#hence why I was checking out his brand’s release

[sophisticatedswifts]

Harry Styles’ brand Pleasing launched a release through Selfridges today and these are the prices. I know Taylor’s merch is super expensive but I guess it could be worse. And at least Taylor’s is cute.

[finnbbl]

Hyunjin × M! Reader - Dancer AU I SMAU | Chapter 13

Ch. 13 - Entitled I Previous Chapter | Next Chapter I

I Story Masterlist I

Written: Yes

Smau: Yes

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death

A smile slowly made its way to your face as you finished your conversation with Hyunjin. "Y/N!" Your head darted up as you heard your name being called rather harshly. "Get up off your phone, it's like you're addicted to that thing." Your dad scolded. Rolling your eyes, you placed the device into the chair you were sitting in as you made your way over in front of the camera once again. "You know we could've been done a while ago if you had just cooperated properly."

"Such a pain.." Was a thought that constantly ran through your mind any time you had to have any interaction with your father. Things hadn't always been like this between the two of you. Having used to have the most healthy relationship. But ever since your mother died and he inherited most of her belongings, things took a turn. You thought about how you got to this point as you subconsciously posed and listened to the photographer.

The flashes of lights and the sounds of camera shutters became somewhat comforting to the memories that ran through your head. Your father had inherited enough money to get his clothing brand going, hence his now stuck up personality. After his business took off when you were 16, he barely had any time for you. Always gone and left you to fend for yourself. The man had no idea that you had started your career as a backup dancer. Not until he came home after a month long trip and you were nowhere to be found. The rage that filled his voice that night he called you was unforgettable.

An hour or two more went by before you guys were finally finished. "That's a wrap, thank you so much for your time today Y/N!" The nice gentleman praised and shook your hand out of gratitude. Something your dad would never do, and it definitely didn't seem as if he liked it. A smile grew up on your lips as he did so. It was always nice to have a normal interaction with someone. Of course that wouldn’t last for long. "Ah he's already got a big enough ego, no need for all that." He laughed it off as a joke. All you could do was muster up an awkward smile as the photographer awkwardly changed the subject. "Yeah I'm the one with the ego.." You thought as you rolled your eyes as he turned his head. The two older men conversing about the shoot, when photos would be out, etc.

Upon their conversation, you had remembered to go grab your things from the chair. Walking rather quickly over there, you threw your bag over your shoulder and grabbed your phone. Checking your phone for any possible new messages from Hyunjin. It wasn’t too long before a quiet ding came from your phone, signaling you had gotten a message. It read, “Still need me to pick you up?” The remembrance of the soon to be release from this hell hole with your father lightened you up a bit. As you began to text back, their conversation had come to a close.

“Who are you texting?” Your dad’s rather nosy behavior caught you slightly off guard. Even with how shitty he could be, he was never invasive. The man couldn’t care less what goes on in your life. You looked up at him slowly and rather confused, “Uhm I was just texting one of my friends, he invited me over to a sleep over tonight.” Not thinking much of it, you assumed the conversation would end at that. At least that’s what usually would happen.

“I don’t think so, I didn’t say you could go out tonight.” You finished up the message and sent it to Hyunjin before looking up at him again. A stern look on his face as his arms rested crossed with each other. “I’ve never had to ask before, why do you care so much now?”

“Because ever since that little tour stunt you pulled, leaving the house for months, you’ve clearly had too much freedom.” Your eyebrows furrowed, “I’m an adult dad you can’t control where I go and who I’m with.” The words fell out of your mouth so easily. Perhaps that was a mistake, you realized this as you saw how angry your dad was now getting. The way his lips pursed as he stared daggers into your eyes, it was enough to send chills up your spine. “That’s my job, I gave you a heads up when it happened I don’t know why you’re so angry. Regardless, I’m going out tonight so don’t expect me back until morning.”

“No sir you are not, I don’t know what made you think you can be this entitled towards me but it’s unacceptable.” Your grip tightened around your phone. The two of you argued back and forth for several minutes before your phone lit up with another message. You already knew it was Hyunjin without having to read it, so you finally decided to shut this conversation down. “Again, I’m leaving and you’re not stopping me.” Stating firmly as you made your way to the other side of the building, where Hyunjin would most likely be parked. Harsh calls for your name were heard as you walked away, refusing to turn back and continue this argument. Arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. Pointless.

You let out a heavy breath as you rounded the corner, eyes glancing around for a parked vehicle. However, all you saw was a parked motorcycle, the driver still on it. Their hands tapping away aimlessly at the handles You tilted your head in slight confusion. He wouldn’t drive a motorcycle, would he? Your question was answered as the driver suddenly glanced up and around, spotting you and waving. This confirmed it as you smiled slyly and didn’t waste any time going over there. Upon arriving, he lifted up his visor. “I didn’t know you drove a motorcycle.” Lips curving into a smile as you examined the bike, it was rather nice. Definitely expensive. “You didn’t ask.” Hyunjin retorted back as he handed you a fancy helmet. You slowly reached out for it, sort of hesitant. “I’ve never really ridden on one before..” When Hyunjin noticed you weren’t taking the helmet, he lightly pushed it into your hands as he spoke, “It’s easy. Besides, you’re not the one driving it.” He laughed as you put on the helmet, hesitantly climbing on.

Hyunjin noticed your arms weren’t moving. You found it hard to bring yourself to wrap your arms around him, despite knowing that’s the only way to safely ride as a passenger. “Do you want to fall off?” He turned his head to the side, unable to see that he was giving you a massive side eye. “I just don’t wanna overstep boundaries-“

“Oh whatever, just hold on.” Finally, your hands found their way around his stomach. They rest there timidly. Although his visor was in the way, you could tell he was rolling his eyes at you before sighing and pulling your arms tighter. “See? Like that. Easy.” You didn’t respond, a loud roar from the bike emitted as he started it up. Taking off not long after. During the drive to his house, you started to grow more comfortable. Even going as far as to rest your head on his shoulder, so you could see the road in front.

A new feeling started to bloom inside. One of comfort, safety, relaxation. Was it the bike, was it the new experience? Or was it Hyunjin.. You honestly couldn’t tell. All you knew is right now you felt the best you had in weeks, ever since the tour ended. You didn’t want this feeling to end.

Taglist: @silverstarburst @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @onementally-unstabel-kid @uso-dakedo @lampcults @chaer4life

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[stabbyfoxandrew]

FAQ

Hi guys! Sometimes I get repeat questions so I thought I'd make this FAQ post. I think I've covered everything. If you think of anything else that needs to be added, please let me know! <3

What is WIP Wednesday? It's a little game I started doing because of Ash, aka jtl-fics. It’s sort of a way to motivate me to write. And this way I’m able to release tiny little installments each week instead of having to finish whole chapters before I post. It's been so helpful. I've written more since last August than I had in years.

Okay, cool. So, how does WIPW work? When Wednesday rolls around, wait for my WIPW post to appear on your dash then you can send me an ask with your request. After I get done writing, I'll answer your ask with a snippet. :)

Please note: ~ I only take WIPW asks on Wednesdays, hence the name. ~ My ask box button will say either ‘wipw open 🔓’ or 'wipw closed 🔒’. Please do not send asks after it’s closed. ~ I do not answer asks in order anymore. I answer all of one AU’s requests, then move through the rest until I’m done. ~ The length of the snippets varies, based on how the POV changes or how the scenes fall. It also depends on my mental health. ~ Please be patient with me. I’m just a little guy. ≽^•⩊•^≼

What fics do you work on for WIPW? I have six ongoing projects to choose from, they're listed on my pinned post.

Can I send more than one request on WIPW? Please don't, unless I've said otherwise! Getting too many asks stresses me out and if I allow one person to send multiple, I have to let everyone. So, just pick your favorite please! Someone else will ask for the others.

Are your WIPs ever going to be on AO3? Yes! When they're closer to being finished I plan to tidy them up— make minor edits, check for continuity problems, grammar, etc— and post them to AO3! This won't be happening for a long while, so please feel free to go ahead and read them here if you're interested. :)

How do I read your AUs in order? Each of my AUs has a 'masterpost', a post where I link to each and every piece ever written. You can use it to click through and read each piece in order. Alternatively, if you're brand new to my fics you can click the link on the masterpost for a chronological view of the AU's tag! :)

Can I reblog WIPW posts? Absolutely! It makes me really happy when you do!

How can I leave comments on WIPW stuff? You can reblog a post and put comments in the tags, reply to the post, or send me an ask with questions or comments about my AUs! Though I might not answer every comment I receive, I appreciate them all so much. Y'all don't even know.

Do you like fanart? Yes. I love it. I adore it. I will give you my firstborn child. You don't even understand. I've received fan art from three or four people and I still think about them every single day. That being said, if you do make fan art please tag me in the post (@/stabbyfoxandrew) or send me an ask/ message with the link so I can see! 🥺 I'll also link your art in the masterposts so everyone else can find it! <3

Okay, okay. That's all great but do you have any finished fics? Yep! There's several oneshots on my AO3! :3

When are you going to update cosmic lost and found?! I don't know. TwT It got so popular (to me) so quick and I got freaked out and I haven't worked on it in ages. I'm sorry. :( I have the fic planned out, through to the end. But working on it is so hard for some reason. I shouldn't have decided to rewrite canon. :')

Can you tell me about your OCs? Yes. 🥺🥺🥺 I'm dying to tell you about them. If you'd like to know anything about my OCs please, please, please send me an ask! I love talking about them but I'm so afraid of getting on peoples' nerves. :')

Why are you taking so long to answer my ask? Because I'm just a little guy and sometimes I don't have the energy to reply right away. TwT

Can we be friends? Maybe! :) If we're mutuals and you'd like to talk to me, please feel free to send me a message. I must warn you, I'm a lot more awkward in messages than I am in my askbox. I don't know why. I'm sorry. TwT

Do you write for any other fandoms? Not at the moment. (RIP to my klance fics.)

Do you have fic recs? Possibly! It depends on if I've been reading much. You can always ask. I might have to tell you no though. :')

Do you allow translations of your fics? No.

What about podfics? Yes.

Is your name really Aerie, you know that's a clothing brand and also means bird nest? Yes. I thought I made it up when I was like 13/14. Was very distraught when I found out that wasn't true. :') But yeah. Aerie is my name and I love it.

Who's Jess? My younger sibling.

Who's Rascal? My very old cocker spaniel and the best boy ever. :3

...What's wrong with you? Oh. Many things. Some of them probably don't even have names yet.

Thanks for reading my FAQ, if you still have a question please feel free to ask! <3 aerie

[egittae]

Lambert waited for confirmation that the priests had left the room before letting himself release a sigh, melting down slightly in his chair as his body did its best to fight back a pesky migraine and shake off a flow of tension threatening to grip his shoulders and back. Fhirdiad already had a history of dealing with epidemics, a trait that could be traced back well into the first handful of kings past Loog’s generation. As he was crowned king, Lambert had put efforts in trying to finally change the situation for the better- a solution for the city’s predisposition to harbor illness and keep it cleaner, safer, but it was a process that would take time to finally show proper results.

Until then, they’d have to simply do what they could to pull through waves of disease. Bring awareness to the citizens, instruct them how to best keep themselves clean to reduce chances of contracting a disease. Contact the farmers in the general area, conduct inspections to ensure the health of their livestock and crops both for harvest and to ensure they will not carry pathogens. Check the army more regularly for signs of anything that could put a soldier at risk of contracting something life threatening, choke out any and whatever source of ailment they could find. 

Countless meetings with priests, nurses, doctors. The analysis of what could be done to prevent more cases, as well as what could be done to tackle those who had been already infected. There wasn’t a single day in the last weeks where Lambert wasn’t working hard towards ensuring his people were able to pull through alive. He’d allow himself to rest the moment he knew there wouldn’t be a sudden surge of deaths as soon as the sun peeks out from behind the mountains. Any wasted moment could mean a future loss of life.

Hence why the king adjusted his posture, eyes fixed on the doors of his office as soon as the distant sounds of rapid steps inched closer- bracing himself for any possible bad news. Even if it had become part of his routine by now, the king was at least thankful that he hadn’t lost that bit of humanity just yet- that his heart still fell in his chest and raced the moment a cloud of urgence was felt nearby, even if he faced the situation with calm and control.

The knock was for naught as one of his advisors, a young woman wearing an especially disconcerting brand of concern on her face, was quick to slip into the office and stand before his desk after a rapid salute. Before she could even open her lips to speak, millions of scenarios raced through Lambert’s mind- of what could’ve happened to ask for such a reaction on her part. None of his advisors were scandalous or let themselves be easily dominated by emotion, so for her to seek him in such fashion…

It was bad.

“Before you speak, take a moment and regain your breath. I am here, and I am listening.” The king spoke first, wishing to reassure his advisor so both could tackle the situation with a cool mind. The woman- named Lucetta, nodded quickly before doing as asked. One deep breath, a tug on her helmet so it wouldn’t obscure her face, and she was ready to speak once more.

Lambert nodded, encouraging her to spill what it was that was looming over them.

“Your Majesty, Florentin of Gautier has a report for you. He claims it is…extremely urgent, and will be arriving shortly.”

A blond brow twitched slightly as he processed her words.

That was not what he had been expecting at all.

“Are there any reports on Gautier’s status? Did any of the two give information on what has happened?” Gloved hands sifted through reports in an attempt to refresh his memory on the general situation of the territories closest to Blaiddyd. The epidemic had reached parts of Fraldarius, Itha and Gautier, but none of his papers hinted at situations that could be close to critical. Things had been manageable, or so they seemed to be.

“Nothing as of now, Your Majesty. The news has just arrived.”

Lambert nodded, eyes focusing on the open door behind her for a moment. “Send some men to check on the situation at Gautier this instant. When Florentin arrives, grant him entrance to my office immediately.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

As Lucette moved to leave the study however, more sounds came from the hallway. At this point, Lambert had an idea of who it could be. “Come in!”

@cielenruine

[freeze warning] | lambert mini 02 | vintage

closed starter for @egittae

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s Personal Route Chapter 1-2: Candle-Lit Game (烛光博弈) Translation

“So this is how he, who I've always been following, is truly like?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

Not long later, Evan's car stopped in front of a quiet victorian-style townhouse amidst a noisy neighbourhood.

An impeccably dressed waiter steps up politely to help us open the doors of the car.

I followed after him as we proceeded along a gravel path surrounded by rose bushes.

I looked at the gap between the rocks of the gravel path and back to my high heels again, awkwardly slowing down as I went.

This was when Evan, who had been walking alongside me, came to a stop. He crooked his elbow in my direction, offering it for me to take.

Evan: The path here is hard to tread.

Taking one cautionary glance at the winding road before me, I hesitated for a moment before linking my arm with his.

Perhaps it was because of how stiffly I was moving, for the sides of Evan’s lips quirked upwards. He slightly inclined his head, glancing at me.

Evan: Why? Are you not used to it?

I was speechless for a while as I attempted to formulate an answer that wouldn’t immediately out me.

As if reading my mind, he spoke once more, his voice tinged with faint amusement.

Evan: I'm talking about the dinner party.

MC: Oh, the dinner party… Honestly, it's a little out of my league.

MC: Can I ask who's going to be attending?

Evan: One is a senior I'm familiar with, and another, is something I think you'll know.

MC: Someone I know?

I tried to think of who it might be; alas, coming up with nothing.

Evan: I remember you once saying that you fancied the perfume brand that was under Zeal.

Evan: If so, then do you know about the founder, Zee?

MC: Oh! I saw his post this afternoon. I think he’s in Guangqi City now.

MC: Wait a minute! Don't tell me—

I gave Evan an incredulous look, only to see him nod with a faint smile playing on his lips.

Evan: Yes. The senior that I happen to be close to is also coincidentally a close friend of Mr. Zee’s.

Evan: Today’s dinner party’s to welcome him.

Evan spoke lightly of it, but I couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Today’s dinner party is way more important than I thought! It might even affect the cooperation between both companies!

My heart unwittingly raced at the thought, and I’d subconsciously tightened my grip on his arm.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The waiter pulled the doors open for us when we reached the entrance, and a middle-aged man immediately came up to greet us both.

??: It's been a long time, young Lu.

Evan: Sorry to keep you waiting, Uncle Pan.

Mr. Pan: No need to be so polite. I've only just arrived as well.

Mr. Pan: Let's put all of that aside for now. Shouldn't you first introduce your lady friend here?

I suddenly realized that I’ve been clinging onto his arm ever since entering the room, quickly letting go of it.

Evan merely went along with me and relaxed the arm that he’d held up for me. He nodded at Uncle Pan and faced him with a light smile.

Evan: This is (Y/n), a very talented Fashion Designer of my Company's.

Evan: (Y/n), this is Uncle Pan, a renowned businessman in Guangqi's business world, and also a senior of mine that I greatly respect.

I hurriedly extended a hand to Uncle Pan, who'd come to greet us.

MC: Hello, Uncle Pan…

Mr. Pan: Haha, no need to be so polite, Miss (Y/n). The food served in this restaurant is something that you cannot miss out on! Do be sure to eat lots!

MC: Will do! Thank you!

Mr. Pan: Take (Y/n) inside first, young Lu.

Evan: Alright.

We both bowed our heads slightly at him, expressing our gratitude. The waiter immediately came up, leading us to the room on the second floor.

All that could be heard was our footsteps, echoing in the elegant hallway.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Not long after we’d seated ourselves, Uncle Pan entered the room followed by another middle-aged man.

I could recognize him at a glance. That man was none other than Zee.

Time did not dull his edge. In fact, it merely gave him a couple of notches of calmness. His sharp eyes openly swept across everyone present without the slightest bit of hesitation. I don’t know if it was just me, but I felt as if something had flashed in his eyes when his line of sight fell on me.

After Uncle Pan had finished with his brief introductions, Evan leaned forwards, extending a hand out to Zee.

Evan: It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zee.

Zee raised his eyebrows and contemplated him for a good long while before slowly reaching out to shake his hand.

Zee: Warson's CEO? Pleasure's mine.

After exchanging greetings, Uncle Pan smiled as he patted both of their shoulders, gesturing for everyone to take a seat at the table.

Evan and I were seated at one side, while Zee and Uncle Pan were on the other.

The waiter began to serve us the dishes in an orderly manner.

For a while, the only thing that could be heard was the soft thuds of a leather shoe against the low pile carpet, accompanied by the occasional clink of tableware.

Evan: I've long since heard that you're an avid collector of antiques, Mr. Zee. So, I've prepared a gift to commemorate our first meeting.

The words had only left his lips when two men dressed impeccably in suit and gloves stepped up with a scroll, unravelling it for everyone to view.

It was an ancient painting. The paper had already yellowed, but the picture depicted on it was complete and clear, boasting vibrant colours, its inscription and seal as clear as the day and distinguishable.

Although I’d often visited the museum as a kid, it was the ancient outfits and accessories that had piqued my interest. Hence, my limited understanding when it came to calligraphy and paintings. I could only tell that this was a work that originated from the Qing Dynasty, which had used the lighting styles, shading styles, and the perspective of many western artworks as reference.

The sides of Zee’s mouth curved slightly upwards, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight.

Zee: It truly is a treasure of invaluable rarity.

Zee: Looks like you really do know your stuff, Mr. Lu.

Evan: Can’t say I do, myself; but, I’ve often heard Uncle Pan talk about your passion when it comes to these things.

Mr. Pan: Young Lu here’s very considerate. He remembers everything I tell him!

Mr. Pan: You too. Stop evading and take it already!

Zee: If my old pal insists; then I shall.

Zee: Still, it wouldn’t look all that good for me to take something without giving something else in return.

Zee: I’ve recently found an interesting little gadget. You can have it as a return gift if it interests you.

Saying so, Zee snapped his fingers with a smirk.

In a snap of a finger, a man behind him brought forth an intricately carved jewellery box made out of lacquered wood, placing it before us.

The inside of the red box was padded with fine silk, and lying above it was an exquisite gold hairpin.

MC: This! Isn't this Wanli’s Gold Hairpin!?

Then, all gazes turned to me. I flushed with embarrassment.

MC: Sorry, that was inappropriate of me….

Zee turned to look at me in rapt interest, with something inexplicable simmering behind his smile.

Zee: As expected of you, Mr. Lu. Even your female companion’s so learned and talented. You have a keen eye, Miss (Y/n).

Zee: I wonder just how much you know about this gold hairpin? How about you tell us more about it?

He'd already motioned towards the man in a suit, not waiting for me to reply. The box was then placed before me.

The gold and reds perfectly complemented each other, traversing through hundreds of years to now stand before my eyes. I could acutely feel the complexity and magnificence of this gold hairpin.

However, tonight was not a night of antique appreciation. Every act, every action of mine might contribute to whether or not the cooperation between the two companies will come to pass in the future…

I subconsciously turned to Evan. He smiled faintly, nodding his head in what seemed like encouragement.

The nervousness I felt instantaneously dispersed somewhat. I requested a set of gloves from the suited man, putting them on before carefully cracking the gold hairpin in my palm.

MC: Well… if you’ll pardon my inadequacy.

MC: Judging from the appearance and the workmanship, this filigree dragon pattern inlaid with the jewellery should have been made in the Ming Dynasty, during Wanli's reign.

MC: The gold and silver accessories during that time were richly patterned and intricately pieced together. They're often made through carving methods like this, alongside hollowing methods.

MC: I've once seen a similar gold kissing prochilodus hairpin with a self-defence mechanism.

MC: It had a silver needle hidden in a hollow compartment at the end, which can be released when required.

MC: I think this one’s the same as well.

Saying so, I tried to recall how the mechanism worked and where it was located from a book I’d seen in the past. Sure enough, I managed to find a catch at the very tip of the dragon’s tail.

MC: Maybe down here?

MC: The material used on this particular part is different from what the rest of the hairpin is made of, which means that this is most likely the place where the trigger’s hidden.

Zee: Oh? Then how about you show us, Miss (Y/n)?

MC: But this is just a hypothesis of mine, and this gold hairpin is way too valuable to be poking around with…

Zee: No matter. All hypotheses require to be tested. Besides, you’ve intrigued me.

MC: I’ll… I’ll try then.

Under everyone’s watchful gazes, I focused all my concentration on the gold hairpin in my hand as I gave it a thorough check through.

MC: There’s a small metal latch to the left of the ruby at the bottom. That should be the trigger!

Hearing that, Zee merely raised his eyebrows, as if awaiting my next move.

Is he… waiting for me to trigger it?

I was nervous because I didn't know whether it'd really make a silver needle slide out; so much that my back was covered in a sheen of nervous sweat. I took in a deep breath, trying my damndest to curb the tremor in my hand as I reached out towards that one particular ruby.

Just as I was about to touch the trigger, a hand placed itself atop my wrist, holding me back.

Evan: Allow me.

I could acutely feel his slightly cooler body temperature even through the gloves I wore.

Having said that, he too, requested a set of gloves before taking the gold hairpin from my grasp.

Evan: Here?

MC: Yeah…

Evan carefully angled the end of the hairpin so that it faced the inside of the jewellery box before gently pressing on the mechanism's trigger…

All we heard was a slight swoosh as a silver needle revealed itself against the silk cushions that padded the box under everyone's watchful gazes.

MC: !

I drew in a long, deep breath, shooting Evan a grateful look, which he returned with a smile.

He placed the gold hairpin back into the jewellery box before turning back to Zee.

Evan: Your return gift certainly does have exquisite workmanship, Mr. Zee. Thank you, I love it.

Hearing what Evan said, Zee, who had been leaning back into his chair with his eyes closed, suddenly perked up and leaned forwards with the sides of his mouth raised.

Zee: Why, don’t give me all the credit here. If Miss (Y/n) hadn’t found the mechanism, I wouldn’t have ever known that this little thing had a catch to it.

Zee: Looks like I should talk to her more, given the chance. I believe that we share a lot of common interests.

Zee: How about… we get Mr. Lu to specially authorize you to be my assistant during my stay here in Guangqi City?

Zee: If so, then we'll have more opportunities to talk and work together with each other.

Zee raised the goblet in his hand, gesturing at me.

For a while, I couldn't find a way to refuse him as I subconsciously raised my wineglass along with him, preparing to take a sip out of it.

Suddenly, Evan's hand cane upon mine, removing the glass from my grasp.

Evan: Thank you for your appreciation.

Evan: Although… she's a brilliant Designer of ours, so she has her responsibilities as well as her work arrangements.

Evan: If there is a need, I can always elect someone better and much more suited to be your assistant.

Evan's curvy eyes still held a smile within them, yet what came out from his mouth was an undeniable refusal towards Zee's request.

The red wine swirled within the glass as two glasses clinked together with a crisp and clear sound.

I could faintly see a tinge of dark red mixed into the bottom of his eyes. Perhaps it was an illusion caused by the candlelight, or perhaps of the reflection from the dark red wine within the glass...

Zee glanced at me, unfazed. His fingers slowly trailed along the rim of his cup. His smile returned to his face after a moment of silence.

Zee: I’ll have to trouble you then.

Evan: Not at all.

Zee: I'm not trying to make things hard for anyone here, but who knows, we might have another chance to work together in the future.

Zee: All beauty in this world requires time to ferment and brew like fine wine, and I'm not against waiting.

Evan nodded, smiling humbly at him. However, the edges of his eyes, slightly curved upwards in a smile, held a faint, yet dangerously sharp glint to them.

Evan: How about we add a little value into your time of wait instead of wasting the time that passes doing nothing?

Evan: I’ve heard that Zeal is expanding into the global market as of late. I do have a suggestion if you’re interested…

Zee narrowed his eyes into a pensive smile. There was a sly scheming glint in his long and narrow eyes as he did the math

Zee: You’ve really done your homework, Mr. Lu. Do share with the class.

He leaned forward, peaking with interest. A rush of nervousness hits me, but just as we were about to enter the main topic...

A vibrating sound suddenly sounded. Zee held up his phone, glancing at it, before turning back to us with a smile.

Zee: I’ll go pick this call up. You don’t mind, do you?

