#like i might just end up doing it w my disc friend group if they wanna. but im debating if i wanna do it w Just them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

btsmutimagines · 5 years ago

Text

All Tangled Up

A/N: I tried to be cute but I’m too awkward for that... I’m sorry OTL

Request from the old inbox: can I have a Jimin fluff where you both have a Disney movie night and you choose your princess movie (mines is Tangled but you can choose which ever) and the love song comes and Jimin sings to you (like I see the light and when eugene's part plays he sings along) and it's really fluffy?(sorry if it stinks, but I figured I'd give you a non-jungkook request)

Word Count: 1.7K

please take this gif as a peace offering

You groaned to the sound of your ringtone, suddenly waking you up. Refusing to leave the warm bundle of covers you were under; you stretched your hand to grab your buzzing phone off the side table. A string of curses was grumbled as you got up to pick up your phone and answer it.

Who thought it was a good idea to call you now?!

Howdy, girlie! How are you?

Oh, it’s you.

Ouch, no ‘Hello, bestie’? You’re so grouchy.

You could tell that your friend, Hana was pouting on the other end and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t in the particular mood to hold a conversation, let alone the ones that she tends to have. Long, drawn-out and could probably be wrapped up in 10 minutes if she could stay on topic.

Hana, I’m sick.

You are? Why didn’t you tell me?

I did. You even brought me medicine!

I did? Maybe I was drunk…

Anyways, I would like to get back to sleep-

Wait, I need some serious bestie advice and you just happened to be qualified.

Can’t I get a raincheck?

I really like this guy and I think he’s different than the others and…

She roped you into her story before you could even protest. You almost fell asleep a few times, listening to the whole spiel before she called your name.

Yah, Y/N! Did you even listen to a word I said?

Yeah, you think the guy you met last is the one because he took you out to coffee after whatever happened last night, and he’s been texting you a lot? It’s literally been less than 24 hours, how are you this hung up on a dude? You barely know him.

That doesn’t stop love, Y/N.

And I’m done with this conversation.

Don’t be like that, Y/N! It’s different this time, I swear.

Okay, I’m hanging up now. Bye.

You sighed, looking at the time you had your ear pressed to your phone. 40:31. Could you really expect less? Before you could return to bed, there was a knock on your door. Is it national ‘let’s bug a sick girl’ day?

You grabbed a robe, the warm fabric hugging you as you slowly walked to the door. Turning the doorknob, you cracked the door open a bit and your eyes widen as you quickly shut the door.

Park Jimin was standing at your door, in the hallway of your apartment building and you looked like you could scare Death himself to death.

“Y/N? Could you open the door please?”

“J-Just a second.” You said, quickly rushing to the bathroom to brush your teeth and fix your bird nest of hair. You returned to the door, taking a quick breath before opening it up again.

“Hi.”

“That was longer than a second, you know.”

“I didn’t mean it literally, Jimin.”

“May I come in?”

“Oh, right.”

“I heard you were sick, and I figured I would stop by just to check up on you.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Jimin.” You could have sworn you saw him blush, but he coughed, looking away and you tried to fight the smile that wanted to peak through.

Alright, fine, you might have the tiniest, smallest, little crush on Jimin. He always did obnoxiously cute things that you couldn’t help but smile. He was clumsy, at times whiny but he was also really thoughtful, sweet and would always be a shoulder to lean on.

But a guy like Jimin isn’t one that you can keep to yourself- Not that you could do that or something.

“Are you sure you could be out of bed like this? Earth to Y/N?”

“Huh?” Jimin placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your face growing hot and he pulled away.

“Gosh, you’re burning up.” Tell me about it. You cleared your throat.

“Just lay down on the couch, I’m gonna heat up the soup Jin made.”

“Jin made me soup? I should get sick more often.”

“No! I-I mean I helped him out mostly, I really made the soup.”

“Sure, Jimin.”

“Just go lie down, please.” You did as you were told, lying down on the couch.

“Hey, Y/N, where do you keep your blankets?”

“Second door on the left.” He came back with one of your thickest blankets, covering you with it and you looked at him.

“You should take a picture, it would last longer.”

“Shut up. Where’s my soup, Jimin?”

“Oh shoot, I almost forgot.”

“Jimin, please don’t burn down my home.”

“I got this. You just lie there, all pretty and warm- I mean you could be pretty warm with that blanket, right?”

“Smooth.” He winked at you before quickly backing into the kitchen, you covered your mouth to hold in your laughter. So stupid.

You laid there, listening to Jimin opening and closing different cabinets in your kitchen. He came back with a bowl and chopsticks in each hand and you sat up.

“You like coconut curry, right?”

“My favourite soup. Maybe you did help out a little bit.”

“One day I‘ll show you.”

“Looking forward to it, Jimin.”

“Have some, it is for you, you know.” You broke the chopsticks and took a bite, instantly hit with the delectable flavours and couldn’t stop yourself from devouring the whole bowl.

“That good, huh?”

“God, Jin is a cooking prodigy.”

“Let me have a bite.”

“Nuh-uh, you can ask Jin to make some for you when you’re sick.” You said, getting your last bite but Jimin grabbed your hand and fed himself.

“You brat, that was my last bite.” You poked his cheek with your chopsticks while he began chewing.

“Tasted even better knowing that.”

“Is this how you treat the sick and vulnerable, Jimin?”

“Jin made more than one bowl.”

“Fine, you’re temporarily forgiven.”

“Temporarily?”

“I don’t deal with food lightly. Especially really good food.”

“Will you forgive me fully if we watched these together?” He handed you a plastic bag, when did he bring that in?

Your curiosity got the better of you, peering through the content and noticing there were all Disney movies. You enjoyed most of the titles, Bambi, Aladdin, Alice in wonderland but you stop when you pulled out Tangled. The Disney classic was one of your all-time favourites. It was well known amongst your friend group and it’s the only movie you would watch for the rest of your life if you had to.

“You brought these for me?”

“Yeah, I did. Am I fully forgiven?”

“I’ll tell you after the movie.” You snuggled into your blanket, watching Jimin turn on your tv and insert the disc into your DVD player.

“Can you turn off the lights too?”

“Want the whole experience too, huh?”

“It’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“The things I do for you.”

“Hush, it’s starting.” You watched the intro of the Disney castle and felt yourself getting giddy. You were easily engrossed in the movie when you felt a warm body close to yourself.

“J-Jimin.”

“I’m feeling cold, do you mind?”

“I could grab another blanket.” You suggested, about to get up but Jimin pulled you closer to him, your body half resting against his.

“No, this is fine.” You turned your attention to the movie, trying to not be so rigid against him and focus.

You quietly sang along with the songs, Jimin laughing with you at all the funny moments and your favourite scene was about to come up.

You began to sing along with Rapunzel, watching the lanterns floating around them.

All those days watching from the windows

All those years outside looking in

All that time never even knowing

Just how blind I've been

Now I'm here blinking in the starlight

Now I'm here suddenly I see

Standing here it's all so clear

I'm where I'm meant to be

And at last I see the light

And it's like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it's like the sky is new

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything looks different

Now that I see you

You heard Jimin clearing his throat before singing along to Flynn, you looked at him in surprise.

All those days chasing down a daydream

All those years living in a blur

All that time never truly seeing

Things, the way they were

Now she's here shining in the starlight

Now she's here suddenly I know

If she's here it's crystal clear

I'm where I'm meant to go

He met your eyes, the two of you continue to sing along.

And at last I see the light

And it's like the fog is lifted, Jimin sang

And at last I see the light

And it's like the sky is new, you vocalized before you both sang together once again.

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything is different

Now that I see you

“I didn’t know you could sing like that.”

“A hidden talent of mine. Your voice is pretty good too.”

“Why, thank you.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie and hearing Jimin let out a sigh. The movie went on, you only got up to stretch when the credits began to roll.

“I guess you’re forgiven, Jimin.”

“Y/N.”

“Oh, okay, why do you sound so serious all of a sudden?”

“Because,” he got up to stand in front of you, all you could muster a look of bewilderment as he took a deep breath before continuing.

“I want you to believe me when I say I like you…”

“You w-what?”

“I like you, okay? Don’t make me repeat it.” Uh, you just did- Wait, that’s not the point, Park Jimin just goddamn confessed to you.

“I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I can’t keep-”

“Could you stop trying to be cool for two seconds, so I could tell you I like you too?”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m not repeating myself, Jimin.”

“It’s okay I recorded it!” The two of you looked over to see Hana standing behind the couch and she waved.

“How the hell did you get there? Why the hell are you in my house and why did you record that?”

“It’s for my memories, Y/N confessing to Jimin after pining him for months-”

“You have?” Jimin asked, you avoiding his eyes and glaring at Hana. She’s going to get it when you aren’t sick, just she waits.

“Kim Hana, you’re so dead.”

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin smut #jimin #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts jimin #bts jimin fluff #bts jimin angst #bts jimin fanfic #bts jimin x you #bts jimin x reader #bts x y/n #jimin x you #bts fanfic

60 notes · View notes

musedblues · 5 years ago

Text

Hello Again

Part 1 of (maybe 2?)

W/C: 8k

Summary: Gwilym has always been around, somewhere in the background of your fast-moving life. But when summer comes along, you finally slow down enough to take a closer look.

Warnings: Allusion to/ Mentions of alcoholism? Nothing too horrific!

A/N: I’m writing again! Rather, finally getting around to uploading things I’ve had written for ages. There will be a second part to this in the very near future! Please enjoy my hopeless fantasizing, gang! (and don’t be afraid to let me know if you do!) _

You had nearly forgotten all about your past twenty-three years of living, on your rampage through the American desert: and that was your mission... To focus on nothing besides soaking up every the last ray of the blistering hot sun before summer vacation was over, and you had to start senior year of college. You were a history major and initially had big dreams of becoming a librarian or a museum director, so that you could enjoy immense hushed quiet all day before going out with your best girlfriends at night.

You loved to take it easy, especially after a night of partying so hard. You and your friends had established yourselves as the college's most wild group up until earlier this year when you nearly KO'd after staying in the hospital for a month due to alcohol poisoning. You took the school year slow, and when summer came, you piled your three closest friends and took off on a stereotypical road trip. Good, clean fun.

When you weren't driving, your trip was mainly spent poolside, humming along to the static radio Francine toted along with her everywhere. The battery-powered thing would even work in the car sometimes, which came in handy as your vintage mustang wasn't equipped with a port for an aux cord or a radio that worked any longer.

Francine spread her gangly legs across Emma's lap in the back while Tilly sat in your passenger seat, flexing her map reading muscle on a mission to be totally directionally literate by the end of the road trip across the southwest. But then your car broke down forty miles deep into death valley and you all had to cram your belongings and yourselves into the back of a cab. Other friends might not have survived being squished together like sardines. But you made it to the Vegas airport without a foul word between the bunch of you.

Granted, Emma started to cry because the cab smelt of ham and Tilly's beloved map blew across the sandy horizon as you sat on the roadside, waiting to be rescued. You all relied on each other to keep a cool head, like always.

Your three roommates were sometimes too much to handle at once, but over the past three years of college and dates and sickness and flunked classes, you'd be lost without your best friends.

Once you all got back home to California with a bundle of stories to tell and a lot of left over time to fill up, the only thing to do was crash.

Luckily, your brother's fancy new home was the closest and coolest stop. So you decided to take over his pool house like you were still on some kind of adventure.

"How's your brother so well off? And is he well off.. in other areas?" Francine pipped up. She blew away some of her frizzy strands of hair that made her seem like the coolest hippie alive, with a name to match. Her boldness never faltered in style or speak.

"Hm, strange I've suddenly lost my hearing." You quipped, grossed out by the thought of your brother being lusted after.

"Just don't bother him, okay? I'm welcome in the pool house without question so none of you are allowed to mess this up for us!" You informed. Your brother, Daniel, bought the house earlier in the year sometime when a film project he was apart of paid off pretty well. You'd forgotten anything to do with his big winnings in your previously alcoholic state.

"Oh, just go shower! We're gonna search through the movie cabinet and bask in the glow of this projector." Emma beamed.

The pool house was a studio with a tiny square marble kitchen, a living room complete with a bunch over oversized beanbags, and two twin beds hidden in the sunken pit lounge area. The space was designed in the '70s and the golden shag carpet still remained to prove it. This was the faux frat house your brother escaped to when the fancy chandelier in his adjacent home shone a little too brightly for his liking. The best part of the pool house was the film projector and the massive pull-down screen, like a tiny personal movie theater. Though your brother was a bigger fan of dated television series', a few classic films found their way into his collection on the wall-length shelf.

You left the hip space to take a breather in the grey tiled bathroom, taking your time washing off the sheen of dust and sweat your road trip disaster left you in. When you returned to the living room to take Emma's place on the sofa while she scampered to the shower, the girls had popped in some movie of their liking.

"Top End Wedding. I've never heard of it." Tilly called from the floor, crawling around to put the disc in the player. She had already placed the cover back into its rightful spot on the shelf.

"What's that even mean?" Francine wondered, snuggling under a furry blanket.

"Shut up and find out like the rest of us." Tilly offered, plopping back against a florescent bean bag.

You chuckled as the movie started, but turned your attention your cell phone after it started too buzz. There was an email from the death valley mechanic addressing the problems he had to fix in order to get your car running again. You typed back a response in a hurry. When your friend's giggles cut through your focus, you clicked your phone off and turned your attention back to the film.

You'd completely missed the first scene, catching only glimpses of lush green islands and a lady with a broken high heeled shoe. But then a familiar voice spoke up.

"I have to take her to court?" Gwilym Lee was on the screen. Of course, he was. He appeared unmistakably himself... but much different from the last time you recalled seeing the man.

You silently chuckled to yourself, wondering whatever became of your brother's best friend. After Daniel and Gwilym finished grad school together, Gwilym was apparently apart of a few major British productions and a well off guy. But between your focus on college and some extra wild nights out, you'd barely seen your brother outside of holiday celebrations. So Gwyilm was hardly ever brought up in conversation. Or maybe he was, and you were just too maxed out to register. Be that as it may, the blue-eyed man was on the screen now... looking rather grown-up.

