or any other book on writing. Faulkner learned his trade while working in the Oxford, Mississippi post office. Other writers have learned the basics while serving in the Navy, working in steel mills or doing time in America’s finer crossbar hotels. I learned the most valuable (and commercial) part of my life’s work while washing motel sheets and restaurant tablecloths at the New Franklin Laundry in Bangor. You learn best by reading a lot and writing a lot, and the most valuable lessons of all are the ones you teach yourself.”

20. Writing is about getting happy. “Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink.”

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 8

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Following the council meeting and Norm's reassignment, the two of you are enjoying a quiet evening together when a single question threatens to dredge up a whirlwind of emotions.

Part 1 Here. Part 6 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 7 Here

Part 3 Here Part 9 Here

Part 4 Here Part 10 Here

Part 5 Here Part 11 Here

Norm was convinced you thought he was a lunatic. 

 One minute, the two of you were relaxing on the sofa. Norm‘s head resting against your lap while you read. The occasional brush of your fingers through his hair threatens to lull him to sleep. The next, he found himself unable to stop ranting and raving, all because of a simple question. How did everything go today? The book you were reading was long since discarded to the side as you gave him your full attention. He went on detailing the events of his day, from his “reassignment” at the council meeting to his first interaction with the raiders locked in the vault reading room. You didn’t interrupt, though he wasn’t sure he could have stopped even if you had. His frustrations with the council and whatever happened in the Vaults were not subtle. Norm always appreciated the candor you two shared when it came to communication. Still, he couldn’t help feeling some unease divulging all of these feelings, unsure of how you’d respond. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, putting his hand on his forehead and moving to sit upright. “Seeing how we treated them today, with food and kindness, just sent me over the edge.” Nothing about this situation with the Raiders felt right to him. Four square meals a day and a soft bed weren’t exactly punishment; how was no one else seeing it? 

“Cause it feels like the opposite of justice…” you validated after listening to everything he had to say about his punishment from the council and the situation he experienced with the Raiders. 

“Yes,” his tone laced with utmost seriousness. “We watched people commit some of the most heinous acts we could imagine, and now we’re expected to be the bigger person and move on?” 

You felt the weight of the shared resentment settles between you, the reality of the situation pressing heavily on your shoulders. Memories of recent events resurfaced with a vengeance, emotions that had been buried away over the last few days trying to escape. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the feelings of pain and anger were already seeping out uncontrolled. 

“For god’s sake, I had to kill a man with a pipe wrench the other day, and the council just wants to…” you stopped short, your words hanging before you like a poison in the air. You had avoided saying it out loud since that night, hopeful it would help you forget having to come to terms with the actions you took. 

Norm’s eyes widened with surprise. You had implied what had happened after the two of you were separated down Vault 32’s corridor, but he never pressed you for details you weren’t ready to share. He figured you were still processing your actions from the night of the raid but taking another life to save your own- a decision forced on you because of someone else's actions. He knew this was your nightmare scenario. Of course, you both had been reeling this entire time; how had he not noticed until now? He copied your gesture from the days before, offering his hand and intertwining it with yours with a squeeze. You took another deep breath, your eyes locking with Norm’s, raw with shared pain and anger. 

“You shouldn’t have been there alone, and I’ll always hate that part of myself for that.” 

“Don’t, you know full well how rushing into that situation would have gone. We’re here now.” You leaned in, pressing your forehead against Norm’s, a gesture of solidarity and unspoken promise. “We’ll get through this, Norm. One step at a time, together.”

The two of you continued this way throughout the evening, seamlessly shifting between playful banter and serious discussions. There were moments of shared laughter and tears, with deep emotions surfacing. As the hours passed, you both gradually moved from the couch to sprawling across the living room floor. Norm ended up lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, while you found a comfortable spot on your stomach.

“Your turn,” Norm says, encouraging another round of the question game you’ve been playing.

“Hmmm, if you could go back to before and experience one thing, what would it be?”

“Come on,” Norm groans, “there’s no point in...”

“Oh, please. At least try to be a little fun,” you tease.

He laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine.” He couldn’t help but give in to you. Norm ponders for a minute. “Maybe getting to experience an arcade or comic shop in their heyday, the way they’re portrayed in movies at least. Atomic Command on the Pip-Boy is only so entertaining; something new would be fun. Plus a day to do something I enjoy, with no obligations, maybe meet people who like the same things as me. What about you?”

“The national parks,” you answer immediately, without needing to think. “All of them, any one of them, wouldn’t matter. Even just sitting there to experience them with all my senses, that would be my day,” you say, conjuring up images from the picture books you read as a kid.” It’s heartbreaking seeing how we just squandered... never mind, we don’t need to end tonight on a sour note.”

Norm nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah, well, at least we’ve got these moments now. I guess that counts for something.”

You smile, feeling a sense of connection. “Yeah, it really does.”  You stretch and move to stand while announcing, “It’s getting late; I should probably head out.”

“I’ll walk you you back.” 

“Such a gentleman,” you gush, heading out the door. Norm laughs. “I think that’s a sentiment only you and my mom would share.” 

“Well, your mom and I have excellent taste,” you reply with a wink. “Aside from your wit and charm, you’re incredibly thoughtful and caring, Norm. One of the many reasons I enjoy spending time with you.”