Uncle Pan responded in the affirmative, and I hurriedly followed suit, shaking my head together with Evan.

Zee pushed the door open and left. I didn’t know if it was because my nerves had been too highly strung in nervousness earlier, or if it was due to the temperatures running higher within the dining room, but I suddenly felt a bout of dizziness hit me.

Should I take this chance to go outside for some fresh air?

❖ Choice A: Do nothing

I looked out at the rustling leaves outside the window, swaying in the wind, slightly hesitant.

Evan: Want to go out and stretch your legs?

Evan’s voice suddenly sounded by my ear, making me turn and look up.

He was always like this, easily seeing through my thoughts, yet remaining a comfortable distance away as he asks for my opinion.

MC: Yeah… I feel a little cooped up in here.

Hearing this, Uncle Pan only smiled.

Mr. Pan: Take her out for a walk then, young Lu. The scenery outside is beautiful, if I must say so myself.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

After thanking Uncle Pan, Evan led me out to the veranda.

The white sheer curtain fluttered along with the wind with the soft moonlight dancing quietly on top of it. Everything was calm and serene.

The air was filled with the faint fragrance of flowers. I stretched my neck, peering down. There was a large bed of roses blooming in the gardens down below.

I braced both hands on the railing, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.

Evan: Feel better?

MC: Much better!

Evan smiled gently, but it soon turned into one of concern.

Evan: I can send you back first if you're uncomfortable with the dinner party.

MC: ...Did I cause trouble for you?

He shakes his head, gently stroking the top of my head.

Evan: No. You've done brilliantly.

Evan: It's just… I don't wish to see you push yourself, even if it's only out of your concern for me.

MC: Right…

The pent-up frustration in my head seemingly subsided upon hearing his words.

What’s there for me to worry about when I have him by my side?

I lowered my hands from the railings and turned towards the direction of the dining room.

MC: But, I think I'll accompany you till the end of this dinner party.

Evan was stunned for a while before he smiled and offered me his arm.

This time, I took his arm without hesitation as we headed further down the corridor side-by-side.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Zee had already returned to the dining room by the time we got back.

Evan and Zee both continued their precious discussion about working together and the dinner party soon ended smoothly without a hitch.

☆   NORMAL END: Fading Exit   ☆   "Next time, keep up and stay sharp!"

❖ Choice B: Stay in the private dining room

Although Zee has left, he'll probably be back shortly. The first half of the dinner party's over, so I just have to pull through for a while more.

I breathed a light sigh as I tucked the loose strands of hair back behind my ear, trying to relax.

Noticing this, Evan inclined his head.

Evan: Relax. It's fine.

MC: ...Okay.

The tense atmosphere within the dining room lightened up with Uncle Pan's warm hospitality, and Zee soon returned.

The waiter continued serving the next set of dishes. One exquisite dish after another was slowly placed before me, and they all tasted pleasantly divine.

In the end, Zee never once broached the topic of an assistant again.

The night grew on as we walked out of the victorian-style townhouse. The waiter already had our car prepared and waiting for us.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Upon reaching my apartment building, Evan got out of the car, holding the door open for me. He stood under the streetlights, looking at me.

Evan: Rest earlier today.

After making my way upstairs, I leaned out of the window and waved as I watched his car disappear around the corner of the road.

My phone vibrated not long after the car disappeared from my field of vision.

Picking it up, I saw that it was a message from Evan.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Evan (SMS): Good night, sweet dreams.

I held my phone, smiling as I inputted the same words into it.

MC (SMS): Good night, Evan...

☆  NORMAL END: Bystander   ☆   "Sometimes, opportunities lie beyond the light at the end of the tunnel through the cracks of the willow's shade…"

❖ Choice C: Head out to the veranda and get some air

I took the chance and excused myself from the room, coming out to the veranda in hopes of easing my nerves.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The night breeze up at the veranda was cooling. It blew off the heat that had been created from my restlessness and felt utterly refreshing.

After taking in a couple of deep breaths, I patted my face and prepared to go back inside. Much to my surprise, I turned around only to be met face-to-face by none other than Zee himself.

Zee: Miss (Y/n), what a coincidence to see you here.

He smiled as he strolled up to me. I subconsciously took a step backwards. Noticing this, Zee's smile widened.

Zee: I do hope you weren’t bothered by the incident earlier. Is that why you’re purposely trying to avoid me, Miss (Y/n)?

I hurriedly shook my head, slightly raising my head to meet his gaze.

MC: Surely, you must be joking, Mr. Zee. I just came out for some air and was just about to head back in.

Zee had a playful glint in his eyes. He lifted his hand to his chin, suddenly moving forwards to block me off.

Zee: Why such a hurry? Care to accompany me for a walk?

MC: But Uncle Pan and Mr. Lu are still waiting for us back inside…

Before I could finish, Zee purposely moved even closer, his eyes narrowed into a close eyed smile.

Zee: Looks like you trust Mr. Lu a great lot, Miss (Y/n). I wonder… Just how much do you know about his past?

MC: What are you implying, Mr. Zee?

Zee: There's no need for you to be afraid, Miss (Y/n). The more approachable a person,  the higher the chance that they're hiding another side of them.

Zee: They do say that "Someone of talent is free to choose their own master". And it seems like you are completely unaware of Evan's past.

Zee: And with someone as talented as you, Miss (Y/n)... I cannot bear to leave you in the dark.

He presumptuously sized me up in such a smarmy manner that it was unsettlingly uncomfortable.

I tried to bypass him and head in the direction of the dining room, but he'd seen through me and moved his body to block off my escape.

A sort of unease that stemmed from being forced to do something welled up on me. I wanted to flee, yet I didn't dare to refuse him outright.

What should I do now?

Just as I was trapped between a wall and a hard place, I heard a familiar set of footsteps sound from the other end of the hallway.

Raising my head, I saw a reassuring figure headed straight for us.

Evan!

He walked straight up to us, reaching out to place his hand around my shoulders before pulling me back to his side with a little force.

I raised my head, looking up at him. Those eyes of his, usually as warm and gentle as jade, were now slightly dark. There was an unknown emotion flickering within the bottom of his eyes that I couldn't make out.

Evan: So this was where you were, Mr. Zee.

The corners of Zee's lips slowly upturned into a smile, although that didn't quite reach his eyes, which were clearly glinting in displeasure.

Zee: Mr. Lu. I only wanted to have a nice chat with her, so what is the meaning of this?

Zee: I know that she's someone close to you, but you can't go making all the decisions for her like that.

Zee: Actually, she has just agreed to become my special assistant during my stay here at Guangqi City. What!?

Zee had effortlessly told a lie, with not a trace of it to be seen on his face. He raises his eyebrow and turns to look at me.

I steeled myself, forcing a polite smile onto my face.

MC: Surely you must be joking, Mr. Zee. Antiques and managing daily schedules are not things that I specialize in, so there's no way I can ever become an assistant of yours...

Zee's countenance darkens upon hearing this. His eyes landed on me as he seemingly contemplates something.

I don't know whether it was because I was too nervous, but I could feel my shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Evan calmly drew me closer to him, the amiable smile remaining ever-present on his face.

Evan: If you require an assistant, then I shall personally arrange one for you.

Evan: It is merely a matter of picking out the right candidate for the job. However, please do give me some time to make a good selection for your needs.

Looking at the expression Evan had on his face, Zee suddenly lets out a loud laugh.

Zee: Hahaha. Alright. Beautiful women are one a plenty in this world, and it looks like you're not willing to forsake this treasured one of yours.

The smile was still on Evan's face, but this time, he'd slightly narrowed his eyes.

Evan: Now, you're mistaken, Mr. Zee. (Y/n) doesn't belong to anyone at all, so any talk of "forsaking" will never come to pass.

Evan: Uncle Pan is still waiting for us inside the dining room. We shouldn't keep him waiting.

Not another peep came from Zee as he turned and walked back to the dining room in large strides.

It was only when he'd completely disappeared from our view that Evan let go of me and faced me with a thoroughly concerned look.

Evan: You okay, (Y/n)?

I shook my head. My heart was still wildly pounding.

Evan: I apologize for making you face that sort of predicament alone.

Evan: It won't happen again. You have my word.

The panic in my heart gradually subsided. I shut my eyes tight and fought against the stuffiness of my nose as I tried not to cry.

MC: Thank you, Evan.

Evan's expression gradually grew softer. He raised his hand, gently patting my back.

Evan: Don't worry. We're the only ones here now.

Evan: Enjoy the wind a little more with me, then we can head back in together.

MC: Okay...

I knew, deep down. He wasn't here to enjoy the wind at all, but rather, he'd used it as an excuse to allow me, in all my embarrassing glory, some time to calm myself down.

The strength behind the hand on my back brought about a comforting warmth, settling my taut nerves.

The moonlight was akin to water, shrouding us within its silvery embrace.

❖☆————— ⊹ Oblique Curtains of the Night⊹ —————★❖

⊹ Previous Part: (Chapter 1-1: Unexpected Request) ⊹ Next Part: (Chapter 1-3: Strike in the Dark )

[bittersweetmelxdy]

i was wondering if you could write headcanons about the guys being drunk af and accidently confess to MC

say hello to a real late request from me (by now this is totally on brand for me)

Drunk Confessions: Victor:  

Victor is a very private person and I’d say he’d drinks wine regularly, so his alcohol tolerance is high, however sometimes he does overdo it, leading to tonight.

You had just finished applying a face mask to your face, and were standing in front of your bedroom mirror pulling the sheet mask from your face, and you were massaging the excess serum into your face and down your neck, humming a soft tune and dancing around the brightly lit room.

Leaving the bathroom, you wandered around your apartment tidying up all the mess you weren’t able to, as for the last week you had been swamped with work, hence your apartment upkeep had slipped a little bit. However, you stopped when you heard some firm knocking on your front door, noting the time which was far too late for visitors, but you still made your way over to the front door.

Peeking through the peephole in your front door, and to your surprise the person standing outside was Victor. You scrunched your brows, wondering why Victor was at your house, from what you remembered Victor should currently be at a gala for LFG. So why was he here, at your place?

You cautiously opened the door, to reveal Victor looming over your figure, his forearm resting on the doorframe, you noted his alcohol-induced blush and the heavy breathing, the scent of wine wafting over you, “Victor? What are you doing here?” you asked gently.

Victor pushed off the frame and waltzed around you into your apartment kissing your temple as he passed, falling back onto your couch, “Missed you.” his admission causing you to gasp and a smile twitched at the corner of your lips, Victor looked over at you giving you his usual glare but it lacked its usual bite and at that moment he reminded you of a cat.

You padded closer towards him, but once you were within arm’s reach, Victor felt you were still too far and simply stretched out his hand, latching around your wrist tightly and pulling you hard. With a yelp you tumbled into his embrace, tripping over your feet landing within his arms in a tumble of limbs, Victor kept his arms wrapped around you, humming in satisfaction, “You were too far.” Victor’s deep baritone rumbled through your ear, and you shivered at his timbre.  

You choked on your breath, not expecting for 1) Victor to be this drunk and 2) that he even managed to find his way to your apartment. You remembered from before (Victor’s Asmr ‘Drunk in Love’) that Victor tended to get a tad more affectionate and dare you say “clingy” whilst drunk.

You resigned yourself to his warm embrace, (not really complaining with the position you’re in) and snuggled into his arms. Victor feeling your figure had fully relaxed, buried his nose in your hair and breathed in the subtle scent of your hair, “Just stay here, with me.” his voice whispered.

You giggled, “But I need to get you water and some painkillers-”

“Don’t need them.” Victor yawned afterwards

“You won’t be saying that tomorrow, come on let’s go together and then you get some rest.” You reached up and caressed Victor’s hair to placate him into letting you go.

Victor hearing the word “together”, seemed happy enough to release you enough to stand but once he was also standing he latched an arm around your waist, almost escorting you o the kitchen where you gave him a glass of water and reached to give him some painkillers from your medicine cabinet, the whole time Victor sleepily watched you, resting his chin on your shoulder.  

Although your movements were restricted by Victor’s engulfing you in his presence, you were secretly happy at the rare form of affection you were seeing from the usually cold and standoffish CEO. Victor wouldn’t take the glass from you, and therefore you had to raise the glass, tilting it gently so he could drink the cool liquid, pausing slightly to pass him the painkillers, which he did take from your hand and push into his mouth. Once he was finished, you placed the glass into the sink, but you were unable to wash it as Victor immediately dragged you from the sink towards the bedroom.

Once there, Victor unbuttoned his waistcoat, struggling slightly to pull it off, and taking pity on him you helped him pull it off, placing it gently on a spare hanger and hooking it onto the door of your closet. Hearing Victor’s grunts of frustration you turned back around to see the normally capable CEO struggling to remove his tie, hearing your repressed giggles Victor looked up pouting.

“Need help?” you asked smiling, as you padded over, then you reached up carefully working to untangle the knot Victor had made of his tie, all the while he remained silent, staring down at you with soft eyes.

You were startled when Victor’s large hand caressed your hair, and you looked up startled, “What would I do without you, Dummy?” his voice was hoarse but showing fondness.

You pouted muttering, “Adding ‘Dummy’ at the end doesn’t sound like a compliment.”  

Victor laughed finding your aggrieved expression adorable, “But you are a Dummy. MY precious Dummy.” he then yawned, blinking slowly and starting to sway showing he was barely awake. “But I only tell you that to keep your eyes on me.”

Your eyes became watery at Victor’s heartfelt admission and led Victor over to the bed and once you had tucked him in and turned to leave, Victor’s hand shot out of the blanket and grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t....” Victor’s eyes closed for a second, but he kept trying to keep them open, “Don’t... leave... me.”

You patted his hand gently, “I won’t leave, not until you fall asleep.”

Victor smiled gently, his deep eyes locking with yours as you smiled sweetly back, “Goodnight, I love you.” he said it so naturally then drifted off to sleep.

Your smile only grew, happy that the alcohol lowered his guard that you were finally able to hear what was in his heart. And reaching out and carefully brushing his hair back from his forehead you leaned down and placed a light kiss to his forehead, “Sweet Dreams Victor.”

Lucien:

Lucien to me doesn’t seem like the kind of person to drink regularly in public, as he a pretty calculating person and always likes to be aware of his surroundings, something which alcohol would impair. I believe that even if he’s over his alcohol limit and is a little tipsy, he’d be the master of hiding it, and making it seem like he was sober the whole time. However, there are always instances where he lets his guard down a little and unsurprisingly those instances just happen to coincidentally be in your presence.

You were humming along to the song coming from your earphones, as you walked up the stairs to your apartment. It was the end of the month and the end of the quarter, so your company was a little busier checking various reports and finishing paperwork, so you had worked overtime consistently for the last week. But finally, as the weekend began you were glad to finally see the end of your nights of overtime. But you stopped seeing a figure leaning on your front door.

Walking closer, inching your way down the hallway, you scrunched your brows before realising who it was.

“Lucien?” you placed your hand lightly on his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

Lucien turned his head, face flushed and eyes bleary, but once your features entered his vision his brain recognised you in an instance and the brightest smile grew on his face.  

“Y/N? Why are you home so late?” Lucien reached out and pulled you over towards him, caging you between his looming figure and the apartment door, then he leaned down, nuzzling his nose in the hair atop your head.

You were a little confused, but noticing his shaky figure, you placed your hands on his sides to steady him, “Lucien where are your keys, I’ll let you in.” you asked.

Lucien leaned back, shaking his head at you, “Already tried, they don’t work...” he sighed resting his hand atop your hip, “Maybe I took the wrong keys, can you let us in?” his smooth voice, slightly pleading.

You were a tad confused, when it suddenly clicked, Lucien’s so drunk that he thinks you live together, at this train of thought, you felt your cheeks prickle with heat and you bit your lip to hide your growing smile. Pushing at his chest you managed to get him to back off, albeit with Lucien pouting in the most adorable fashion. You then turned around, fishing your keys from your bag and opened the door, the whole time Lucien’s comforting warmth surrounded you.

Once inside Lucien tried to pull you over to the living room’s couch, and despite his pulling you managed to placate him enough to sit by himself whilst you got some water for him and some painkillers. Reaching back to the living room, you noticed Lucien muttering to himself as he lay on his back staring at your ceiling, at your return he sluggishly sat up, beaming happily and looking closely you noticed that tears were gathering in his eyes.

“Y/N you came back, I missed you.” he spoke, and he only accepted the water from you after you were securely cuddled in his embrace. “You work too hard, I barely saw you this last week, I’m so proud of you but don’t make me worried.” he finished the statement by caressing your tresses gently.

You giggled; it turns out Lucien has no filter whilst drunk, but you were practically beaming at his attention, it always felt that Lucien was walking circles around you, but now for once he was delightfully honest with you. “Really, you were worried about me?” you interested in the reason why Lucien was so worried, and decided to push him a little, since he was in such an honest mood.

“I’m always worried about you.” you gasped at his honest words, eyes sparkling, “Aren’t you supposed to worry about the people you love?”  

You didn’t respond for a minute and Lucien’s eyes became teary, thinking he had done something wrong, “Aren’t you?” he pouted, turning he head from you.

You quickly grabbed his face, cradling his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs gently atop the apples of his cheeks, “You love me?”

“How... could... I not?” Lucien closed his eyes, drifting in and out of sleep throughout his sentence.

Concerned about him, you helped him lay back down, tucking a blanket around him, and once he was soundly asleep, a couple tears slipped from your eyes, overwhelmed with the emotion, and brushing your hand through his hair, you really hoped he would remember this when he woke up.

Kiro:

Oh, you know this boy is a lightweight, not quite a one drink drunk but after at least a couple he’s down and out.

You knew exactly where Kiro was, as you sat at home enjoying your day off to catch up on the TV series you had heard everyone talking about recently, Kiro had been active on social media, posting pictures on his Moments and Story, showing the fun time he was having at the BS Company Banquet. You had giggled at the funny moments and the various comments from fans and other people in attendance, as you watched the show.

But later just as you were about to start the finale episode, you heard some very excited knocking on your front door. You hopped up, shuffling in your slippers over to the door, and looking through the peephole you were shocked to see a bright blue eye blocking the view.

“Um... Hello?” you called, tentatively.

“Surprise Miss Chips!” an excited voice called through the door.

“Kiro?” you quickly unlatched the door, and as soon as it was open you received an armful of the hyperactive puppy of a superstar. Kiro laughed boyishly as he picked you up, walking into your apartment with you still in his embrace. “What are you doing here?” you asked, as he lowered you to the floor.

“Well I was at the party and I suddenly thought ‘Man, I miss Miss Chips’ so here I am.” Kiro announced proudly, presenting his arms in a flourish.

“Aw, you missed me?” you played along, grabbing Kiro’s wrist and leading him into the kitchen.

“No, you’re doing it wrong. It’s let this.” Kiro stopped you, pulled his wrist from your grip and then grabbed your hand interlocking your fingers tightly, you shook your head smiling, thinking to yourself ‘Man is he drunk!’ and continued your journey to the kitchen.

You filled a glass with water with one hand, as Kiro refused to let go of you, and then handed him some painkillers, he looked from you to the painkillers, but at your hopeful gaze he quickly downed the water and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he waited for your praise which you freely gave. “Wow, Kiro!”

Leading him back over the living room couch, you were stopped once again, this time by Kiro’s sniffles, shocked you turned around to see what was wrong, “Hey Superstar, you okay?” you kept your voice soft, but it made him cry harder.

“M-m-m-miss C-chips, you’re, you’re always so nice to me, and you look, you look after me as well.” he sat down still crying and holding onto your hand tightly.

“Isn’t that what friends do?” you tried to placate him, his distress tugging at your heartstrings.

“B-b-but you’re so pretty, I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.” Kiro’s tears continued to flood down his cheeks.

“Oh no Kiro why?” panic did start to rise within you at his tears.  

“I love you, but you’re so pretty, and smart, you’re way out of my league.” he pouted, looking like an abandoned puppy.

You knelt down reaching out with you free hand and cradling his face in your hand, “Sunshine, you’re the one out of my league, don’t beat yourself up like that, okay?”

“You love me too.” his tone was tinged in hope.

You had a feeling he wouldn’t remember this in the morning, so you decided to be honest, “Yeah, Sunshine I love you a lot, I’ve loved you for a while now.”  

Kiro pulled you into his arms leaning back so you were both lying on the couch tangled in each other's arms, “Not as much and as long as me, Miss Chips.”

You giggled happily, nudging his jaw with your nose, “It’s not a competition Superstar.”

Kiro yawned, and he started to drift off, playing with the strands of soft hair and his breathing started to become slow and rhythmic, and even you started to become drowsy as your ear rested atop his chest and you could hear the steady beat of his heart.  

Minutes stretched out between you two, and you actually thought that Kiro had already drifted off to sleep, but to your surprise he suddenly said in a sleepy tone, “Miss Chips?”

“Yeah, Sunshine?”

“If it was a competition, would I win?”

You huffed a laugh, “Of course you would.”

“Always?”

“Always. Now go to sleep.” with this the two of you finally drifted gently off happily to sleep.

Gavin:

Done before, and it’s found here: a little dose of liquid courage 

[yonqha]

—- 📞

speed dial

the light bulb in your room goes bust, and you needed someone to fix it fast. you had absolutely no clue on how to change a light bulb. but allen ma, your ex-boyfriend, knows how.

allen x reader oneshot (requested) // semi-angst, fluff (?)

word count: 1.9k words

a/n: this was just lightly edited (i got too lazy) lmao so pls excuse any errors >< and :D let me know if y’all want an alternate ending for this i might write and post one soon ^^

masterlist

heavy hands on the keyboard, the smell of coffee suspended in the air, and light illuminating your weary face. this was the current situation as you were busy typing away your report for work. your hours at the office were seemingly not enough for the amount of tasks you needed to do, hence the urge to continue work at home instead of taking your time to rest.

you gave yourself no breaks, wanting to finish this as quickly as possible to stay on track. the only breaks you considered were mini sips of the instant coffee by your side and fast trips to the bathroom. notifications from your phone didn’t bother you at all, you were that driven to finish this report as soon as you could.

but the main light in your room didn’t seem to favor that. after taking a sip from your coffee mug, it flickered a few times and decided to die on you. the room suddenly went dark, minus the light coming from your laptop. this made you groan in frustration. standing up, you went to the light switch just by the door to check. you turned it on and off but to no avail-- it’s a busted light.

a loud sigh came out of your mouth. out of all the things that could happen, your light had to die on you. you thought of just continuing to work without the light, but your eyes were starting to get strained from looking at the screen for hours. this made you regret not buying a desk lamp in the first place.

you had to think of a solution, you didn’t want to stall for too long as you might lose your energy to work. grabbing your phone from the desk, you opened your contacts to try and see if you could call an electrician. but upon seeing the time, you immediately gave up.

there is no way an electrician would go to your place at 2 in the morning.

plus, the time for them to get here? you couldn’t wait that long.

so you decided for plan b: going to wikihow to search how to change a busted light bulb. scrolling through the steps, you just got more and more confused. you don’t even know how to differentiate light bulbs, how on earth are you going to change one by yourself?

so you settled for plan c: finding someone on your contact list that knows how to change a light bulb (and is possibly still awake at this hour). you paced back and forth inside your room, scanning each name in your contacts to find anyone that can help you.

your eyes then fell on a certain name, making your feet halt immediately. does this person know how to change light bulbs? yes. is this person still awake at this hour? you’re definitely sure about that. does this person live relatively close to you? yeah, somewhat.

but are you sure you want to call your ex-boyfriend to help change your broken light bulb? no answer.

you didn’t want to bother him, probably cooped up in his studio busy producing tracks like he always does. but you have no other option, well, unless you want to cite the rest of the alphabet starting from the letter d for other plans.

you took a deep breath. ‘you have a report to finish, y/n. get yourself together.’

you dialled his number and put the phone to your ear. it only took a couple of rings before the male answered. “hey, allen? i need some….help.”

just a few minutes after the call, allen was already by your doorstep ringing the doorbell. you took one quick look at the mirror to fix yourself, thinking you might be a complete mess from doing work, and opened the front door.

your eyes met and you swear you could feel the butterflies enter your stomach. those same pesky butterflies that gave you that fluttering feeling whenever you were with the male. you mentally cursed. you thought you’re already moving on from him, but it seems not. your body can’t lie, what else could be a possible explanation for this? the coffee?

yeah, probably.

“hey, y/n.” allen greeted, giving you a small smile.

“hey.” you replied back. sensing the forming awkward atmosphere, you moved aside to give allen space to enter your unit. it honestly felt weird for you to be letting allen in like this, especially when you’re used to him just entering the unit without your help. after all, this used to be allen’s apartment as well. the both of you lived together in this space you both could call home.

without hesitation, allen headed to the room just by the kitchen. “everything’s still here, right?” he pointed at the door. standing by the kitchen counter, you nodded in reply.

“i never really touched that room, you were the one who took care of it after all.” you commented as allen turned the knob. he opened the door to see that his arrangement of the supplies inside remained as it was. he let out a chuckle. “i can definitely see that.”

after getting the brand new light bulb and a flashlight from the stockroom, the two of you headed over to your bedroom to have the light bulb changed. allen grabbed a spare chair from the room to stand on and proceeded to work. you sat on your office chair, taking a sip of your already cold coffee.

“just an idea but, i think you should be teaching me how to change a light bulb,” you set down your mug. “or any home repairs in general.”

“i’d be willing to offer you lessons,” allen replied as he unscrewed the broken light bulb. “that’d be 5 bucks per lesson. deal? we can start now if you want to.”

you kicked his leg from your seat, and the two of you laughed at the exchange. “i can’t believe you.” you muttered and shook your head.

it was just like how it was before— exchanging jokes, having playful conversations. except, you two broke up. it reminded you of how the two of you first hung out together, enjoying each other’s company through hours of talking and joking around. but that reminder came with the small pang in your heart, another reminder that it is now just a memory living in your head. something you don’t experience as often as before, and something you have to get used to not having.

allen took out the new bulb out of its box, and broke the momentary silence. “so, how have you been?”

it took you quite a while to answer, coming up with something that isn’t about you thinking about your breakup and starting to move on. “i’ve been….well. just busy with work as usual. you?”