"My God he's a catch am I right?" Tilly pipped up, sipping vodka she'd found in the mini-fridge. Did she really think so? Dear old Gwilym?

"Look at him! That actress is so tiny next to him, God. Imagine being pinned between him and a wall." Francine swooned, in her usual lovestruck wonder.

And the intrusive thought was frightening to you. Because it seemed almost appealing. Gwilym hugged you goodbye once, some odd years ago. His strong arms were certainly brought a comfort you could still recollect.

"Confirmation that we're all hot for this Ned character?" Tilly turned her pretty feathery head of hair to you. You were busy bitting your thumbnail and wondering when Gwilym had gotten so buff.

"Huh? Oh yeah, Ned's cool." You nodded emptily.

"Pfft!" Francine spat, sitting up and leaning across a pillow toward you. "Get your head out of your car troubles and look at this fine British hunk!"

"I thought this was an Austrian film?" Tilly wondered.

"He's clearly British! Listen up! Haven't you paid attention during the world's fair week?" Francine rang, lifting her own glass of vodka toward the screen.

Your phone buzzed again and you desperately hoped it was the man who would assure your car was liable and you could pick it up and drive it through the desert some more before summer vacation ended. But instead, your brother's name blinked across your dim screen.

Daniel: Are you in the pool house? Come inside for a second. Leave the sorority behind. (No offense)

"I'll be right back. Pools open! Just don't come in the house!" You called out the rules your brother gave you the first time you stayed here. Your friends groaned. You scurried out the window paneled door and across the stone packed pathway to Daniel's deck. The back porch light was on and its reflection glistened off the pool. Was he going to be pissed that you remembered where he hid the spare key and tell your gang to leave? Did he just want to say hello? If he did, why wouldn't he just come out to greet you?

You knocked a couple of times to warn of your requested intrusion. The kitchen was empty and dark but there was a chatter coming from the living room. Your brother must have had company. Why did you need to come in here?

That's when Vinny and Violet came bounding up the basement staircase toward you in a fluffy flurry. They were sibling Burmese Mountain dogs whose nails were clicking against the cherry wood floor as they pranced below your feet; a very excitable greeting.

"Y/N? Come in here!" Daniel's low timbre was heard in from the living room and the sound of clinking glasses followed. Your brother Daniel was standing from his luxurious leather sofa, smiling and gesturing you into the room. On the other side of the sofa was a man you hadn't seen in years, but had just been reminded of only moments ago.

"Gwil is in town! I thought I heard you outside and we were just talking about you."

Oh my God. He was hot. You tried to stifle your shock at the stone-carved beauty of a brother's best friend that rose to his feet before you.

"Hello, again Y/N! Looking very comfortable." Gwil's voice was silky and wonderfully British. The accent would always catch you off guard. But his enchanting voice only reminded you how silly you must have looked in your sad excuse for pajamas. You wore tattered sweat pants and a torn-up tshirt that bared too much of your collar bone to be deemed appropriate.

And the angelic Gwilym was in well-fitted slacks and a dress shirt, blue eyes glimmering, muscles rippling past his perfect clothes.

"Hi, Gwil!" You chimed, really mustering the strength to sound normal. But what was normal between the pair of you? You'd met him a total of three times.

"Why are you all the way over in this part of town?" Daniel wondered, shifting his weight and glancing at you.

"My car broke down in death valley and your place was closest. Hope it's alright if we crash for the night?"

"I left the pool house key out for a reason! It's never a bother. I like that you're comfortable enough to stay. Roxanne never even comes over." Daniel complained about your middle sister. Roxanne was an unassuming girl with an interest in botany that left her camped out in national parks for weeks at a time. Your sister would talk about plants little to nothing else, besides her terrible crush on Gwilym Lee. A shameless attraction you'd all too suddenly understood.

"How's she?" Gwilym asked with a knowing smile. She could never hide the way she melted in Gwil's presence.

"She's been the movies this year, if that's what you're asking." Daniel chortled. You wondered for a moment if the film your friends had found in the cabinet was one that made it to theaters. Was Gwilym finally featured on the big screen? And did Roxanne really still have that girlish crush?

"She's been seeing a lot of that Max guy, actually. I know because she does, in fact, call me every weekend." You chided, looking to Daniel with a smile.

"Yeah to make sure you're not dead." Daniel retorted. He was never a fan of your wild streak. Bless him. "She's always up to something crazy. Practically Instagram famous." Daniel buffed your confidence, gushing over his very own kid sister.

"I have a few thousand followers, it's really not uncommon." You assured your brother, who'd never gotten more than twelve likes on his own posts.

"Cute." Gwilym smiled. He looked you up and down and if you weren't sporting the world's nastiest pajamas. You'd dare to wonder if he liked what he saw.

"Well I better get back were-" You caught your breath and tore your curious gaze away from your brother's best friend. "...having quite the girls night."

Daniel nodded in response.

"You staying for a while? See you around?" You asked Gwilym. You were a naturally curious girl, and Gwilym Lee was extremely easy on the eyes. Why wouldn't you want to look a little longer?

"Yeah, I'll be in town. See ya around, kid." Gwilym's perfect smile was photograph worthy. But that remark stung. You were just Daniel's littlest sister, to Gwilym.

Later that evening you excused your bout of absence with some white lie about your brother needing help with his dogs after a bath.

The death valley mechanic eventually emailed you with good news, so you text your brother and asked if he could take you through the desert on a mission to get your car back. He happily agreed to take you and to let the girls take over the pool house for the day.

///

Your eyes fluttered open, blinded by the sharp white rays of sun boomeranging off the pool and into the window by your bed. Emma was passed out on the adjacent bed, snoring peacefully. There were more shuffles and chatter from the level above you and you knew the other girls were awake. You heard muted squeals and high pitched whispers floating through the pool house, and among them, a lower voice grumbled.

"Y/N! Ned's here!" Francine's unmistakably excited voice rang out.

"Oh, lovely!" You heard Gwilym let out a far off chortle.

Shit. What! Why? You bolted out of the twin bed and up the couple of steps, feet flying over the inexplicable shag carpet toward the double doors.

Gwilym was dressed for the day, in khaki shorts, a white short-sleeved button-up, and turtle framed glasses hiding the sparkle of his sea-blue eyes. And he was standing in the doorway with that stupid smirk, looking right at you.

"Gwil! Hi?" You reasoned, shouldering past Francine who was clutching the open door frame with her jaw hovering just above the floor.

"I texted you a bunch- but I see you were still asleep." Gwilym grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Is everything alright?" You wondered suddenly. You didn't even care that your hair was sticking in different directions, and the man had already seen your atrocious excuse for pajamas.

"Well, Dan got called into work. Left in a big hurry and asked if I'd help you out today. Fancy a lift? He took his SUV. Left the Buick." Gwil actually smirked, like he was making a sweet deal.

That's when Emma let out a gasp from somewhere behind you. She'd spent the first half of Top End Wedding in the shower, but quickly joined your friends to gush over the main character upon her joining the film

Gwilym's eyes left yours for a moment to glance over your shoulder to the house full of girls.

"Uh... alright." You gave a nervous grin, realizing you didn't really have another option. Daniel trusted Gwilym with his vehicle. If he caught one of your college friends behind the wheel of his car, he'd blow a gasket for certain.

"Uh, give me a minute to get my self together?" You nodded to Gwilym. The pair of you had never really spent any kind of quality time with each other. Only sat beside each other during dinners out with your brother's friends and across the living room sharing jokes. This was very different. Did you trust Gwil?

"Sure. I'll wait here if you lot don't mind." Gwil turned his bright gaze to Francine who's chipped nails were still digging into the open door. The girl gave a subtle nod, watching Gwil creep toward the kitchen counter.

"What the hell is going on?" Tilly laughed as you gestured past her.

"Secrets out! Gwil is a family friend. Please don't freak him out." You groaned, scooting to the bathroom. Tilly gapped at you as you spun into the bathroom to pull yourself together.

After finding an old Sargent Pepper tshirt in your bag and managing your hair into a suitable fashion, you hurried back out of the bathroom to hit the road; praying that your friends hadn't corned Gwilym.

The girls were scattered around the kitchen, leaning against counters with their eyes plastered on Gwil. He was like a wonder of the world. An uncovered treasure splayed out in the open.

You had spotted your sandals by the counter and were stepping into them as Tilly asked daft questions to Gwilym about how he knew me, and just exactly how rich he was. The man answered Tilly with grace and caution. Was he really so easy-going? After apologizing profusely and shooting daggers to your girlfriends it was time to go.

"You can use the pool and the dogs will probably hang out. Francine, you're in charge of disaster prevention!" You pointed your way out of the door, as Gwilym followed with a chuckle. Funnily enough, the brash girl was the clearest head in times of trouble.

Gwilym shuffled toward the garage and as you passed into the musty room, feeling a little sick to your stomach.

"Gwil, are you sure this is how you want to spend your day? I don't want to ask too much of you."

"Oh get in the car. I haven't got a thing to do until Dan gets back tonight. There's no harm in a little road trip, is there?"

"Three hours one way. This is your last chance to back out."

Gwilym was already behind the wheel, buckling his seat belt with a smile. You had no choice but to shrug and scramble in the passenger. At least this ride had a radio.

Five minutes in.

"Where's my turn?" Gwilym panicked, steering the wheel sharply to swerve out of the way of roadkill.

"Next exit. When did you learn to drive in the States? Yesterday?" He was almost too quick to react.

"Ha. Ha." Gwilym produced a dry laugh, speeding up ever so slightly. "Last year. A couple of mates and I spent the summer driving around this very desert, I'll have you know."

"Hmm, I see." You smiled as you tried to picture Gwilym going on some great adventure. As far as you knew, his work was his life. Must be some pretty important pals to have tricked the tall man into having a little long-lasting fun. Was he always so cute when he smiled like that?

20 minutes later.

"It's too late now Gwilym. We're already on the freeway and the next exit is only a private ranch."

"But I want a soda so bad." The Englishman whined. For some reason, that surprised you. You realized you really didn't know this guy at all. But you really wanted too. So you promised Gwilym you'd track down the closest fast-food spot and started into an easy-going conversation.

"What would you be doing today if I wasn't in such desperate need?" You teased but you really wanted to know more about the man. The pretty, pretty man.

"Back home? Probably spending the day at a sports game. Having a few drinks at night. Maybe a film to wrap up the evening? That or working I'm sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." These were things you already knew about Gwil. But you could have listened to him drone on in that delicatessen accent forever and a day.

"What about you? Still out till the odd hours? Still dating that Rodney fellow?"

You couldn't help but let a snort escape you as you turned your head toward Gwil. Had it really been so long since you'd seen him?

"I broke Rodney's heart three years ago, Gwil. I dated around for a while but it's been a busy time. I've not even had time to drink myself sick all year." You smirked. Gwil let out a shocked chuckle. He was right to do so. You used to have a little too much fun.

"No time to do anything but cram. I've not even been to the movies. What do you know about those?" You grinned. It was his dream to act. You felt a little bad for not keeping better track of the local theater. Surely Gwilym had made it to the big screen by now.

"I heard you saw a certain one last night." Gwil pipped up gently. Ah yes, Francine introduced the man at the door as 'Ned.'

"Yeah, that... We found the tape in the cupboard. Your character was a total catch by the way. Any others I've missed out on?"

Your conversation was flowing, and you felt real true ease between your brother's best friend and yourself. Whether it was circumstantial or genuine, you let yourself sink into an appreciation for the magnetic moment.

"Uh... a few," Gwilym spoke. "Do you like the Beatles?"

"Why were you cast as Mr. Harrison or something?" You giggled at Gwil's change of subject.

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't a fraud." Gwilym smiled, gesturing to your Sargent Pepper shirt.

"I'm no fraud!" You assured. "I love all that old rock and roll stuff." You'd scored tickets to see Ringo Starr before college kicked off. It was the best damn day of your life.

"Good. Let's have at it then, aye?" Gwil managed to uncover an aux chord from bellow the counsel and plugged it into his phone. The man reached out and cranked the radio up to the tune of Do You Want To Know A Secret. And for just a moment as you sang along, you pretended that Gwilym knew you were singing to him.

2 hours in

You stopped at the In-n-Out one hundred miles inward. Gwyilm finally got his soda and a whole lot more. The pair of you split a giant order of fries and traded burgers when you discovered you liked each other's orders better. You both thought about splitting a shake but you convinced Gwilym to get his own. He downed the sweet treat in minutes, but yours sat beading with sweat in the cup holder now. A couple of inches of the frozen drink rippled in a melted puddle as the Buick crept toward a gas station.

Gwilym stood in the heat to fill the car as you disposed of the collection of fast-food trash.

"Should I get more snacks?" You called out to Gwil from across the otherwise empty lot.

"Why don't we just agree to a nice dinner on the way home?" He shouted back. It sounded like a joke but you knew it wasn't. You went on to purchase some sunflower seeds anyway because you'd want to stash some in your car.

"Don't act like you don't want some of these." You prodded Gwils ribs as you both settled back into your brother's car. He shook his head with a grin as you tore open the packet of sunflower seeds.

"You're unbelievable. I guess I'll have a few." Gwil reached a hand out after revving the engine.

"Alright. How much was gas, while we're at it?" You gave the bag of seeds to Gwilym as you reached into your purse for your wallet.

"It's none of your business. My treat, really. Thank you for sharing." Gwil laid the bag of seeds to rest in your lap as he turned the wheel out of the gas station.

"I'll let you have that one but I'll get you back when you least expect it." You grumbled, snatching the seeds for your own again.

"Let's get back to your opinion on American football. We've got a lot to dissect here." Gwilym smirked, hands lose on the wheel, tires steady on the road. He was getting the hang of this yet!

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." It was the unsexiest innuendo of all time, but with gentle prodding, Gwil had begun to easily open up to you.