He grins a hint of bashfulness in his eyes. “Thanks. You know, you’re pretty amazing yourself. You have this way of making even the simplest moments feel special.”

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. “That means a lot, Norm.” 

As you both reach the door of your living quarters, you turn to face Norm, a smile resting on your lips.

“Well, here we are,” you say softly.

“Yeah,” Norm replies, a hint of nervousness in his voice. He hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Can I... can I kiss you?”

Your heart flutters at his question. “I’d like that,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Norm steps closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Seeing none, he gently cups your face with his hands and leans in. The world seems to slow down as his lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It's soft and sweet, filled with the promise of more shared moments.

As you pull back, you both smile, your foreheads resting against each other for the second time this evening. “That was nice,” you say, your voice filled with warmth.

“Yeah, it was,” Norm agrees, his eyes shining with happiness. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Norm,” you reply, feeling a contented glow as you watch him walk away. 

—------------------------

Norm is lost in thought, walking home with a faint smile on his face. He rounds the corner of the hallway leading back to his living quarters and nearly collides with Betty Pearson.

“Whoa, Norm! Didn’t see you there,” Betty exclaims, steadying herself.

“Sorry, Betty,” Norm replies, snapping back to reality. “I didn’t see you either.”

She raises an eyebrow and glances at her Pip-Boy. “It’s pretty late to be out for a walk, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I was just, uh, walking a friend home,” Norm says, trying to sound casual as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

Betty’s eyes narrow slightly, a knowing look crossing her face. “I’ve noticed you and (Y/N)  have been spending quite a bit of time together lately.”

Norm shifts uncomfortably, not wanting to reveal too much. “Yeah, we’ve been hanging out. She’s good company.”

Betty smiles, but there’s a hint of something more in her expression. “That’s nice to hear. It’s important to find good company these days. Just remember, people are always watching. It’s easy to lose track of time when you’re with someone special.”

“Thanks, Betty. I’ll keep that in mind,” Norm replies, feeling a bit uneasy as he continues down the hallway, Betty’s words lingering in his mind.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

July Creator of the Month: Eadanga

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @eadanga

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Tumblr Blog Name: Eadanga How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Esang

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I don't remember the year, but I started playing when it was only The Crown & The Flame, The Freshman, and Most Wanted. I thought it was a rip-off of Episode because many apps like that exist. The first book I started playing was The Crown & The Flame, and then I got bored of it, so I tried The Freshman, and I was hooked. Been playing ever since 😃

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined about four years ago. I was in a Choices group on Facebook and saw people sharing fanfics. I first thought it was an ad, but when I looked, it was a fanfic, and it was amazing. That's when I joined so I could read more, and then I posted one of my own that I wrote.

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

Literally, it's just my name. I didn't think I'd be here long, not to mention posting. It's the first letter of my name, Esang, and my last name, Adanga. Maybe one day I'll change it 🤣😂

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

This was my first post. I saw people making stories in the Choices group and decided to make one of my own. I didn't think it would get much attention, but it did 😁

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both? 

I write fanfiction, but I’m not really good at making art, lol

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

Let's see, I think I started in 2020. Choices is the only fandom I write for.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

The Freshman and The Royal Romance will always be my number one favorite books to read and write for 😁

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

This was my favorite, and I'll never change anything about it. It is so romantic, hehe 😍

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created? 

This one wrote it for @flowerpowell, and even though she doesn't post anymore, it was so much fun to write something for her. 

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

It's definitely my Deepest Desire series. I didn't expect people to enjoy it, especially @littlegreenmoo, who was having a field day with that series 🤣. Chris's Journal could have been better; a little bit more detail would have made it pop.

11- (WRITERS) If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I hate angst, and I haven't written smut since my Deepest Desire series 🤣 so fluff all the way. I love happy endings 😁

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

I put some of me in my MCs, like when they're cooking, cause I love to cook 😁

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Keeping up with a schedule. I make one, but then real life gets in the way, and I gotta change it.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Eternal Love, I haven't written for that in a long time. I just got caught up with other fanfics, and then you lose inspiration, but I will get back to it one day.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first? 

Yes, I would love to show them, but I've shown my work without people asking. I've shown my best friend my work; she didn't ask. I just showed it to her, and she enjoyed it. I've shown my mom, too. She constantly told me to send it somewhere and get paid even though I only write for fun, not as a job. I stopped showing her after that because she was tired of hearing that.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

@maxattackpowell and @drivenbyfantasy are both no longer here, but their fanfics inspired mine. I’m grateful to both of them for that. 

17- (WRITERS)  Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

The Graduate would make a great movie or Choices book, hehe.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art? 

Choices is my first fandom.

19-  What other hobbies do you have?

I love cooking and baking, watching anime (I'm a total anime nerd 🤣), spending time with my baby @choicesgodfanatic, reading Archie comics, watching cartoons, praise dancing, and writing episode stories. 

20- BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

Thanks to everyone who enjoys all my stories, and don't ever worry about me leaving cause I'm here to stay. Choices is why I met my amazing love @choicesgodfanatic. It's part of our love story, and I'll never give up on it.

Plus, I've met some wonderful people here and never want to leave them. So glad you all enjoy my fanfics, and look out for many more cause more is coming your way 😁

[ride-thedragon]

MAKING A CASE FOR GREGORY TO BE EVERYONE'S FAVOURITE BRIDGERTON.