“just the same. i’m finishing up an EP, just a few final touches and it’s ready for release.”

hearing that made you smile instantly. allen’s music was your favorite, and hearing that he’ll be releasing new songs soon brightened up your mood. “oh? that’s great! finally, i have something new to listen to.”

“and something new to have on repeat for hours.” allen remarked as he started to screw on the new light bulb. you rolled your eyes at his words and at how he still remembered your habit of leaving songs on repeat.

“okay, done.” allen turned off the flashlight, got off the chair he was standing on and went to turn on the light. the room was illuminated, and that meant you can finally start working again.

“thank you so much, allen. i’ll treat you to a meal for the help.” you stood up from your chair, watching as allen returned the chair to its earlier position.

“no need, y/n. but thank you.” he flashed you a smile and exited the room. you followed shortly behind.

allen went to return the flashlight back in the stockroom. closing the door once he was done, he suddenly searched for something in is pocket. seeing as he couldn’t find it, he faced you and asked for a favor. “can i borrow your phone? i think i left mine in the car. i just have to make a quick call, if it’s alright?”

“oh, sure, it’s in my room.” you replied as you made your way to your room, grabbing your phone from your desk and heading back to allen. you unlocked your phone and handed it over to the male.

as he was busy inputting the number and making the call, you awkwardly looked away and gave him the space to make his call.

soon after, you heard a phone ring beside you. you turned to face allen who just fished out his phone out of his back pocket. the confused look on your face made allen chuckle.

“here, thanks.” he handed back your phone. “i placed my number on speed dial. so if you’re ready for those lessons, or just need some more help in general, just give me a call.”

taking your phone from his hands, you smiled. “thanks, allen. i appreciate it.”

allen paused, gathering his words, and spoke. “i…know you’re trying to move on and maybe you don’t wanna see me,” he started. “and you’re probably still a bit sensitive from the breakup. but i hope you know that i’m still sorry for the way i acted that day.” his eyes met yours, showing how much he means it. “we both weren’t in the right minds to talk, and it led to...this. maybe it’s for the best, but, i wish i could’ve handled my emotions better. and i’m truly sorry for that.”

as if on cue, your brain played the memory of that day. two stressed individuals fighting with each other under the control of raw and ugly emotions. you both decided after that it wasn’t working anymore, and it led to a mutual breakup. it still hurts for you, though. someone you held so dear to your heart suddenly leaving just like that. the two of you didn’t meet ever since that day. well, until your light bulb decided stop working. is this fate doing its work?

“as cliche as it may sound, i hope we can stay friends at least.” allen smiled at you, hoping you would agree to the idea. it hurts for you knowing the most you two can become are friends, but you thought that maybe this is for the best. maybe this is what it should be. and i guess it’s better than losing allen in your life. besides being your partner, he was like a best friend to you. why waste this chance?

“can i still be your best friend?” you asked after a short while, and allen gave a lighthearted laugh.

“that would be great, y/n.”

the thick air between the two of you dissipated, and the heavy feeling in your heart started to fade away. meeting allen one more time was what you needed all this time.

you escorted allen to the door and bid him goodbye. the apartment was now empty again besides your presence, but it felt much more lighter. like the invisible cloud of black smoke around your unit was finally gone.

with a light feeling in your heart, you went back to your room. you headed to your desk, the laptop screen flashing for you to finish the report. after giving it a good stare, you closed it.

you deserve a break. the report could wait.

[professional-benaddict]

ageplay+mafia. Rival mafia boss Beck is abusing little!Peter by not feeding him and using him as a sort of s*x toy for anyone and everyone. Tony would usually have someone take care of it, but when he finds out that a little is being hurt, he decides to take care of Beck himself and take Peter home. If this is too dark, I completely understand. I love you and you're writing you are amazing! Ily have fun at the cottage ❤️

another anon: How about a mafia AU where Tony busts a rival’s organization and reveals an underground human little trafficking ring. Little!Peter could be one of the recent kidnappees and Tony immediately falls in love and takes Peter in as his little. Bonus if Stephen Strange is his right hand man and husband and falls for little!Peter too. Love your writing!

I decided to combine these two as they were very similar ideas. I hope you both like what I came up with🙈💓

Mafia boss Tony, husband/right hand Stephen, +18 Little Peter, rivalry boss Beck, human trafficking, raids, mentions of violence and injury, kidnapping

“So, the plan is still on?” 

“Yes, sir. Everything is going according to plan. We are en route. Barnes will update you after.”

Sucking in a long breath, Tony leans back in his office chair, enjoying both the soft creak of the leather under him and the sting of the expensive smoke in his lungs. Releasing the cigar from in between his lips, the boss opens his eyes to thin slits to see the grey smoke rise up to the ceiling. 

He’s been waiting for this for so long. Weeks of planning, organising and making transactions. All to take down Tony’s rival, Quentin bloody Beck. Tony is no angel, that’s for sure, but human trafficking, that’s something one actually deserves to go to hell for. If the police were to be trusted, Tony would have made anonymous tips about Beck to them months ago. You see, he isn’t an angel, so he’d rather not get too fond and cozy with the ones in uniforms and badges. 

But, now and then Tony can take justice into his own hands, and he is damn pleased with himself already, hence the celebratory cigar. If only his husband was here. 

“What’s taking Stephen so damn long?” Tony barks all of a sudden with the cigar in between his thick fingers. 

Harley, Tony’s petite but obedient assistant, smiles with force and picks up his phone. The young boy locates Stephen after a few calls. His husband’s location is no surprise to Tony. He should have figured. Heading out of his office, Tony makes his way through his warehouse and to the back, where their make shift medbay is. 

“We started already, you know.” Tony announces by the open door, sucking in another long puff of smoke as he looks at his husband. 

Spinning on his heel, Stephen smiles brightly at Tony. With a few quick strides, he is in front of his husband, his lips pressed against his. Tony tastes of smoke and Stephen hums lowly. He recognises the brand, just by the taste on Tony’s mouth. 

“Sorry, I got busy counting the supplies.” Stephen says finally, explaining his absence. 

“Always so caring, doctor.” Tony teases, blowing smoke into Stephen’s eyes. The doctor doesn’t blink, and just smiles slyly. 

“Well, if you didn’t send your men out there to get hurt-” 

Tony growls playfully and shoves Stephen away from him. Steading himself, the doctor smiles again, but goes to follow his husband out and back to the office. That is until Tony gets a call. 

“Barnes?”

“There’s- well, a hiccup.”

“What? Spit it out, goddammit.” Tony threatens, voice low and rough from the cigar. 

“There’s... Beck wasn’t just trafficking humans. It’s- he’s trafficking /Littles/.” 

Within just a minute, Tony and Stephen are in the back of a car and driving to Beck’s hideout. This was way, way worse than Tony could have anticipated. Trafficking caregivers and neutrals is one thing, but Littles? Tony hopes that there is a special spot in hell saved for Beck for his horrid acts. 

At their destination, there’s two dozens Littles, at least, and they are all crying at the top of their lungs. The noise is deafening as soon as Tony steps out of the car. Placing his cigar between his teeth so that his hands are free, Tony covers his ears and heads inside. 

“Get me Barnes and Rogers.” Tony says to one of his men, then heads with Stephen to what looks like an office. The place is completely raided, and one can barely see the concrete floor with how papers have been thrown out of shelves and lockers. Tony steps on them without care, and goes to the window to see his men try to keep the rescued Littles in check outside. 

“Jesus fuck...” Stephen mutters next to him. He is just as astonished by the sight as Tony, although he is worse at hiding it than his husband. “So, it’s been Littles all this time? He must have trafficked hundreds then.” 

Tony grunts lowly in response and sucks in another long smokey inhale through the cigar. Perhaps the celebration was premature, but at least the nicotine helps with this sudden wave of stress. 

“Sir?” 

Bucky and Steve are now by the door and Tony invites them in with a hand gesture. The two men start recapping the raid and how Beck is cuffed in one of the cars for Tony to do with as he pleases, but what Tony is interested in is hearing about the Littles. After some consideration, Tony comes to a decision. 

“We’ll leave them here, but make sure they have water and some blankets. Someone will then make an anonymous tip to the police. They can deal with this.” 

“They’ll know it’s you who messed up the place.” Steve points out. 

“Yeah, well... They’ll have to find me, though. And they won’t do that, so no worries.” Tony says and Bucky nor Steve argue against him. “Now, fuck off.” Tony says finally and waves them off. 

Stephen and Tony remain in the office for a while longer, listening to the men bark orders and comfort the Littles outside. Most of them seem to have calmed down by now, and the ones who haven’t, cling to their Little friends for comfort. 

“What if we take one?” Stephen suddenly asks. 

“What?” Tony asks dumbly, shooting his husband a puzzled and annoyed look. 

“I’ve always wanted one.” The doctor shrugs, not fazed by the initial nasty look Tony gave him. But, he can now see his husband’s eyes softening as he considers the idea. “Imagine it.” 

And Tony does imagine it. He sees himself and his husband, hand in hand with a Little between them, shrieking and giggling with glee. Images of soft, hazy mornings and sleepy cuddles invade his mind, leaving behind a sense of longing that is unfamiliar to Tony. A bit shaken with these new emotions, Tony straightens up and clears his throat. Stephen, who is still eyeing through the window, smirks to himself. 

“Let’s just go look.” Tony says. 

The Littles fall deathly silent when Tony walks over. It’s an effect that Tony has on most people, but with these Littles the reactions are even more intense. Their eyes are as wide as saucers, their lips tight and sealed to prevent any screams or whimpers from coming out. Walking slowly past the line of Littles, Tony eyes each of them with his cigar between his lips. 

Then, the boss pauses. One of the Littles, and perhaps the smallest one of them, is a lovely, but dirty looking little boy. His eyes and hair are almost the same shade of soft, medium brown, like a hazel nut. He looks thin and a bit sickly, but so do all of them. But, there is something about him that catches Tony’s interests. The same sense of longing from before blooms in Tony’s chest again, although this time it is stronger. 

“Steph? What do you think?” Tony says to his husband, directing his attention to the brunette boy. 

The doctor steps forward, then crouches down to see the Little better. After a few short moments of studying him, Stephen rises up again with a smile. He nods at his husband. While Tony heads to their car, Stephen helps the boy up from the ground and leads him to the car as well. 

“So, what’s your name, sweetheart?” Stephen starts out gently, helping the Little get a seatbelt on in the back of the car. The boy could hardly do it himself with how badly his hands are trembling. 

“P-Peter… sir.” The boy replies quietly, but doesn’t lift his gaze from his bare feet. 

“Peter, huh? That’s a pretty name.” Stephen continues, like the good cop he is. “I’m Stephen and that’s my husband Tony. Although, his full name is actually Anthony, but he doesn’t like people calling him that.” 

Finally, the Little dares to lift his head to look up at Tony. With his cigar still between his teeth, Tony narrows his eyes just a bit to study the boy. The boss cannot pinpoint it, but there is something about the boy that intrigues him greatly. But, before he can name it, Peter looks away with a blush on his cheeks. 

“Where- where are you taking me?”

“Home, why of course! To our home.” Tony laughs and puffs out another little cloud of smoke. 

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Bare Oneself and One’s Soul (Bi!Spencer Reid x Male!Reader)

Summary: Sex workers and strippers are being killed in Portland, Maine. The BAU team investigates the fourth and attempts to build a profile. But with part of the puzzle still missing, the reader contemplates offering to revisit a previous profession of theirs - the oldest in the business - to draw out the unsub.

AN: My first fic for Criminal Minds! I started watching the show about two weeks ago and I cannot stop. I’m on series 4 so no spoilers for me please! I would like to open requests soon, still wanna write more diverse readers hence why this is my first entry into this fandom. 

Thank you @imagining-in-the-margins​ for inspiring me with your Bi The Way fic and answering my queries! You’re the bee’s knees!

Feedback and requests to be tagged in specific fics are welcome

Word count: 6.9k words

Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, descriptions of dead bodies, homophobia, threats of outing, stripping, lap dances (mild NSFW), Gone Girl spoilers. Please let me know if I have missed anything!

Your name: submit What is this?

“Dancing, at its best, is independence and intimacy in balance.” ― Donna Goddard, The Love of Devotion

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was already hard enough with this job. But someone targeting sex workers and the like, that was going to make things harder. The victims were anonymous in the eyes of the general public, subhuman, not worthy of being reported to warn others in their profession. Furthermore, the associates of the victims were not likely to talk to law enforcement.

Emily, Derek and Y/N returned to the temporary base of operations, having already faced this reality with the limited responses garnered from very few witnesses.

Only the recycling guy who found the latest body was willing and that was a stretch on the definition.

In the police station, Hotch was sifting through the security tapes he had access to, JJ at his side trying to spot the unsub. Spencer was building up a geographical profile and Rossi was out speaking to the family of the latest victim.

Y/N helped Morgan hand out the coffees they’d picked up, dropping a hefty amount of sugar packets and a disposable stirrer on the desk beside where Spencer was working. He stared up at the map and tried to clear his mind in case an epiphany decided to pass by.

The fourth victim was exactly like the three previous. The body was found down the back alley of a local nightclub, this one called Red Effort, and it was sat up daintily in the corner made of the building and a dumpster. A plastic bag was over the head. An expensive silk tie for a gag left in the mouth. Evidence of another used to tie the wrists together but that tie was gone. Other than that, the body was stripped naked.

“The bag wasn’t used in the suffocation; it was put on after death. The unsub couldn’t look at the victim after he’d killed him,” Y/N theorised, “But the nudity has a statement of sadism.”

Derek pointed to the photograph of the fourth victim’s neck, “Bruises around his neck show that strangulation killed him. Some kind of rope, possibly a belt about inch and a half wide, just like the others. But the tie is what gets me. Why leave one in the mouth but not the other around the hands? And why not leave the belt?”

“Hermès is an expensive brand,” JJ said, “But if it was cost the unsub was worried about, they wouldn’t leave the other behind. It must be something sentimental about that tie but not the other items used.”

Moving on, Spencer’s geographical profile highlighted the clubs’ connections. Utopia, Pulse Point, Move, and now Red Effort had tacks in them, standing out over the map. His “colouring in” highlighted clearly the MO of the killer they were after: it was someone local stalking the clubs over the last two weeks.

“The previous attacks show that they are only in the city and the unsub doesn’t hit the same club twice - at least so far. The next target is likely to be one of these three clubs in the radius: Focus, Potential, or Encore.”

“Anything in the CCTV?” Rossi asked.

JJ pinched the bridge of her nose, “Nothing so far from Garcia.”

“Well, I think we’re ready to present the profile to your officers, so if you could get everyone together, we can begin.”

When the group of officers had their notebooks at the ready, Hotch began:

“We’re looking for a man in his mid-thirties to late forties. When he’s in these clubs, he will seem confident and charming, even if he is a lone man amidst multiple women.”

Then Prentiss took over, “He is voyeuristic, hence why he is targeting strip clubs instead of approaching a prostitute. He likes to watch his victims perform, see them with other men before he makes his move.

“Outside of the club, he is less confident,” said Y/N, “He may present himself as heterosexual, probably married which is why he can’t target these men during the day. Going into the city likely means that he lives in the suburbs.”

Morgan continued, “His sexuality is warped; violence is what produces sexual release in his mind. The strangulation method, using a belt, shows that he doesn’t have enough strength themselves to take out their victims. He has to get their complete vulnerability before he can strike.”

Spencer turned away from his map to point to the evidence board, “He is targeting young men, strippers. Some of his victims were prostitutes. They were all brunettes, slim build, all performed on a stage in a nightclub the night they died, and witnesses have confirmed that they gave dances to men and women.”

“This unsub is escalating,” Rossi concluded, “The first attack was five days apart; the last was only two days. These are vulnerable people who need our help. Let’s catch this guy before he hurts any more people.”

A few hours later and Y/N was paired up with Emily at Focus. Drinking water in opaque glasses, they moved subtly to the music with their eyes steady across the club’s topography. The debrief played over and over in Y/N’s mind.

Although, his mind did stray to the fact that it was odd being in one of these clubs again. Being on the other end too, as a “customer”. Not disconcerting, just odd.

“Leather jacket, three o’clock.”

Over the rim of his glass, Y/N followed Emily’s direction and found their suspect. He was looking at a woman who was giddily on the receiving end of a lap dance.

No.

He was looking at the dancer. The man who was sporting some body paint that blended well with his tiger print shorts.

“You got eyes on him?” Emily spoke under her breath.

“I do.”

The suspect passed the dancer gradually, sauntering whilst making steady eye contact. Then his head snapped in the other direction and he walked right out of the club, still unhurried. The dancer’s stare lingered after him before he finished up his routine, flirtatiously thanked the ladies for their generous tip. He walked in the direction the suspect had gone.

Without speaking, Emily and Y/N were next to leave after the suspect. Their guns were drawn once the cool air of the night hit them through the back exit. A streetlamp’s light threw the two men’s identities into silhouettes. Emily and Y/N approached with as much stealth as the bare alleyway would give them before Emily made the call.

The suspect reached out to the dancer and Emily shouted, “FBI! Hands where I can see ‘em!”

The suspect looked more annoyed than surprised or scared of the guns pointed at him, “Hey, woah, what’s going on?”

“Hands up!” Y/N repeated sternly.

Y/N got the suspect in handcuffs not seconds after complying, Emily moving over to the dancer to check that he was alright.

“Derek?” The suspect screwed his features up, straining to turn and look Y/N in the eye.

Y/N cut him off, “Shut up.”

But still, as the suspect was dragged over to the cop car parked at the kerb, he remarked, “You’ve grown into your big boy pants.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Rossi unlinked his fingers and pressed them into the case file, pushing the photograph across the table to where Fabian O’Conner was sitting. The Encore club’s new manager had kept up his act of being more irked with the officers than intimidated. He was sloppy in his body language, especially after only five hours sleep in a cell and another hour in that uncomfortable chair, not taking any of Rossi’s questions seriously. All Fabian talked about was his club and how shit things were for him in the last fortnight.

“I’ve had three cancellations alone this week!”

Behind the glass, Emily looked to Y/N, “Why’d he call you Derek?”

Y/N was about to lie through his teeth when Hotch’s mobile trilled on the desk.

“Hotchner… OK… alright, we’ll be on the scene right away.” Hotch hung up and looked grimly at his team, “There’s been another murder, at Potential.”

JJ pointed at Fabian who was swinging on the chair’s back legs, “Well, it wasn’t him, so either he has an accomplice or we got something wrong in the profile that meant the unsub slipped past unnoticed.”

“Prentiss, JJ, Morgan, let’s get to the scene,” Hotch instructed, “Reid, Y/N, stay here, keep us updated on what Rossi gets out of this guy.”

As he watched his colleagues exit the building, Y/N wiped his cheek with the back of his left hand, “I’m gonna make more coffee, Spencer, you want any?”

“Please,” Spencer replied, looking over his shoulder with that white people smile he’d nailed over the years. Tossing a thumb’s up in his direction, Y/N headed off to get them their drinks.

“Why would he kill at the risk of losing business himself?” Reid asked him when he returned, sliding the paper cups onto the desk.

“That’s what doesn’t make sense to me,” said Y/N, “Fabian’s all about business. Plus, he’s the straightest guy I’ve ever met, don’t think he’d be within fifty miles of comfortable leaving these bodies naked.”

Before Spencer could ask how Y/N would know something like that, his phone rang out and he placed it on speaker phone.

“Garcia, whatcha got?”

“An update on that evidence of yours yesterday,” She spoke, “The tie is a very specific kind. Limited edition at Hermès, bought recently online. The paper trail leads us to a Mr Andrew Lowenthal who lives not a mile away from the city. Prentiss and Morgan went to go check out his home.”

“Brilliant, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, boy genius.”

She hung up before Spencer could but Spencer was already off on a tangent: “Limited collection, they’d stand out to the owner, so maybe they’re left as a message for someone.”

“But who?” Y/N asked the obvious.

He tapped his pen against the post mortem report that hid the corpse’s photographs. Something about those ties just stick in Y/N’s head. They kept reminding him of the ex-boyfriend in Gone Girl, his aversion for all the ties Amy bought him. The same ties Amy used to ruin his life, and that same ex-boyfriend couldn’t say anything at all about it.

Unfortunately, Rossi couldn’t get much more out of Fabian and he was let go. The alibi he’d given was checked out and found to be watertight. Apparently he was just looking in his competitor’s club for a dancer who had left Encore a week ago.

The investigation proved to be more fruitful outside of the station however when, a few hours later, JJ appeared with her notebook, “This girl Emily and I interviewed yesterday, she won’t tell me her real name, but she was there today at Focus. Says she saw a woman this time, a woman walking with Daniel into the alleyway behind the club.”

Hotch’s phone was heard entering the building before he was, buzzing in his palm before he promptly answered once in the room, “Emily, you’re on speaker.”

“So Andrew Lowenthal was home. Get this: he’s gay.”

“What?”

“We caught him packing his things to move out. Andrew came out to his wife Marcie recently and she reacted badly, threw a fit, accused him of cheating. Andrew says he’s been meeting with a man, a stripper, he won’t name him but he says they’ve been working through understanding his sexuality. Who can say if he’s really cheating or not, but this all came out a fortnight ago.”

Morgan continued, “Right when the killings started. Marcie won’t ask for a divorce, she’s threatened to out him though. She’s been staying out late as well on the nights the murders happened.”

Hotch looked at the case file in front of him, up at the geographical profile up on the board.

“Alright, thank you. Come back to the station.”

“The reason the unsub got away is because we thought the unsub was a man,” Y/N sighed as Hotch hung up.

Hotch was quick on the contradiction, “We can’t rule out Andrew yet. All the witnesses so far have said the victims were seen a man.”

“Yes, while they were at the club, but they were killed after work in the alley, not in the private rooms they rented!” Spencer pointed out the security tracking the movements of the victims next to his map, “After she, the unsub, had confirmed that these men would dance and, in her mind, sleep with other men!”

“He’s right,” Y/N supported, “It’s how the unsub would verify that her next victims were involved in homosexual activities. I should have thought of that sooner.”

Garcia was up on the phone immediately, searching for Marcie Lowenthal amidst the security footage. The genius that she was, it only took her a minute to find the new suspect at every single crime scene. The clips appeared on the laptop screen and played, this time with a box around the woman’s face to bring her out against the rest of the image.

“Marcie Lowenthal,” JJ pointed to her image on the screen. Garcia was correct, she had been right there, at the corner of each photo printed off from the other clubs

JJ carried on as the conversation between Daniel and Marcie unfolded onscreen, “Around the middle of the night, approaches Daniel, arranges to meet him outside in the alley once he’s finished work.”

“And we thought she was just too nervous to instigate a dance with them,” Derek bit his lip hard, “So what do we do now? She’s not at work, she’s in the air until she kills again. She’s been escalating, so she’ll kill again tonight.”

It was then that Y/N decided to jump in with the idea he had been brewing since his second cup of coffee:

“I could go undercover in one of the clubs.”

Hotch stared for a moment at Y/N, clearly caught off guard by the outburst, before speaking in that collected drone of his, “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Each club is hit once, Encore is one of two potential spots left, the unsub is escalating so they will be at one tonight. It’s “Boys in the Buff’ at Encore tonight, so likelihood of them being there is high compared to Potential’s ‘Dollar a Drink’ gimmick, OK? It’s just a suggestion. If we have another plan, I’m all ears.”

“You fit the MO, but how would you even blend in?” Spencer asked.

The next bit came out a lot easier than when Y/N had expected.

“When I was here during college, I used to be a stripper at Encore, before I worked in the FBI. ‘Derek’ was my pseudonym. Fabian was a bouncer at Encore before he became manager.”

The wave of expressions changing throughout the room were significant: jaws slacking; a little lift in an eyebrow; most notably, silence.

Rossi walked into the room, completely ignorant to the tone set by Y/N’s revelation, “Marcie Lowenthal’s next move is at Encore. She’s building up to Focus where her husband has been going. Garcia tracked his car’s GPS to that club five times in the last month.”

“So, what you’re saying is that Encore is the next step and then Focus,” Y/N fidgeted with his pen.

Hotch turned back at Y/N and in his usual calm and collected tone he spoke, “Tell us what you need for this.”

“I’ll need an hour to warm up, a slot on stage, and a guy to dance with then take to a private room. And some hot pants.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Encore was empty, the stage free from dancers, the bar barren.

It was always weird to look at a club when it was empty and all the normal lights were on. Even more so that it had been redecorated in Y/N’s hiatus from Portland, highlighting how surreal it was to be back.

Y/N climbed up onto the stage and surveyed the empty seats. Then he began to warm himself up. A grunt escaped him every now and again, fighting against his stiff joints. Thankfully, the BAU was another job that kept fitness levels high as a necessity.

Humming his chosen song, Y/N began to test his flexibility against the pole. Muscle memory brought back his techniques one after the other. He repeated one of his old routines in broken segments, saving the transitions for last before he was ready to properly rehearse it. With a sigh, he took off his button up, leaving only the tight spandex that wrapped his crotch in a deep cherry red.

“Nice package.”

Mimi was watching from the side of the stage, her heels dangling by the straps on the tips of two fingers. A fond smile played on her lips, one that grew into a toothy grin filled with genuine glee as she approached him.

“Hey!” Y/N finally retorted, though there was that same playfulness in his voice that meant he didn’t take the comment on his junk to heart.

“Hello,” Mimi gave him a warm embrace, “What are you doing back here, you idiot?”

Y/N settled for the excuse of needing a few extra bucks and figured it would be nice to join in the gender equality of male strippers. Mimi didn’t seem convinced.

“You choose that now? When all those guys in the other clubs are getting murdered?”

“I’ll be sure not to follow anyone the alley. Are you doing ok?”

“All good.”

“Really? I’ve seen you at some of the crime scenes, talking with the FBI.”