///

The car dealership was just outside Vegas and your beloved mustang was roasting in the hot sun, ready to be driven back to safer grounds.

You practically fell to your knees before the mechanic who ordered special parts and offered you a discount for all your troubles.

"Just follow behind, I know the way back." You smiled to Gwilym, admiring the way the soft breeze tousled his hair. "Thanks again for this." He was really a good sport.

You had settled into your old mustang, fingers fitting into the worn-out divots in the steering wheel. But you cursed when you reached for the radio. You had really been pampered all day, in your brothers Buick, with groovy tunes and a whole lot of eye candy.

That's when your phone rang. It was Gwilym.

The desert road was wide open, but you still decided to put the call on speaker and rest the phone on your dash.

"Hello?" You laughed, checking your rearview mirror. Gwil drove your brothers Buick a safe distance behind. You swore you could see Gwilym's bright white teeth as he responded.

"Hello! I've just realized that I promised to take to dinner, but I can't very well do that with you leading the way."

"Oh, that's what this is about?" You snorted, eyeing the mountains across the horizon.

"Where shall we go?" His voice crackled from your dashboard.

"There's an exit in about forty minutes with a few suitable options. Nothing movie star worthy though." You clicked your tongue, wondering if this was all some fever dream brought on by the ninety-degree day.

"Oh stop it. Is there an IHop? I love IHop."

"You do?" You chuckled. Gwilym hummed with certainty.

"Alright." You spoke up, glancing in the rearview once more. Was he looking? "I'm sure we can track one down."

"Thanks, kid." There it was again, that pesky pet name. You didn't like it at all.

"Am I liable to call you old man?" You jabbed, making your feelings known in a light-hearted manner.

"Whoa now, I'll hang up and leave you alone with your broken radio." Gwil threatened. He remembered your telling him your radio was broken? You glanced in the rearview once more and noticed Gwilym holding up his middle finger.

"Hey!" You laughed.

"Eyes on the road!" Gwilym challenged. There were, in fact, shiny cars popcorning over the horizon.

"Alright, alright! Can you Google and drive? I'll be your eyes." You offered, driving ahead of the man.

"Hang on," Gwilym spoke. You smiled and bit your lip to withhold the burst of joy you wanted to scream out. "I've got one. I'm gonna pass you and take this adventure into my own hands if you don't mind."

You could hear Gwilym smile as his car sped up past yours in an instant.

"See ya at IHop old man!" You shouted, swiping the phone call to end before Gwilym could shout back.

Your brothers Buick zoomed past you and began to blend in with the waves of heat on the horizon. You prayed under your breath that the man leading your way wasn't just a mirage.

///

You sat across from your brother's best friend in a sticky old IHop booth while a family of six and an old married couple filled out the other corners of the restaurant. One waitress floated through the otherwise empty diner to cater to all of you as the sun set.

Gwilym ordered a tea and you warned he was going to be disappointed in the Americanized beverage. He shooed off your comment and relaxed in the booth while you sipped your coffee. You wondered how you ended up here, then you wondered how Gwilym ended up here.

"Have you really just come to town for my brother's silly party?" You suddenly quizzed. Dan threw what he called a "mixer" once every year, where all the friends he'd ever known were invited to drink bourbon and pretend it was fun being an adult. This year was a bit of a house warming party, and your whole family was invited.

"Sort of. I wanted to see him anyway and some other friends around LA." Gwilym offered, resting his head on the heel of his hand while he gazed at you.

"I see, I forgot you were a big rom-com star now." You chuckled. Of course, he was in Hollywood to mingle with other bright eyed up and comers.

But Gwilym just rolled his eyes and smiled as the waitress floated by to fill up your coffee cup.

"The last time I saw you was Easter in 2015, do you remember that?" Gwilym sat up a little, twirling his finger around the rim of his mug of tea. You tried really hard not to notice.

"I'm surprised you do. I was late to brunch and you left not long after I showed up." You recalled. That was when he hugged you goodbye, as he was leaving and you were just joining the rest of your family. He lingered around the dining table to finish some conversation with your father, but you don't remember him leaving.

"'Course I remember. You poured something from a flask into your coffee when your mum wasn't looking." Gwil gestured toward your warm cup and you winced in remembrance.

"Those were the days, huh?" You furrowed your brow even though you smiled, a little sick at the thought of drinking anything.

"They aren't anymore?" Gwil seemed to gently pry, and you weren't about to lie to him.

"No, I learned my lesson in the hospital." You shrugged, hoping to never stay that long on an IV drip ever again.

"What?" Gwilym asked. He seemed genuinely concerned and you hadn't realized he didn't know. Dan would usually warn anyone to keep an eye out on you in case you keeled over like you always used to morning noon and night.

"Yeah, I drank myself silly." You laughed, but it wasn't silly at all. That month was shit. "I haven't drank since January."

"Christ." Gwil shot his wide eyes toward you.

"It's a good thing! I like coffee much more, anyway."

"Than this," Gwil gestured around the eatery, "was the perfect choice."

Gwilym's smile was ultraviolet. You admired him in a way you might have anyone else, but the longer you took in his features, they became prettier by the second. You caught yourself staring, but that was usually the case. What caught you further off guard was the way Gwilym seemed to be just as in tune to your conversation as you were. LIke he really wanted to right here, in the middle of nowhere, with his best friend's kid sister.

He was too good to be true. Why had it taken you so long to realize?

///

That same night, you drove your friends back to your flat to the tune of their incessant teasing. You guessed you'd be shocked if Colin Firth showed up to crash your spontaneous slumber party, after watching Love Actually. So, you couldn't blame them, but you could block them out. You found your mind wandering to the weekend. You found yourself thinking of Gwilym.

Your brother's annual gala was three days later. Your parents swung by your flat and gave you a lift all the way across one town to the next so you could all attend your brother's first party in his new home.

You wore torn up mom jeans and a decent blouse, unbothered by most of the guests sporting their finest black-tie looks, like this was the waiting block for Mad Men auditions or something. Everyone was drinking and the smell alone made your blood curdle. You slinked through plastic Hollywood types and decided you didn't need to drink to have fun, or waste your time mingling.

You wound up in the posh den, in a leather recliner, directing your brother's dogs to do tricks. You got Vinny to start barking at his reflection in the flat screen tv , much to the annoyance of the passing guests. But someone was charmed by your antics. Gwyilm leaned against the door frame with a now-familiar smile.

"Vinny, look!" You pointed to the flatscreen while the giant dog spun around to start whining. Gwilym laughed at you, and you whipped your head to find him watching on, drink in hand.

"Are you having a good time?" Gwilym comically quizzed, scooting further into the room. He sat on the arm of the chair you occupied, holding his glass between his legs. You looked up at the British hunk and smiled.

"We are. Violet just learned to shake hands!" You quipped. The dog bounced over at the sound of her name and sat in front of you, ready to show off her new skills.

"Nice to meet you, lady." You teased, holding your palm in front of your brother's dog. Violet raised her paw into your hand and you smiled as you shook it.

"Well before we call the circus and send you off, you better say goodbye to your family. Your mum's been looking for you." Gwilym laughed, shaking his head as he sipped something dark.

God, how embarrassing. Did she send him to find you? Did she think you were passed out in the bushes or worse? With a pursed smile you stood and left the den to find your mother lounging in the living room with a few other, older guests.

"Oh, this is my youngest, Y/N. A very bright girl." Your mother gushed, grabbing on to your writs and pulling you toward the sofa as some middle-aged blonde lady smiled widely at you. Her name was Dawn and she was busy trying to one-up your mother in housewife points. You just gave a fake grin and spun around to find your father asking about your car troubles.

"It's all fixed and fine now." You assured. Dan appeared on the scene, boasting about how his friend Gwilym was kind enough to take you on that trip. Gwil was sitting back on the sofa, smiling at your father as Dan boosted his ego. But he deserved the praise.

"Gwil practically saved my life!" You pointed, spinning toward where the man was settled onto the love seat. In your classic dramatic flare, you flung yourself into Gwilym's lap without thinking. The time you'd spent with the man had stripped away the layer if unfamiliarity between the two of you. And you would have plopped into anyone of your friend's laps. You made sure to bring your hand to your forehead to ensure your swooning was just for show. Even if you happened to feel a swoop of endearment at the prospect of being so close to Gwil. He was stunning. And his fingers were cautiously hovering around you, as if he wanted to hold you but knew better. And as you scooted out of the man's lap toward the cushion beside him, you swore you saw a hunger in his sea-blue eyes.

"Alright, leave the acting to him, you're no good." Daniel batted your hair on his way across the room at the sound of his name being called.

Moments after you peeled yourself off of Gwilym Lee's lap, your sister showed up. You hadn't seen Roxanne in what felt like ages. On her arm, an unassuming botanist called Max, who seemed to be totally head over heels for your older sister. Boy was he in for a treat.

"Hello, Roxy." Gwilym smiled, resting his glass on the coffee table as he stood to greet your sister. And just like that, the usually demure girl practically melted. You couldn't blame her, not anymore. Not after you caught a glimpse at how warm Gwil's smile really was.

"This, uh, this is Max." Roxanne shoved her boyfriend between herself and Gwilym, a human shield. The equally as meek fellow seemed to look up to Gwilym with wonder in his eye. You realized that no one was safe from doing a double-take. Gwilym was just that great.

The party fizzled out. Before the last guests even left, Roxanne kissed her beau and skipped out to the pool house with you, deciding to spend the night for some much-needed one on one time. You stole some of Daniel's sweatshirts and snacks from your brother's home and locked yourselves into the private little hut in his back yard.

After nearly a full hour of listening to your sister gush over how much she liked Max and how their relationship was taking off, Roxanne got quiet.

"I didn't realize Gwil was in town." Roxanne sheepishly admitted, reaching to the bowl of popcorn between the two of you.

"Yeah, I was surprised too." You realized. "I can't believe you still have a thing for him."

Roxanne laughed and shook her head as if that was all behind her now. But then she bit her lip and looked at you to tell her secret.

"No harm in looking, right?" She shrugged. Roxanne really did seem happy with her new boyfriend. But anyone with eyes could see Gwilym's glow and would probably long to bask in it all the same. You weren't blind to that any longer.

///

Emma and Francine were busy sitting around your apartment doing nothing, terribly bored of it all. Tilly had gone back to visit her family while the summer raged on, leaving the three of you to your own usual devices. Your brother had asked you to stay a little while longer, but he and Gwil took the dogs to a hiking trail and you got bored alone in the pool house after your sister went home. So you drove back to your flat where your roommates decided to waste away together.

"There's nothing good on tv. And I don't wanna go out. Why is nothing fun anymore?" You complained. The days of dancing the night away seemed like a waste of time to you now. There had been lots of fun last year, and the ones before. Maybe too much fun. When you weren't drinking you were asleep in someone else's bed. Casual dating turned into some kind of game. And it all started when Francine challenged you to get with as many people as you could take a shot for. And naturally, you were down to take the drinking challenge, but you took way too many shots that night. And you started zipping through one night stands like it was your job and you needed extra rent. You felt nothing, numbed by so many drinks. And near the end of your manic episode, you thought that maybe the more people you shagged, you'd eventually feel for one of them. But that never happened. Even when you brought some of them home and tried to mold them into a little perfect box.

You had a lot of time to reevaluate in the hospital. You hoped with your new lease on life that meaning would seep back through your cracks. But sitting around your old dusty apartment bored you. Wasn't there any balance anymore? Your phone buzzed you out of deep thought.

Gwil: How'd you get Violet to shake your hand? She won't listen to me or Dan!

You: I'm a dog whisperer. ;)

"We could do arts and crafts!" Emma chirped like a hopeful preschooler.

"It's too hot to think of having fun." Francine moaned, sprawled across the sofa with her upper half sliding down toward the floor.

Your phone buzzed again. Gwilym responded with the meme of the angry-looking cat sitting at the dinner table. You let out a breathy laugh that fanned through your nose. Before you could think of responding Gwilym had sent another text.

Gwil: I'll find out your secret one day.

You: Take a hike!

He should have been trekking through scenic California mountains instead of sending you memes.

"Earth to Y/N! Why are you smiling at your phone like that when we're in the middle of a boredom crisis meeting?"

"What?" You blanched. Had you really been lost in the short-lived conversation between Gwilym and yourself? He was just too good to be true. Of course, you were transfixed by the lad.

"Yeah, who are you talking to? Is Stu back from Ibiza? Are you two hooking up again?" Francine challenged, sitting up on the sofa with a knowing grin.

"God no, not Stu. He stole my underwear. That fucking creep." You shivered at the memory of your very last and longest hookup. Emma grimaced in response, but Francine, like always, wasn't satisfied.

"So who is it then?" The girl's honey-brown eyes filled with mischief as she reached for your phone.

"Why do you think it has to be anybody?" You whined, trying to lean further back before Francine could launch her self toward you. But it was too late, she latched onto your cell like a falcon, and scanned the screen. Her lips turned into a wild smile while Emma turned her head in anticipation.

"It's Ned!" Francine let out a burst of laughter as you dove back toward her to rescue your stolen device.

"Ned from the movie?" Emma questioned.

"What other Ned's do you know, Emma?" Francine rang, allowing you to take back your phone.

"The dad from the Try Guys." Emma shrugged. You would have laughed if you didn't feel your stomach fall away. What was there to be so nervous about?

"Why is movie star Ned sending you memes? How do you even know him, again?" Francine sat straight up against some throw pillows to begin her interrogation.

"When Daniel moved to London for college, he and Gwilym became the best of friends." You sighed, reminding Francine of the name of the man she kept referring to.

"He sent you a meme, Y/N." Francine rose her brows like she was alluding to something more.

"After he drove you across the desert and back," Emma added, pointing your way.

"Yeah, I guess he's my friend too." You gapped. Well he was, wasn't he? Your phone buzzed again and everyone's eyes filled with curiosity as you kept your phone clutched to your chest.

"He's also a movie star!" Francine rang.