(Jk, this is just an excuse, like who you want)

Is he my favourite?

Yes.

Why?

Well......

1. He wants love.

From the start of the book, we are made aware that he has nothing going on and genuinely wants to find love like his siblings.

2. Friends over food.

The way he meets Lucy is him falling in love with Hermonie Watson(👀) and asking Lucy to dance. She pities him enough to carry him to eat because he showed up late and had to go mingle. Basically, they become acquaintances and friends once they decide to set up Gregory with Hermonie.

3. Bro is in love with Kate.

One of the funnier themes in the book is that he goes from saying something he loves about Kate and then compares it to something Lucy does.

4. Alcohol.

He keeps stealing and drinking Anthony's alcohol.

5. Fist fights.

He fights Lucy's brother, Richard, after compromising Hermonie (deserved, earned).

6. The first time they kiss.

I kid you not, I was in shock, tears almost and the energy after this moment never changes. Like genuinely at any point they would've been wed to each other had one person saw them but what makes if crazier is that the only reason it stopped was because Lucy was engaged and she remembered before it escalated

7. Making it everyone's problem.

After he realises he loves her, he makes it everyone's problem. From comparing her to Francesca to embarrassing Violet publicly , even roping Hyacinth in on hijinks, his story is a family event.

8. The Second time they kiss.

Hyacinth is in the other room, they are in Daphne's home and he has orchestrated a plan to propose to her in a closet.

9. They sleep with each other.

To the TSPWL and WHWW girls, step aside for a moment. Gregory breaks into his unofficial fiancé's home in the dead of night, goes to her room, and is eventually seduced by her. They proceed to sleep together, THE DAY BEFORE HER WEDDING TO ANOTHER MAN. They do so three times holding each other, then sleeping together and so on. She's doing it under false pretences because she isn't going to marry him atp.

10. A love like Violet and Edmund's.

They break the Bridgerton record for most kids. At the time of the epilogue, they have 7 kids and are expecting the 8th, they have twins and end up with 9. It's to the point where the pregnancy impacts Lucy and Gregory let's us know that the amount of kids they have is genuinely due to their lack of restraint.

11. They name their kids after their siblings.

Lucy actually gets to name one after her best friend, but there is a little Daphne and Anthony running around. Also a Kate.

12. Guns.

There is a gun stand off.

13. Kidnapping.

Gregory breaks the law, again.

14. Gay.

Lucy is pinning over Hermione during the first half, her fiance is gay, the uncle never marries......

15. 9 CHILDREN.

I don't want to understate the fact that they have 9 kids in less than 20 years. It was never that serious. She is 33 when they have their last kid. He's 39. They met at 18 and 24 respectively. 9 kids in 15 years.

16. LUCY MY LOVE

Me 🫂 Gregory.

She's darling. Throughout the narrative, it's just her making sacrifices for everyone she loves. For her brother, her best friend, even Gregory, it's consistantly her trying.

17. Blue Mushroom.

Please read the book because Drunk Greg>>>

18. Last one.

My baby boy is a horrible shot.

Let me end it on a mood board for my faves.

We do be on the way to a wedding. It certainly was a journey

[pianistbynight]

days 1-7 of a slow but meaningful summer

this is really the only part of traumerei that i can play sort of fluently...sort of, because you can still hear some hesitation as i try to remember the right notes 😅

thursday | 08/08/24

Started Leviathan Wakes

Tested out of U1 in Japanese and started U2 (loving its similarities to French cuz more familiarity = faster learning curve hopefully?🤞🏻)

Practiced piano...some old scales to warm up + the Clementi sonatina (coming back to it after a 2-3 day break was a good idea! somehow my steadiness has improved! also coming to appreciate metronome practice. sight-reading for the day = a few new bars on the 2nd page) + playing around with Kinderszenen (at this point I just wanted to hear different sounds and it wasn't very productive practice)

Read more of the HSP book

Most likely will have to revise my goals bc I don't think I can make decent progress in all the songs I wanted to in 4 weeks...like, to bring 1 L7 song to performance level after years of not performing anything + without a teacher will probably take longer than it used to. Not sure exactly what that looks like yet other than that it's definitely not gonna be all of Kinderszenen... 😂

friday | 08/09/24

practice wasn't very good today...i kept making silly mistakes i didn't used to make. i'm tired. that's why. i also forgot to do my japanese lesson. i didn't feel like reading either. i don't remember what else i did that day.

saturday | 08/10/24

drained of all energy. didn't practice. didn't do japanese. just chilled with @zzzzzestforlife for the most part and started reading what you are looking for is in the library on her recommendation. i love how philosophical japanese fiction is fjsjdkdks ☺️☺️☺️ (and more generally, i'm surprised that for a culture so new to me, a lot of their ways are just...second nature to my personality...it was very relieving. but i also feel that if i were to live in such a place full time, i would be staying too much in my comfort zone...i also don't know that i would want to ever live in Japan since there are also some important aspects about my current home that i'd miss terribly. all this to say, i'd like to visit Japan again at some point in my lifetime.)