“I’m safe, especially with my girls.”

“Speaking of, it’s ladies’ night, what are you doing here?”

“Just picking up something I forgot,” and she poked him in the centre of his chest, “Good luck tonight.”

Y/N rubbed that spot as she left the club, “Thanks.”

Not much else happened between Y/N finishing up his rehearsal and the club opening. The conversations in the dressing room was soon drowned out by the din of eager customers waiting.

To say that Y/N was more nervous about dancing in front of his co-workers – his actual co-workers, not the other dancers – than performing in front of a serial killer would be an understatement. He had gone to the toilet three times in the last ten minutes. And that was saying something; the men’s loos were beyond disgusting.

On the steps up, he could see Emily was at the bar with JJ. They looked normal enough. Two gals on a night out to a strip club. A quick scan found Derek near the door with one of the bouncers. Hotch and Rossi were hidden in the security room, and the other agents at their aid were outside with civvies over protective gear. Everyone was watching as the announcer introduced him as “Derek” for his walk across the stage. Whoops and whistles followed him as he preened for the women in the seats down below.

Then he found Spencer. For once, he was dressed like he was from Las Vegas. Loud colours splashed across his shirt, clashing with the strobe lights. But he definitely stood out as one man amongst tens of women.

And thus began behaving “normally”. Y/N’s head space allowed him to move with ease throughout the groups of women to make it towards Spencer, who had already locked eyes on him.

His hand was shaking a little as he touched Spencer’s shoulder going past. It was a repeat of an action he’d seen on one of the tapes: keeping eye contact with a potential wallet he could dance for before pretending to drop interest.

The look between them was another matter. Eye contact was something that made the both of Y/N and Spencer nervous, but not when it was with each other. That comfort that was oft shared across the table at a meeting still comforted Y/N as his hand fell from Spencer and back to his side. The warmth of it spread through his body and gave new life to his confidence. He was safe. His team were all here. He was going to be fine. He was going to be brilliant.

The first up on the stage to perform was a man, taller and buffer than Y/N, dressed as a fireman. He swept a woman from the audience off her chair in the middle of the routine.

The second was a trio of oiled up men, weaving in and out the front row between exaggerated erotic dance moves. It was a bit of a laugh, goofy with the hen do at the front egging them on.

And now it was his turn.

“Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and then see what we find?”

Y/N took his time stepping up to the pole, using the sultry slow beat of the music to his best advantage. Knowing most of the club had their eyes on him was horrendous and enthralling simultaneously. The next four minutes were crucial for attracting the unsub.

He performed a reverse grab to face his audience dead on.  Hung gracefully upside down, still moving around the pole.

The murmurs of awe were appreciated but not what the unsub was looking for.

Time to up the ante.

Dismounting the pole, Y/N dragged a chair into the centre of the walkway. He pretended to survey everyone at the front of the stage before landing on Spencer. There, he knelt forward and held out his hand. As soon as his grip reached Spencer’s wrist, Y/N pulled him up and onto the chair.

In position, he ignored all the women screaming in the crowds, ignored the fetishization at their expense. He focused on Spencer. And that awful shirt.

He kept an inch between them for now, but Spencer wasn’t tense as he had imagined. No, Spencer was lounging back, and basking in the performance. The smile on his face, it was daring Y/N to move closer.

Spreading his legs to stand between them, Y/N touched him first. He could feel the padding of Spencer’s bulletproof vest beneath his shirt’s soft fabric. At the ends of those lovely arms (the ones often hidden beneath those cardigans) Spencer’s hands twitched.

Y/N backed up against him like he had done with the pole. A cinematic parallel the women definitely appreciated. Bringing those long legs back together, Y/N made himself comfortable on his lap, a fingertip facing the threat of being cut as it dragged along Spencer’s jaw. That prickle of stubble sparked against him. Their faces so close that his lips so close to brushing over Spencer’s, barely any space for the crooning of the possessive lyrics to reach between them. Straddling Spencer gave Y/N even more confidence. He continued to tease Spencer, taking in the smell of the sweat from the light’s heat and his skin’s flush, bolded in bright pink. His lips at his throat, they dragged across the swell of his Adam’s apple that quaked beneath him as Spencer swallowed.

They heard a whistle from the crowds that was almost definitely from JJ, spurring on the crowd to react louder. But over their roars, Y/N heard a gasp fly from Spencer. His eyes instinctively drifted down to look at Spencer’s open mouth, down further at where he was sat. Even if Y/N couldn’t feel everything, the trousers were doing nothing to hide how Spencer was feeling.

Bills were flying onto the stage floor. Y/N continued to play his part, arching his body to ripple against Spencer’s. But Spencer caught his hip, his bottom lip now bitten as he let out a groan, low enough to not be heard over the music’s closing bars. But it was clear that his reaction sparked something in the audience. Y/N leant back to survey his handiwork, twirling a loose lock of Spencer’s hair around his finger in the space between them. Then his hand drew away and left that hair in his face before climbing off him and walking off the stage with a blackout - bar one pink spot left on Spencer.

The second he was off stage, Y/N turned around and watched from the wings. Spencer rose from the chair and took a little bow. He bowed again much to the pleasure of the crowd. As he walked down the steps, Y/N could see that he was very clearly aroused.

Y/N made his way out as soon as the audience’s attention was on the stage. He knew the unsub would still be watching Spencer, now stood at the bar and sipping from a glass. It was hard not to feel the sting of a serial killer’s stare as he approached Spencer with a coy smile.

“Hey.”

Turning to face him, Spencer finished his drink before speaking, “Hello, Derek.”

“Hope you enjoyed yourself up there.”

“I did.” And he leant against the bar leisurely, his hand pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket, “Any chance of another round? Without the crowd this time.”

Plucking the money free with one hand, Y/N beckoned with the other, “Right this way, sir.”

Both men could see the unsub watching them in the reflection of the ceiling, following them until they filtered through the beaded curtains. Spencer went into the private room first. Y/N closed the door, trapping them in a room of mirrors and flooded pink light over a disco ball - music only muted slightly on the tiny speakers. The epitome of sleaze.

“The unsub followed us here,” Y/N dropped his act and the dollar bills onto the couch arm, falling into one half of the seat.

After a moment, Spencer sat down beside him. The cuffs of his trousers hitched up, revealing the Reid Special that was mismatching socks. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment.

“Uh, what happened out there…”

Spencer struggled to find the words so Y/N jumped in, “Don’t even worry about it. You’re not the first guy to pop a boner when I’m dancing.”

Even with that reassurance, Spencer was tenacious in explaining himself, “I want you to know I wasn’t creeping on you, and that I was focused on the situation at hand. It’s just, when an attractive man is mostly undressed and dancing like that right in front of me -” he paused to look at Y/N for the first time since they’d entered the private room “- Well, that was the most natural response.”

“I get it. It’s all good.”

Spencer, the germaphobe, perching on a couch that was definitely not up to any kind of sanitary standard, wearing that horrendous gaudy shirt, decided to strike up conversation.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Become a stripper.”

“Kept me fit during college and the tips were good.”

“Then why’d you quit?”

“I wanted to be an agent more than I wanted money.”

Eventually the wordless drone of EDM faded and Shook Me All Night Long began to beat across the room. Y/N jumped right up onto his feet, his hands open and out for Spencer to take, “Come on, up. No way to pass the time like dancing. And I’m not talking the kind from onstage!”

Spencer’s frown was hilariously contradictory, “We are tracking a serial killer, who likely has you for her next target.”

“I know, but we’re in a private room, and we’ve got another fifteen minutes at least to pass. We can’t do anything else, so up!”

“Y/N, I don’t dance. You know that.”

Sighing, Y/N’s head lolled back then rolled around to look Spencer dead in the eye, “Think logically. You need to leave this room, looking like you’ve just gotten the lap dance of your life, all hot and bothered. Either you get up and dance, or I’m gonna have to get in your lap again.”

Spencer blinked, “I know you think that’s a threat, but it’s really not.”

That caught Y/N off guard, and again when Spencer stood up and began a very awkward, very out of time two-step. Y/N let Spencer’s words go to focus on getting him more pumped.

“There we go! Let your body do all the talking.”

“My body is telling me to sit down.”

“Well… Ignore it then. It’s just us!”

Now, when his dances were coordinated like the one he had performed on stage, Y/N was rather good. Dancing outside of the stripping profession however was not his forte. One might even say he was worse than Spencer in this regard. Somehow the random arm movements alongside the bouncing on the balls of his feet were classified as “dancing”.

Spencer couldn’t laugh; his efforts, once he matched the energy, were no better. His curly hair jumping just a little delayed, that one lock that Y/N had pulled onstage still separate, he tried the headbanging like Y/N suggested. It was somewhat terrible, but not completely.

It was midway through the second song that the men fully allowed themselves to enjoy this silly moment in the sea of seriousness.

Only when Locked out of Heaven faded into more EDM did they stop for breath. They went halves on the couch and soaked up the temporary respite.

“Can’t imagine if it was Hotch in here instead of you,” Y/N panted. Spencer let out a little wheeze at the notion as he continued, “Not to undermine the importance of the job but I was glad it was you I was going undercover with. And I think you’re quite attractive too.”

It only took a fraction of a second for Spencer to understand what Y/N was referring to at the end. With a surge of confidence, he replied, “Only quite?”

“No offence to that exploding rainbow of a shirt, but I prefer you in your usual button-up and tie.”

They shared so much in that moment. Smiles, breath, honesty, the couch, endorphins. It went beyond the eye contact across the conference room’s table.

In a spike of nerves, Spencer reverted back to a constant in his life: facts.

“You know, dancing is meant to improve problem solving skills and reduces cortisol – a stress hormone – in the body. Furthermore, Dr Lovatt proved that dancing helps with social bonding. The synchrony involved in dancing to a beat along with other people is a powerful way for humans to connect.”

Y/N propped his head against his hand, arm leaning on the back of the couch as he watched Spencer’s facts unfurl.

“I didn’t know that,” He said quietly, “But it explains why it made me feel better about going back out there.”

“You weren’t nervous though. You weren’t tapping.” And Spencer pointed to Y/N’s hands, still as the rest of him.

Flexing his fingers before relaxing again, Y/N dared to look at Spencer again, “It’s why I said I’m glad I’m undercover with you.”

Spencer held that look, just for a little longer than before, checked his watch, “I guess we should get going if we wanna catch Marcie Lowenthal.”

“I suppose we’ll have to do our jobs,” sighed Y/N, only half joking.

Just before he was about to leave, Spencer was stopped by Y/N, who proceeded to untuck Spencer’s shirt and pull the end of his belt out of the loop.

“Make sure she sees you looking like this.”

Spencer gave him an incongruously polite nod before exiting. Once in view of the unsub, he made a show of adjusting his appearance before going to the bar to get another drink. Y/N took his time before coming out with the stack of bills tucked into his hot pants.

His dancing continued but back to its regularly slutty program. It was an hour with a hen do, six women who were tipsy and very liberal with their dollars. Sometimes Y/N found JJ and Emily while he was blending in, and though he couldn’t smile, and neither could they, he felt that safety net secured. Safer still when he passed them by on his way to the bar where Marcie Lowenthal was nursing a beer in a flower-patterned shirt and black skirt.

She was the one who initiated contact, stroking over Y/N’s arm to get his attention as he passed.

“Hello,” Marcie leant over to speak in his ear, “I enjoyed your dance earlier.”

“Thank you.”

“You versatile?”

“I can be anything you want.” And Y/N touched her waist, “I can make you feel good.”

With a catlike grin, Marcie leant in to whisper, “When do you get off?”

“Doesn’t matter if I do, it’s all about you, darling.” She let out a bark of laughter before Y/N managed to answer her question properly, “I finish in an hour.”

It was then that he realised Marcie was gripping his arm tight, “Meet me outside, in the back alley, in fifteen minutes.”

The team was right; she was escalating, devolving now that she was planning the murder before the night was done.

Y/N kept up the mask of intrigue, though he was cringing into himself underneath. “In here not good enough for you?”

“I like it dirty.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you there.” He winked before heading towards the dressing room.

His palms were a bit sweaty. That soon changed as he stepped outside in just his pants and a button up he’d brought for this very occasion. The alleyway seemed empty, aside from the unsub waiting by the dumpster. But Y/N kept faith that his team was ready and waiting nearby as he approached Marcie who was wrapped up in her leather jacket.

It was when she reached for something in her pocket that the hem lifted and Y/N saw the belt around her waist, hoisting the skirt up over her hips. About one and a half inches wide.

From her jacket pocket, Marcie procured a silk tie, “I like my men seen and not heard.”

“My safe-word is ‘alligator’,” Y/N said before opening his mouth.

Silk never was his favourite form of gag; it was too soft, too soggy once in the mouth. Marcie tied it roughly around the back of his head, causing Y/N to grunt and again when she tugged again with another around his wrists. Then he felt it. The cold tip of a blade pressed against his stomach.

“Turn around,” Marcie spoke through gritted teeth. A glance behind her and Y/N could see the shadows of his fellow agents gaining on them. Complying, he turned around as slowly as possible. The tip of the knife dragged across his skin.

“FBI! Marcie Lowenthal, drop the knife!“

Derek’s booming voice caught Marcie off guard, the knife breaking the skin of Y/N’s lower back.

“Drop it!” Hotch stated with less volume but just as much authority, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Drop the knife and step away from him,” Emily backed up from the other end of the alleyway, taking a step towards them.

Seeing that she was surrounded, Marcie crumbled and dropped the knife. It clinked away somewhere to the right. The team swarmed on her.

“Hands in the air, on your knees!”

The grind of handcuffs snapping around her wrists was the cue. Y/N ripped the gag from his mouth and began untying his hands; he was quick to pass the agents and officers to get on the street. There, he placed the tie in an evidence bag on his way out of the alleyway. Spencer, FBI vest atop his stripy shirt, held out Y/N’s coat for him. He thanked Spencer. He kept his “now I look like a flasher” comment to himself.

Lowenthal did not go quietly, not even as she was forced into a cop car to be driven to the station.

“Straight people are fucking headcases,” Y/N muttered to himself as he ducked around various onlookers.

“The tie,” Emily remarked as she saw the second one being examined, “It was her first anniversary present to Andrew. The others were ones purchased after he found out he was gay.”

“And Andrew couldn’t say anything about her behaviour or else she’d out him,” concluded Y/N.

With a nod, Emily touched his shoulder, “You alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” and Y/N squeezed her hand before heading over to the club – hopefully for the last time. By the corner of the building, he found Mimi waiting and watching.

She spotted him and spoke quickly, “You take care of yourself.”

She pulled him into a hug. Y/N had enough time to say “you too” before breaking away and joining the team to drive back to the station. Mimi had already vanished from the scene by the time Y/N was looking out the passenger window, driving by the hubbub of Encore.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Thankfully, Y/N was granted the opportunity to change before getting on the jet home – as was Spencer. Both were in their comfort clothing: a hoodie and joggers, and a cardigan paired with slacks respectively. Claiming the couch, Y/N curled up around his pillow and rubbed over the bruise that he could feel growing on his shin. His friends were occupied with their own activities. Everyone was too wired to sleep.

“Get many tips?” Emily joked about fifteen minutes into the flight.

“I did alright, and no wank stains on ‘em either. Makes you rethink your career choices?”

“No stains? That’s how you know you’ve hit the big time.”

“I’m a luxury few can afford.” A pause followed as Y/N thought on the money tucked into his bag’s front pocket, then he addressed the cabin, “Y’all better not think any less of me because I used to strip.”

“Of course not,” JJ spoke up immediately, and a wave of agreement swept through the cabin.

“We’d never judge you for that,” Rossi added.

“Good,” Y/N stood up in the middle of the aisle, “Feel free to judge me for keeping these though.”

And he dropped his joggers to reveal a pair of hot pink hot pants with “BABY SLUT” in sparkly letters on his rear – just visible below the hem of his black FBI hoodie.

Instantly JJ and Derek exploded into splutters, Derek fumbling with his phone to take a photo. Emily was well on her way to laughter as she gawped and grinned. Spencer was hiding behind his book, his eyes peeking over the top. They were crinkled at the corners so Y/N could tell he was smiling. Even Rossi and Hotch had the tiniest of smirks that lit up their eyes with mirth.

“Look at you, Hot Stuff!” Derek cheered.

“Think this is a better uniform than the vest? Alright,” Y/N held a hand up to Hotch who had either opened his mouth to speak or had just forgotten to control his jaw, “I’m putting them away.”

Just like that, he pulled up his jogging bottoms again and fell back onto the couch, as if nothing ever happened. He was pleased as punch that he could joke about this with his co-workers and not at his expense.

A spare glance landed on Spencer, who had dropped his book into his lap and was suddenly very interested in the cuff of his left sleeve. Y/N made no comment but felt very pleased that he’d gotten another response from the doctor.

Sitting in silence, he folded his arms around the pillow, pulling it into his chest. That silence continued until they had landed and were back in the office to drop off the paperwork, ready for revisiting tomorrow. That was when they were alone, when Y/N made his move to speak to Spencer.

“Hey,” he started, drawing Spencer’s attention away from his shoulder bag, “I am sorry about all the touching on this case. I know you don’t like it.”

“Oh, I didn’t mind.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Spencer’s eyes widened and his hand reached out as if to grab them from the air and drag them back, “I, um, I mean I understood that you had- it was necessary for your cover to remain intact; you don’t have to apologise.”

Y/N couldn’t really do anything other than blink. It felt a little formal after their previous interactions, more awkward after the “attractive” comment they had shared.

“Good, no bad blood?”

“Not at all.”

Walking away from the desk when Spencer dragged Y/N’S attention back with a burst of words, “A-And I wanted to say I don’t care that you were a sex worker. In fact, I think you’re brave. Not just on this case; going up to on that stage when you were in college, dancing for all those people, and doing that with a serial killer last night, that took a lot of guts. I really respect that. You, I respect you, Y/N.”

God, that was attractive. That flow of words that were often statistics or fact Spencer had tucked away in that brain of his, something Y/N never wanted to interrupt and it was admiration, understanding, for him.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

Then Y/N remembered something else. The front pocket of his bag was unzipped and he held out the bills to Spencer, “Kept your private room refund stain free.”

The brushing of fingers during the exchange of money filled Y/N with more butterflies than the entire outing in the club.

“Thank you.” Spencer tapped the bills between his thumb and forefinger, looking back to Y/N, “Maybe I could buy you dinner some time, with this stain free money.”

Y/N bit the inside of his cheek to restrain his glee, yet still a comforting smile beamed at Spencer, “I’d like that.”

---> ---> ---> ---> ---> 

“Real intimacy is a sacred experience. It never exposes its secret trust and belonging to the voyeuristic eye of a neon culture. Real intimacy is of the soul, and the soul is reserved.” ― John O'Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

[purplesurveys]

1167

surveys by emptyliketheocean

Brand of cigarettes you smoke? I don’t smoke cigarettes, or at least I never buy my own packs.

Should you be trusted with a person's life? Idk, that’s for them to decide.

How's your life in general? I lost two relatives from Covid this week alone. So, not very dandy. Still in shock. Waiting for it to all finally crash down so I can grieve and mourn properly. Scared of more losses and hoping there aren’t any more to come.

Have you ever put lipstick on anything besides lips? I don’t wear makeup, but when my friends have put some on me in the past there were a couple of times they dabbed lipsticks on my cheeks.

Have you ever picked a fight you knew you would lose? Metaphorically speaking, yeah. I don’t get into physical fights.

What's something you think is crazy about the world? The concept of centibillionaires and the fact that there are multiple ones who exist.

What do you think about religion? I think the only upside to it is how it has helped save lives for some and how it serves as a guide for others to spread good in the world. Like if your religion has given you purpose and strength, that’s great. But ultimately, I’m not a fan and I most definitely don’t think religion is necessary to be a kind person. In fact, I think it works the opposite...most of the homophobes, misogynists, pro-lifers, and sexists I know are from the Christian faith. Cringe.

What about when religion causes violence? Well I definitely have a bone to pick with this lol. The only reason the Philippines is predominantly Catholic today is precisely that when the Spanish arrived, they used violence to forcingly convert Filipinos - who were then living in peace with their own culture, government, and religion system - to Christianity. And now we’re ‘celebrating’ 500 years of Christianity in the country this year, which was always so off to me because why are we celebrating colonization lol????????????? But anyway, yeah, that is another issue I have with religion. I want nothing to do with it.

What color is one of your hats? I have an off-white summer hat but I have literally never used it in public because it’s huge and it’s 100% going to draw attention.

How do you feel? My shoulders are sore and I’m feeling slightly irritated because of them. I’m also starting to get a bit hungry.

Have you ever gotten in trouble for laughing? A few times.

Something that makes you smile: Free food.

What do you think about surveys with lyrics as the title? Surveys with random lyrics usually end up being the ones with interesting questions, so I actually am more likely to check it out.

Do you have any clothes with small holes in them? Maybe one or two.

Do you think the way you live is really okay? I think I am already quite fortunate with what I have considering what others don’t, so it’s definitely been a while since I have complained about anything during this whole Covid situation, living-situation-wise. Even though we’ve lost a few things, like having to sell one of our cars and with my mom being retrenched, we still get by and have a roof over our heads with working water and electricity and a stocked pantry; and I make enough money to hand a portion of it to my parents twice a month and still treat myself with things I want. There is nothing to bitch about.

Do you know anyone other than a cop who has ever owned a cop car? No.

Have you ever felt fire? No, but electricity, yes. I’ve been shocked before but that was also my own fault lol.

Have you ever seen a person light themselves on fire? Jesus no.

Have you ever used crutches when you didn't need them? Yes. I used to horse around with Katreen’s crutches when she injured her legs in 3rd grade, when she wasn’t using them.

If you had 15 beers you would be: Dead.

Are you as bored as I am? No, I’m good.

Why are you taking this survey? I feel like it.

What would you say if a person asked you why your face was so messed up? “How do you want me to react?” Easiest way to shut a person up and passive aggressively tell them to watch what they say.

What would you do if your first love asked you back out? Be very confused and ask why the sudden decision.

What's your home life like? It’s very routine, due to having to stay at home. I work a 9–6 on weekdays, follow that up with dinner, and use a few hours to scroll through social media until it’s time to sleep. Then on weekends I use the free time to recharge by taking surveys and watch videos of whoever and whatever I’m interested in at the moment. Just waiting for all of this to blow over so I can finally do the things I’m meant to be doing.

Do you have a talent that you don't do anything with? I don’t write a lot for myself these days. I do write frequently for work, which is great - press releases, event scripts, all your PR essentials - but I don’t get stimulated enough since everything is written in the same tone. I really should pick up a notebook and pen soon...

Do you know anyone that is a lesbian? Yes. Not that she’s in my life anymore.

What do you think about your mom? I think she tries her best. But I wish she were more emotionally in touch. And that she starts being politically correct.

What do you think about your dad? He’s worked hard and continues to, and I appreciate all his efforts; and I can’t wait to be able to buy him all the things he wants.

Which parent do you respect the most? Who do you think? Hahahaha.

Is there anything someone could lie to you about that you couldn't forgive? I suppose, like cheating.

--

Who do you love unconditionally? My two best friends.

Pick an element. Oooookay? Zirconium.

Have you ever wasted a great amount of time and felt horrible about it? It always feels that way on weekends these days because there’s only so much that can be done while stuck at home because of Covid. But I do try to justify it by telling myself I already work too hard during weekdays so it’s ok to bum around at home and do nothing, because using the time to recharge is still productive. 

What is something that's been said about you that isn't true? My mom has said a lot of hurtful things directed towards me that I internalized for a very long time, but I’ve since gained the strength to no longer let those words get to me.

Who do you want with you when you're scared? Anyone who can be calm while I’m not.

Know any bands that not many people have heard of? Many of the punk bands I listen to are virtually unknown on this side of the planet.

Do you have any advice for people in general? Don’t be racist.

What's something you like to do in the summer? Complain about the heat.

What's something you like to do in the winter? We don’t get winter here, but I’ve always thought I would love snow if I ever saw it, and that I would probably make a lot of snow angels and play snowball fights.

What do you think about marijuana? I don’t have a strong opinion on it as it’s still a very taboo topic where I’m from and I’ve also been lacking on research. I do know people who use it for recreational purposes and I’ve never been against that.

Do you wish anyone death? Just politicians.

Have you ever felt like you weren't getting anywhere with a person? Yes, it felt that way for a long time. I just was too afraid of confrontation to do anything about it.

What do you feel for the person you first fell in love with? Resentment and a whole lot of nothing.

Where are you? I’m in my bedroom.

Are you waiting for something? Hmm, not necessarily.

Who is someone you just think has a hole in their brain? People who still think Covid is a hoax.

A candy you like? Gummy anything.

Does any part of your body hurt at the moment? My shoulders and neck, hence the neck pillow I’ve since put on while taking this.

Explain how you got the last bruise you had. I honestly have no clue. I currently have a big black circle on my right thigh that just suddenly showed up, and I can’t recall a time I must’ve hit it somewhere.

Are you tired? A little bit because I got up as soon as I woke up, but I wanted to maximize my free time this Sunday before another work week starts. Last Friday would be our last non-working holiday in a while and we’re not getting another one until August. :(

Explain how you got a scar you have. A distant cousin hurled a glass jar towards me when I was 3, during a family reunion. He initially went for my eye because I guess he wanted to blind me, but he missed and ended up hitting my eyebrow instead. My mom has since banned him from talking to me ever since, and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him since the incident.

Have you ever owned anything illegal? Illegal copies of movies I’ve torrented, sure.

What do you dream about? The most random scenarios. I’ll get the occasional nightmare, but those only happen when I’m going through a period of depression.

Do you ever daydream? Not anymore these days.

How do you feel about vegetarians? I don’t really think anything of them. There are days I’ll particularly feel for them because there aren’t a lot of restaurants with good vegetarian options where I live, though.

A fruit you like: Avocado, in very limited options.