"Just because he was in some Australian rom-com doesn't mean anything-"

"What other movies has he been in? Maybe he's loaded and you guys can be Hollywoods new it couple." Emma cooed like she was dreaming for herself.

"I don't know- the last time I saw Gwil was years ago I hardly think-"

"Babe. I can tell you're into him so do away with excuses!" Francine leaned over the sofa to rest a hand on your knee.

"Guys, I'm just now really getting to know him..." You reasoned, trying like mad to pretend his gloriously pretty face wasn't always on your mind.

"He's hot. I'm talking mega beautiful. I don't blame you. And he basically already took you on a date." Francine remained trying to get you to crack.

"Uh, guys..." Emma was fixated on her phone screen when you and Francine whipped your heads toward the girl. She began to squeal through her teeth as she bolted from the pull out bed and skipped toward the coffee table to snatch the remote.

"What are you doing, Emma?" You asked but it sounded more like a warning. She only giggled as the tv buzzed to life. After a quick search on your shared Amazon account, a film from last year started to play.

"Are you trying to tell us that Gwilym is in Bohemian Rhapsody? Wasn't that nominated for a bunch of awards?" Francine focused on Emma who was staring at the screen in anticipation.

"Oh my God." You sighed. Not only did were you turned off by the thrill of seeing Gwil on screen, you felt horrible for not knowing your brother's best friend was in a damn blockbuster. Had you really been so far gone in party land that you were that blinded to the world around you? Francine picked up on your unease and tried to talk you into the spirit.

"He's probably just in the background for a second. But we have to watch it, so, Let's just get it over with."

Emma let out a nervous giggle as an actor opened his eyes on the screen. You literally held your breath while the film crept through the introduction. And then you saw him. Dawning a curly black wig and a smile that belonged to someone else.

"Oh no." You groaned at the exact moment Francine let out an excitable laugh.

"Your boyfriend is Brian May!" She squealed. Gwilym wasn't your boyfriend, but he was nearly identical to the guitarist of Queen. You loved their music. You loved their story. But you had totally missed the posters and promotions for the film that featured Gwil's name in lights. You decided then and there that you would never drink again. You and your friends watched the rest of the film in total rapture. Emma decided the blonde playing Roger was the new love of her life. Francine started to cry when the lad playing Freddie walked out of the doctor's office. You held her hand as the band kicked off Live Aid and when the credits rolled, Emma hit mute and you three stared at each other for a beat, lost for words.

"I sort of forgot all about Ned. He's a proper actor, isn't he?" Francine looked to you like she'd just seen a ghost. You could only muster a stunned nod of exact agreement.

"I just remembered something... my sister in law saw this in theaters like four times. She's totally obsessed with it. Let's call her!" Emma reached across the pull out bed to claim her cell phone before you could stop her.

"No, Emma this is ridiculous! It's not like I don't know Gwil." You reasoned.

"You just said that you were just getting to know him. And trust me when I say that no one knows an actor better than the fandom." Francine lifted her brow as if to prove a point. The girl was still obsessed with Supernatural, and would spout off info about the actors she kept up learning online. But it was all hearsay, wasn't it?

"That's insanely untrue, just so you know." You nodded to Francine, hoping to coax her out of that toxic mindset. The phone was ringing through Emma's speaker and before anyone could day more, someone answered.

"Susan! What do you know about Gwilym Lee?" Emma giggled, resting her phone on the bed with her speaker's volume all the way up. You buried your head in your hands as Francine wrapped an encouraging arm around your shoulder.

"You mean Brian May's clone?" Susan the sister in law crackled through the cell phone. She wasn't wrong. Halfway through the film, you'd nearly forgotten the real members of Queen weren't actually there.

"Is that a compliment? I mean really tell me about this guy. Sell him to me." Emma bargained, propping herself up on her elbows and kicking her feet behind her.

"Okay..." The girl on the phone breathed and suspense built up in your stomach while you waited for a stranger to list of facts about your brother's best friend. "Gwilym is perfect for starters. He's into sports and he's totally obsessed with his castmates. They still see each other all the time. Gwil seems totally devoted and passionate. Rumor has it he's engaged. The good ones are always taken."

You suddenly felt like a ghost of your former giddy self. Why should you have felt so sick? So what if he was engaged? He was just your friend. But friends were supposed to tell each other these sorts of things, weren't they?

"Engaged?" Emma squealed, practically causing the silky pull out bed to ripple from her risen octave.

"Well, it's just a rumor. There are no pictures of a ring or a girl or anything. But where there's smoke there's fire. Anyway, can I tell you about the rest of the cast?"

Francine sat up beside you, casting fiery eyes into yours as she reached for her phone to begin investigating for herself.

"No, I've gotta go." Emma hung up with no explanation, flinging her legs over the edge of the rickety couch bed.

"She's right, there's no evidence." Francine rang, turning her phone to me with a slim Google result list.

"Not to be a downer but I feel like there's gotta be something going on, right?" Emma glanced at you with big sad eyes.

"I- I don't know. Maybe he is? He's talked for ages about his family. Never said a word about a girl."

"That's because he's into you and he's on a great American fling. If there's a girl he's not going to say so." Francine reasoned. She was right. She had to be. Gwilym was too beautiful and endearing to have been single. You were just a good flirt.

I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction... 'cause I try and I...

Your phone was ringing. And your friend's eyes were glued to your every move. You were only a little shocked to find Gwilym's name flickering across your dim screen now. But as you snatched the phone to answer you felt your chest tighten between a rope of anxious nerves.

"Hi, Gwil." You tried to sound nonchalant as you stood up and pointed a warning finger to your friends. But they, of course, couldn't be expected to hold back their bursts of excitable chirps.

"Hi-"

"Hang on!" You warned, making a break for your bedroom. There was little hope your friends would settle their giggles because as they chased after you to beg to eavesdrop, they were squealing far too loudly. After dramatically flinging yourself behind your locked bedroom door you answered the phone once more.

"Okay! Hi!" You sighed, trying desperately to even out your breathing.

"Is this a bad time?" Gwilym quizzed over the phone. You cast your eyes across your well-kept room with a smile.

"No! Just... what's up?" You wondered in turn. No time was a bad time for Gwilym.

"Alright." The man let out a chuckle before continuing. "Well, this might be a stretch, but here it goes. I was going to bring Dan with me to a premier tomorrow. He had to cancel last minute for work, yet again. I've already got a plus one, so, would you like to come with me?"

"I'm second best, huh?" You laughed, stepping further into the room, past a stack of books around the corner.

"Well, first if you think about it! Dan called dibs, but I... well I called you."

Oh dear. You had to remind yourself to breathe as Gwilym went on to say,

"I think you'd get on well with my mates is all, and you seemed to have a free week. Asking seemed worth a shot."

"I see." You bit your lip. Was he really being as forward as he sounded? Was he really engaged? "Well, I'd love a night out. Only if you're sure though."

"Oh, I'm sure. Come round Dan's by seven?" You could hear him smile.

"Okay." You agreed while still holding your breath. "See you soon, Gwil."

What do I wear?

#gwilym x reader #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee #borhap fanfic

57 notes · View notes

booksofsalih · 6 years ago

Text

Desert Heat

The battle was like one thick, black mass of locusts, shifting to the left and right down the valley. The archers on the hills on either side could only shoot at their equivalents across from them; they could not discern their fellows on the battlefield below. It seemed as if it would never end, at least not until there were no warriors left on either side. These were the kinds of battles that men into gods and gods into distant memories.

One man, named Salih, was in the middle of the fight. He was commanding the lesser of the two armies, dressed in chain mail covered with loose clothing suited for his desert home. His dark hair was loose, as it always was; helmets held him back. Though he was outnumbered two to one, his men had fought valiantly to all but even the odds. This had come at a price, however, as his men began to tire. He saw a few stricken down on either side of them. If he did not do something quick, they would all be slain.

He raised his head from striking down a particularly difficult opponent to see his biggest problem. The general of the other army mowed through men with a giant club. The other general was massive and heavily armored. If he could be stopped, the tide would change in Salih’s favor. If he could not, there would be no hope of victory.

One advantage Salih had in battle was magic. He was known far and wide, not only as a fearsome fighter, but as a world-class conjurer. He leaped into the air, jumping above the din directly in front of the opposing general. As he landed, a wave of fire threw everyone out of its path, ending up as a blazing ring, about one hundred yards in diameter. His opponent was hardly phased by the heat, but they were now the only two left in the arena. Salih was not a large man, nor was he very muscular, but he was smart, vicious, and hated losing. The big man shouted at Salih in a loud, guttural tone. Salih couldn’t understand what the man was saying, but he figured it was the traditional round of pre-skirmish insults. “I’m sure you’re trying to curse me sir, but whatever it is that you’re wishing on me or my mother, you have something much worse coming your way.” Salih threw a volley of fireballs from his hands. They were stopped by the man’s thick, metal armor. The giant gave a loud bellow of a laugh. It was obviously not effective.

“Well,” Salih thought to himself, “if heat doesn’t hurt him, maybe the opposite will.” The general came at Salih with his huge metal club, swinging wildly. Salih dodged his clumsy flailing with ease. As he ran to the other side of the ring, Salih laid down a thick sheet of ice. Even in the scorching desert, he was able to lower the temperate enough to sustain the glassy surface, for the moment. His opponent paused to asses the situation. Salih took the time to get his insults in. “Your mother is a goat! YOUR MOTHER IS A GOAT!” He never claimed to be very good at his insults. They did not need to be elaborate; they only needed to do the job. His message was not received well, and his opponent charged straight for him, just like Salih planned. What Salih had not planned was for the giant’s weight to crush the ice. Every step crashed through the thin sheet, and Salih was met with a smack to the body that sent him flying.

As he sailed through the air, Salih knew he had only a moment to think of a solution. The fiery ring that separated them from the armies was fading. He flipped and landed, crouched and ready to attack. He was impeded by the hit, but not fatally. As opposed to thinking through the situation, it seemed better to him that he act on his rage. He reached into the pouch on his side, pulling out a heavy, stone hunting disc. He hurled it with all of his frustration. It ripped into the soldier’s armor, sinking deep into his left shoulder. The big man’s roar shook the battlefield. His arm was limp, but he was still determined to squish Salih like a spider. The magician had bought himself some time.

“So, heat didn’t seem to phase him,” he thought. “Maybe it wasn’t hot enough.” With all of his focus, he spewed flames from his palms at his opponent’s feet. Fire swirled around the giant, immobilizing him, as well as blocking his vision. Salih did not let up, pouring his soul into his magic. With a final burst of energy, He rushed forward, plunging his sword blindly into the flames. As the smoke subsided, the giant fell to his back with the magician on his chest. The sword had found its way through the now-soft armor and through the man’s sternum. A hush fell over the crowd, all of them gawking at the fallen warrior and his destroyer. Having everyone’s attention, Salih raised his sword, calling a lightning bolt from a clear sky to strike him.

Immediately, the enemy army began to flee. Salih’s men shouted and chased them, taking many more lives in the retreat. Salih himself, collapsed from exhaustion. He was hoping that last show of strength would do the trick.

…

After the battle, the remainder of the enemy had either been slain or scattered. Salih set up a tent on the ridge of the reclaimed valley so that he could consider his next battle strategy as well as get some much-deserved rest. He was good at what he was paid to do: win. But no matter what comforts his lucrative pay bought him, he never felt fulfilled after a job well done. This was firstly due to the fact that the nation he fought for were not his own. It was true that they were closely “related”, but he was a mercenary, and he could never shake the feeling that any soldier under his control feared him. He was not a part of their brotherhood. Secondly, he hated war. He was a teacher: a builder of wisdom. This mindless destruction sickened him. But it allowed him to live when he couldn’t teach, and those who feared him left him alone.

Mahraj, one of Salih’s officers lifted the flap to the tent as the general was poring over the map on his table. “General Salih, put that away! It is time to celebrate!” It was clear to the magician that his officer had already been celebrating for some time. Two scantily-clad women entered the room. It was clear that they were there for Salih’s enjoyment, but he seemed more annoyed than anything. Mahraj seemed annoyed himself. “Come now, sir. You’ve had a hard day’s work! Enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“I appraciate the gesture, Mahraj,” Salih said, looking back at the table, “but I do not wish to be bothered.” He turned to the ladies. “You can go now.”

“Suit yourself, camelwax,” Mahraj said, as he stumbled out of the tent with the two ladies. He may not have been the most stable person, but Mahraj was the closest thing Salih had to a friend, and he knew that, when it mattered, he could be counted on in a pinch.

Salih rubbed his eyes in frustration as he went back to the battle plans. He was tired, and the last thing he wanted to do was plan more pointless battles. He heard another rustle at the entrance to his tent. Without looking up, he proclaimed in an annoyed tone, “Mahraj, I told you that I wanted to be left alone.” He then heard an unfamiliar clearing of the throat. When he raised his head, he saw a young male knight in very strange armor standing tall with several scrolls under his arm. It was clear that he was not from anywhere around these deserts. Salih himself straightened up, apologizing: “I’m sorry sir, forgive my rudeness.”

“No offense taken, general. My name is Stetz. I am a messanger from King Hoffun of Veristek, who requests your presence at his castle in the northern mountains.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s quite impossible. I’m in the middle of a war, if you haven’t noticed.”

The knight pulled one of the papers out from under his arm. “That is why I secured your release from your employer.” Salih read the document, and it was as he said. “Your signature on the document is all that is needed. Your payment, if you choose to sign, will be waiting for you at the castle.” The king had bought off the warlord Salih was working for.

Salih’s brow furrowed. “Just what does King Hoffun want with me anyway?” He knew that it must be something very important to the king if he was going to go through with all of this trouble.

The knight continued, “The king is in need of a teacher for his daughter, the future queen. He is off at war himself, and needs a scholar with your qualifications to teach the princess.”

Salih became more interested. He might finally be able to get away from the fighting for a while. “And just what are my qualifications, Stetz?”