sunday | 08/11/24

went to bed feeling very drained, frustrated, and homesick. so as you can imagine, i didn't get very good sleep. my bare minimum goals for today are:

japanese lesson

read zesty's book recs (there's the library book, the secret adversary [which she rec'd back to me after i rec'd it to her a couple months ago lol], and leviathan wakes) ✅

monday | 08/12/24

finally read the last of the clementi sonatina! got it to a "meh" level to polish in the next few days. super excited! played a few other pieces after that but i think i should focus on level 7 pieces for now before jumping into something barely readable but still playable. i should've brought some level 8 sheet music with me too...but i guess i can read from my laptop (god save my eyes if i do that lol 😵)

might put Kinderszenen back on the (mental music) shelf for now.

i also read more of what you are looking for is in the library and i just love how much there is to ponder about what was said. insightful fiction is my favorite fiction 💗

tuesday | 08/13/24

finished What You Are Looking For Is In The Library! it's such a good book. it's a short story collection but each story is in the same universe and while each story is independent (convienient for readers like me who like to take their time with books but sometimes take so much time that they forget what the story was lol), they're connected in ways that...you know that feeling when you bump into an old acquaintance in a completely foreign place you don't expect to meet anyone you know? that feeling is what i felt as i read chapter after chapter. it makes the vast world feel less lonely.

in the evening i tried to memorize and get the clementi sonatina up to speed. i guess i must be succeeding because my dad said it'd make mice dance lol. also played a bit of traumerei...trying to read more of it but progress is slower since i need to pay closer attention to which notes to hold and when to let go of them.

wednesday | 08/14/24

started reading sweet bean paste today (another japanese book... they're quickly becoming my favorite type of book.) i like it so far. there's potential for a lot of warmth and emotion in talking about food, which is just 🥰

also started "Databases: Modeling and Theory" on edx... 🙈 i'm auditing so i only have 2 weeks (until Aug. 28) to access the material (because the minimum amount of time needed to complete the course is 2 weeks gahhh). so i need to be halfway by Aug. 19. in theory i can do this if i put in 2h of work each day. it's too hot to play piano during the day, so i can do databases then and play piano at night. yes, i can do this. (i need to get my brain used to a faster, "left-brained" pace anyway in prep for school in september. 🙁)

continuing to polish the clementi sonatina and started reading this kuhlau sonatina which is pretty fun difficult. it's really just the left hand that makes it suck. haven't figured out how to move so that the staccatos are sharp despite the finger pedaling. i can do it slow, but not fast while staying quiet, so i must be doing something wrong. sometimes you just gotta sit on it, i guess.

[nobleriver]

When I say I enjoy content focusing on a specific doctorriver dynamic, I’m not saying I like one dynamic over the next. Because I don’t. 10, 11, 12, they’re all the same person at different stages of their life. Consequently, shipping the Doctor and River is like reading the most beautiful, devastating trilogy. Each book holds a different arc of their story.

When I say I want more 10River, I mean I want to see when the sparks began to fly. I want to place under a microscope the moment that burning ember of curiosity morphed into genuine friendship and intellectual and (begrudging) physical attraction. I want to listen and read of their adventures and watch how the Doctor begins to see River as a person in her own light. Not as the dead companion of future him, but the radiant, funny archaeologist he now dares call friend.

And when I say give me 11River, I mean I want to immerse myself in the early and middle stages of their marriage, the good, the bad, the rough, the smooth, as they, like many newly wedded couples, wrestle in their early years to learn how to make this marriage w o r k. I want jealous Doctor, I want the Doctor who caves to his desires and kisses River back as if she’s the only oxygen left on the moon. I want to cackle with glee as the Doctor abandons the idea of ever running away from her because it’s already too late to run. He started falling a long time ago.

And when I say pile on the 12River, I mean I want to see the latter years of their marriage, when they act like that couple that’s been married for 50+ years who says they’ve finally figured out the key to marriage because THEY HAVE. They went through hell, through darkest pits of marriage, through the miscommunications and misaligned expectations, and made it through to the other side. Instead of trying to paper the cracks, they smoothed out the rough t o g e t h e r. They relinquished every survival instinct and exposed their jugulars, their deepest fears and pains, and let themselves be completely naked and vulnerable with the other. They finally did what 10 asked River to do all those centuries ago in the library… they stayed with each other.

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 15

Fic Teaser: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14

Chapter 15 summary: The Batch deals with a series of complications in the villa heist.

“Talk to me, Tech,” Hunter growled. “Can you disable the alert?”

“Stand by.” The group shifted impatiently in the corridor, uncomfortable with being stuck out in the open while they waited. Their surroundings were incongruous with their tension: there were no alarms, lights, or sirens, the alert apparently being confined to the computers in the control rooms—at least, for now. They let out a collective sigh when they heard Tech’s voice again.

“It has been deactivated and coded as a false alarm, although I could not prevent the laboratory in town from being notified.”

Hunter grunted. “Then we’ll have to be quick. Can you override the doors?”

“The blast door, yes. The regular door will be more of a challenge without the clearance of an identification card,” Tech mused.

Wrecker grinned. “I got it. If I rewire one of these EMPs real quick, I can probably short out the door’s circuit so I can pry it open.”

“Good idea,” Hunted nodded approvingly. “Crosshair, any activity outside?”

“I think the guard out front knows. He reacted when the alert went out, but he’s not abandoning his post. He’ll likely send the patrol to check things out the next time that they pass his station, since he can’t raise them on comms.”