Have you ever seen a person eat a bug? Only bugs that were already prepared a certain way and meant to be eaten; but I’ve never seen a person that just picked up a bug off the ground and went straight to chewing. I imagine I would freak out and gag.

Something you worry about too much: How much is in my bank account.

How do you feel about smoking? I hate how the smell clings to your clothes and all your things when you’ve been smoking or when you’ve been around people who smoke. I also wince when people pose with their cigarettes just to look badass and cool; but as someone who’s since picked up vaping as a habit, my once-intense hatred for smoking and smokers has since changed lol.

If you had to move out of state, where would you go? I would move to a big city. Somewhere noisier and with a lot of lights and foot traffic and general activity.

What is your favorite vampire-related movie? The Twilight Saga hahahahahaha

Is there a person you keep coming back to? My best friends, I guess?

If you're listening to music...Give me a lyric from the song you're listening to. I’m not listening to anything.

[jackdawyt]

With Dragon Age 4 still quite a few years away, given it's expected 2022-2023 release window. I've been reflecting and thinking retrospectively about how long Dragon Age 4 has actually been in development. And so, with that question, here I am on a quest to try and answer it.  

This investigation has been put together for the betterment of everyone in the BioWare community, including myself, plaguing the developers with infinite questions regarding what’s next for Dragon Age and when will we hear something about the next game.  

If we, as a community, can understand at which point BioWare are with the development of the next Dragon Age, then perhaps we’ll have more grace and patience as we support the developers with their hard work and dedication to creating the next game.  

We’d have some appreciation, all the while garnering an understanding of how long this game has left in development.  Yes, for our sakes, but also for BioWare’s sake. We need to see if EA are giving the Dragon Age team enough time for them to create the Dragon Age game they want to make, and nothing short of that.  

And that’s exactly what I want to uncover in this video. With that, let’s begin. it's no secret that the next Dragon Age game has already had quite the tumultuous time in its early stages of production:

The previous iteration known as 'Joplin' was canned and has been rebooted for 'live service elements'.

The Creative Director and 14-year BioWare Veteran Mike Laidlaw left the studio, along with his vision for the next Dragon Age game.  

Shortly after that, the Lead Writer and 17-year BioWare Veteran David Gaider left the studio to pursue other games design avenues.  

Not to mention the anxiety and panic attacks the developers faced ensuing Anthem's development.  

Although all of these factors point to disaster and worry, and they can lead to mixed feelings about the next game in production, I can assure you that there's still plenty confidence and hope for the next iteration of Dragon Age 4:

The developers working on the next Dragon Age game are creating the next with "an eye to what the fans love about Dragon Age, which is easy because they love Dragon Age."

The Creative Director of 'Morrison', the latest iteration is Matthew Goldman, the previous Art Director of Dragon Age: Inquisition.  

Plenty of BioWare Veterans are still in the studio, working on the next Dragon Age title such as Patrick Weekes (15 years), John Epler (13 years), Caroline Livingstone (12 years), Mary Kirby (13 years), Graham Scott (13 years), Mark Darrah (23 years?), Parrish Ley (14 years), Lucas Krisjanson (22 years), and many more legacy developers!  

There's been signs of improvement within the working conditions at BioWare, Casey Hudson personally has been getting involved with solving these issues. I've seen a few developers sharing tweets that they're enjoying working at BioWare, and they're eager to share more on the next Dragon Age game. I'll share even more on this topic in my next news video coming end of May! But it seems that the developers are staying on top, and positive for the next Dragon Age.  

Regardless, I'll take any chance I can get to inspire folks that the next Dragon Age game is in the right hands and BioWare are aware of what the fans expect from them. Let's move on to the main investigation of this video, to examine the next Dragon Age game’s development process.  

Ironically, the next game hasn't officially been announced, according to many of the developers at BioWare, yet EA have already given the project an initial release window of 2022-2023. One of the main questions I want to answer by the end of this video is, do BioWare have enough time to create an epic Dragon Age game, with that strict deadline mandated by EA?

Well, in order to answer that question and understand the production stages the game is currently at, I'm going to have to begin at the start by revisiting Jason Schreier's "The Past & Present Of Dragon Age", which I know we've talked about a lot, but it's the biggest indicator on Dragon Age 4's development. So, here we go.  

2015:

Following Dragon Age: Inquisition's Trespasser DLC release in 2015, Dragon Age 4's previous iteration began its very early stages of production. The plans for the next game were very exciting, and some of the developers had put their best work into it.  

The project was called 'Joplin' and it would've centred on spies embarking on heists in Tevinter, smaller in scale then Inquisition, however, much further in depth, choices and consequences. And there was an emphasis on repeat play, having the player's visit previous areas again, with new content.

2016:

However, the first major bump in the road occurred in 2016, one year after development had started. Mass Effect: Andromeda required all hands-on deck, and so many members of the Dragon Age team were moved to work on Andromeda, they're even mentioned in the credits of Andromeda as the 'Dragon Age Finaling Team.'

2017:

After Andromeda's release in March 2017, it was back to working on 'Joplin' for the majority of the shifted developers. For some developers, it was refreshing to get back to working on the next Dragon Age. However, it wasn't long before BioWare's next releasing title - Anthem was suffering through development troubles. By the latter half of 2017, Anthem was in real trouble, and so EA took drastic action.  

In October, 2017, EA cancelled Joplin's development and moved the bulk of the project's staff onto Anthem. With two years of development on a project that will never see the light of day, Mike Laidlaw departed BioWare that same month.  

Alexis Kennedy was previously working on 'Joplin' too, however, according to his LinkedIn profile, he left the project in October too. It seems his work only extended to 'Joplin' and will most likely be scrapped as well.

Towards the end of 2017, as the majority of "Joplin's" core team went to work on Anthem, a very small skeleton team stuck around to work on a brand-new Dragon Age project under the new title 'Morrison.'  This team will have consistent of developers like Patrick Weekes, who was anointed the role of Lead Writer since David Gaider departed. Other key developers working on the foundations of 'Morrison' in 2017 included: John Epler, Matthew Goldman, Daniel Kading, Matt Rhodes and many other talented designers.

It's unknown how much of "Joplin's" previous work will make its way into 'Morrison', surely a project with production escalating over two years would have some worthy elements that could be added to 'Morrison'

As it stands, we don't know if the games will share the same vision, or if any of the same key mechanics, concepts, story threads, etc, have made their way into Morrison.  

All that is known about 'Morrison' is that the game has been rebooted with Anthem's codebase, so the developers aren't starting from complete scratch, they'll have somewhat of a preset of the Frostbite engine that can act as Dragon Age 4's very foundations. However, unlike Joplin, this new version of the fourth Dragon Age is planned with a live service component, built for long-term gameplay and revenue.

A few developers working on 'Morrison' stated that this game will change drastically in the next two years, however, that's been the case with every Dragon Age game. The point is that the project will take many different shapes until it feels like a Dragon Age game.  

2018:

So, we know that this project reboot happened around the end of 2017, with a very small skeleton team going forward following a slightly new approach, and a new Creative Director. This is the new Dragon Age 4 that was later teased at The Game Awards in 2018. However, unbenounced to us at the time, we didn't know the game was rebooted, and therefore, as fans do, we presumed that this title would release soon.  

In actuality, when 'The Dread Wolf Rises' teaser dropped, the new iteration of Dragon Age 4 had only been in very early development with a small team for about a year, hence why we still haven't heard, or seen anything of this project since. the game's production stages had barely started.

Not only that, but the teaser wasn’t supposed to act as an announcement, but more of a message to the fans that something is happening with Dragon Age.  

2019:

Anthem shipped in February, 2019, and following its release, the Dragon Age developers who were shuffled to the Anthem team back in 2017, then went back to the new iteration of Dragon Age in May of 2019, including the Executive Producer, Mark Darrah.  

The Dragon Age team; fully operational with all hands-on deck, could begin to wrap up its pre-production stages, and start production development. We discovered a few key production stages last year in my massive 2019 news roundup, things like voice acting, concept art, and potential 3D models.

Fernando Melo left the studio in August of 2019, stating that his work of “guiding the team through EA’s concept and early production phases” had been complete, and he felt it was the least messy time to leave the company. This proves that indeed; the title has begun production stages.  

2020:

With that, we can safely say that Dragon Age 4's production has continually increased, as the project makes its way through many core development stages.  

To this date, the game has recently had script readings for scenes, some of them being romance moments. Animations for a dog-like companion. Something about coding 'Scriplets' and plenty more of tidbits, that if you're interested be sure to check out my latest news video.

Conclusions:  

So, in an attempt to work out how long Dragon Age 4 has been in development... If we do some quick maths, it seems that project 'Joplin' was in development for around two years, between 2015 - 2017.

Therefore, project 'Morrison' has been in development for around 3 years, given that it started in 2017 - present.  

However, from late 2017 to early 2019. the work on 'Morrison' was pre-production. The main production stages began in May 2019.

So, 'Morrison' has been in pre-production for approximately 18 months, with the production stages starting around a year ago, in May 2019.

With its release window of 2022-2023, can BioWare successfully create an epic Dragon Age title? Is this enough time for the developers to create the best Dragon Age possible?  

Well, I'm not one to leave you with rhetorical questions. If we look at Dragon Age: Inquisition's development, a game that I'd consider to be a Dragon Age epic, that served the fans supremely well.

In a 2014 interview with Mike Laidlaw, conducted by UK newspaper The Guardian:

Dragon Age: Inquisition's production had been about three years, but taking in the early concepting, it would be four years. As studio general manager Aaryn Flynn kindly pointed out, that’s about 10% of Mike's life.

If we go by that measure, 'Morrison' with 18 months of pre-production and one year of full production, and two to three years of development left before an initial release window.... it sounds quite plausible that BioWare could pull this off. 

Although BioWare have their work cut out for them, I have hope that they can deliver an amazing Dragon Age game dedicated to the fans. With plenty of time spent on the pre-production stages, hopefully the team has learned from Anthem and Andromeda's rough early stages, and they've conceptualised the development enough, that production can carry on at ease.  

And regarding Joplin's two years of previous work, I hope that at least some aspects of that project's production went into 'Morrison', the core concept alone sounded like it could've been the best Dragon Age game to date, and with so many developers pouring in some of their best work, I truly hope that it all hasn't been canned and it can make its way into the next Dragon Age game.  

Regardless, I have a news update in the works for the end of May as I mentioned before, there's still plenty of tidbits coming out, and as I stated in my Tinfoil Tea Party podcast, I'll be doing news videos before the first of every month when we have enough, well news... In April, we got a fair bit, but May has been epic so far. So, stay tuned for that!

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

First | Previous | AO3 | Next 

Master List

Chapter 11

It's not the MT

Silent Hill: Nightwing and Robin have gone to Paris.

It’s a Nara: Do you know their motives? We are not aware of any crime or related crime network between Gotham and Paris

Silent Hill: Red Hood told them about the MT

Almost pretty: Corvus should pay him a visit and shoot him in the knee

Three balls: with real bullets

Plasticine: or a rocket launcher

Wild goat: Can I go? So I can test my confetti grenades

Silent Hill: I think that sense of humor fits in well with Gotham

Needle: With the rogues

Olive: I totally approve of any kind of aggression against the nosy man

Great mother: If you do something illegal, make sure no one knows it was you

Almost pretty: the boss has spoken

Divine gift: It’s my duty to remind you that you must be investigating, if the foreign watchers have affairs with us, we will know in due course. Let's not do anything rash.

It’s a Nara: He’s right. I'm going to check the security cameras for any sign of them… Is Nightwing wearing his own outfit or did he come as Batman?

Silent Hill: Batman can't leave Gotham

The Antibiotic: Do you think if I get on a roof I can get a Nightwing autograph?

Wild goat: If you get on it, maybe Byakko accidentally shoves you into the void

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

Marinette sighs as she watches the group chat, foreign vigilantes while she and Felix have plans to get out of Paris, just wonderful, but she can't stop to think about it. She must first speak to Damian and then prepare for her travel.

She's heading towards her son's room, she can hear the little barking of the puppies as she gets closer. Adult dogs are used to sleeping in a room set up for them, except for Ícaro, the Australian Shepherd, who likes to sleep with Damian when he visits (which means that there will now be five dogs in that room, alongside Picatso, Dafne prefers to sleep with she). She knocks on the door and before long, he opens it, wearing only his pajama bottoms because his shirt is being used as a bed by Ringo.

"Is something wrong, mother?" Damian opens the door completely for her to enter, ignoring, for the moment, his previous fight against the cubs for his kidnapped shirt.

"Yeah... Tomorrow I will go on a trip with Felix, we will go to Turkey."

"Why?"

"Oh well, it's... there's a prodigy in Turkey and it seems like a demon wants it, so we'll find it before it becomes a problem." She explains, she was about to tell him about John, but with her out of the country, there was nothing to prevent him from discovering his identity and she doesn't know what could happen for his small Machiavellian head.

Marinette loves her child, but she can't quite predict it right now. Luka, a divine gift for her, explained that Damian doesn't want to be taken away from her and that he fears that someone external can achieve it, that he desperately clings to the only person who loves him for what he is and that if they take him away from him add more weight, separate he from his new family; that she represents his whole world. He also explained that it will take a while for him to get used to receiving people outside the MT, especially if they seem to show interest in she and that after Michel Laforet, well, the boy doesn't have a good impression of men. Although he showed bewilderment about his reaction for his two new clients, since he was openly hostile and he could not give him a definitive answer, but that he would analyze his behavior to help him go through the process he's living.

"I see... why don't you take me, mother? Am I not good enough to accompany you on your missions?" She sighs to see his hurt look and sits on the sofa in the room, inviting him to sit next to her, he immediately obeys and sits down, allowing himself to be embraced by his mother.

"It has nothing to do with anyone's abilities, if it did, it will lead other team members not only to Felix." She explains, beginning to pat her son's head, looking up at the ceiling as she decides to explain herself better and be totally honest with Damian. "When I founded the MT, I had been working alone with Felix for a while we were looking for evidence to convict Gabriel Agreste once and for all, we found so many charges that the prosecution would have a field day in the case... so that our victory was bitter because someone stole the butterfly brooch..."

"Mother, why are you telling me that? I know the story. ”He interrupts, not understanding Marinette's intentions.

"I know, you know the origin, but not the process." She responds with a nostalgic smile. "We spent half a year locked up cursing the person who dared to steal the Miraculous and realized that, as heroes, we could not hunt it without attracting attention... Hence the first idea of the MT arose and we founded it officially a week after the last Gabriel's trial, along with Kagami and Tomoe, who joined Luka soon after. Adrien decided not to be an active part of everything, but he became an unofficial member a year later because of his desire to find Nathalie's murderer, becoming an informant and investigator, everything that we could not take, he did it by getting a job modeling in the city where I was supposed to go. "

Damian did not know that, he believed that Agreste was affiliated with the MT just because he was previously one of the heroes, but, considering that not all the old Miraculous wearers are related, he should have considered another possibility (especially since the old wearers still wield a prodigy and he doesn't). He credits him for his commitment and intelligence to have a reason to go to those places, that also explains why he has been modeling for so many brands (some very strange ones like a brand of sardines with yellow peppers, he still remembers the jokes in the chat about his sardine costume).

"After we had an initial team in place, we started building our local network and expanding it using my grandmother Gina's connections, before long we were up and running and took Tomoe's recommendation to build a stronger team, in part for our work and so that the prodigies would have more places to be transferred… Each person who associates with the MT and proves to be loyal, receives the tattoo of the guardians. "Damian goes away to see his mother, that is something that he didn't know,  why? "That is why everyone knows magic, although not everyone is compatible..."

"Why don't I have it?"

"Because I wanted you to have options, not because you are my son and part of the MT means that you must bear that responsibility. I took you out of an organization where you were against your will… I wasn't going to put you in another, that's why we didn't introduce you to training until you asked for it. "Damian doesn't know what to say, is she taking his decisions into consideration? Does he want to be part of it in the same way as the others? He doesn't know, because he doesn't know what it means to be a guardian, but if he ask, his mother is sure to explain and give him all the time he need to make a decision.

"Why are you telling me now?" It's the only thing he can ask, he doesn't understand how conversation came to that.

"Because it's one of the reasons I am not taking you to Turkey." He understands, that is a job for them as guardians and he's not one, it should be obvious, but he still feels displaced. "The other is directly related to the history of the MT... I learned to work with Felix, we both know what to do and we don't stop, we create our own system over the years. We have had our difficulties, like four years ago in Liverpool, but here we are... And we just need to learn to coordinate us, for you. "

Marinette draws him back into her hug, this time placing a kiss on his head.

"What is the reason for the nicknames in the chat?"The question surprises Marinette, he was complaining about it, especially since his is Olive.

"Protect the identities of informants affiliated with the MT, that is, those who received a tattoo, but who are not part of the official registry."

"Is your lover one of those?"

Marinette smiles in amusement, of course her child would start tying up dots. Taking into account that they are traveling almost unexpectedly (he knows when it's so and it not a planned one, because she would have warned him in time) and for that to happen he must have found out very recently, that is, the day before and that day was see to John.

"Yup... And I won't tell you what his code name is." He just clicks his tongue, there are four users whose identity he doesn't know: God Shit, Not in Hell, Guardian Angel and Silent Hill. It could be any one of them, but he's noticed that Silent Hill maybe a girl, so he dismisses it. Returning to the users, only one is active, the others have not spoken to date, despite the fact that they are registered and that makes it more difficult... especially since man is related to magic, the occult and those things, hardly he can dismiss one and only because he's sure Guardian Angel is too bright for someone he know deals with demons, leaving him with the last two.

"I'll find out eventually. "He declares and Marinette knows it's true, one way or another he will. She hoped that didn't imply any international problem, considering that John lives in England.

"I know." She hugs him tighter before releasing him. "I wish it lasted longer, but I have to finish packing... Rest, Damian. I will come in the morning to say goodbye, I love you. "

Marinette gets up, but not before leaving another kiss on her son's head and then leaving the room.

Damian watches her go and his head begins to form a plan to take advantage of his mother's departure.

He will find the lover and question him (he will also threaten him a lot).

----------

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

It's always a pleasure to contribute to a good cause. Istanbul wait for us.

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

I also want to travel, how unfair it's to be trapped in Paris

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

The vigilantes of this city feel very happy or maybe Batman is too gloomy

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@TheFlyingGrayson Probably, although Green Arrow can be very gloomy when he wants

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@TheFylingGrayson yes, well, it's that Batman is the living reflection of Gotham... gloomy and a piece of shit

-------

Damian gets up early and rushes into his mother's room to get Plagg out and talk to him, the night before he placed an order for various types of gourmet cheeses and his beloved Camembert cheese (specifically Camembert from Normandy), to please the more exotic tastes of the little god (especially since he has money that he doesn't use and has been accumulating for too long and this was a strategic move for information).

He takes him to his room, Longg is already awake and looks at him without much surprise, deciding to ignore the situation, knowing that he's a boy on a mission, the best thing to do is wait and advise him in a timely manner.

"Plagg, I need you to tell me the name of my mother's lover."

"Boy, as much as you want to say it, I won't betray... What's that?" The little cat asks noticing that the computer screen is on a website that he knows well, that's where Marinette asks for some cheese on occasion.

"That is the cheese order I made for you, if you tell me the name, of course, otherwise, I will cancel... All those cheeses that mother only allows you to eat once every three months, lost by a man." Damian smiles when he sees the excitement shining in Plagg's green eyes, he is sure he will say him.

"Did you ask for Camembert?"

"The original, Camembert of Normandy. "

Plagg is in conflict, so many delicious cheeses at his fingertips.

"When you get back from Turkey, they'll be here waiting for you." Damian keeps pushing for the name, he needs to know it, and besides Felix, Plagg is the only one who knows him and the little god is easier to convince. "You just have to give me a name. "

"FINE! Don't torture me, boy. "

"So?"

"John Constantine, blond, out of the same hell. You will recognize him immediately, he never quits the damn cigarette. I don't know how Marinette enjoys being with him, it's all the unpleasantness of humans combined in the same man. ”Plagg says wearily. "I better see those cheeses when I get back or I'll cry with Marinette about how cruel you were to me. "

"I think we all know that's impossible." Longg intervenes from his location, away from both of them. He watches with a little amusement the interaction of both, he knows that to obtain that Plagg decides to cooperate normally requires less moral methods. "It would be more credible that you were cruel to my dragon. "

"I can use blackmail, however, you're warned, boy. I can also cause nightmares. ”Plagg leaves the room to give his warning, returning to Marinette.

Damian smiles and goes back to bed satisfied, waiting for his mother to say goodbye and to plan how he will get to that man to talk. He pulls out his phone and starts checking group chats, Not the MT is always one of the most active, although Let's save Adrien is also usually enough active when they plan crazy and ridiculous ways to get rid of Lila Rossi, Adrien's wife.  Among the most extreme forms is sending her to hell or offering her as a sacrifice to some ancient god in America, although he knows that they will not do that, because only his mother can and she doesn't approve (she also scared them telling her about how everything can go wrong and condemn them all to hell, no one ever mentioned it again later.)

After a while finishing reviewing all the conversation that followed about the vigilantes and as the other heroes they know or admire got sidetracked, he leaves his phone aside and lets Picatso jump on him purring happy to be petted, the puppies seem they share the idea and they also get into bed... the best they can, although their jumping skills leave a lot to be desired, at least they are creative dogs.

Several minutes later, after feeling sorry for Ringo and putting him to bed, Marinette, completely groomed, gives him a funny but affectionate look before fully entering and sitting on the bed.

"Felix will be here soon, do you want to have breakfast with me before I leave?"

"Of course, mother."

She smiles and takes Titus in her arms to carry him with her, Damian takes Ringo when he gets up and Milo jumps out of bed to go after them, with Picatso following close behind. Ícaro continues sleeping.

-----

Bruce Wayne is Batman

I can jump from eighth floor and survive: Who changed the name of the chat?

I'll rest when I die: The same one that changed our names ... at least it's right

Hell rejected me : I think it gives us more personality than our names

I can jump from eighth floor and survive: Ok?

I can jump from eighth floor and survive: So! Since we will spend several days in Paris, I thought it would be good to wait a little to see the routes without them knowing about our presence

Hell rejected me: So yeah you are going to show up

I’ll rest when I die: It seems so, although from what I discovered patrols take turns in pairs or trios, last night only the sighting of Byakko and Genbu was recorded.

I’ll rest when I die: And last night it was Pyxis and Caelum

Nothing escapes me: They must have a very well protected base of operations, perhaps magic, I identified a network that connects all of Paris, but not the source

Nothing escapes me: I deciphered the accessible code, but it's incomplete. I don't think I can go any further

I can jump from eighth floor and survive: That only tells us how competent they are, I think we can get to know them and not meddle more in their affairs

Hell rejected me: Considering that all your interest is sexual, yep it's posible

I'm not Batman: What are you talking about?

--------

Max is not usually frustrated much, he has had to develop his patience and mental strength to solve the problems he encounters, but among the attempt to find the source of the MT by an unknown hacker (although if he must guess it must be related to the bats) and appreciates the magical defenses that only allow just a bit to crack all the code, just the general parts that don't show anything from the entire system. Of course, he could hack back and issue fixed, preventing him from trying again, but his priority is developing a new algorithm for butterfly detection, the old one was unfortunate when tested with one of Duusu's feathers (being that they share the same characteristics).

He has not slept the last twenty-four hours and is beginning to resent, but he must wait for Marc's arrival to be able to drop into one of the beds at the base for a little nap, if someone else comes with him, much better, so they can check all manual while he rests.

With Marinette and Felix going on a trip, it's inevitable that the leadership will fall into the hands of Chloe, who seems ready to go to war at the first hint of the butterfly (also Kagami, but she's leaving more ready to go on a murder mission).

This is not how he thought everything would go, they had seven years of preparation and at the moment of truth, none of them really knows which direction to take. Marinette and Felix are very determined to analyze the whole situation from a general perspective, looking at each variable and, while he agree, most of the team seems to want to just go after the thief and take away the jewel, without fully considering that this new villain's way of acting is much more lethal, his Akuma are well thought out to generate problems for them if they make any mistakes, as happened with the last attack if it wasn't for the second chance they would have lost (Luka explained what happened).

"Good morning..." Marc comes in yawning, his hair totally disheveled and still wearing his pajama bottoms, but with a dark blue sweatshirt on. He decided to sleep at the headquarters the night before to facilitate his arrival, in the same way Luka and Alix, because their work schedules allow it (advantages of being their own boss).

"Good morning, today you can dedicate yourself to review the surveillance cameras... although so far none have caught the butterfly."

"Okay, I'll check."

"I'll leave you then, I'll go to sleep... will you wake me up when breakfast is served?" Max gets up from his chair and feels his bones creak with movement, resentful at his disuse.

"Sure." He smiles sleepily and adjusts himself to the vacant post, ready to manually check each camera, starting with the ones closest to the last Akuma and starting to rewind to, perhaps, identify something.

He spends about three hours like this, watching the video tapes of at least four cameras from where the Akuma originated, noting that the butterfly is arriving and then the giant rhomb is present, but when he looks for the route... he only loses it, as if it had just appeared near the victim's residence.

There are multiple cameras in that area, but there are still blind points, if someone knows the exact location, they should be able to position themselves in those places. Could it be that the new villain was close to his future victim? Will he live there or did he decide to run to the place? If it's the latter, it makes him bolder than Gabriel, that's for sure, but it should make him more sloppy and still they are unable to find a clue.

According to Max, who was reviewing footage, the first Akuma came out of nowhere. No camera records the butterfly that should have come from somewhere.

So for him there are only two viable alternatives and neither is positive for his research.

Still, the possibilities are various and he can only guess the villain's line of thought.