The man smirked. “You don’t need to be modest with me, Master Salih. Someone with the wisdom, experience, and skills that you have does not go unnoticed. The king would not have any teacher but the best.” He pulled out the other paper from under his arm. “I’m sure you’ll find the compensation to be satisfactory.”

Salih grabbed the quill that he had on the table and began to sign the papers without looking at the numbers. He was sick of war, and knew this was his chance to get away from the bloodshed. “When do we leave?”

“Immediately, sir, but you should know that the way is treacherous. We have three others coming with us to ensure our safety. I will go make sure they are ready to go.”

“Make that four others, Stetz. I will go make sure my companion is ready as well.”

…

The next day they were in the middle of the desert with little to go by but the sun for direction. It was going to be a long trek, and that meant that it could go one of two ways; it could either be a painfully awkward slog, or they could get to know one another. Salih enjoyed silence, but he would rather know a little bit more about his other travelling companions than he already did, which, at the outset, was nothing.

The knight Stetz was the one leading the pack. The other three were all hired mercenaries who knew the path well enough to make travel safe. The one female of the group, Lady Kabayt, was born into a wealthy family, but chose a life of adventure over the comforts of home. The other two hired guards were brothers who had wandered the desert all their lives, Mal and Tajul. Mal enjoyed making small talk and joking, though often his humor trended toward the morbid side. Tajul kept to himself.

Salih rode after these four, rising and falling in rhythm with his transport. Behind him was Mahraj, who he had insisted on bringing for his own safety. Mahraj was concerned, as he had not had any say in this matter. “Um, Master Salih, I do not wish to question your methods, but how is it that you secured my release from the military?” Mahraj knew that the penalty for desertion of his own people was execution.

“Simple, my friend,” Salih said with an air of confidence. “I simply requested that a portion of my reward be paid in conjunction with what they paid for me.”

Mahraj was still sweating, and not only from the desert sun. “And what if the warlord does not think the price is acceptable, or if he doesn’t take kindly to two of his officers leaving at once?”

“You’re a resourceful man, Mahraj. I’m sure you’ll think of something. I also hear that the mountains of Veristek are a beautiful place to settle down.” Salih turned back to face the head of the line to hide his smile. The donation he gave in Mahraj’s place was more than sizeable.

Mahraj was not amused. “Uh-huh…” He said in an unsure tone.

The going was slow and boring. Though the path would get more dangerous near the end of their journey, the main trouble now was allocation of resopurces, namely water. They went on several days and nights without running into any springs. “There are oases we could find, sirs,” Mal told them, “but I understand that your time, as well as mine, is valuable, and we have brought along with us enough water to take the most direct route.” Though he could not produce water out of sand, Salih could muster a gentle breeze as they went, which made the sun much more bearable. He knew to be careful, however; a strong wind would start a dust storm, which might porve disastrous for the group.

On the fifth day without a spring, Salih began to be concerned. Their water supplies were running dangerously low, and if they did not reach fresh water soon, they would be in more danger than just dehydration. The lack of water would make them weak and unable to concentrate, making them more succeptable to creatures, sicknesses, and whatever else the wasteland would throw at them.

“At least we haven’t run into any other complications,” Mahraj said with a sad chuckle.

Stetz proclaimed from ahead, “Don’t speak so soon.” There was a small dust cloud rising in the distance.

“That doesn’t look like a sandstorm,” Lady Kabayt observed.

“Doesn’t sound like one, either,” Salih agreed. A rumbling through the earth could be heard. The danger was much easier to see now. A small war party, about twenty-five, was headed straight for them. They did not look like they had any plans of diplomacy. The desert was flat, and there was nowhere to escape. They would have to fight.

Salih urged his camel to the front of the group to face the attackers. Though he could not detect any sign of mercy or wishing to talk matters over first, he decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. He waved his hand, and a layer of glass carpeted the sand in front of the small group a ways off.

“Ready your arrows,” Stetz commanded evenly.

“Don’t fire until they do,” Salih added. Though he was a war general for hire, he would do anything to keep his conscience as clean as possible, and would not be held responsible for a massacre if he could have prevent it. The six did not have to wait long as several arrows arced through the air toward them. Salih burned them before they neared his companions. “I believe that’s our cue.”

Kabayt, Tajul, and Mal sent a small volley of arrows in the direction of the quickly aproaching cloud. A rider fell from his camel. Mahraj pulled up next to Salih as he dismounted. As the general streched out an open palm, Mahraj placed a stone disc in it. Salih heated the disc, then hurled it. As it slammed another raider into the ground, Mahraj passed him another.

By the time the pack reached the stream of glass that separated them, the attackers were fewer, but still outnumbered them two to one. Swords were drawn on both sides as the defending party drew their swords and dismounted, ready to strike. As the first few camels started crossing the glass, they stumbled and threw their riders. Salih touched the glass with his sword, shattering it. Screams of pain tore through the air as the men fell on the shards. The rest dismounted and began to quickly, but carefully, make their way though the river of shattered glass, having no concern for their fallen comrades. They were desperate to kill, and that became more and more apparent to the six.

Salih smirked as the last marauder left his camel. He walked back behind the line of five others who were close together, ready for war. The first few attackers finally made it to their huddle and the fighting began. Mahraj could hear mumbling behind him. After dispatching an attacker he quickly turned to see Salih sitting in the sand. “Excuse me sir,” he said in a panicked tone, “but we’re busy dying over here!” As the words were leaving his lips, Salih’s hands raised to the air, and a fearsome growl silenced the battle cries. From nowhere, a glowing tiger ran through the river of glass, mauling every invader in its wake. The ones who were near the front lines of battle quickly turned to return to their mounts. It was no use. The tiger stood watching, waiting for one of them to move. With everyone else frozen in fear, Stetz saw his opportunity to strike. Starting with the man nearest him, he began to lay into the frightened warriors. Salih also caught the cue. Whatever warriors were not struck down by Salih or Stetz, ran into the waiting claws of the spectrous beast. With all of their enemy slain, the tiger turned to the general and pounced, ready to gut him. Salih simply reached out his hand, and the animal turned into dust.

He turned to his companions. “I’m sure their camels will have some sustainance for us. They will be helpful in bargaining if we run into an outpost.”

“You heard the magician,” Kabayt said dryly with a smug look on her face, “We have water.” The others, not quite sure of what had just happened, but too dumbfounded to object, followed his advice and rounded up some of the enemy camels. They were finally able to have the nourishment they had been lacking for some days. Kabayt was clearly impressed by Salih’s skills, though she tried to hide it. The others were just happy to survive the ordeal and drink some fresh water.

As the caravan went on, they came across a large group of tents belonging to a nomadic tribe. A pair of guards came out while they were still a ways off to greet them.

After speaking with them, Stetz had been able to make a deal: the nomads would let them stay in some of their own tents in exchange for a camel.

“We are lucky these aren’t their camels,” Stetz buzzed. “I don’t know if we would be so lucky as earlier today.

…

The desert sun set upon their backs as they entered the nomads’ camp. Thankfully, this particular encampment put high priority on hospitality. The party dispersed into a few different tents that were set up for them in the middle of the camp. Despite the friendliness, the crew knew their placement was tactical. A singular guard could see each tent entrance, and if they were to try anything, the camp’s warriors would immediately be upon them.

Kabayt picked the tent on one end, which was a little further away from the others. She hoped that if she chose quickly that the others would take the hint that she wanted to be alone. It seems that they did. As she lifted the entrance flap, she saw that she would be staying in relative comfort to the blanket on sand she had been used to recently. It was a small space, but the tent walls were thick to protect from any dust storm that may occur. In the middle was a soft mattress. It was stuffed with straw, but she knew it would feel like the palace couches she knew as a child.

Before she dove into the bed, she took off her helmet, armor, and riding pants, laying them nearby. She was tired enough drop off right away, but she had a feeling that it would be a misstep to sleep immediately. She sat on the bed in her undergarments and meditated. Being the only woman on this trek was okay with her (as she preferred the company of men), but she still craved time with herself. Before she finished her meditation, she heard the rustling of material at the entrance to her tent.

"Lady Kabayt?” came a familiar voice. It was the enchanter, Salih. Normally, a woman in her position would be in a scramble to cover up, but she felt a peace about her current state that she could not explain. Salih was shocked, and his face became red as he stared at her. He did not continue speaking.

She looked him up and down, and with a laugh said, “Do you typically make it a point to enter a woman’s quarters unannounced?”

“… N… no…” he stammered, continuing to eye her shapely figure. Then, looking at the ground, replied, “I don’t often find myself in such places.”

She smirked. I could have some fun with him, she thought to herself. “Come, now,” she said aloud, “A magician such as yourself should have no problem conjuring up a lady now and again.”

“On the contrary,” Salih looked in her eyes. “My personality is not conducive to friendship with the fairer sex. I don’t like to share, and that has pushed many a maiden away,” he half-chuckled.

Kabayt sat on the edge of the bed and spread her legs. “You like to have them all to yourself, do you? I bet that sort of man makes a passionate lover.”

Salih’s face grew red again, and he looked away. Trying to change the subject, he gasped, “I was just making sure everyone was alright. There weren’t enough beds, so I thought I would watch our tents.”

“That sounds quite lonely,” she said, with a little pout in her voice. “Before you do, you should take a moment to rest.” As she saw him open his jaw to object, she quickly blurted, “Sit down. I insist. Right here.” She pointed to a spot on the rug between her legs. For a moment they said nothing, but she stared into his eyes with a lustful look. He was not the only one who knew how to enchant.

Before he knew it, he was sitting himself down between her legs, facing away. She lifted his mail and shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She began to massage his shoulders. It all felt so natural to both of them. There were no words for some time as the massage continued. “That was a wonderful show today,” she complimented, “when you conjured that tiger out of thin air.”

“Magic is fueld by emotion. With the right will and the right science reality will bend to just about any shape.”

“Science?” Kabayt scoffed, momentarily stopping her caressing of his body. It startled him. He did not want her to take her hands off.

“Absolutely. I can’t just think something into existence. I’m sorry to ruin the illusion, but magic is a lot less mystical than you think. It takes discipline in training and studying. It doesn’t create reality. It bends the fabric of the elements and of space and time.” He caught himself rambling, but she much enjoyed the way he spoke with authority. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bore you.”

“Much the opposite. Knowledge is the greatest weapon.” She moved her hands down to his chest. She could feel the energy in the tent building. Perhaps it was emotion, perhaps it was magic. Maybe it was a little of both.

Salih laid his head back in the lady’s lap, eyes closed, and let out a sigh. She continued rubbing his body down. As she moved her hands over his chest she could feel his heart beginning to race. Like a flash he was turned around and upon her, forcing her down on the bed by the wrist. She did not fight back, nor did she speak; she only gazed into his eyes with fire and passion.

Salih did not know what had come over him. At first he looked confused, but after a moment he knew what he wanted. He began kissing her neck softly. Kabayt slowly wrapped her legs around his waist, turning her neck to make it more accessible. He whispered into her ear something she could hardly hear and could not understand. Before she could ask him to repeat himself she felt a cooling sensation all throughout her body. Even in such a frenzied state he was in complete control of the elements. She was pleasantly surprised. Though her body was cool, inside she could feel a heat that could not be brought by the desert sun; one she had not felt in some time. This would be a night neither would ever forget.

…

In the morning, all of the party were brought to an open gazebo to meet with the nomad captain. He was not yet present, but one of his guards stood at each corner of the tent. The travelers had an understanding that the nature of the trip and even their names should remain as unshared as possible. Any address between them would require eye contact to distinguish which “sir” was being addressed.

Stetz, Salih, Mahraj, Tajul, and Mal had already sat at the table to eat breakfast with some aromatic, strong coffee. They all looked well-rested and ready for the day’s journey, something they had not looked since their outset. After some time, Lady Kabayt approached the tent. They all stared as she alighted on one end of the large, low table, laying her legs to the side. She had consistently been the most alert at all times on this trip. This morning it looked as if she had not slept in days. Mahraj was thinking of making a joke, but decided that he could go without such a personal health risk. Mal gave a stifled chuckle.

Just then the nomadic leader approached the tent accompanied by a single guard. He walked around the table, sitting on a large pillow positioned at the head of the table. The men bowed their heads politely.

“Good morning, sirs,” he said, placing a cloth on his lap and digging into breakfast.

Stetz piped up. “And to you, sir. We are very grateful for your hospitality.”

“But of course. If I had not had the hospitality of strangers, I would probably not be alive today.”

A few moments passed in silent chewing.

“So, what brings you through this desert? You are not what I would call the usual traveling party,” he snickered as he scanned the mismatched group.

Stetz spoke up. “Indeed we are. In fact, as to the answer to you question, we ourselves do not know how each other would answer.”

The leader’s brow furrowed in confusion, then raised in intrigue. Salih continued the knight’s thought, “We ran into each other on our journeys and decided it was safer to travel together than alone.”

“We made a pact between us, but agreed not to tell nor ask each others’ business; not even our names are known to each other,” Mal stated. “All we know is that we’re headed in the same direction: north.”

The chieftain squinted in confusion but nodded his head as all hummed and nodded in agreement. All, that is, except Kabayt. She was staring off into her breakfast until she realized everyone was staring at her. Abruptly, she chimed in with, “Indeed.”

“How very odd…” the important man muttered.

Breakfast continued in tense silence. They hurried to eat, except the lady who ate quite slowly. When most of them were nearing the end of their meal, Stetz broke the silence with, “Thank you so much, sir, for your hospitality. If you will excuse us, we must be on our way before the sun reaches zenith. Please take our excess camels in thanks for feeding us this feast and giving us a place to bed down.”

This seemed to please the man, and he motioned with his hand, dismissing them from the table. They got up and hastened to grab their things and leave.

As they exited the camp one by one, Salih looked one of the outer guards in the eye. The man squinted at him, as an acquaintance that could not quite put a name to a face. His expression turned from confusion to realization. He hurriedly left his post and ran into the camp without a word.

Salih whispered, “I think we’ve been found out. Let’s get out of here!”