The Sergeant swore quietly. “Update us when that happens. We’ll try to be out before then.”

Finally, the blast door opened with a quiet hiss. A few moments later, Wrecker held up a small device gleefully and stuck it to the control pad.

“Uh…Echo, better step back a bit. Just to be safe,” Wrecker advised. Grumbling a little, the ARC backed off to a safe distance before his brother activated the device, which blinked before shooting off sparks. Flexing his biceps playfully, Wrecker heaved open the door.

“We’re in. Get over here, Tech,” Hunter instructed.

The squad wasted no time entering the lab, whose gleaming white tile and shiny durasteel matched the rest of the basement. It was a larger facility than they might have expected: a handful of rooms opened off of a wide hallway lined with cabinets and blinking computers, each area boasting equipment that betrayed various experiments in progress. One room let off a deafening racket of shrieks and hoots. A cursory glance revealed cages upon cages of enraged Kowakian monkey-lizards.

“Probably test subjects,” Echo murmured with a shudder.

“So where’s our vault?” Wrecker asked, cracking his knuckles as though he was planning on wrenching it open with his bare hands.

Hunter glanced up as Tech joined them. “I’m not sensing any unusual electromagnetic impulses. Are you sure the vault’s here?”

His brother frowned and shrugged. “I do not know for certain, but this is the most likely location.”

Dara stared toward the end of the hall, where a greater-than-life-size portrait of an older man with a severe expression took up the majority of the wall. He wore a lab coat, a beaker in one hand and a datapad in the other, and at his feet rested piles of books—the antique kind, made of bound flimsi. She approached the artwork, pointing. “That’s Prium, right? Kind of an old-fashioned guy,” she mused.

Wrecker tilted his helmet up, revealing his face, which was scrunched up in frustration. “Yeah, he looks like a weirdo.”

She gestured toward the portrait. “Wrecker, can you get this thing down?”

Hunter frowned. “What are you thinking?”

Dara glanced up at him. “I’m thinking that Prium is traditional and paranoid. Security systems and doors can be overridden. Electronic vaults can be detected and sliced. But antique vaults…not a lot of people know how to open those anymore.”

Sure enough, Wrecker removed the painting to reveal an enormous metal panel, inset into the wall behind it. The panel was divided into a series of squares, each with a round, metal knob in the center. It was not immediately evident how the vault door was meant to be unlocked.

“Can you blow it open?” Hunter asked his brother.

Wrecker rapped his knuckles against the metal, then shook his head with obvious disappointment. “With what I have on me? Not unless we want to take down the whole building with it.”

Tech was watching Dara with great interest, noticing a thoughtful expression on her face and a gleam in her eye. He nodded to her. “I presume you have an idea?”

Dara touched the metal knobs, allowing her fingers to roam, probing gently and rapidly. Finally, one of them shifted beneath her grasp; she twisted until one of the squares pulled out and shifted to the side, revealing a keyhole beneath.

“It’s kind of brilliant,” she observed idly. “Anyone would come ready to try to bypass an electronic vault, but you don’t see a lot of mechanical locks anymore, much less a historic thing like this. Ironically, sometimes when our technology gets more advanced, the traditional methods become more secure—the typical person doesn’t know what to do with them.”

She disappeared into one of the side rooms of the lab, returning with a haphazard collection of slim metal instruments. “I obviously don’t have the materials for this on me, but these should work okay. Tech, any similar tools in your pack might be helpful.” 

Hunter raised his eyebrows as she set to picking the lock, switching out occasionally between the apparatuses she had collected and those proffered by the technical specialist. “How long is this going to take you?” the Sergeant asked dubiously.

She tilted her head, still focused in concentration. “There’s likely three more locks to disengage after this one. It’ll be a while.”

Tech looked on with fascination as her fingers worked. “Where did learn this?”

“Working with primitive cultures means getting familiar with primitive technologies. It’s kind of a hobby,” Dara explained.

“Sure it is, burk’yc,” Crosshair goaded over the comms. “Patrol is approaching the front guard station. Orders, Hunter?”

“Signal us when they enter. Echo, go upstairs and get in position to take them by surprise. Stun them and put them with the others,” he instructed.

The ARC trooper set off with a determined nod. Fifteen minutes later, Dara had managed to spring the first lock, and Echo reported that the patrol was dealt with.

“This is taking too long,” Wrecker grunted impatiently. Dara cast him a glare over her shoulder, and he grimaced apologetically. “Sorry. I just mean, they’re going to get suspicious again.”

Hunter sighed. “Wrecker is right. How many guards are left?”

“Nine, by my count,” Echo informed them.

“Alright. Wrecker and I are coming to meet you—we’ll get them out of the way and take some of the pressure off. Tech, watch Dara’s back.” The former pair set off at a trot, leaving the latter bent in intense concentration.

Absorbed in observing Dara’s technique, Tech waited until she had sprung the second lock before speaking.

“This is an interesting hobby,” he probed, hoping his tone came out less skeptically than Crosshair’s had.

Dara smiled and rolled her eyes. “I always liked puzzles. I learned a bit about vaults like these doing research on idioms for secret-keeping. Then—I told you I’ve bartended in all sorts of shady places, right—believe it or not, I was briefly…seeing…this guy I met on the job who was a lock breaker and specialized in this.” She shook her head ruefully. “Obviously it didn’t work out, he was a sleemo. But he taught me some things.”