[gaymortagokat]

What Drew Did During the War   ArtofPadillaAZ

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom:

Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan,

The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Silena Beauregard & Drew Tanaka, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano/Drew Tanaka, Silena Beauregard & Clarisse la Rue, Will Solace & Drew Tanaka

Characters: Katie Gardner, Kayla Knowles, Drew Tanaka, Clarisse La Rue, Will Solace, Lacy (Percy Jackson), Valentina Diaz, Mitchell (Percy Jackson), Frank Zhang, Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), Percy Jackson, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, Nico di Angelo, Octavian (Percy Jackson), Piper McLean, Gaea (Percy Jackson), Leo Valdez, Jason Grace

Additional Tags: Blood, Blood and Injury, Violence, Slight canon diversion, Minor Character Death, Drew is a healer, she is actually good at it, Charmspeak (Percy Jackson), One Shot

Series: Part 3 of Shared Secrets

Summary:   Set during the final scenes of Blood Of Olympus, Drew serves as a medic under her estranged friend Will. She's a fast runner and manages to weave through the fighting with ease. She patches up injured and brings other runners supplies. When the fighting is over she has a moment with Reyna before returning to her cabin to clean up and sleep.

It's not directly related to the Shared Secrets series but is what I had in mind when I wrote it.

Drew knew a war was coming for days, weeks even. She remembered the battles the Ancient Romans fought from world history courses that briefly covered the Greco-Roman world, Egypt, and the Indus Valley. If Camp Jupiter was anything like the old Roman Empire there was going to be a lot of injuries, and not to mention Gaea was trying to kill them all. So Drew spent the last few weeks training. She wasn't a fighter, but she was a runner. She could run for a long time; during spring break, she had participated in a 10K and finished in just under 50 minutes (49:55 to be exact). Drew had done that run with zero extra weight except for the mp3 strapped to her arm. Drew has spent the last few weeks training to carry a backpack filled with anything she might need to stabilize an injured person long enough to get them to the Apollo Cabin or at the very least away from the fighting.

She ran different routes every day pushing herself to go further each time. She weighed down her backpack with rocks she picked up around camp and filled it until she could feel it's weight but left it light enough to not make her lean forward like she had to do with her school backpack. She had even used the weighted backpack to strengthen her arms and legs, and after about a week and a half she felt stronger. 

Each day got closer and closer to the fight against the Romans and Gaea and the day The Seven, Percy and Annabeth, Jason, two Romans, a tiny not so funny Latino who kept trying to flirt with her, and her slightly younger, daughter of a movie star sister, were supposed to save the world. The closer Drew got to that day the more determined she became to do a good job. She didn't want to lose another sibling and didn't know what she would do if she did.

The day before everything was supposed to fall apart Drew went to see an old friend, Will Solstice. They hadn't been particularly close the last few years, but she figured he would be expecting her. After all, he taught her basic first aid and how to use unconventional items as a tourniquet or splint (in return Drew taught him how to repair torn clothes and how to use a flat iron).

Drew found him taking inventory of all the medical supplies available in the med bay. "Hey, Hon, I need some supplies for tomorrow."

The curly haired blonde jumped and Drew snickered quietly. "Gods Drew. Learn to knock."

"Sorry, my schedule is a bit full."

"I'm sure you would have time if you cut a few minutes off your gossip time. You said you needed supplies for tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"I can't give you them, you know that. The day of anyone providing medical care receives a bag with prepackaged supplies."

"I know that. But you and I both know I'm the fastest runner you'll have tomorrow and many will decide to fight instead. You'll have extra bags."

"That better not have been Charmspeak, Drew."

"Oh please. Why would I use Charmspeak to convince you of the truth?" 

Will thought for a second, his bright eyes taking in her expression while his brain decided her level of honesty. "Alright," Will decided, "I'll give you supplies. Come on." Will motioned for her to follow him.

He led her to a shelf containing gauze and medical tape. "Open your bag. I'm just going to toss things in and we'll organize once I've got everything."

Drew listened and held open her bag. They moved along the shelves as Will tossed gauze, tape, liquid bandage, rulers, rope, Neosporin, pre cut cloth, medical stapler, extra staples, antiseptic wipes, containers of ambrosia (liquid and solid) and other medical salves. 

Will looked at the overflowing bag, "okay that's enough." He sat down where she was standing and Drew followed.

They organized the supplies, and as Will placed them in the bag he told her her instructions for the next day. 

"You probably won't need the Neosporin until after the fight- only use it on smaller cuts and burns after they've been clean. The gauze is for heavier bleeding, use the cloths for lighter stuff if necessary- '' Drew of course knew all of this but a final reminder was always helpful. "Rulers and cloths are for splints. Cloths are also for tourniquets. Stapler to reattach limbs- remember a bit of ambrosia with major injuries. Liquid bandage for smaller cuts also to be used after all the fighting and once a cut is cleaned. Hence the antiseptic cloths. If you need to give stitches always rinse off blood so you can see. I didn't give you any supplies to give stitches. I know you have things that will work. The salve you will probably use after as well. 

Tomorrow, I want you to handle the more major injuries. You see something. Just go to it. You can get to them faster than anyone and with major injuries and grave injuries every second makes a difference. Stabilized them then get them away from the fight. Do your best to get them to someone who can look after them. And please, Drew, have good bedside manner. A calm voice can do a lot to help people relax. And last but not least have a water bottle on you. You're going to be doing a lot of running. I don't need you passing out from dehydration."

"Alright. Thanks Doll. For the supplies." Drew stood to leave slipping on her backpack as she did so. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Drew."

"Night."

Drew exited the cabin and made her way to her own. She walked past Hephaestus and Ares kids as they rushed off in various directions to set up more defences along the camp's border. They have been doing that for days. Aries kids laid landmines near one of the predicted entrances the Romans would take while Hephaestus kids with some help from the Athena Cabin built and set up blockades at strategic points.

Drew twisted the knob to her cabin door feeling the cool metal on her palm and releasing a heavy sigh from deep in her chest as she pushed open the door. Inside the cabin were all her brother's and sisters- she slipped off her shoes and went to her bed. Her siblings were laying out their clothes for tomorrow. Drew followed her siblings lead and grabbed running shorts with a 6 inseam, a light sleeveless shirt, the most comfortable sports bra she owned, running socks that had a second layer at the toes and heel, had arch support and would rest above her ankles (every time she wore no show socks something went wrong on her run), and her favorite running shoes. Her favorite running shoes matched her shorts (turquoise and pink). They were her favorite brand because they consistently were breathable, comfortable, and beautiful. The first pair she ever wore were from Silena.

About four summers ago Silena arrived to camp a few days later than usual with a loosely wrapped box. When the two of them had a moment alone Silena smiled softly and handed Drew the box. "I'm sorry it's wrapped poorly. I was in a hurry."

"It's alright, Silena." Drew hooked a finger under the paper and pulled. When she opened the box she saw pink running shoes.

"They're trail running shoes. They'll work a thousand times better than your Vans."

"Thank you Silena. Can't wait to use them."

"I hope I got the size right."

Drew checked the inside tag. "You did."

"Do you wanna go on a run tomorrow morning?"

"Only if we go swimming after."

"I think we can."

Drew smiled at the memory. Since that summer Drew always came to camp with trail running shoes. She set her shoes and clothes on the foot of her bed and laid down. She closed her eyes listening to the occasional chatter of her siblings. They were quieter today, but Drew guessed that was what happened when people were preparing for war.

"Drew" -One of her brothers said carefully- "are you awake?"

She opened her eyes and sat up. "I am. What's wrong Hon?"

"What's going to happen tomorrow?" He asked. He was three years younger than Drew and had arrived at camp the last year. If it wasn't for the impending fight Drew would have considered him lucky for having never known anyone who has died in a demi-god related battle.

"Tomorrow most of the campers will be fighting. And when it's over many will have various injuries." Drew said simply.

"But what will it be like?"

"Loud. Lots of yelling. You'll hear cabin leaders giving orders, and you might get a bit disoriented."

"You're our cabin leader. Won't you be fighting?"

"No. I'll be pulling injured from the fighting."

"What does that mean for us?" Another sibling asked.

"I want you all in pairs at the minimum. Look after each other. If you want to fight I won't stop you. You'll partner up with another cabin if that's what you choose. If you don't want to fight you'll be treating the wounded. Pulling people out of the fighting and patching up wounds until they can be seen by any member of the Apollo Cabin. If that's what you want to do, look out for siblings and others doing that job. It's a solo job but do your best to know where others are. And when the fighting is over and everyone is in camp borders we all meet back here. No exceptions."

The siblings all nodded. No charmspeak was necessary for them to do what Drew wanted this time. 

"We all need sleep. If you're not done preparing for tomorrow you have five minutes then all lights are being turned off." Drew laid back down and closed her eyes once more. 

In the morning Drew started her day with stretches. There was no telling when her job would start and it was important to have her muscles warmed up unless she wanted to pull something after running for a short period of time. Once she was finished she met with her cabin for breakfast where she had something high in sugar and fulfilling.

The next several hours passed in anxious waiting. The Romans and the monsters standing behind them were closer to camp than they ever had been before, and the number of monsters had grown double what they were when Drew saw them last. Drew had snuck out of camp to see them days earlier. If they weren't intimidating then with their silhouettes outlined by the sun they sure are now when they could attack camp at any moment. 

Will gathered all his medics in the early evening and went over their job. Drew looked around at the group. There were a few of the youngest Apollo, Athena, Iris, and Demeter kids, and half of her cabin. Drew was the oldest having just turned 16 before summer began. She was also the tallest and the only one not wearing leg and thigh guards and arm guards since she found the metal to be restrictive.

Will finished speaking and everyone split up to head to different points where the battle was predicted to take place. Drew stayed behind to find out where Will was going to be.

"Drew. What's up?"

"Just wondering' where you'll be?"

"I'm on sabotage duty. We're going to try to take down as many catapults as possible. Just remember to go where you think you're needed, and here," Will pulled out what looked like a thin metal box and held it out to her.

Once it was in her hand she recognized it. A butterfly knife. Drew looked at him quizzically, "What do i need this for?"

"Just in case. I w-" yelling outside camp caught their attention. "I got to go. You need to head out too."

Drew nodded and they both ran off. Drew pushed past the Cave of the Oracle and Thalia's Tree towards the farm road. The closer she got the louder the fighting became. Just before the road was Camp Jupiter holding a line. Behind them was a line of monsters. They weren't moving. Just watching. A figure In front of them appeared to be the one giving the orders. He said something to the person next to him and disappeared into the army of monsters.  A scream nearby caught her attention and she ran towards it.

It was an eighteen-year-old from the Hephestus cabin he had been at camp since before Drew first arrived, and he had taken an arrow to the knee. Drew knelt at his side. "Hey," Drew said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, just breathe. I'm gonna get you out of here."

"Drew?"

"Yeah it's me-" Drew wanted to use his name knowing it would help him calm down, but she simply did not know what it was. "-Sweetheart. I have to get this arrow out of your leg then I'm going to heal you a bit and get you out of here."

She pulled out a container of cubed ambrosia, gauze and opened the butterfly knife. One hand held the shaft of the arrow while the other tried to snap off the arrow head. She could hear the wood creak as she tried to carefully remove the metal. It wasn't working. "Screw it," she muttered. She gripped the metal firmly and pulled hard. The arrow head broke off with a snap and the son of Hephestus groaned in pain.

"Sorry Hon. That was just the easy part. I need you to stay as still as you can." She placed a small piece of ambrosia in his hand and closed his hand. "Don't eat this til after the arrow is out."

He gave her a small nod. Drew pulls her hand straight up as fast as she could. Blood poured from the wound for a few seconds until the ambrosia took effect. The worst of the damage was healed. Drew wrapped his knee then put the ambrosia away. 

She held the knife in one hand and helped him to his feet. He was heavy. Drew adjusted the weight and began walking. Their first few steps were shaky and they had both nearly fallen, but they worked out s system. They walked at least forty feet away from the battle. Deciding it was a safe enough distance, Drew helped him sit down under a tree.

"Stay here. Someone from the Apollo Cabin will finish healing you."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem, Sweetheart. I've got to go, but you stay safe." Drew closed the knife and jogged off. 

It wasn't long before she saw another camper on the ground. A few others stood in front shielding them from further injury. Drew increased her speed. She dodged a few Romans and zipped around her fellow campers. 

She recognized this camper too. He was younger than her, and had been at camp maybe a year now. He dated a brother? Or a sister? Maybe it was both? Drew wasn't sure. 

"Drew, thank gods! You gotta help me."

"I plan on it." She looked closely at him, finding only a broken arm. "You got a broken arm. I'll set it. I don't recommend still fighting."

The splint was easy to make even with the unconventional supplies. The hardest part was focusing long enough to finish it. She was closer to the center of the fighting and the three peers protecting her and the younger boy were actively fighting Romans. Metal hit metal and rang in her ears uncomfortably. "Alright, you're done. I gotta go. Try not to break anything else."

They both stood and went their separate ways. Drew ran to the next person and the boy returned to fighting but moved further back. 

She finished setting a broken leg and was in the middle of pulling the girl to her feet when two of her siblings stopped her. 

"Drew, we can take her back. There's someone bleeding that way."

"Well why aren't you two heading over there?!"

"It's nearly a mile. We'll never make it." The ‘on time’ went unsaid.

"Alright. I left someone back there," she pointed the direction where she left the Hephestus kid. "It's away from the fighting."

"We'll take her there." Both her siblings took the girl from Drew, and as soon as Drew was free she began running. 

There was no guarantee she was going to make it on time. She had no idea what this person's injuries were like. She made her way through the fighting. She ran a few minutes and ended up in the area with little fighting. Looking ahead she spotted a group of 3 kneeling around something she couldn't see. Figuring it was the injured she was told about. She sped up, and Gods she hated being right.

There was blood. A lot of it. Coming from the arm. A sister's hands were covered in it. Her sister looked up at her, blue eyes filled with fear. "Drew, thank gods. You gotta help us. The bleeding has slowed, but we don't know what else to do."

Drew looked between the three trying to save the mystery campers life and noticed none of them were wearing a backpack. "Alright. One of you needs to move over."

Drew reached in her backpack and grabbed ambrosia, gasuse and medical tape. She handed the ambrosia to the person to her left and leaned over to press the gauze on the cut. "Did you give them some ambrosia?"

"Yeah."

Drew lifted her hands and checked the wound. "The bleeding has stopped but it's still open. Give them a little bit more." She looked at someone else. "There's antiseptic wipes in my bag. We have to clean off some of the blood if the tape is gonna stick."

They got the area around the stab wound cleaned and were taping down a new sheet of gauze when her sister said "What is that?"

They all followed her gaze and spotted monsters and dog headed men and Centaurs. They wore the symbol of Camp Jupiter, but it was obvious they weren't campers. They had moved closer to the Roman Campers line and had begun to attack them. Things were about to get a whole lot worse.  

"You three stay here. Protect them. I'll send someone over to help." She zipped up her backpack and left.

She ran straight towards the fighting. Camp Jupiter was getting hit from both sides. She looked around trying to find any one she knew. She spotted an orange shirt and moved towards it. They got knocked down, but not without taking a Roman with them. Drew stood between the two and assessed their injuries. The Camp Half-Blood camper had a dislocated or broken elbow, Drew wasn't really sure she would have to get a closer look, and the Roman had a deep laceration on his arm. She wasn't even sure if she should help him; they weren't exactly on the same side. She remembered the promise she made to herself and what the army of monsters have begun doing. She wouldn't let someone else lose a sibling if she could help it. She knelt at his side slipping off her backpack- "What the hell, Drew!" She reached for the liquid ambrosia and a cloth. "Why you helping him?"

Drew's eyes narrowed. She let a few drops of ambrosia drip onto the cut as she said, "If you haven't noticed, Someone told the monsters to begin attacking. The Roman's are fighting a war on two fronts, and if history has taught us anything they won't last long. It would be better if we worked together instead of trying to kill each other which Gaea wants to do to all of us." She found an antiseptic cloth and wiped away the blood to find that the cut was shallower than before. She put a few more drops of Ambrosia and watched as the laceration became more like  a papercut. "You're all healed now, Hon."

"Thanks."

Drew turned around and did her best to set the broken arm. "There's some campers back there," Drew pointed to the direction she came from, "they might need some help. A camper is down. Blood loss from a cut on their arm. I healed them enough to stop the bleeding but they can't fight anymore. Three others are there protecting them."

"There are three people, why do they need help?" The Roman asked like the concept was foreign to him. 

Drew popped the joint back in place and looked back at the Roman surprised he hadn't returned to the fighting. "Two of them are my siblings and we aren't exactly known for being good fighters." Her words confused him more.

"I'll go," the other boy said.

"You have a broken arm."

"It's alright. Clarisse made all of us learn how to fight with one arm and the other hand."

Drew nodded. "Try not to undo my work."

“I’ll go with him.” The Roman stated.

“Isn’t that technically desertion? A crime if I am remembering military law correctly.”

“The Praetors are missing, my camp is being attacked by monsters and fighting yours because orders are orders. When the Praetors come back just don’t tell them what I did.”

Drew nodded and together they helped the Ares kid to his feet, and Drew handed him his sword before moving on to the next person.

Drew was finishing the knot on the cloth bandage when an explosion caught her attention. She looked in the direction of the noise and saw a mix of dirt and smoke in the air. A second explosion went off a short distance away and Drew realized the cause. The landmines.

She ran as fast as she could twisting around campers, ducking swords and jumping over kicked out legs. A few times she dropped to the ground and slid a few feet. At the edge of the minefield she saw a small group of Greeks were the closest to her off to her left directly in front of her were Romans. A quick glance at the Greeks told her they have a medic with them. A few Romans tried to get closer to the group sitting on the ground. Drew yelled at them filling her voice with Charmspeak, "Everybody stop walking!" She called to the Greeks attempting to give medical aid to one of their friends, "Do you have enough supplies?"

"Could use some more ambrosia."

"Alright, I'll come to you." She looked back at the Romans finding a few of them had moved a few steps. "Hey! What did I tell you!" Drew yelled using Charmspeak once more, "stop walking!"

Drew looked at the ground between her and her peers finding circles where the ground had been disturbed. Those must be the mines. She plotted a path and carefully followed it. She handed one of the campers a few cubes of ambrosia and looked at the larger group of Romans. 

"What are the injuries over there?"

"Uh she's bleeding a lot from her leg and arm. It's bad."

Drew plotted the path she would take step by step. She couldn't take her time. A Roman created a space or her and she dropped to her knees and began to access the damage.

The girl had shrapnel in her legs and arms. The bleeding in her left leg was the most worrying. One of her brothers in arms appeared to have his fingers inside her leg pinching something closed. The leg looked torn apart everywhere metal armor wasn't. The girls pants have been ripped around her wounds to reveal her dark skin. She needed the metal shards removed from her arms and legs before she could be healed.

"What happens if you remove your fingers?"

"She'll bleed, a lot."

Drew nodded and broke off a piece of ambrosia and handed it to the only other person without bloody hands. "She needs to eat this. It will heal her a little bit. Hopefully enough to stop the bleeding but not enough to make her heal around the metal."

She pulled out gauze and the butterfly knife and laid them on the girl's stomach. She grabbed a few larger strips of cloth and medical tape and laid them out as well.

"Remove your fingers slowly."

Drew watched ready to reapply pressure to the girl's leg. The girl was still bleeding, not a dangerous amount. She cut a piece of gauze into a smaller square and placed it over the wound applying the slightest bit of pressure.

"Now we can pull out the metal." She looked at the girl, "we'll try to be quick. Do your best to stay as still as you can."

"We can help." A voice said from behind her. Drew turned and saw the Romans who were trying to get here earlier. Looks like they've figured out how to navigate the minefield.

One knelt down next to her and placed his hands on the injured teen's leg just above her ankle. The other held down her shoulders so they could remove the metal from her arms.

They all did the best they could to pull the metal out with their bare hands. It became more difficult as their hands became slick with blood. Drew found herself wiping her hands on her shirt. A large number of metal shards were impeded deep in the girl's skin; they had to make the cut larger in order to pinch the metal between their fingers and pull it out. The entire time the girl screamed and moaned in pain. She occasionally broke free and accidentally slapped or kicked someone (not that anyone could blame her). 

They had only been working a few minutes when they heard the armies of both camps and the army of monsters stop fighting. Drew looked over confused. She had heard no orders for them to do that. Campers were looking west at the setting sun that had turned the sky orange. Drew followed their gaze and spotted pegasi outlined by the orange sun. And on the lead pegasus was a figure. Drew could make out a cloak sparkling in the sunlight and what could be a long braid, and below the girl and the pegasi was a statue. It was a statue Drew had only ever seen in drawings in textbooks and documentaries. The Athena Parthenos. 

The statue was set down near Thalia's Tree and the girl on the pegasus, Guido, landed in the clearing behind the Greeks. She yelled that she was returning it in an act of peace. Her voice carried to even the person furthest away from her. She wanted the Romans to stand with the Greeks. 

A smaller darker figure ran up to join her. It was Nico Di Angelo. "Listen to her!" He yelled. "Reyna risked her life for all of you!"

It was out of character for Nico to speak in front of a large group of people let alone tell them what to do. Drew had to admit, it was very brave of him. "If you haven't noticed Gaea is rising. If-"

YOU WILL DIE. 

The voice shook the earth. Drew felt her chest tighten as the wind picked up. The ground felt stickier than it had been seconds earlier. Drew looked down and saw the bloody earth bubbling slightly. A bubble popped below her leg and she felt the bloody mixture stick to her leg and move as if it was trying to pull her down. Gaea was officially awake, and they were surrounded.

The Roman girl yelled, "CLOSE RANKS!" Everyone standing rushed to stand shoulder to shoulder with the nearest person.

Some pasty blond Drew recognized as the Roman who led the army to Camp pushed through his auxilia troops- the monsters Drew understood to be the ones everyone was concerned about. The ones that had the Romans fighting on two fronts.

Drew rushed to finish removing the metal from the girl and quickly bandaged her. “By camp over there. I’ve been leaving injured. Can you take her there?” Drew asked all the Romans knowing she was unable to carry the girl let alone drag her through a minefield without accidentally blowing them up.

“Yes.”

“Here’s an extra piece of ambrosia. You only need a tiny bit to heal. Too much and it will kill you.”

Drew heard the clopping of horse hooves and turned to look. There was a squad of Centaurs joining the fight. “Don’t look those dudes in the eye unless you want to fight them.” one of the other boys told her.

“You two take her to where the other injured are, we’ll try to create a space to reach the others.” One decided standing up.

“Who says you get to be the one to decide what we do?” A girl asked. 

“I’m the oldest.”

Drew knew the type of arguing. Siblings. “It doesn’t matter who does what job,” Drew snapped using a bit of charmspeak, “we can’t stay here long.”

“The Greek is right. Whatever we do we need to decide fast. I don’t wanna be in this minefield once it’s dark.”

They all stood to leave when Drew felt something warm hit her arm. She brushed her hand down her arm and found fresh blood on her hand. She looked at the person next to her and saw blood dripping down his hand. “Hey, wait. You’re bleeding.”

He looked at her and in the setting sun his helmet reflected the light. She looked past the reflective metal into his dark eyes. “I’m alright. I’ll take care of it later.”

“I can take care of it right now.”

“No, it’s alright.”

“Okay. You have the ambrosia I gave you. Take a small piece of it. It will at least stop your bleeding.”

He nodded and jogged to catch up with his fellow soldiers.

Drew stayed where she was and studied the battle infront of her. How was she going to slip into that and pull an injured person away from that. She looked for any space and thought she spotted a way in when an explosion nearby knocked her down. 

Disoriented, she looked around off to one side and spotted a very injured Two Headed man; there were more behind them as well as a few Dog-headed men. Both creatures had very little fashion sense. The Two Headed men seemed to be wearing whatever cloth they found that fit around them. They were poorly dressed and made Brooklyn’s homeless look like kings (at least the few Drew had met had tried to keep clean and wore outfits while nearly monochromatic at least had their entire bodies covered).

The other Two Headed men hadn’t seen her yet. She thought she could use this to her advantage and picked up a few rocks before she stood up. She faced them then looked behind her. If she did everything right she could clear the minefield without injury. 

She threw a rock at the Two Headed men, she had missed hitting them but captured their attention. She turned slightly and threw the rest of the rocks in the direction of the Dog-headed men and captured their attention as well as some Centaurs. A Centaur ran at her and she spun on her heel and ran. She ran on the sections of raised earth avoiding the pits. Explosions went off behind her hitting enemies with celestial bronze shards. One explosion was close enough to her that it knocked her flat on her stomach. Her face connected with her forearms. After a few moments she stood silently thanking the Ares Cabin for making the path she was on wide enough for a person twice her size to lay on it. An arrow blew past her head, and she yelped before sprinting. She ran towards Half-Blood Hill and darted around some trees pausing behind what she hoped was adequate cover. In her brief pause to catch her breath she felt a dull ache in her thigh. She twisted to look at the area and found the source of her pain- a piece of metal easily the size of her hand was embedded in her toned thigh. She heard the crunching of sticks and leaves nearby. She covered her mouth with a hand and pulled out the metal. One of the Dog-headed men spotted her and alerted the rest of his group. Drew dropped the metal and began running once more before any of the monsters could get close. 

She looped back around to the campers and spotted her brother who looked at her with wide eyes. A few other campers noticed her and created a space. Drew slipped in the army a few seconds later Dog-headed men slammed into Roman shields. Behind them were a few Two Headed men and a Centaur. 

Someone tapped Drew’s shoulder. She whirled around and faced a helmet-less Roman with freckles and copper hair. “You’re a medic, right?”

“Today.”

He made a motion for her to follow. “My brother is hurt bad. We pulled him to the center. There are other injured there. Reyna wants to get them out of here to somewhere safe.

Drew had no idea who Reyna was but nodded anyways. In the center was a larger open space where some injured were laying. There was only one medic tending to the six injured. She slipped off her backpack and pulled out both forms of ambrosia.

The Roman led her to where the other medic was and kneeled at the injured boy’s side. He had been hit on part of the face and upper arm. Drew swore if she looked close enough she would see the boy’s bone. 