They all urged their camels on into a gallop. Into the blank desert they raced. Salih stayed in the back, causing short gusts to try and cover their tracks the best they could. Mal took the lead. “There’s a large rock formation not far from here, if I have my stars from last night right,” he shouted. “If we make it there, we can stage some sort of defense from attackers… Not that I don’t have faith in our mage’s fighting prowess.”

Salih called from the rear, “I would rather all our fates not always rest on my shoulders, either… Not that I also lack the utmost confidence in my abilities!”

Salih figured if the chieftain heard that he had been in the camp last night, their host would have asked for more. Perhaps he would want any cargo – whether that be riches or important person to keep for ransom – for himself, or to exact revenge for some relative Salih had slain in battle, or related tribe he had humbled. Whatever the reason, the guard’s look told him that the chieftain would have more to “discuss” with him, knowing his identity.

It was not long until the group saw a dust cloud rising behind them. Their hosts were not finished with their hospitality, and they were making a good pace.

“There it is!” The mercenary called back as a large dune in front of them slowly revealed a fortress of stone.

Stetz shouted, “Is there a way to take our camels up into that place?” If there was no way to take the camels up, they would have no way of escaping the stronghold.

“Follow me!” Mal led the group past the side of the formation around to the back of it where there was a steep but sandy path that led higher into their new outpost. The trail was partially hidden by jutting stone. They climbed as quickly as they could into the maze of rock. Once they had taken a minute to settle in, they noticed that this “castle” was actually quite easily defensible. One could see for miles in any direction while being obscured from potential attackers by jutting stone.

Tajul, Mal, and Kabayt took positions at the front of the formation with bows ready. Stetz stood at the back of the outpost to guard from anyone coming up the sandy trail should it be found. Salih took the highest point, ready to maneuver wherever his skills might be needed most. There was a clearing in the middle near the top of the formation where the camels were kept.

Mahraj was with the camels. “Stuck with the dirty animals again,” he muttered. Two of the beasts spat on him. He let out a cry of disgust, trying to muffle his cursing.

It was not long before the soldiers arrived. Kabayt counted thirty-three. They stopped a ways off so as not to draw arrow fire. The mass began to spread a thin circle around the outcropping. They knew the group was hiding there. Two of the search party came forward. One began shouting.

“Deliver to us the war criminal Salih, and the rest of you are free to go.” “War criminal” was their name for someone who had defeated them in battle.

“Who did you kill this time?” Mahraj jeered.

Mal motioned to the other two archers. A small volley of arrows flew forth, striking both of the riders that approached: killing one, knocking the other off his camel. He fell to the sand, injured. Another well-placed shot ended him. Mal whispered, “I know it was only two, but we will probably need to pick them off slowly to get out of here.

Thus the standoff began. Neither side had the numbers to stage a successful full-scale attack on the other; this would be a waiting game. As night fell, they arranged watches. One of them would be stationed in the front, the other in the back at the entrance. The rest were to get as much sleep as they could on the stone floor of their new home.

…

As the new day dawned, the waiting continued. The six returned to their stations and watched the unmoving ring surrounding them. Salih’s mind had been working all night. This was a siege. The war party’s strategy would be to wear them down until the six were without any water. At that point, the group would have to either surrender or be slaughtered.

Salih squatted next to the knight Stetz, wordlessly watching the enemy. Stetz quietly spoke after a sigh. "You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into. A man travels weeks to find you on a battlefield to hire you as a teacher far away from your homeland, and there’s nothing but trouble all along the way.”

Salih gave a wry smile. “It’s not so strange. Conflict seems to follow me. Besides, I’ve been through Veristek before; it has been a three or four decades, though.”

Stetz turned his head around in curiosity. “Are the legends about you really true, sir?”

The magician snickered. “Which legends?”

Stetz continued, “That you’re as old as time itself: maybe even a deity lost and wandering the planet.” Stetz lit up. He had wanted to ask Salih since their journey had started, but wished to retain the formalities of his position. He could no longer help himself.

“Well, I’m not quite that old; though I do think the centuries have been kind to my appearance.” Both laughed. Though Salih looked quite young, myths of him dated back at least a hundred years. “But I am no deity. Just lost.”

Stetz chuckled for a moment until he saw the seriousness in the magician’s face. He coughed. They sat in silence for a time.

Motioning in the direction of their foes, Salih finally broke the quiet. “The problem is drawing them to us in waves. If they come to us now in a few bunches, we will be able to fight our way out. If they stage an all-out attack, it’s likely at least a few of us will die.”

Stetz squinted in thought. “I think I have a plan.”

…

It was quiet on the desert.

Then it wasn’t.

A violent wind began to blow, kicking up dust. The surrounding troupe yelled to each other to take cover. A flash sandstorm had descended. It lasted a half hour or so, then died as suddenly as it had appeared. Watchmen peered into the mass of rock. There were no signs of people or camels anywhere.

A cry came from a portion of the ring. The criminals’ camels were escaping, galloping wildly past the troops. A small detachment peeled off to recapture them. Another troupe of seven was sent to the outcropping to take their prisoners, if they were to be found there. The rock was completely lifeless.

The rest of the marauders waited for a signal from the reconnaissance party. There was none. Finally, they exited the fortress as they had gone in: single file. They slowly returned toward the circle to report their findings, but something was off. They were headed to the opposite side from whence they came, and there was one fewer.

As soon as the inconsistency was noticed, a horn sounded to attack. This was all the head start the travelers needed. Bows were drawn and arrows loosed, felling enemy after enemy, and opening a hole in their foe’s defenses. They now had a path of escape, but they needed to mortally wound the war party to secure their safety down the road. With the enemy now spread out, they split up, three making their way down one side of the ring, three going the other way.

Arrows flew, swords clashed, and fire flashed as the outnumbered team laid waste to its opponents. After a good number of the enemy had fallen, their comrades turned from attacking to fleeing. Salih’s friends took this chance to make their exit as well. They rode off in one direction, but changed their angle of departure after a time to make themselves all but impossible to follow.

“Masterful plan, Sir Stetz,” Salih congratulated the warrior on his strategy.

The knight beamed back as they plodded on.

…

Going for the next stretch was relatively easy. The bottomless sand became sand with the occasional slab of weathered rock peeking through it. Rocky outcroppings became more frequent, breaking up the bland dunes with ebony obelisks. Everything had been said, so the group remained all but silent as the camels plodded on.

Finally, mountains could be made out on the very distant horizon, and the first signs of civilization (albeit ancient and extinct) sprung up about them. As the sun went down they made camp amidst busted up ruins half-covered in sand. Giant heads of formidable statues made in the likeness of long-forgotten warriors and nobles lie cracked on the floors of leveled abodes.

Sleeping rolls were among the few supplies the group still possessed after the change in animals. They spread out in a semicircle around a campfire Tajul had started with some nearby brush.

Rubbing his eyes, Mal yawned, “I know it’s my shift for first watch, but, Master Salih, if you don’t mind…”

“No problem. We’re all tired, but I think I’m the most awake. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

A grin slowly creeped across his face. “I am forever in your debt, good sir,” he bowed.

…

The environment they found themselves in now was very different. There was much more to pay attention to, but not every moving thing was a threat. They were coming closer to their destination, and they were on the cusp of several kingdoms. There were bandits in the area, to be sure, but there would be just as many, if not more, passers by and travelers.

Salih watched from a slightly tilted pillar sticking out of the ruins, scanning the plains on all sides. There were so many hiding places. He started to second-guess the wisdom of bedding down in such a place.

He had taken a double shift to let the others get more rest; they needed it more, and he owed it to them for ensuring his safety all this time. At the end of his shift, Tajul approached him, allowing him to head back to his sleeping place. His spot was between Mahraj and Mal. Stetz was on the other side of Mal, and Kabayt on the other side of him. The fire they positioned themselves around had long gone out. His head had no sooner hit the pillow than he was out.

…

Salih woke from his dead sleep to the sound of a short, strained yell. The blade was inches from his throat. He grabbed and tossed his assailant through the air, turning to see Stetz struggling across the pit with a larger foe, back pressed against the cobblestones. Salih smacked his hand down on Mahraj’s bed, whacking him in the side.

“HUH? WHA?” he started, lost as to the chaos happening around him. He quickly saw what Salih did. Mal and Tajul had plotted to murder them all in their sleep. The former had positioned himself over the magician to slit his throat, while the latter murdered Stetz. Once they had been taken care of Mahraj, the heaviest sleeper, would be easy to take care of last.

Salih leaped across the charred wood to Stetz’s aid, while Mahraj scrambled to his feet to defend against Mal. Salih wrapped his arms around the bigger man, flinging him over his back in a suplex. The loud crack made it clear that the assailant was, at the very least, knocked out for some time. As Salih turned to check on Mahraj, he saw him on the assassin’s back, just plunging his knife into his side.

Stetz staggered to his knees, crawling toward the larger, incapacitated foe. He reached for a nearby rope with which to tie up his legs. The way the knight moved made it clear that he was injured, but determined to bind his attacker.

In a worried tone, Mahraj hissed, “Where’s the other one?”

“Kabayt?” Stetz grunted. “She must’ve ran at the first sign of trouble. I doubt she had anything to do with this.” After he finished tying the knot, he used a nearby hatchet to cleave off the scum’s hand. “For treachery against the king.” He slumped backward.

…

When they reached the first outpost on the far side of the ruins, the three traded in the five camels for three horses. Though Stetz was injured, they passed through the next two spread-out towns without stopping. It was unlikely anyone followed, but they took the extra precaution to put distance between themselves and all their enemies to the south. The terrain had quickly changed to green hills, then the hills grew to mountains. All the while, the air got cooler: a welcome change from the exhausting heat of the wasteland. The path was lined with purple and red flowers. They had crossed the borders into Veristek.

They finally found rest in a quaint mountain town inn. Stetz had his wounds examined by the local doctor; it would be a fortnight before he made a full recovery. “Your ribs are bruised badly. Riding will continue to be extremely painful if you don’t wait it out.”

Stetz’s head fell back on the bed on which they had placed him with a frustrated snort. Salih smiled and grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, any other soldier would be thankful for this kind of medical leave.”

“I’ve got a package to deliver, and it’s already late.”

“The castle can’t be far from here, can it?”

“That’s the most frustrating thing. Two days further north.”

“Those are safe roads aren’t they?”

Stetz scowled. “You can’t be thinking of going by yourself. With all the bad luck we’ve had this far…”

“Calm down,” Salih interrupted. “I’m not in a rush. I do think it would be wise to send word to let them know what has happened.”

“No, you’re right.” Deflated, he shook his head. “All this trouble is my fault.”

“Trust me, any time spent with me is going to be filled with bad luck. It didn’t matter who you hired or what route we took; we were bound to run into trouble.”

Stetz smirked, half-convinced as Salih left the room.

Mahraj was waiting outside the door, listening in. “So we have to wait another week in this frozen hell-hole?” He was bundled up in a mound of blankets. Salih held in a laugh at his companion’s pitiful state. “If I would have known I would die of frostbite, I never would have come in the first place.”

Salih raised his brows, incredulous. “The cold is the worst thing that’s happened on this trip? Not the armies we fought or the traitors that tried to slit our throats?”

“At least they all had eyes you could look into, so you could face them man-to-man. There’s something truly sinister about a faceless enemy. I still don’t understand why they tried to kill us when they did.”

“They needed us all worn down, where our defenses were at their lowest. Also, I’m sure that they wanted to get as close as possible to their customer before they started lugging around my dead body… Or at least my head.”

His companion shivered. “Well, they got what was coming to them. Still can’t believe Lady Kabayt deserted.”

“I don’t blame her. She was just looking out for herself. She couldn’t risk picking the losing side.”

“Do they have hot springs around here?” Mahraj was too cold to think about their past perils any longer.

…

Word returned to them on the fifth day by a pair of horsemen leading a third horse. Stetz was brought out to the porch of the inn. “We’ve come to escort Master Salih to the estate of the Princess Charity of Veristek.”

Stetz nodded his head in a frown, still disappointed that he was unable to see his mission to the end. Leaning against a post, he stuck out his hand to Salih. Salih took and shook his arm firmly. “A swift recovery to you, Stetz.”

“Thank you, Salih.”

Mahraj cleared his throat loudly from inside his multi-colored quilt bundle. He looked like a bizarre, rainbow, insect hive bouncing up and down.

“There is the matter of payment for my companion.” Salih tried not to laugh as he made his request.

One of the messengers removed a full saddle bag from the third horse. He first attempted to hand it to Mahraj, but the swaddled man was not about to release hold on his blankets, so the man plopped the bag over the nearby railing.

“I suppose this is goodbye, my dear friend,” the general smiled.

“I should be so lucky.” They quickly embraced. “I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that we will meet again all too soon.”

With a smile, he mounted the third horse. Waving to his companions, now with his small escort party, Salih rode off toward the end of the journey.

*F A D E T O W H I T E*

–Bizz

#Desert Heat #fiction #romance #fantasy #adventure #Salih #adventures of Salih #ya

1 note · View note

douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

Text

AN ALTERNATIVE THEORY OF JUDGEMENT

Don't worry if a project doesn't seem to be any syntax for it. To kids, wealth is a fixed pie that's shared out, and if something great happens, they'll stick with it—something great meaning either that someone wants to buy them or invest millions of dollars. It's wrong to call it a trick in his case, though.1 If they'd waited to release everything at once, they wouldn't have presented them the way they did.2 With Robert this quality is wired-in. How many little startups are Google and Yahoo—though strictly speaking someone else did think of that before? Once you start talking to users, I guarantee you'll be surprised by what they tell you. That tends to produce deadlocks. Isaac Newton Newton has a strange syntax as because it has no syntax; you express programs directly in the parse trees that get built behind the scenes when other languages are parsed, and these trees are made of lists, which are Lisp data structures. Well, I said, I think is a red herring.3 It's what bias means.