Tech allowed himself a small smile, feeling a flame of companionable sentiment towards Dara curl up inside him, despite his ongoing suspicions. They had kept many details of their life away from the woman, but still, it couldn’t hurt to mention some things—could it?

“I myself am…seeing…a pirate,” he confessed. “She, too, has an interest in what she refers to as ‘the liberation of ancient wonders.’ Though I have never had occasion to see it, I imagine that this skillset is within her repertoire. If not, she would certainly love to learn. I wonder if you can teach it to me sometime.”

Dara popped the third lock open and moved on to the next. “I’d be happy to, Tech. What’s your pirate’s name?”

“Phee. I believe that you would quite like her. She has been many places, and has many excellent stories, some of which may even be partially true,” Tech reflected fondly.

Laughing, Dara shook her head and took a moment to push a strand of hair out of her eyes as she continued her work. “I hope to meet her someday.”

They drifted into a companionable silence, which was only interrupted minutes later by Hunter reporting that the remaining guards had been taken care of.

“Excellent timing,” Dara declared as she sprang the final lock on the vault. She stepped back; grunting a little with the weight of the metal, Tech slid the panel aside and peered in. His mouth dropped open in a stunned expression that was out-of-place for his typically reserved and unemotional demeanor.

“Oh, kark,” he swore uncharacteristically.

Echo groaned over the comms. “Don’t tell me this stupid job has yet another complication.”

Tech sighed in frustration. “The records are not on computer or data chips. They are all on flimsi.”

“Boxes and boxes of them,” Dara filled in. “Too many to scan. It’ll take ages to move them all.”

“Seriously. What is with this guy?” Wrecker bemoaned.

“Crosshair, go get the Marauder,” Hunter directed. “It’ll go faster if we load it up here. The rest of us will get down there and start hauling boxes.”

While they waited for the others, Tech and Dara examined the inside of the vault more closely. The small space was crammed, mostly with uniformly sized white boxes. Tech opened one and skimmed the file folders packed inside with nimble fingers, taking in the neatly labeled project names and patent numbers, though what drugs and technologies they alluded to he could hardly guess at.

Dara’s eyes drifted toward the back corner of the vault, where a much smaller box sat on an otherwise empty shelf. A little clumsily, she shoved her way through the cramped space to reach for it. When she flipped open the lid, Tech detected the faintest blue glow reflected in her eyes.

“What have you discovered?” he asked. Behind him, Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo crowded into the small doorway, craning their heads to get a good view of the room.

She shook her head. “No idea. It’s not labeled.” She carefully plucked a small vial of blue liquid from the protective casing and held it out to Tech, who scanned it with his datapad.

“Hmm,” he mused. “It does not match any known chemical compound that I am aware of. Perhaps it is a new experimental drug.”

Dara looked preoccupied. “Strange that it would be in the vault at all. If it’s in development, samples should be stored elsewhere. This is meant to keep company files secure, not experiments in progress.” She returned the vial to its container and tucked it away in her bag for safekeeping as they all began to haul boxes into the lab beyond.

Suddenly Hunter stiffened and tilted his head, signaling the others for silence as he listened. “We’ve got company,” he growled. “Two speeders just pulled up in front.”

“Looks like Raab wasn’t satisfied that the alert was a false alarm,” Crosshair drawled. “He brought reinforcements. Another dozen guards. I’m landing the Marauder on the roof, we can load it up there.”

Wrecker grinned wildly. “A dozen? That’s nothing!”

Hunted rolled his eyes. “Alright. Crosshair, keep them busy. Tech and Echo will intercept them at the front entrance. The rest of us will get these boxes moving.” The pair departed, and only a moment later the tell-tale blast of Crosshair’s rifle and a handful of distant, panicked shouts echoing over his open comm line informed them that he was following instructions and had the guards pinned down. Meanwhile, Wrecker located an anti-grav cart in a nearby storage room and they began hurriedly stacking boxes. When the cart was full, Dara glanced backward into the vault, where plenty still remained.

“We’ll have to make two trips,” she pointed out. “There’s an elevator that should go to the roof two corridors west.”

“Go ahead, Wrecker, we’ll hold things down here,” Hunter directed. Grunting quietly, they continued moving boxes from the vault into the wider hallway, where they would be easier to access for loading when Wrecker returned.

The shrill screeching of an alarm made Hunter nearly drop one of the containers on his foot as he desperately tried to cover his sensitive ears. At the same time, the white luminescent lighting turned a deep, flashing red, leaving them in a confused, partial darkness. The monkey-lizards shrieked piercingly from across the lab, and blaster fire erupted from somewhere inside the villa.

“What is going on?” Dara demanded into her comm.

“Your boyfriend made it to the guard post and activated some sort of emergency protocol,” Crosshair snapped.

“It would appear that Prium does not distrust droids enough that he will not use them in extreme cases,” Tech panted. “I am clocking at least two dozen security droids that have just been activated throughout the villa.”

“Kriff,” Hunter muttered. He glanced at Dara with concern. In response, she unholstered her blaster.

“I’m fine. Put me where I’ll be useful.”

The Sergeant scowled. “Everyone, sitrep,” he demanded.

“Made it to the roof and loading up now,” Wrecker grunted.