She opened the cubed ambrosia and grabbed the most appropriate bite sized piece. “Make sure he eats this. It will help heal him.” She put the cubed ambrosia away and grabbed gauze. She passed some to the other medic and placed the rest on the boys shoulder and applied pressure. He had healed a lot but was still bleeding. Blood seeped through the layers of gauze soaking Drew’s hands. She increased the pressure. After some time she removed her hands. He was still bleeding. Drew grabbed the medical stapler to close the wound and watched his breathing. 

She patted his face, “Hey stay awake, Dear. You can’t fall asleep right now.” his breathing was slow and his eyes were half closed. “Wake up,” Drew said with Charmspeak. The boy’s eyes snapped open. “You’re alright. I’m going to close the wound. It might hurt a bit.”

She pinched the skin together and stapled it. Three staples and it was closed. The other medic looked at her like she was a genius. “There are a few others who could use that.” he told her. “Can I borrow that?”

“Yeah, here.”

She turned back to the injured boy. She opened the liquid ambrosia and pulled out the eye dropper. She released a few drops of the golden liquid over the now closed cut and watched as his bleeding had completely stopped. She moved her hand and released a few more drops over the cut on his face. Now she had to clean him up and cover the wounds. Salve and gauze went over his cuts. “Stay awake, okay. I need to go check on the others. I’ll be back shortly.”

She made her way to the other medic. “What have the other injuries been like?”

“Mostly the same. There’s a few broken bones. I don’t have anything to heal them with. We need to think about how we are going to move them.”

“I can do it. Keep the ones here stable and awake. I’ll go around and give them some ambrosia. The first boy is ready. He lost a lot of blood. We might not be able to move him.”

“I’m working my way back. I'll check on him.”

Drew nodded. She worked her way around the group of injured and passed out ambrosia. Those with broken bones were near completely healed and decided to stick around and help move the other injured. 

The first boy was standing with the support of the Roman medic. Drew traded places with them and handed him the bottle of liquid ambrosia. She instructed him on how to use it. 

With the help from a few fighters Drew walked the injured boy to the spot where she had been leaving injured just before the border of Camp Half-Blood. There were more injured than she remembered bringing. 

The fighters who had protected Drew and the boy helped her lay him down. They got him settled when a son of Apollo walked up to her. “Are the bandages his only injuries. From what I could tell. Do you have supplies here?”

“Some. Could use some more ambrosia.”

“There’s a few boxes in my backpack, feel free to take one.” she turned away from him and lowered herself to his height. She waited until she heard the backpack close before turning back to him. “There’s at least three more I’ll be bringing back here.”

“Alright. If you see any of my siblings send them here. I could use another set of hands.”

“Will do. See you in a bit, Hon.”

Drew rushed back to the fighting and saw that the combined camps managed to push their enemies back a few inches. It was easier for Drew and the others to make their way back to the center. She helped another person to their feet. It was hard to support this girl. She was at least a foot shorter than Drew. 

The Roman medic approached her before she left. “I’m out of supplies.”

Drew looked around for anyone wearing a backpack to call them over to help. When she didn’t find someone she did the next best thing: capturing the attention of a CHB camper. “Hey, I need you to find another medic. Someone wearing a backpack. We’re running low on supplies here.”

“I’m on it.” the camper ran off.

The ground began to shake. Softly at first then it was like a rug had been pulled out from other them. Campers fell to the ground, including Drew and the young teen she was supporting. Through all the chatter of people and surprised screams the voice of the girl who returned the Athena Parthenos boomed. “EVERYBODY UP!” Drew struggled to find her footing in the shaking dirt. She was about to fall again when someone’s arm wrapped around her, holding her inplace. The person walked around her and helped the girl up. Drew realized it was Clarisse- Silena’s former best friend whom she wanted nothing to do with. “Thanks.”

Clarisse gave her a small smile and nodded towards the girl. “Get her out of here.”

Drew returned to her previous position and took careful steps. Together they fought their way across the quaking earth step by step. The pair nearly collapsed steps away from their destination. One of the self appointed guards led them to an empty space. 

“Have you seen any of my siblings, Drew.”

Oh shit, I forgot I was supposed to find one of Apollo’s children. “No, not yet, Hon. I sent someone to find another person with a backpack the medic down there is out of supplies”

“Give them some of your gauze and cloths since you’re bringing people here.”

Drew noticed the grass wrapping itself around the fingers of the people laying down. “What is going on here?”

“The grass is trying to hold those who aren’t moving much down. I’ve been having people go around and cut it.”

“You're still good on supplies, Sweetheart?”

“For now.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Drew began to jog back when the earth shook violently once more. She stumbled but stayed upright. The ground split open in front of her. She jumped over the crack with ease and continued on. She made it back to the other injured campers and saw mostly new faces. The others have been moved by other campers. Drew remembered seeing them on her way back. 

“Drew! You’re here.” Lacy yelled.

“Sweetheart, you're the one they found?”

“Yes. I am running low on supplies.”

Drew opened her hiking backpack and pulled out an unopened box of gauze and a lump of cut cloth. “I have extras.” She handed the stack to Lacey. Then moved on to the Roman medic. “Hey, you’re out of supplies, right?”

“Yes.”

She placed a box of gauze in his hands. “I’m looking for an Apollo kid; have any come by. They need help at the makeshift field hospital. There’s only one medic there.”

“I’m an Apollo kid.”

“Any siblings nearby?”

“I’m sure I can find a few. You start patching people up and I’ll go look.” He handed back the gause.

“Alright.”

They parted ways. Drew knelt at someone's side and applied pressure to their arm. The bleeding was too much. Drew reached in her bag for a strip of cloth, tucked in under the person’s arm above the wound and tied it. She pulled it as tight as she could then knotted it. She needed to get them out of here and to a child of Apollo. She pulled them to their feet and put their good arm over her shoulder. She was going to hand them off to someone else to take them to the field hospital when the Roman came back with a few others.

“This is my brother and sister.”

“Great, we need to get this person to the field hospital. At least one of you need to come with me.”

“I’ll go.” The sister volunteered. “I’ll trade you places.”

Drew nodded. And transferred the nearly unconscious person to the other person. Drew led the two Romans to the field hospital. On the very edges of the campers line she spotted Katie. She put a hand on their arm and said, “I need your help, follow me.” 

“Drew, you’re back.”

“He’s got a deep cut on his arm. We need to take care of this immediately.” Roman said.

“Who’s this?”

“Roman daughter of Apollo. She’s gonna stay here and help.”

“What did you need me for, Drew.”

“The grass is starting to grow around people’s bodies. I figured you could do something.”

“I’ll try. I make no promises.”

Drew furrowed her brows. A sound captured her attention instinct told her it was Charmspeek, which was weird she hadn’t said anything. She looked at camp and saw what she thought were two floating figures in the deep orange sky. Then she realized where the Charmspeak came from; Piper. The Seven had returned. 

“The earthquakes stopped.” Katie noted.

Drew looked at one of the campers laying down. The grass that was once snugly around their fingers was now loose and made no effort to grow and retighten. Not only that, the wind had stopped howling. “Gaea’s asleep.”

“Does that mean we won?”

“No.” Drew said simply. “We still have work to do.”

“How much gauze do you have?”

“Few boxes I think.”

“Leave some of it here. I’ll be out soon.”

Drew nodded and handed over two boxes and a vial of liquid ambrosia. She only had two boxes of gauze left and 1 full bottle of ambrosia.

Drew ran back, dodging swings from Dog-headed men and Two Headed men. She pushed past the first few lines and nearly ran into Annabeth. They both stared at each other for a moment before looking away and continuing their tasks. 

Back at the center Drew knelt next to one of Clarisse’s siblings. They needed stitches, something that was too hard to give in near darkness. She grabbed the stapler from her bag and used it in place of staples. She applied a salve and moved on to the next person.

“Drew?” Will asked carefully.

“Yes, Hon?”

“Were running out of supplies here.”

“So is the field hospital.”

Will sighed. “Give them the rest of your gauze and ambrosia. And leave the cloth strips here. The other medics are on their way here anyone with gauze will give it to you to take to the field hospital. We’ll have some staplers here. I’ll have you take some as well.”

“Do I keep the half full bottle of ambrosia? I have a full one in my backpack.”

“Yes keep the half full bottle, a few cloth strips and rulers, and your stapler.” 

“Alright.” Drew removed all the bundles of cloth strips except one and handed them to Will along with most of the rulers.

More medics with backpacks arrived and handed over what little gauze and ambrosia they had left. Drew zipped the backpack closed. “Drew, before you come back here,” Will began, “Can you grab more cloth from camp. We’re gonna need it.”

Drew nodded. “I’ll grab what I can.”

“Hurry.”

Drew took off running. She dropped off the gauze and ambrosia and staplers. Before she left she told one of the Apollo kids that more would join them soon and Will was assigning new jobs.

In the distance she spotted the lights from cabins and ran to the nearest one. She tossed open the door. There was a pile of freshly cleaned sheets on a table. Thank the gods, the Demeter Cabin hadn’t changed their sheets yet. Drew opened her backpack and stuffed as many sheets as she could inside. She closed it as much as she could and ran back to the medics. 

Both camps had increased the ground they held in the minutes she was gone. She easily made her way back and began taking out the sheets. The people not helping the injured began to tear the sheets into strips. A small pile was created in seconds. Will handed her the entire thing. “Take this back to the field hospital. I’ll be going with you.” Will told her. Drew waited until Will had helped someone to their feet and was successfully supporting them. 

They moved as quickly as they could in the dark. Drew had the cloth strips bundled in one arm and the Celestial bronze butterfly knife in her other hand. The metal glowed in the near complete darkness and provided some extra light. Halfway to the field hospital an explosion went off in the minefield. Will and Drew looked that direction then at each other. “Go, I’ve got this.” 

Drew ran over and scanned the field. She couldn’t see anything that told her who or what set off the landmine. “Hey! We’re over here.” Drew turned to the sounds and spotted a group of campers in the middle of the field. Two Headed men were crossing the field towards them. Drew looked down at her feet then ahead a few feet. It was flat. She stepped forward. The spot where she would be taking her next step appeared to dip. She squatted and brought the knife closer to it. She was right so she looked to the space next to her. Clear. She repeated the process while the Two Headed men walked across the field setting off mines.

Dirt hit her as she moved closer to the group. An explosion close to her knocked her back. Fear rose in her chest. She did not want to get killed by a mine. She had ringing in her ears, an intense headache, and pain nearly all over her body. Carefully she rose to her feet and continued crossing the field placing more weight on her left leg. One of the campers grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards them. “You have to help us.” A higher pitched voice said. “She’s bleeding too much. I don’t know what to do.”

Drew knelt down and did her best to feel what was wrong. The ground beneath her was wet and sticky and she could feel what she thought could have been Jeans. She squinted  attempting to focus better on the figure in front of her. She looked up and saw the injured girl’s face. She was blinking slowly. Drew dragged her eyes down to the teens arms. She couldn’t see anything except a faint outline, but she reached out feeling for a hand and found it. It was ice cold. Winter’s in New York cold. Blood Loss. She pressed two fingers into their wrist and felt a weak pulse. Her eyes moved further down and began to panic. She was sitting where her legs should be.

She acted quickly and put tourniquets on what was left of the teens legs. She pulled as tight as she could. “One of you need to carry her. Follow me. Single file.” Drew stood and led them back the way she came. Silently praying she hadn’t mixed up her directions. 

Drew led the campers all the way to the field hospital as fast as she could while making sure they were keeping up. At the field hospital Drew turned to face them. She helped lay the girl on the ground then Drew registered the way the girl had moved when they laid her down and the glassiness in her eyes. Drew nearly burst into tears. The girl was dead. Drew stumbled back. Maybe if I had been faster- someone touched her shoulder. Drew slowly turned and came face to face with Will.

“It’s not the time, Drew. We can’t stop yet.”

“I promised I wouldn’t-”

“You did everything you could. Injuries like that are hard to heal in the middle of the day, let alone in the dark.”

“If I just noticed sooner.”

“I don’t think it would have made much difference. Come on. I need help bringing more people here.”

Drew took a deep breath and winced at the smell of blood and something charred. “Let’s go.”

Drew ran back steps in front of Will, picked up an injured person and walked them back. She turned around to head back and saw a pack of Dog-headed men in the distance. The camps had gone through over half of the army or monsters. This new group would extend the battle by a few minutes.

She rushed back and grabbed another person and brought them back. She repeated this a few times when a Roman Camper stopped her.

“Will said you’re the fastest runner.”

“What do you need.”

“We���re running low on ambrosia here. In our camp we might have the draught we use there, but camp is on the other side of the road about two miles from here. I don’t know if any of it is there. I wasn’t in charge of supplies, and I haven’t been able to find my brother who was.”

“Which tent will it be in?”

“It will be in the open there will be a canopy over it. It will look like a stack of crates. You’ll probably find it next to a larger tent. One of the biggest there. There may be a cart nearby. Bring as much as you can back.”

“What do you need?”

“The draught. It's labeled. And bandages.” He held out a flashlight. “You might need this.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Drew ran as fast as she could. If her speed was consistent with her other times it would be eight to ten minutes to run the two miles. Her feet hit the ground at a standard rhythm. She focused on her breathing and keeping her arms from crossing in front of her. She slid under the swing of a Two Headed man and quickly jumped to her feet and kept going

“Drew! Where are you going?” Annabeth yelled.

“I’ll be right back! Have to go get something!” Drew yelled back, not wasting a second to turn around.

The sounds of battle grew quieter. Drew could hear the pounding of footsteps behind her, some were heavier than others. She looked behind her and spotted Annabeth and Dog-headed men. Annabeth drew a sword that was the same color as the moon. Drew couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. She said she would be back as fast as she could and she knew Annabeth could handle herself; Drew on the other hand wouldn’t be able to last in a fight.

She faced forward and kept running. Her muscles performed movements she was familiar with. Drew looked down briefly watching the separation in her steps she looked up to see the remains of the Romans camp. She focused on taking wider steps. 

As she drew closer, smaller tents for sleeping were missing. Larger tents had been destroyed. The only thing still standing was a canopy type tent like the ones used at marathons over the water tables. Hopefully that’s the supplies.

Drew skid to a stop and turned on the flashlight. She shined the light towards the canopy and saw crates. The butterfly knife fit under the wooden lid and she lifted to pry the box open. The wood creaked then the lid came free. Peering inside she found bandages. She moved to another box and saw it was labeled ‘Draught’. She opened the box and found water bottles. 

There was no way Drew could fit more than one box of water bottles in her backpack. She looked around for a cart and found one roughly three times the size of a child’s red Radio Flyer wagon overturned feet away. She jogged over and exclaimed it. The wheels looked fine. She spun it to be sure. It turned without an issue. Drew held the flashlight between her teeth and reached under the cart and began lifting it.

The wooden cart was awkward to move. It wasn’t terribly heavy; she pushed it on the side. It came up to her chest. She crouched down once more and slowly rolled it on its wheels praying something wouldn’t break as she did so. It shook into place, but stayed together. Drew let out a sigh in relief. She placed her hands on the bar and pushed it to the pile of crates and began loading it when Annabeth arrived out of breath.

“I think- this is the- last time- I call you lazy.”

“Thanks. Help me load this cart with bandages and the boxes labeled ‘draught’.”

They finished packing the cart with two layers of boxes and pushed it. It was difficult to get moving. Drew and Annabeth had to lean into it to get the wheels rolling, but once it was moving steadily Drew started to speed up. Drew and Annabeth reached the perfect speed. Not too fast to knock anything off.

The battle was still going on when they arrived back. A few Two Headed men charged at them. Drew pushed the cart onto the dirt road and worked her way across while Annabeth kept the Two Headed men away. The ground was raised on the other side of the road and caught the wheels. Drew ran to the otherside of the cart and attempted to lift it while pulling it. The wheels popped up and Drew continued pulling until the other wheels were on the grass.

She was moving the cart once more. A few feet away from the field hospital Drew and Will caught each other's eyes. Will ran over to help her.

“You made it!”

“There’s still more supplies back there.”

“This is enough. The battle is almost over. Someone can go get the rest later.”

“The top boxes are all bandages. The bottom ones are draught.”

Will motioned to what little soldiers were still guarding the field hospital to come over. “Where are all the guards?”

“Many returned to the fighting; there aren't many monsters left. A few minutes more and the fighting will be over.” Will explained handing a box to a fellow camper. “Get this to Kayla.”

Drew handed a box of Draught to a Roman Camper. “Give this to the Roman medic. She said she was out.”

“Drew,” Will said, handing her bandages, “Get these to the medics in the fighting. They’re out.”

Drew opened her backpack and shoved them inside. “I can take a few more.”

Will shoved another handful in her backpack. Then a third and fourth. Finally he picked up the box and dumped it in. some fell on the ground. Drew didn’t bother to pick them up. She closed her backpack and ran to the center. 

Her brother Mitchell was the first person she saw. “Hey, where’s Lacy? Thought you two were together?”

“Drew!” He gave her a quick hug. “She went with Val to take Conner to the field hospital.”

Drew opened her backpack revealing the bandages. “Heard you were out of these down here.”

“We are. There’s our pile of supplies.” he pointed at a stapler laying on the ground.

They removed the bandages from her backpack and Drew added her extra box of staples to the pile. She was about to head back to the field hospital when she spotted the mysterious girl with the cloak catch the person next to her as they fell. They had been stabbed. The girl stabbed the monster who injured her colleague in retaliation.

Drew rushed over and put an arm around the bleeding person’s waist and helped them stand. She looked in the girl's brown eyes and said “I got them from here.” the girl gave her a silent nod and returned to fighting. Drew walked the person around campers too engaged in a fight to step out of the way and towards the center and sat them down. They had been stabbed in the neck and shoulder and bleeding heavily. 

Drew slipped off their helmet and applied pressure to the side of their neck. “Hey, Hon,” Drew said calmly, noticing their panic, “I need you to calm down. I’m gonna get you patched up. Mitchell! Come here.”

“Yes, Drew?”

“There’s ambrosia in my backpack; Get it for me.”

“Here,”

“I can’t take it. You need to give them some.” Drew waited for her brother to give ambrosia then slowly removed her hands. They were still bleeding. “Shit. Give them a bit more.”

“But too much will-”

“I know, but they’re not chugging it.” Drew removed her hands once more finding the bleeding had stopped. She looked into the person’s eyes and smiled softly, “The bleeding has stopped. A bit more and you’ll be completely healed.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem, Dear.” She wiped her hands on her shirt and took the ambrosia from her brother. “Just a bit more of this and you should be good as new.” She dripped ambrosia on their neck and shoulder. The skin began to fuse back together. It wasn’t quite healed, so she added a bit more. “There. All done.”

“Thank you. I’m Jon.” 

Drew stood offering her and to help him up. “Drew.”

“I heard.”

It was weirdly quiet for a war. Drew looked around and spotted no monsters, just the glow of celestial bronze. The war was over. The mysterious girl appeared at Jon’s side. “You alright?” Drew’s eyes went wide at her voice; it sounded like how Belgium chocolate tastes.

“I am now, Praetor.”

“Come on, Let’s get the injured inside Camp Half-Blood’s border.” The girl began to lead Jon towards the field hospital. She turned and looked at Drew, “You coming?”

“Y-yeah.” She jogged to catch up.

The three of them arrived at the field hospital to find other campers preparing the most injured for transport via gurney. While a few others were helping injured walk to the Apollo cabin infirmary.

“Drew,” Will said. “We could use your help patching people up and getting them to infirmary. I’ve already sent people to get the rest of the supplies. Annabeth and Percy went with them.”

“Alright.”

Nico ran up to the Praetor, “Reyna, I talked to Dakota. He and Jason are taking a group to start setting up camp. I think Frank went with them.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Nico.”

Drew and Praetor Reyna went around tending to people's wounds and occasionally handing people new tasks (mostly Reyna). Reyna told her campers which of the injured to take back or where to head next, whether it was to Jason to help set up camp or to the supply crates the group led by Percy and Annabeth brought back to carry them into camp.

As injured were carried back to camp someone brought back stretchers. Drew helped load people on to them. Most of the people had been taken back to camp when Drew realized an Ares Camper she said needed to be taken back was still laying on a stretcher. She walked over to him and noticed he was asleep. She found the straps to the stretcher and strapped him in.

She lifted up one side and began pulling him back to camp centimeter by centimeter. “My gods,” she muttered, “What have you been eating.” Someone chuckled in front of her.

“Let me help.” Drew froze. She knew that voice; Praetor Reyna. Reyna picked up the other end of the stretcher and Drew realized, to her surprise, they were the same height.

“Of course,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Used to being the tallest?”

“Yes. Having someone the same height sure makes this easier.”

“That, and you’re not pulling at least 200 pounds by yourself.”

“I would have made it to camp eventually.” This made Reyna laugh and Drew found herself wanting to make it happen again.

“Yeah, tomorrow morning.”

Drew chuckled. 

They fell into an awkward silence as they walked past the Temple of the Oracle. Drew looked at the Praetor’s forearm. She had a tattoo similar to the one Drew had seen on Jason months earlier. Reyna’s tattoo was a torch and sword, and the only reason Drew could see it was because it was glowing and pulsing like a slow heartbeat. The tattoo looked like burning coal, and Drew wondered if the girl's skin was actually burning. “Does it hurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Your tattoo. It’s glowing.” 

Reyna looked down then turned her wrist slightly as if she was trying to hide the tattoo. “It’s fine.”

“I think I have a salve in my bag for burns.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary at the moment.”

“Alright.”

“I should thank you.”

“For what?”

“I’ve heard a few stories from the Legion. You helped them before our camps were allies. It makes me believe lasting peace is possible.”

“Is that why you returned the Athena Parthenos?”

“Annabeth found it, but it could only be returned by a Roman.”

“Because the Romans stole it. Mortals history textbooks sometimes say it was destroyed during The Crusades after it was moved to Constantinople.”

“Yes. And every war between our camps since has been because of the theft.”

“We’re almost to the infirmary it’s past the lake and on the other side of the showers.”

Reyna nodded, and looked more tired than she had when they first started walking. Drew could still see the pulsing glow from her tattoo, but it had grown dimmer. 

Outside the cabins campers were standing around. Many had lost the adrenaline they had during the battle and were struggling to complete tasks. “Hey,” Drew said using her most commanding voice, “Wake up. I’m sure most of you have jobs to do.”

The campers who heard her looked at her quizzically. “Finish the task you started.” People returned to their tasks with new energy.

Reyna threw Drew a confused look, and Drew realized her Charmspeak may not have affected the Praetor. She chose not to press the topic not sure if it was an answer she wanted to hear.

They arrived at the Apollo Cabin. Campers moved out of their way and Piper and Kayla helped them move the still sleeping camper to an empty cot. 

Drew could see the Praetor’s tattoo better in the light. It was not black like Jason’s tattoo. She looked around at the other Roman campers and saw that their tattoos were also black. Her eyes went back to Reyna’s forearm. Her tattoo was dark red and the area surrounding it looked more like a sunburn the further from the tattoo Drew looked. It was like someone put a torch to her arm and attempted to trace over the tattoo. 

She looked at Piper then back at Reyna’s arm. If the Praetor was going to listen to anyone here it was probably her sister. Piper grabbed Reyna’s hand while Drew grabbed the salve she had in her backpack and handed it to Piper. “I’m going to our cabin. I told everyone we had to do a check in as soon as the battle was over.”

Piper nodded, “I’ll be there soon.”

Drew made her way back to her cabin. It was the first time she registered the ache in her shins, knees, shoulders and upper back as well as the coolness in her shoes and the weird squish they made with each step. Her head felt heavy and she could feel a slight pressure behind her eyes from tiredness.

Upon opening her cabin door she was hit with the smell of her sisters’ flowery perfume and acid like scent of her youngest brother's cologne. 

“Drew, you’re here.” multiple siblings said in unison.

“Hey, I don’t think we’re doing gossip time tonight.” Drew told them, slipping off her wet shoes. 

Her socked feet made an effort to stick to the cabin's wood floor as she crossed the room to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her. 

She turned on the sink and put her hands under the water. After a few moments the water turned pink. She grabbed a bar of soap not caring if it wasn’t hers and began to scrub her hand and forearms. The soap reached part of her arm and she hissed in pain. Quickly she rinsed off the soap and saw the reason for the stinging pain. Pieces of metal were in her arm, and now that she wiped off the dried blood and hit the metal, she was bleeding again.

Drew reached for a towel and patted her arms dry. She then grabbed a pair of tweezers and pulled a mix of Celestial bronze and regular metal from her arm and dropped it in the sink where the pieces made a little ‘tink’ upon hitting the porcelain. Once all the metal was out she turned on the water once more and held her arm under it until the water was nearly clear. She pat her arm dry once more then pulled off her shirt that suddenly felt very restrictive.

She tossed it in the sink and gave it a weird look. I don’t remember putting on a red shirt. The shirt had patches of scarlet red and some smaller patches of pink. Drew studied it for a second then looked in the mirror. The first thing she noticed was the color of her sports bra. Okay, I definitely know I didn’t put on a bra this dark. She took it off and grabbed the towel. She wet a section of it and began wiping her upper arms. She needed to get rid of this mix of something sticky on her skin and something dried on her skin pinching it.

This method wasn’t working too well. Upon realizing this she soaked the towel and dragged it over her skin. Cold water ran down her arms and chest cooling her down. She put down the towel and grabbed a second to pat herself dry.

She could feel this stickiness on her skin. She set the towel aside and picked up the wet one. She soaked it once more and was once again wiping down her skin. She dried her skin off once more. The towel was laid on one side of the counter and the wet cloths on the other. 

Drew searched through the bottles of soap on the counter looking for a face wash. Finding one she wet her face with closed eyes. Drew felt stinging on her cheek and forehead. Looking into the mirror she spotted the flash of metal. Using the tweezers she pulled out the shards then returned to washing her face. The water woke her up a bit helping her focus a bit better. 

Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, Drew removed her reddish brown socks. It was more difficult than it should have been since they were wet and sticking to her skin. Once they were off Drew tossed them to the side and used the wet towel to wash her feet. 