Hard means worry: if you're not worrying that something you're making will come out badly, or that you won't get money, and if investors are skeptical, the startup should take a smaller amount and use that to get the chain reaction started.4 You can compile or run code while compiling, and read or compile code at runtime. There are times in most of the talking, but he described his co-founder as the best hacker he'd ever met, and you willingly give him money in return for it. The distributors want to prevent the transparency that comes from having prices online.5 My relationship with my cofounder went from just being friends to seeing each other all the time, perhaps most of the time you'll find the person instinctively thinks the idea will be familiar to anyone who doesn't like being asked what they do. You can see the same thing with equity instead of debt. T: Scheme has no libraries. This is what you end up among the living or the dead comes down to the third ingredient, not giving up. The important part is not whether he makes ten million a year or a hundred, but how you get there. Since it is a huge time sink. Most people think they hate math, but the biggest win for languages like Lisp is at the other end of the spectrum, where you need to do what you know intellectually to be right, even though the phrase compact disc player end up spending considerable money at sites offering compact disc players, then those pages will have a large Baumol penumbra around it: anyone who could get rich, but as long as you have some core of users who really love you, or is there at least some little group that does? Optimizing in solution-space is familiar and straightforward, but you have to assume it takes some amount of pain.6

Is making money really that important?7 You probably can't overcome anything so pervasive as the model of work is a job. Before you can adjust, you're thrown sideways as the car screeches into the first turn. But it also explains why the ups and downs were more extreme than they were prepared for. Try to get your slides under 20 words if you can find, use the most powerful forces in history. It's the ones in the middle of the 20th century that convinced some people otherwise.8 You can shift into a different mode of working. And yet most VCs are driven by the same underlying cause: the number of startups. The bigger the community, the greater the chance it will contain the person who has that one thing you need most. Your Hopes Up.9

This is what you end up with: def foo n: return lambda i: return n i To be fair, Perl also retains this distinction, but deals with it in typical Perl fashion by letting you omit returns.10 Don't worry what people will say.11 The point of high-level languages is to give you bigger abstractions—bigger bricks, as it were, so you have to create a descriptive phrase about yourself that sticks in their heads. In 1958 these ideas were far removed from ordinary programming practice, which was dictated largely by the hardware available in the late nineties you could get rich by taking money from the poor, then you can build all the rest of the world, at least not in the sense that the measure of good design can be derived, and around which most design issues center. The new model seems more liquid, and more efficient.12 I've been repeating that since 1993, and I tend to agree. Check whether they outperform the others. Nearly all textbooks are bad.

If a design represents an idea that fits in one person's head, then the idea will be a good thing when it happens, because these new investors will be compelled by the structure of the investments they make to be ten times bolder than present day VCs. But make sure to write something that sounds like spontaneous, informal speech, and deliver it that way too. The bad news is that I was ready for something else. Thanks to Immad Akhund, Sam Altman, John Bautista, Pete Koomen, Jessica Livingston, Dan Siroker, Harj Taggar, and Fred Wilson for reading drafts of this.13 Several people used that word married. Can you have a healthy society with great variation in wealth and income, then follow it with the most naive speculation about the underlying causes.14 It's not like doing extra work for extra credit. Do less.15 Fred Brooks described this phenomenon in his famous book The Mythical Man-Month, and everything I've seen has tended to confirm what he said. If you asked the pointy-haired bosses to revert to the mean. But I could be wrong.16

Notes

Most don't try to write about the prior probability of an outcast, just try to make more money was the reason the young care so much attention. In fact, for example, probably did more drugs in his twenties than any other field, it's implicit that this excludes trickery like buying users for more of the market price for you; you're too early really means is you're getting the stats for occurrences of foo in the world. There was no great risk in doing something, but I couldn't believe it or not, bleeding out invites at a Demo Day or die. If I paint someone's house, though.

A significant component of piracy, which is the unpromising-seeming startups are usually about things you like shit. It's hard to predict areas where Apple will be big successes but who are younger or more ambitious the utility function for money. This is not how to use thresholds proportionate to wd m-k w-d n, where w is will and d discipline. Some founders listen more than you otherwise would have expected them to stay around, but for different things from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time on is a declaration of war on.

Naive founders think Wow, a VC means they'll look bad if that got bootstrapped with consulting. But there is a cause them to. Viaweb, which would be worth it for you by accidents of age and geography, rather than making the broadest type of mail, I use. Nat.

Yes, I mean that if you seem like noise. The Roman commander specifically ordered that he could accept it.

It's not quite as harmless as we use have a notebook to write it all yourself.

They hate their bread and butter cases.

It took a back seat to philology, which people used to reply that they will come at an academic talk might appreciate a joke, they mean.

There's probably also encourage companies to build their sites, and intelligence can help founders is the ability of big corporations found that 16 of the next round.

So whatever market you're in, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniation as juicy except literally. Comments at the top startup law firms are Wilson Sonsini, Orrick, Fenwick West, Gunderson Dettmer, and domino effects among investors. Maybe markets will eventually get comfortable with potential earnings.

So if it's dismissed, it's probably a cause for optimism: American graduates have more options. You have to sweat any one outcome. They shut down in, but historical abuses are easier for us! People were more the aggregate are overpaid.

Now many tech companies don't want to help you even working on your cap table, and know the combination of circumstances in the life of a silver mine.

If anyone wanted to make a conscious effort to be, and that they don't know which name will stick. I'm not saying that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but not in 1950. In the beginning of the things attributed to Confucius and Socrates resemble their actual opinions.

Now we don't want to measure how dependent you've become on distractions, try this experiment: set aside a chunk of this: You may not have gotten the royal raspberry. Conjecture: The Duty of Genius, Penguin, 1991. That's the best hackers work on Wall Street were in 2000, because the publishers exert so much about unimportant things.

There are aspects of the big acquisition offers most successful ones. There is archaeological evidence for large settlements earlier, but I took so long. Basically, the mean annual wage in the narrowest sense. If someone just sold a nice thing to be about web-based software will make it to the table.

S P 500 CEOs in 2002 was 35,560.

Sites that habitually linkjack get banned. Eighteen months later. Compromising a server could cause such damage that ASPs that want to give each customer the impression that the site was about the Thanksgiving turkey. Without the prospect of publication, the reaction was so great, why didn't the Industrial Revolution was one firm that wanted to than because they will fund you, it often means the right to do this yourself.

0 notes

hansolmates · 7 years ago

Text

170827 DIAMOND EDGE NYC: VVIP/HI-TOUCH & vernon moment!

disc. THIS IS A LONG AND COMPREHENSIVE post about my experience and mostly this is for me so i can look back at it in an hour and cry and i’ll probably add onto this later. im really really thankful that i had an amazing experience and i will love svt forever nd ever

During the day:

I woke up around 4am and arrived around 7.30 and they lined us up. My group of three vvip friends were around the 50s so we had a good line spot. The one thing I must say was that it was extra frustrating that the people who camped out (which is not allowed!) Were given PRIORITY tickets and cut the line! I can't even begin to explain how frustrated I was that they got special treatment for something they weren't supposed to do. We sorta just chilled around until 11 o’clock, we danced a little nd watched the carat ice cream truck go by!

But anyway there was nothing we could do and they sent vvip into the venue around 12 by then there were so many people and we stayed upstairs of the venue because having 3k people around one street was way too crowded. At first I didn't know what was going on but they were apparently preparing us for hi touch. We all lined up on the balcony and it was kinda sorta balls sweat hot. WE WERE BLASTIN MUSIC AND DANCING I WAS SCREAMING SO HARD lemme tell u less than 200 people on the rooftop that’s a party and then the staffer (who i will affectionately call J because she was amazing) was like “lol svt is doing soundcheck they can hear u downstairs and they think y’all are funny” and it was only 200 of us singing and stuff so they recorded us cheering for them and sent it back to svt. At the time she was filming i just came out of the bathroom and she filmed me and kris looking like absolute idiots dancing for svt by the bathroom LOL Afterwards mmt and svt sent us more water and snacks and soda because we couldn’t leave the venue to get food THEY'RE SO SWEET THE STAFF TREATED US SO NICELY!! J and mmt handled our fangifts with care and put them in sturdy boxes and made sure that we were hydrated and energized before we went back inside

HI TOUCH

OK THE HI TOUCH WAS A LITERAL BLUR they sent us to some stairs and was telling us the rules then all of a sudden we rounded the corner!! No warning!!! AND SEVENTEEN WAS THERE GIVING THE HI TOUCH!! The order thanks to haru peeps are as follows: minghao, vern, hosh, jun, jeonghan, woozi, seungkwan, dino, wonwoo, dk, scoups, josh mingyu. I wasn’t prepared for vern to go first nd I have an audio of me freaking out and going “oh shiiiii” when Vern was right next to me oh mah gah. I tried to pull it off and say “bro” and I did but Vernon kept staring at me until he got to kristine lol im so sorry vern!! But he’s even more gorgeous in person, his eyes are beautiful and his jawline can cut a bitch and he was wearing his cute red flannel that he always has on!! His head is big and his smile takes up his entire face and he’s just one big puppy you want to cuddle and im infinitely thankful for the eye contact!! Minghao is so hot oh my god he looks so confident and chill and he was givin those “yeaah babe” vibes. Their hands feel like lily petals. Boonseoksoon and cheol were very heartwarming, i squeezed all their hands until i was rushed off but i stopped to tell josh that he had pretty eyes and ended it off with mingyu and we jogged to our spot at vvip.

Concert Experience

I must say that i’m wholly impressed and happy that vvip did not push (it totally would’ve been fckin embarassing bc svt is really close to the stage so yes if they pushed it would’ve been awful) and i’m really sorry to hear that the rest of vip/p1/p2 had a really hard time trying to see BUT IT’S OKAY SVT IS NEVER COMING TO T5 EVER AGAIN. So im infinitely thankful that i was really really close to the stage and got to see the boys. BUT OKAY THE ONE THING THAT PISSED ME OFF? ??? CAMERAS. CAMERAS EVERYWHERE! I wouldn’t have cared if you were upstairs or in the back, but WE WERE LITERALLY FIVE FEET FROM THEM AND THESE PEOPLE ARE 6 FEET TALL and cameras were blocking my view because they were filming the whole damn concert. LIKE IT’S RUDE? GO TO THE BACK? DID YOU LITERALLY PAY TO SEE THRU A COMPUTER I DO THAT EVERY DAY!!! I ended up seeing the concert to its fullest so it’s fine BUT STILL SVT DOESN’T WANNA SING TO BUNCH OF CAMERAS ESP TO THE PEOPLE IN THE FRONT? PEOPLE ARE PAID TO FILM THEM, THERE ARE FANSITES EVERYWHERE!! Enjoy the fleeting time you have with them!

But in the end it was more opportunity for me to soak up all the fanservice because *twiddles fingers* mwhahaahahahha there was enough room for me to dance for hoshi and going svt and i made eye contact with him, wonwoo during the dancing as well, mingyu, jeong *dies* it was too much

Vernon (extended fanservice + rapping together!)

VERNON GETS A WHOLE DANG SECTION OKAY!!!! BECAUSE HE!! WAS NOT OKAY!!11! Kristine and i have been strategically preparing for MONTHS watching countless performances to stay in the corner where vern/jun would be performing on the most, turns out to be the right side so im two people away from the stage so i had a really good view of vernon’s beauty. I thought it was just me being biased but out of all the members Vernon’s stage presence is IMPECCABLE!! He doesn’t quote-unquote try to captivate you, he just naturally attracts people because his aura is so so so palpable. He was made to be on that stage!!!

Fanservice w/vern!

*sweats* after the whole hi touch fiasco i was convinced vern wouldn’t want to look at me but i held up my “vernon u lit” poster (dw i didn’t raise it high to block ppl) AND IT WORKED!!! My main highlight with him together was during check in (skip to 5:00) and since there was a lot of room I WAS GOING OFF dancing with him and rapping mingyu’s part along with him and shit i thought we had such a “feelin it” moment it was so surreal we were both in the song getting super super hype and the music was just immersed around us and i felt like the whole room melted apart and it was just the two of us sdlfjds;fjk;dsf im so gross my heart is warm my eyes are watery as i type this!! i miss him so much

anyway every performance after that, especially rock/if i and the ending ment i felt his stare and y’know that feeling when you pass someone attractive in the mall and you have that five-minute crush on them… i hope vern had that five minute crush on me because man i almost felt a way that boo or someone might feel when vern has that stare on you. He’s infinitely sweet and thankful at the ending ment when he thanked us for giving him new memories for his hometown i almost cried but he was lookin in my direction so i swallowed my feels

Final Details

Dino is the best. Performer. Like hosh performs really well when he dances! But shiii boy dino is on ALL THE DAMN TIME. i was told to be forewarned when u see dino AND Y’ALL WERE RIGHT

Lots of dk/minghao stans!!!! DK’S EYES ARE SO TWINKLY I UNDERSTAND WHY U LOVE HIM SO MUCH! A vvip had their gift as sunflowers with dk’s face on it IT’S SO FITTING

Performance unit IS WILD i used to think performance unit was just bc they did a lot of the choreo BUT NO. THEIR PERFORMANCE IS ALL THE WAY UP THERE you could feel every inch of their body carefully calculated and perfected even with OMG and highlight ND I WAS NEVER PREPARED FOR “MY I” WHY WASN’T THERE ARE TRANSITION FROM CRAZY LOVE TO THEN HOW DARE U

I used to go to concerts and from far away watch them spray water in the pit and u wish u were those people during healing cheol sprayed water and i felt CHRISTENED but all of a sudden ALL OF SEVENTEEN SPRAYED US IT WAS WET AND I FELT REBORN

At the ending ment hoshi screamed “I LOVE NEW JERSS----I LOVE NEW YORKKKK” lol my jersey self giggled

wonwoo/jun/scoups/jeonghan were definitely the most tired. Jun and Wonwoo were spacing out like crazy and coups literally ate his mic. Jeonghan was in another world most of the time, especially during the ballads he looked out to the crowd making exhausted eye contact. It looked like he was trying really hard to sing. Jeonghan and seungkwan had very visible cystic/stress acne, even through their makeup

*sigh* i guess i can’t avoid talking about the jeonghan situation amirite. From where i was everyone was v confused, sevnteen included. It lasted probably total of 10 seconds and we moved on. It was bad. We know it was very bad. Although Jeonghan seemed lowkey amused afterward THAT ISN’T THE POINT the concert was 99.9% perfect and i hope everyone remembers that and doesnt antagonize american carats (as american fans usually are for all the baddies)

All and all i feel honored that i was able to spend a comfortable night with svt, i know a lot of people aren’t able to say the same esp the people in the back. Its still replaying in my head and im infinitely thankful to stan such a wonderful group of boys and im glad to be a part of their tour

#seventeen #diamond edge #diamond edge nyc #diamond edge tour #this is totally uncomprehensive #im a fic writer i swear #jfdfjds;#i finally get some feels out #i'll probably add more later but #ye #ot13 #cami went to diamond edge

43 notes · View notes

ao3-writer · 7 years ago

Text

Black & White; Ballroom Bitch

The longer that Amy stood in that room, the further her paranoia messed with her mind. She stood up, throwing open the door that led back into the hallway upstairs. The last she saw on the small TV inside of the room was Dan holding a key, looking between whether he’d save Jack or Signe.