“Took out six guards out front but the rest made it to cover and are working on breaching the entrance.”

“Tech and I are about to be surrounded. Our back is to the entrance and droids are converging on our location.”

Hunter mutter something incomprehensible under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a multilingual stream of curses. “Echo and Tech, I’m coming to you. Crosshair, cover Wrecker on the way back to the lab. Dara will stay in the lab and hide if any droids show up before they get here.” He punctuated his last order with a stern wag of his finger. Dara rolled her eyes and sighed, but nodded in agreement, and Hunter headed out to reinforce his brothers without another word.

***

Crosshair was antsy. Despite his often hair trigger temper, he did not get antsy. He was a sniper. He was patient. He was used to watching and waiting things out, finding the exact right moment to strike with deadly precision.

But he couldn’t deny, when Tech accused him earlier, that he had been carefully tracking Dara’s infrared signature as she moved through the villa, shifting back and forth a little with unease rather than settling into his characteristic stillness while on overwatch. And now that things had predictably gone to shit, he was even more agitated as he and Wrecker loaded box after box into the Marauder, eager to get back to the lab and get this all over with so that he could chew Hunter out for leaving a civilian alone while they were under attack. Even if the droids were centered around Tech and Echo. Even if they needed backup. He just didn’t like it—it was just like the jailbreak, only this time he didn’t have eyes on her.

Finally, they had loaded all the boxes and could return with the cart to the elevator. Crosshair checked over his rifle as they got inside, feeling marginally better now that they were on their way to the lab.

His irritation returned in full force with the crackle of his comm line.

“My scanners are showing six droids approaching the lab,” Tech warned. “The rest of us will not be able to reinforce.”

Crosshair swore. “Dara, hide. Wrecker and I will be there soon.”

They received no response. The brothers exchanged a look: though their faces were disguised by their helmets, long years of familiarity allowed them each to decipher the seriousness and determination behind it as they both tensed, preparing to fight the moment the elevator doors opened.

The sniper took the corridors toward the lab at a sprint, followed by Wrecker, who was still pushing the cart with one hand as he held his blaster with the other. He heard blaster shots ring out just as he rounded the corner approaching the lab; at the far end of the hallway he caught a glimpse of Dara, who was drawing the attention of the droids as she ran in the opposite direction. They pursued her, exchanging blasts with their quarry, who left two downed droids smoking in her wake.

“What are you doing?” Crosshair demanded over the comms.

“Keeping them distracted,” Dara panted. “Get the files!”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he growled.

More blasts rang out from elsewhere in the basement. “There’s only three left. Just hurry up before more come!”

Wrecker shrugged and entered the lab to start loading the remaining boxes. “I think she has it under control,” he determined.

Crosshair shook his head, but followed his lead and began to help, rushing the process as much as possible. When no boxes remained, Wrecker began to push the cart back in the direction of the elevator.

“I’ve got this,” he told his brother. “Go get her.”

Nodding, Crosshair headed down the hall in the direction she had been running. “Dara, I’m coming to you. What’s your location?” he demanded into his comm.

“Took the stairs to the top floor. Unfortunately, I may have found more droids.”

Crosshair yanked open the door to the stairwell and began making his way up, taking the steps two at a time. He passed a pile of crumpled mechanical remnants and was relieved that at least Dara had taken down more of her pursuers before accumulating new ones. “How many?”

“Five left.”

When the sniper reached the top floor and exited the stairwell, he immediately made his way toward the sound of blaster fire. In the next corridor over, Dara was backed into a dead end and was pinned down, using an overturned buffet table for cover. It looked expensive—or at least, it had before its polished wood surface became riddled with blaster burns.

Four droids now remained. Without hesitation, Crosshair reached into his belt for a handful of mirrored reflector discs, tossing them at carefully calculated angles against the walls. Propping his rifle up on the sniper rest which extended from his left pauldron, he fired; the bolt ricocheted, taking down every last droid before its energy dissipated.

Dara poked her head out above cover. “Nice shot.”

Crosshair took a few furious steps toward her, removing his helmet as he glanced over her. She didn’t appear to be injured.

“You were supposed to hide,” he snapped. He meant to continue his tirade, but was distracted by Dara’s eyes widening as she drew her blaster and aimed towards him. Suddenly, he felt the cold, metal end of a barrel in his back.

“I guess you aren’t really newlyweds,” came Nor Raab’s slimy, arrogant voice.

The sniper scowled, but didn’t move. “What a genius. You figured it out,” he snarked.

The scientist dug the blaster in harder, but he ignored the sharp pain that wedged its way between the gaps in his armor. “Drop your weapons,” Raab ordered.

Crosshair let his rifle go with a clatter. Down the hall, Dara bent cautiously and placed her pistol on the floor.

“Listen, there’s no need for anybody to get hurt here,” she began carefully as she stood back up.

Raab snorted. “I don’t exactly think that you are in a position to negotiate.”

Dara did not argue. Instead, she slowly raised her hands and placed them behind her head, the picture of surrender—if it were not for the meaningful eye contact she made with Crosshair, alongside giving him the tiniest nod.

The sniper was prepared for the moment she snaked one hand beneath her poncho to grab her hold-out blaster, throwing himself aside just as the stun blast shot through the air and caught Raab in the chest.