Next, she soaked the towel she had used to dry herself and placed it over her lower legs. The towel was heavy on her legs and she could feel patches of stinging on her legs like she had razor burn. 

She rested her left heel on the counter and pulled out all the metal she could see. Her knees were caked in mud mixture that smelled like iron. She noticed a piece of metal poking through the mud and tried to pull it out. Her leg jerked and she hissed in pain once more. She would deal with it later. She went to put her right leg on the counter and felt a sharp ache in her thigh. “Son of a-”

She put her leg down and soaked the towel once more. She sat on the floor and wiggled her way out of the rest of her clothes. After the clothes had been kicked aside Drew began to carefully wiping away blood, mud and sweat. Once she was satisfied she began to remove all the metal she could leaving the larger pieces as they were too painful to remove on her own.

Reaching for her backpack without getting up hurt her thigh more than anything, but she was too tired and determined to care. She wanted to finish cleaning up so she could sleep. She dragged the backpack across the floor and opened it. Her fingers found the vial of ambrosia. Drew pulled it out of the bag, tossed the eyedropper aside and drank what little of the ambrosia was left. She felt the smaller scrapes heal. Then she grabbed the liquid bandage and the healing salve. 

She painted on the bandage on her smaller wounds then stood up carefully balancing on her left leg remembering she didn’t grab clean clothes. She held one of the towels in front of her and opened the door. “Hey, can one of you get me some clean clothes?”

“Yeah, Give me a second.” Valentina said.

“Thanks Dear.” Drew waited for her younger sister to return silently, adjusting her position to avoid falling over. 

Valentina returned with a pastel pink and purple robe. Drew took it with one hand as Valentina's eyes flicked down to her legs, “Do you need help?” she asked, voice filled with concern.

“No.” Drew said, quickly closing the door in the girl’s face.

Drew returned to her spot on the floor and yawned. She rubbed her eyes then unfolded the robe dropping a matching pair of boy shorts and a bralette. Inch by inch she put on the boy shorts trying to avoid every point of pain on her legs. The bra was easier to put on. 

The little bit of wakefulness she had was gone. She laid down, robe and pain forgotten and fell asleep.

Piper returned to her cabin after helping the rest of the seven, Reyna, and other cabin leaders locate the rest of the campers under their leadership. She knew her cabin mates had all returned. She wanted a shower like most campers did, but it was too late to argue over who got to shower first, so everyone seemed to collectively decide showers were closed for the night. 

Before returning to the Aphrodite Cabin she stopped at Canoe Lake deciding to rinse off the dirt and sweat. She decided she’d rather smell like the fishy lake than feel sticky the rest of the night.

Entering the cabin she found her siblings sitting on their beds quietly talking to each other. A few were whipping themselves down with makeup removing wipes and baby wipes. A glance around the room told her every one was there except one.

“Where’s Drew?”

“Piper, you're back.” Lacy said.

“We waited up for you.” Mitchell added.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Drew said we all had to check in. We figured it meant you too.”

“Where’s Drew?”

“Bathroom.” Valentina stated.

“She’s been in there since she got back.” Another sibling clarified. 

“How long has that been?”

“About an hour and a half.”

Piper made her way to the bathroom and knocked. “Drew, everyone made it back to the cabin alright. We’re gonna go to bed.”

No answer. Piper twisted the door knob finding it unlocked and pushed open the door. Drew was curled up on the floor in her underwear. Blood soaked towels were nearby. Piper stepped inside and saw Drew’s bloody shirt in the sink and the rest of her clothes near the towels. 

Piper knelt in front of her and gently shook her shoulder, “Drew, wake up.”

The Asian didn’t stir. 

Piper grabbed the girl's robe, put it on her and tied it closed. She looked out the door. A few of her siblings had gathered. 

“We can carry her.” Her twin fourteen-year-old brothers said. 

Piper nodded and stood up stepping back near the sink. The boys walked in and picked her up standing on either side of her. Piper noticed the cut on Drews leg. It was bleeding slightly. She followed her brothers out.

Lacy and Mitchell pulled back the blanket on Drew’s bed and the twins laid her on it. The white sheet began to turn pink. “Do any of you still have a stapler?”

“Yeah, I have mine, Piper.” Mitchell jogged to his bunk and grabbed it.

Piper and Lacy rolled Drew on her side revealing the gash. It was at least a few inches long. Piper pinched the skin together and Mitchell stapled it hoping his older sister wouldn’t wake up and yell at him.

A sister handed over what little bandages she had left and another fetched the salve from the bathroom. Piper bound Drew’s thigh and rolled her on her back. 

“Is all the blood in the bathroom hers?” a brother asked.

“No,” Piper said, “I would say much of it isn’t. If you want to go to bed you may. We’ll clean up tomorrow.”

As siblings returned to their bunks Piper, Lacy and Mitchell continued to patch up Drew. There wasn’t much to do. Drew had removed all the metal from her legs except for a few pieces. When they were done Piper left a bottle of draught for her with a note saying she didn’t need to worry about how much she drank since it wasn’t ambrosia.

Drew woke up to the sound of the cabin’s CD player playing a cabin favorite, Carly Rae Jepsen. She sat up slowly, her limbs feeling heavy. A few of her siblings were scrubbing the floor and she could see the light on in the bathroom.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re awake. You missed breakfast.”

“We’re just cleaning up the cabin.”

“I didn’t realize it was dirty.”

“You kinda left bloody footprints on the way to the bathroom last night. And some of us brought in mud. There’s the Roman’s water plus draught mixture on your nightstand. Piper said it doesn’t have the same deadly effects as ambrosia, so you can drink as much as you want.”

Drew pulled off her blanket and saw bandages wrapped around her thigh, both her knees and calves. Her eyes moved to her arms and found there was a bandage around one of them. “How-”

“You fell asleep in the bathroom. We brought you to bed and patched you up. Will was in here after breakfast to change your bandages.” Lacy explained.

Drew reached for the water bottle and twisted off the cap. She brought it to her lips. It tasted like regular water, but she could feel the soreness in her legs lessen. She put the bottle aside and carefully stood up. Her muscles felt weak, but she wasn’t shaking. Next she tried taking a few steps. They were slow, but she didn’t fall. Now all she had to do was get dressed.

By the time Drew got dressed (which would have gone faster if she had accepted her siblings help) it was time for lunch. She followed her siblings to the Mess Hall carrying the water bottle she had been taking sips from since she woke up. 

Lunch went as it usually did even with all the guests. Camp Jupiter separated by cabin willing to follow Camp Half-Blood’s rules about meals. When most were finished eating, Praetors Reyna and the only other one (Drew didn’t know much about him let alone his name) got up to speak to both camps. Drew noticed Reyna had the forearm where her tattoo was, wrapped. “Tomorrow morning,” Reyna began, “We Romans must return home. We appreciate your hospitality, especially since we almost killed you-”

“You almost got killed,” Annabeth corrected.

Reyna rolled her eyes. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly and she said, “Whatever, Chase.”

Campers burst into a collective “Ooooohh!” followed by laughter and playful shoving.

“Anyways,” the other Praetor said, “Reyna and I agree this marks a new era of friendship between the camps.”

Drew listened to the Praetors speak and the playful banter of others. Drew like to take it as a sign of their friendship sticking and their bond growing stronger. After all, Drew had learned the bonds between friends were often stronger and longer lasting than the bonds created from romantic love and hate, and she couldn’t wait to see what they could do with it.

[alyssa-orowane]

Fantasy tropes to avoid (and ideas to reinvent them)

Hello aspiring writers of Tumblr! How is it going?

This is my first post on here and I decided to dedicate it not only to the genre I am writing in, fantasy, but also to a crucial topic, which relates and affects every genre in different ways.

TROPES.

It's lazy to build stories on something that has already been written a million times before. I don't like tropes at all as a reader. If I wanted to read the same stereotyped story all over again I would just stick to the previous book I have read with that same plot, so I would also spare myself the trouble of learning the unpronounceable names of these new stereotyped characters.

On the other hand, as a writer it might be tempting to give in and use tropes. "Why not? After all everybody uses them and I am already SO busy writing the actual chapters of my story."

I tell you what: every time a trope threatens to slide into your story, crush the page and throw it across the room, yelling:

Seriously, though: tropes are just general, undeveloped ideas. That's what you need to do, develop them. In this way only will you ever be able to unleash their hidden potential.

Without further ado, may I present you three of the most common fantasy tropes and hints to reimagine them.

*Keep in mind that this is only my personal view on the subject and you can either agree or disagree with it.

1. The chosen one

This one is the most obvious one and I am also quite sure that you expected to find it on the list. Interesting, Watson: I guess that it makes this article stereotyped too…

Well we all know those characters. Those characters that were meant to be the one. The prophecies had spoken about them long before they were even born. They might as well be the only one capable of using magic or wielding a certain weapon. This character is either the only one who pushes forward the storyline or that one protagonist who does everything except choosing anything actively in the plot. There is no in between. Either way, they only possess notable qualities. Of course there is no trace of flaws. I mean, they are the hero.

Have a side-kick (or co-protagonist) be the chosen one instead

A great idea, if you really want to insert this trope in your story, is to use it to your advantage and surprise the reader with it. Who could ever expect that the protagonist was actually never the chosen one? Or that another character is the chosen one from the start?

To see this trope well recreated I recommend watching the BBC TV series "Merlin" in which a young sorcerer, Merlin himself, must help the future heir to the throne, the prince Arthur Pendragon, to fulfill his destiny and become the greatest king who has ever lived. Arthur has no clue of what has been foretold, nor that he even is at the centre of a prophecy. All of Merlin and Arthur's choices will determine either the glorious success or the tragic failure of the quest; all of this while Merlin hides his powers from Arthur and everyone else as magic is condemned in Camelot.

2. Overused fantasy Races

...which translates mostly into putting Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, dragons and any of the Tolkenian elements and creatures in your own story. Now, don't get me wrong. Tolkien is one of my favourite authors, hence I am always captivated by those fantasy novels that display these Races in their stories. But I don't want to read a copy, I want to read your own masterpiece.

That's exactly why you should:

Redesign the well-known fantasy Races and adapt them to your world and to your theme or just create brand new ones

Personally, I absolutely LOVE to craft new fantasy Races. I believe that it adds depth and realism to the world-building (which does not consist only of geography). Each civilisation brings their culture, their traditions to your story and that's what makes a world truly breathe. In my opinion, the purpose of fantasy is not to focus just on the epic deeds narrated or on endless battles enriched with magic and legends, though those are very important part of this genre and they must be just as equally developed. The reason why I write fantasy is to spread awareness around the vast variety of themes that coexist in our society nowadays, in the first place global warming, the racism that still today people experience, LGBTQ characters which are often unrepresented both in literary fiction and TV. What better genre than fantasy is there to represent diversity and multiculturalism? On these latter points I will never not be thanking and loving the works of Steven Erikson which are part of the high-fantasy series "Malazan Book of the Fallen". Diversity and the brand new variety of intriguing Races are a huge part of what makes Malazan such an awesome fantasy series. I refer to Steven Erikson as the main inspiration of my writing and I recommend you to give a try to his books, if you have the chance. I warn you though, that it is not any light or easy reading.

The other option might be to reinvent the well-known Races. Tolkien himself did not "invent" the Elves of Middle Earth, rather he made a legend of his own after having studied the myths and ballads of ancient civilities. Then he developed their language, their history and their culture as if they were a real existing population. Every single aspect of Tolkien's worldbuilding can be read in his Silmarillion. I think it is a must-read for anyone who is looking forward to reinvent the traditional fantasy Races or just to know more about them.

3. Unfailing magic systems

Magic can be anything you want. That doesn't mean, however, that it should be your escape point: stuff in your story should happen because of your characters, not only because of magic as it is simpler to put it that way. A magic system should be rational and engaging. The reader needs to be able to understand exactly how, when and why does magic work in your world. No, the answer should not be "because it's fantasy."

Set rules, limits and costs to the magic in your world

How do character gain magic abilities? Is magic accessible to everyone or is it elitist? Is it taught in specialised schools or is it something that resonates from within? Are wizards free to practice magic or is it banned? Or maybe are there only specific areas of magic that are prohibited? What is its source? Does magic come from higher beings or are spells more powerful the stronger the mage's will? Does magic need a catalyst (such as a talisman, a weapon etc.) to be casted? If not, do wizard recite spells? Do they need to trace specific symbols? Otherwise is it necessary to make specific hand gestures in order to release their powers? Does it exist only one system for all mages to use or are there multiple kinds? Last but not least, what are magic users in your world called? It's all up to you to decide. Ask questions and let each question lead you to another one. You need to know exactly how your magic system works and so does the reader.

What I love about crafting magic systems is the freedom to establish the boundaries and the natural laws that apply to your world, as magic is a huge part of the story if you're writing fantasy. Well, this could also lead to another question: is your world actually ruled by magic forces or do magic abilities have just a marginal role in the world building?

Remember that magic should not be used as an excuse to fill eventual plot holes in your story. Your magic system should function correctly and it should always stay true to itself. In other words, it must be believable.

And I can hear you thinking "but it‘s magic!"

Then guess what? You need to make the readers believe that magic is real!

First of all, set the rules, the limits and the costs that apply to your system. Having done that, you'll have finished most of the work that concerns the use of magic in your world. Most, not all. If you are a bit of a perfectionist like I am, consider the importance of developing your system furthermore by asking yourself questions, such as the one I have written above.

Rules: decide what makes your system work and what magic can be casted for.

Limits: decide what kind of tasks your magic system cannot perform.

Costs: decide from what kind of source is magic obtained from and, literally, what does it cost to mages to obtain their magic from this source (as Rumpelstiltskin of OUAT wisely says: "all magic comes with a price.")

The most excellent and well-rounded magic systems I have ever come across are the ones created by Brandon Sanderson in this "Mistborn" trilogy: allomancy, feruchemy and hemalurgy. All three magic system permit the magicians to use a wide range of abilities based on the metals they can "burn". Magic originates in the Shards and from Preservation and Ruin, two god-like beings. If you're already interested, I definitely recommend you to check Sanderson's novels out: they are a useful resource of inspiration.

I hope this post has somehow given you the inspiration to go and write right now. 
If you have questions about some of the points or requests for the next articles, don't be shy and send me a message! I will try to cover your topic as soon as possible and as best as I can (and I will also tag your profile, if you agree). 
Thank you all for your attention. Bisous^^

[drabbleitout]

The Last Line Excerpt: Prequel

(7 years before book 1)

The infirmary was both a prison and testament to his failure.

Becker had spent the last month here, detained by a wound that he couldn't even manage to die from. Perhaps it was punishment. Lying and listening to everyone else suffer around him. The night before he heard the man in the bunk beside him slip away with a rattling wheeze.

The rest of that night, Becker lie awake, staring at the rafters, wondering why he was still alive when he didn't deserve to be.

Days were spent waiting. It's all he could do. As he healed, the Council bickered over what to do with him. Death, probably. They had already sent an officer to explain his rank had been "temporarily" removed. It didn't matter. There weren't enough of his men alive to have rank anymore. If anything, he felt badly for the nurses, wasting their time and resources on trying to heal him.

A figure moved past the dead man's empty bunk, approaching his corner. Becker looked up from his bandaged hands and instantly away. "Good, you're awake." Møller said, bundled in his wool coat, as jaunty as ever. With his right arm belted in a sling, Becker tipped his head forwards in an alternative salute, paining his back. "Don't worry with that, son. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he sat up, continuing to stare at his hands. Møller had come to see him before, with the Council's officer, but this was the first he had come on his own. It was an awkward moment of silence.

"Your request is here."

"Finally," Becker sighed.

"And I may have twisted a few hours out of the Council for you to come out and see it." Becker looked at him, mouth open. He searched the old man's face, trying to find a lie. The Council would never, not for anyone, risk having him bolt before they could get him to the noose.

No one except Grandmaster Møller.

"R-really?" He had to have something to say. Møller nodded, smile causing more wrinkles to break out across his dark complexion.

"Would you like to go now?"

"Yes, sir." He hurried to pull the covers away, careful in twisting himself to the edge of the cot. Møller reached for the slacks at the end of the bed, "I've got them." Becker assured, holding his breath as he stretched to get them. It was a jolting hot pain, down his right side and into his spine. The arm was most likely ruined. Leaning back, Møller filled his cap between his hands, struggling not to help. Merely getting the dress slacks on was painful. Gritting his teeth against hitching breaths he managed his legs in.

Møller stepped closer and Becker grunted a warning. With the waist in one hand, he groaned to his feet.

"I should order them to move you closer to the fire. It's far too cold back in this corner."

"It's fine," Becker mumbled, finishing with the buttons to sit back down. He took a moment, scraping back his hair. Next were his boots. They were a feat with his less dominant hand, struggling to get his slacks tucked inside them. Møller huffed, cap tossed to the bed. "Don't," Becker warned, "don't help me."

"There's no wrong in receiving help, Becker."

"I don't deserve it." He hissed, tucking the slacks in a little at a time before lacing the boots. Fuchs had shown him how to tie a knot one handed, but it was still tricky. After the first was finally done, he started on the second. "You should have sent a messenger ahead of you." He was somewhat breathless and somehow chilled.

"If there's anything I do have, it's time." Møller wasn't good at hiding emotions from his voice. It was his one downfall as the Althing's right-hand man. It was sadness –not what Becker expected. He focused instead on lacing the boot and catching his breath. Standing he considered the dress shirt and decided, with his arm in a sling, he couldn't get it on. The undershirt would have to do.

Møller ignored Becker's detesting as he lifted the long, black coat from the footboard. "I don't want to hear it. You need to be careful with that injury. It could come open."

"I've healed more than you think." Becker stared at the floor as Møller pulled it over his shoulders, fastening the first few buttons to help hold in place.

"There's no reason to be stubborn. Don't you know that brother of yours gives me enough of that?"'

"Fuchs should be back in the South by now."

"He's refused to leave unless emergency calls." Møller stepped away, letting Becker out into the aisle. It was the farthest he was allowed to go since being brought in. Moving felt good, tiring but good. He carried his cap, only able to watch the floor in front of him, terrified to look up and see any of his men. The guards stopped him at the exit, having to wait for Møller and his leisure stride for permission to let him leave.

A prison.

"Speaking of your brother," Møller paused just outside to fit his peaked cap over the long coils of his salt and pepper hair. "He wants to know if you've received any of his letters?” 

"I have." Becker flopped his cap on as well, struggling to get it right. "Does he expect me to write him back?" Møller swatted the hand away, fixing the cap properly.

"He knows your condition, hence why he hasn't left. He only wants you to be aware of his thoughts." They squinted in the gale of snow. It was well into winter by now, the distant rumble of the ocean silenced by ice. "The Code of Lipany is what's preventing him from visiting. I had to give word to the Council you wouldn't cross paths."

"I understand." Becker squared his shoulders with the frown, eyes set of the main bridge.

"The surgeon tells me good things about your recovery. It shouldn't be long now until you're released."

"I doubt the surgeon has much to do with deciding that." Becker bit, gripping the edge of his jacket to keep it from sliding open over his right shoulder. Møller didn't argue or retort, cementing his thoughts. The Council was deciding what to do with him, if he was worth the rope.

"Becker," Møller placed a hand on his good shoulder, stopping them. His rusted brown eyes seemed to look through Becker, searching and sorrowful. "We all know Dresden wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was." Becker lifted his chin to be eye to eye with the Grandmaster. "I was the commanding Earl, the superior of the fortress. My leadership caused Dresden to fall– nothing else."

"You were outnumbered and no one—"

"I take responsibility." He continued on for the stables, back muscles burning.

"Sir Becker," the stable hand called, stuttering with a salute before finally deciding to do so. "Grandmaster Møller," With his hand still at his brow, he turned to Møller, dipping in a bow. "I'm glad to see you both. Come in from the snow." Becker waited for Møller, but was waved to enter first.

It was warmer inside, following the man into the dim internals. It was filled with a strange sweet and foul stench, each stall housing a horse, some two. "We just received a shipment in this morning. The boys just left so you picked a good time." He kept turning around, excitedly checking the faces of the officers.

"I'm curious to know what you requested." Møller muttered, leaning away from any steed that poked its head out in curiosity. They arrived at a seemingly empty stall, the stable hand grinning ear to ear.

"Tell me what you think." Becker stepped closer, peering inside. He didn't see it at first, crammed in the far corner, blending into the shadows.

"A horse?" Møller was disappointed, one of the only military leaders to never use one. Untrustworthy, he said.

"Every respectable officer deserves a horse of their own." Becker didn't bother looking back at them, able to sense their scowls. No dead man needs a horse, they were thinking. Instead he leaned on the gate, studying the black foal.

"This was the only thing the traders had close to what you requested. From somewhere in the Romanian wilds." Becker unlatched the door and slid inside. "Sir! I'd be careful. It's very much a wild horse." Ignoring him, Becker shut the gate behind him, needing to make sure there was no brand.

"Girl? Boy?"

"Uh, girl. I think."

"Does she respond at all to handling?"

"Only if you have a rope to drag it on." Becker frowned over his shoulder. The filly shakily got to her feet, head tilted to watch him.

"There are several other fully trained horses that came in from Estwick this morning. They practically saddle themselves."

"No," Becker pressed a hand into his middle as he crouched down, drawing a breath before nodding. "I'll have this one." Reaching out towards her, he waited. She drew back, shaking her head with a snort. "No living thing should be branded. I won't accept anything that is." As she backed into the corner, Becker withdrew his hand. Unbuttoning his jacket he removed his cap, dropping them in the floor to sit.

"Becker?”

"May I have an hour, Møller?" he looked up, feeling sweat on his brow. The Grandmaster hesitated, glancing to the stable hand.

"Alright, I'll send for you in an hour." He glanced to the foal, and then, "Be careful." With that he ushered the stable hand away.

As their voices disappeared, Becker sighed, grimacing as he rest his head against the wall. His back ached, muscles quivering in pain, a grating in his shoulder causing his entire arm to hurt. Cradling the sling he drew his knees up, trying to focus on his breathing. The pain would stop. Eventually. He would just have to ignore it. Slowing his breath he finally opened his eyes.

The filly snorted, tail flicking. Becker didn't speak or move, merely watching. Her wide, dark eyes were set on him, at the ready if he were to move again.

"Far from home, aren't you?" He whispered, her ears flying forwards at the sound. "That makes two of us." With a shake of the head she inched forwards, ears pinning back. "Don't try anything funny," Becker warned. She stopped, ears still back and watching. After awhile, when he hadn't moved, she began making a wide arch. Back and forth. Gradually getting closer.

He wasn't sure how long it took for her to get close, still scared to move and spook her. She sniffed at his boots, knees, freezing when he lifted a hand. "Easy, easy," he whispered, softly rolling his tongue behind his teeth. She sniffed at his hand, making soft noises. He inched his hand closer, carefully touching her cheek. She flinched but didn't back up. He dust fingers along her muzzle, up and down from her forehead and nose, rhythmically humming. She stayed.

"Do ya know what you're doin’?" She rushed backwards at the husky voice. Becker craned his head back, hitching at the pain before fully looking up. There stood the dishonorably discharged Troy Hudson, wrapped in his greatcoat that no longer held rank.

"No sir," it felt wrong addressing the former Earl any other way. In a way, Becker sympathized, possibly joining him. He looked back to the horse to avoid awkward staring. In the quiet, she returned to the corner to lie down.

"The Council still tryin’ to decide what to do with you, huh?" Becker didn't respond, picking straw from his slacks. " Fuggedaboutit, there's nothing they can do. They wanna scare you." Hudson whispered, his drawl and peppermint musk whispering into the stall. "Any regiment outnumbered against a storm isn't blamed on the leadership. What could ya do? They had more men than you."

"I appreciate it, Earl—" Becker sighed, "Sir Hudson, but the extermination of an entire regiment is unacceptable."

"Because Lexikon wouldn't lift a hand? So, you should take the fall?"

"Lexikon was busy." Becker glared at the far wall, struggling to hold it from his voice.

"Not what I've heard." At Hudson's whisper, Becker tilted his head. "Beatrice, down in Brostwick, said Lexikon hasn't been around his men in a month. No one in the garrison has seen him." The former Earl leaned over the gate. "I think he's runnin’ military time without taking leave, an’ he don't wanna admit he wasn't there an’ get caught."

"There's no proof."

"And you'd cut ya own head off if the Althing told you to, wouldn't ya? Lexikon or one of his Earls should be just as responsible as you. It was their fortress to begin with. What I think is Lexikon wants this all pinned on you, an’ who better to whisper in their ears than their favorite Gedriht?"

"Watch what you say," Becker hissed. "My ruling isn't decided by me or Lexikon. I was responsible for my men. That is that." He stopped there to keep his voice from breaking.

"That's what I'm sayin'– there's nothing for you to worry about. I just came from a hearing. Your men were there, talking to the Council themselves." Becker froze, turning with a wince to look at him. Hudson smirked, full of himself.

"You're lying. Why would they ever—?"

"Every. Single. One of ‘em threatened to opt out of the ranks if those old bastards even thought about demoting you." He couldn't believe him. Fuchs had said in his letters only twelve survived. Critically injured but alive. Why would they ever go to the Council on his behalf? Wouldn't they want to see him hang for what he caused, for how he lied?

"After three hundred, what's a dozen more, Troy?" He slouched back on the gate.

"A dozen men with Brogaldan experience, that's priceless to ‘em. Not many forces have experienced a storm an’ lived." Hudson snickered, door creaking with his weight. "Besides, rumor has it you went blade to blade with the Brogladan High King."

"Where... where did you hear that?"

"So it's true, eh?"

"I didn't say it was. I'm just asking where you heard it."

"Can't say," Hudson hummed, "don't have a good source to confirm. So, you tell me, Becker.” He stared at the far end of the stall, having already replayed what went wrong countless times in the infirmary. Noise sounded from the other end of the stable, voices. Møller and the stable hand.

“I did,” He gripped the sling. “I just wasn’t fast enough, Troy.”