Dara toed the Sullustan’s crumpled form out of the way a little more harshly than necessary as she approached. “Creep,” she muttered. She held an outstretched hand to help Crosshair up. “Consider us even.”

Crosshair scowled. “Hardly. I could have gotten out of that. Plus, I saved you from the droids, so I’m still one up on you.”

She rolled her eyes and handed him his rifle. “And I could have gotten out of that.”

“In that case, you still owe me one,” he countered smugly.

Sighing, Dara ignored him in favor of checking in with the others. “Anybody need help out there?” she asked into her comm.

“Negative,” Hunter reported. “All clear, heading to the Marauder.”

“Almost loaded up,” Wrecker added.

“Alright. Meet you there.”

The whole squad was reunited on the ship in due course. Dara leaned tiredly into the cockpit as Tech and Echo hurried through preflight checks.

“Sorry, Tech,” she lamented. “I dropped my pack while the droids were after me and the chemical we found fell out. It got smashed.”

The pilot glanced at her over his shoulder as they began lifting off. “No matter. If it was an experimental drug as I suspect, I doubt Cid’s client was aware of it. We will still be paid in full for this job. You did exceptional work today, Dara.” She gave him a fond smile in thanks for the praise and returned to the main cabin.

Wrecker and Hunter were occupied in giving the haphazard piles of file boxes some semblance of order, while Crosshair had already begun disassembling and cleaning his rifle. Dara set about preparing her tea, taking her first taste with a sigh that was simultaneously weary and relieved. Then she reached back into her pack and pulled out several balls of thick, fibrous cord, beginning to weave and knot the strands idly between appreciative sips. Her fingers danced expertly, an elaborate band steadily taking shape between her hands.

Crosshair watched as his own hands occupied themselves with polishing, raising an eyebrow at her. “More hobbies, burk’yc?”

Her fingers stilled for a moment and she held the object up to him, displaying it for his inspection, before returning to work. “You could say that. It’s a traditional handicraft I picked up doing fieldwork in the Pelker system. I sell them to vendors and antique shops for extra credits sometimes. They probably overcharge people who think it’s the real deal.” She shrugged.

The sniper looked back down at his rifle, brow furrowed. There it was—an explanation for Dara’s regular visits to Old Ord Salvage. Perhaps she wasn’t there for the smuggler’s communications array at all, but the front business itself. It was an easy explanation, just like all those she had provided thus far, the pieces of her life falling into place just well enough to be plausible.

But never quite well enough to satisfy him.

He leveled his gaze at her again. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Though she didn’t look up at him again, Crosshair didn’t miss the barest hint of a knowing smirk that she was, perhaps, too tired—or too smug—to fully hide from him.

Next chapter

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino

[pinkasrenzo]

mid-year book tag

thank you @bloody-wonder for the tag🥰

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2024? Dark Heir by C.S. Pacat, positively destroyed me

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2024? also Dark Heir and I cannot wait for the sequel I need. answers.

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To? The Prisoner’s Throne by Holly Black, tho I have yet to read the previous book so it’ll have to wait :”)

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2024? Nothing at the moment, but we’ll see if something catches my eye

5. Biggest Disappointment? Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman, it had a very interesting premise but didn’t do much with it? Or at least I feel like it could’ve done so much more cause the potential was there but it didn’t, instead went over the same point over and over again in a fairly boring way so the whole thing ended up falling flat for me

6. Biggest Surprise? Can’t say a book has surprised me yet so far, all have pretty much matched expectations, but there’s still time

7. Favorite New Author? Not exactly new but Pacat did confirm my love for her writing once again, and did not disappoint even with the “limits” of YA target audience which did have me a bit skeptical at first, but boy did she deliver

8. Newest Favorite Character? Will Kempen (Dark Rise) is the most pathetic wettest little meow meow he’ll have to be so strong to withstand book #3😔💪🏻

9. Newest Fictional Crush? I too would be weak for Sarcean (Dark Rise), I get it Anharion I truly truly do🙏🏻

💕Best Ship💕 James/Will (Dark Rise) have me chewing wires they’re so !!!!!! the rituals are so damn intricate jesus chRIST.

10. Book That Made You Cry? Not cry but The Body by Stephen King nearly had me there ngl

11. Book That Made You Happy? The Sunshine Court by Nora Sakavic, tho arguably not a happy book :”)

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw This Year? oh 3 Body Problem was amazing binged it in one sitting I could not stop watching and I definitely want to read the books some day! Also ofc Interview with the Vampire was insane and unhinged and so so so good and I need season 3 yesterday. and I will read the books for this too, need me more absolutely deranged vampires

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year? I don’t really write reviews but I did spam Dark Rise to @novishu and got her to obsesses over read it so I’m counting that as a very successful review😌✨

14. Most Beautiful Cover? Firekeepeer’s Daughter is mesmerising, love the mirror effect and the colours! Also The Chosen and the Beautiful has very delicate feel to it, and fits the book perfectly so that’s a close second

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year? I’m trying to get through all the books/ebooks I already have so that’s a plan. Also I’m currently reading The Goldfinch and if it doesn’t wear me out I might tackle The Secret History next and then Babel as I’ve had those on my TBR for a while now, and I wanted to read Babel after TSH since I’ve seen it described as a critique/different take on the same themes of that (and Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell which I’ve already read)

(no pressure) tagging @fugitoidkry @novishu @montdargent