Amy couldn’t bear watching any longer. As she crept through the hallway, Amy instinctively held her breath, afraid that somebody might hear her. The sound of floorboards creaking underneath her heels terrified Amy. She looked around the corner to see another large set of doors, similar to those like the study but with a gold frame instead.

The doors led to a large room that started to nag at Amy’s curiosity. She slowly moved toward the doors and grabbing one of the handle’s, she opened the door and found herself inside an extremely large room. Amy jumped when the lights suddenly turned on. The room ended up being a ballroom. She stared in awe at the decor, completely forgetting how terrified she was merely seconds ago. There were chairs pushed far to the side, a large chandelier hanging from the center. Underneath the chandelier stood a gramophone, with a set of discs right next to it.

“H-hello?” Amy called out, looking around the empty room. There was no response. Amy stood in front of the gramophone and inspected one of the discs. She sighed. She set it it down and decided to play it.

At first, the only thing that she heard was the soft scratch before a majestic melody began to emit from the gramophone. Amy slowly starts to sway, the music making her close her eyes as she decides to just take in the moment.

When she opens her eyes, she has to close them once again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Out of nowhere, hundreds of spirits had appeared and danced in sync all across the ballroom. She backs up, eyes scanning the room for an exit. She passes through the ghosts, most of them catcalling her and shouting at her to watch where she was going. When Amy backed into the doors she came from, the tried to toggle the handles. But they were locked.

She crouched, sliding against the walls as she hoped that the spirits wouldn’t mess with her.

Rosanna waits in the dining room, her head still spinning from recent events. The second that she heard someone’s screams, Rosanna knew that her moment of peace was gone. Everybody that was in the kitchen stormed out and met with Dan who was dragging Jack as he kicked and screamed. Jack slipped out of his grip and began running back down the hall where they came from.

“Jack!” Mark shouted, following him closely. Rosanna sighed and held her head in her hands. Jack’s appearance most likely signified that Signe was left inside of the tank.

When everybody began to follow Mark and Jack, Rosanna thought she heard music coming from upstairs. She decided to follow.

The only door that was left ajar was the one everybody went through. Rosanna pushed through the door and found herself entering a room full of tears and wine. Rosanna, fortunately, did not see Signe’s last moments. All she saw was Signe floating inside the tank and Jack at the foot of the contraption, sobbing.

“Jack...” someone whispered. Stephanie slowly stepped forward and knelt down beside him. She put a hand on his back, slowly rubbing his back.

“There was a clue,” Dan said, raising a tiny scroll for everybody else to see. Dan led them out of the cellar and back through the hall and into the dining room.

“What’s it say?” Ethan asked, trying to look over Mark’s shoulder as everyone else gathered. Rosanna looked behind them to notice Stephanie and Jack were still in the cellar.

“Beware, the cup was spilled and the bread was broken. Our love could only end in an affair. Bury my jewels, bury my treasures, bury me with my scarves and sweaters. Did you enjoy your dance? Swaying to our wedding symphony? With the girl, my pupil, in which you took her purity?” Dan read aloud.

“Wait what?” Ethan asked, snatching the scroll and reading it for himself.

“Wait, wait. Purity? As in... somebody lost their virginity?” Matthew tried to deduce.

“No, it’s obviously about a wife. She’s writing it to her husband,” Phil added.

“What about... jewels? treasure?”

The group of guests began to argue about what the message meant. Voices overlapped one another, reason and opinions clashed in those few minutes. Rosanna, not even bothering, made her way toward the stairs where she sat. Then she heard it again. The music. She heard feet stomping and a giggly laugh. She turned her head, looking up at the staircase to find nothing.

“You guys?” She tried to say, her voice too quiet to be heard. “You guys!” She exclaimed, her shrill voice breaking away their arguments. Everybody’s attention was on Rosanna, Jack and Stephanie coming from the hallway to see the commotion.

The faint music reached their ears, some people perked their heads up as they registered the sound. It definitely came from upstairs, reverberating across the house. Rosanna stood up, making her way up the stairs while others followed close behind her. One hand on the railing and the other on her chest, she slowly lead the guests up the stairs, following the music as it grew louder. Turning a corner, they saw large glass doors with a gold frame. There was a single gramophone playing in the center of what appeared to be a massive ballroom. She opened the doors, swinging them wide with ease so they could enter. But merely seconds after she and two others stepped across the threshold, the doors swung closed and locked themselves. With the music still playing, white spirits suddenly appeared, dancing and swaying to the music.

Rosanna, Matthew, and Mark were all trapped inside the ballroom while everybody else started banging on the glass demanding to be let in. Rosanna, glad that she wasn’t insane, noticed the sudden fear and confusion on their faces through the glass when the spirits appeared.

“Guys! Amy!” Mark exclaimed, pointing to the wall at the far end of the ballroom. Strapped to the wall in fancy ribbons and asleep, was Amy. Mark began to step closer, the music starting to annoy him. When he began to lift the center spindle off of the disc, the ghosts suddenly froze and charged at Mark. In mere seconds, he was dragged away and strapped against the wall next to Amy.

“Holy shit.”

Matthew and Rosanna took their own steps back as the spirits turned their red-eyed gazes upon them, slowly marching towards them. The panicked screams from the other guests on the other side of the door left Rosanna terrified. She did not want to be in this position again.

“Enough!” A female shouted within the crowd. The crowd split in half as a woman in large Victorian-esque attire stepped through the middle and confronted the two guests. “You two, what brings you here?”

“Well you... kinda took our friends,” Matthew mumbled.

“Speak up!” She shouted, Rosanna flinched.

“W-we followed the music and found our friend strapped on the wall. W-we’d like her back, please,” Rosanna whimpered out. The ghostly woman inched her face closer to the brunette, purposefully trying to make her uncomfortable.

“Can you dance?” The woman asked, her voice demanding.

“I-- uh-- a little bit--”

“CAN YOU DANCE OR NOT.”

Matthew stood between the two, acting as a shield for Rosanna.

“Yes, she can dance. Why do you care?”

The woman flared her nostrils at Matthew and began to walk back into her crowd. Before making it to the end, she took a dramatic turn in which her wispy dress spun magnificently around her.

“I ask you... to dance swiftly,” the ghost said, voice much more sweet, “to dance your heart out. If my pupils are pleased with your dance, I will free whoever you wish. Then she will do the same.” The woman pointed a finger at Rosanna. “However, if my pupils are not at all impressed, I will send you and your tied up friends to the roof. To take one... last... spill.” With each final word, she took a step, her heel clacking against the cold tiles and echoing through the ballroom.

“Fine.” Matthew sneered. Stephanie was shouting on the other side of the door.

The wicked woman smiled. “Very well, let’s see what you have to offer.”

One of the spirits laid a disc onto the turn table, centering the spindle in order to begin. The crowd stood apart and formed a circle around Matthew. A single woman, in a simple dress, took a step into the middle and laid her hand out. The tall man took it as he began to waltz gently across the floor.

Matthew was swift, but not forceful. The grace he and the woman left behind seemed to turn heads. After a while of the orchestra’s music, more spirits began to waltz on their own, creating dizzying stampede of white flurries. Rosanna was frozen where she stood. Waltzing was easy. She could handle waltzing. When she looked back at the door, expecting to see their friends, they had left. Now she was nervous.

The longer the music went on, the further Rosanna’s anxiety built. She could see through the white swarms of dancers a single man in a black jacket. Matthew swayed elegantly until the record was cut short. A series of applause announced Matthew’s safety.

“Very well!” The woman exclaimed as she, too, added to the applause, “which one will you take with you?”

Mark, who was conscious, looked at Matthew and nudged his head to save Amy.

“Uh.. Mark.” Matthew knew he’d be angry, but there was something off about how everybody but Amy was downstairs after the whole mess with Jack and Signe.

In an instant, the ribbons let Mark fall to the floor, catching himself in time to glare at Matthew.

“And you!” The woman shouted, pointing to Rosanna, “it is your turn.”

A different disc was on the gramophone this time, and it was typical flapper music from the 20′s. Rosanna didn’t know what to do. As everyone seemingly went wild, she could see Mark and Matthew urging her to move or do something!

Rosanna tried to sway her hips, but it came out as awkward spasms to the left. She moved her arms awkwardly. Mark prayed this would fool the stupid ghost.

The longer the song went on, the worse Rosanna’s movements were. Finally, the record scratched and the crowd surrounded her ominously. There were a series of whispers and mumbles throughout the crowd. The wicked woman stood in front of the crowd and tisked at Rosanna.

“It seems to me... that you’re friend lied. You, in fact, cannot dance,” the woman scolded, walking around Rosanna as she inspected her disdainfully.

“Off to the roof we go.” A man mumbled as he shoved past Rosanna, carrying Amy over his shoulder.

“What?! No wait!” Rosanna shouted as she followed after them. the spirits followed the woman and the brute ghost. She could barely see where she was going. She could hear terrifying chants, demanding they toss Amy off the roof. Mark’s shouts behind Rosanna made her panic even further.

The ghosts just floated upward and into the ceiling. Rosanna caught hold of the string that opened up the stairs that led to the attic. It was filled with terrifying dolls. She tried to look past them and instead at the window that hung above a chair. She stepped onto it, looking for anything that would indicate an opening. Finally, a tiny latch was the trick to opening the small window. Mark, right behind Rosanna, assisted in her lift into the hole she barely squeezed into.

“Save Amy!” Mark shouted after her. Rosanna stood up, the cold night air blowing her way and her dress ruffling even further. She could see the crowd of spirits ahead of her. She made her way through, expecting to push and shove when mere wisps of smoke were all that was left. She saw Amy slowly blinking awake. Her hands were tied behind her back and the wicked woman stood beside her, a hand on Amy’s shoulder.

“You failed a simple task! You simply couldn’t dance! And now,” the woman looked at Amy, the blonde looking around her in confusion as to what was going on. “I will do away with her the same way I did with my husband’s-- m-my husband’s whore!”

“Ro, what’s going on?” Amy asked weakly.

“No, wait!” Rosanna shouted, “throw me away instead!”

The spirits gasped.

At that moment, the guests all gathered outside, stepping down the front steps to take in the scenery high above them.

“Oh my god, what’s going to happen?!” Stephanie exclaimed.

“We have to catch her. Quick, find out where she could land!” Mark shouted as everybody scrambled around to look for any signs of cushioning they could use.

Meanwhile on the roof, the woman laughed a wicked laugh and looked at Rosanna in a devilish manner.

“Oh... you’re too pure. too young.” The woman said, “You won’t understand marriage. Not yet, at least. I do hope you don’t face the... heartbreak... that I had to endure for so long,” the woman said, her face breaking it’s tough facade for a second into a sad one.

Rosanna remembered the scroll that Dan read in the dining room. And it clicked.

“You’re husband cheated on you, didn’t he?” The woman looked at Rosanna, questioned. “With someone younger? O-one of your pupils, you said. Right?”

“Y-yes, how do you know that?”

“A-and you wanted to be buried in your jewels. And scarves and sweaters. Right?”

The ghostly woman stared at Rosanna, her attention off of Amy.

“The music that mat danced to... was it the song that was played a-at your wedding?”

A nod.

“I’m sorry,” Rosanna said, sincerity in her voice, “I’m sorry that your husband did that. And I can see why you’d want to get revenge. Throwing her off the roof because you new it’d hurt him. B-but you don’t have to throw Amy off. Because she’s not a cheater.”

Everybody underneath was positioning themselves where they figured Amy would fall back if she was pushed.

“Y-you can help us. You can redeem yourself. If you could help us find out who brought us here, you can be free from this... this guilt. We could be free from this house!” Rosanna exclaimed, her voice excited. She finally found a way out. This could be their chance.

“Sweet girl, y-you know me so well...” the woman said, clasping her hands and walking towards Rosanna. Rosanna had a smile, hope in her eyes. The woman actually looked sympathetic...

...before her eyes contorted together and her face returned to its rage. The woman grabbed Rosanna’s hair and her shoulder. Rosanna let out a yelp.

“...but nobody will ever understand the pain I’ve felt,” the woman snapped. She pulled Rosanna to the edge of the roof next to Amy. “But you’re dear friends will.”

People began shouting, reassuring them they’d be safe if they fell. The wind flapped against their dresses and Amy looked at Rosanna in terror.

“I’ll leave it up to you, girl. You can volunteer yourself... or throw your friend.”

Rosanna was shocked. She couldn’t do this. She felt like the choice was obvious... but at the same time... it wasn’t.

VOTE: Throw Rosanna or Throw Amy

Voting Polls Close in 32 hours [3 days]

12 notes · View notes

artsyneurotic · 8 years ago

Text

Duped - Chapter 2

Misunderstandings abound as Pandora has to explain herself to Tron, with an unexpected guest in her stroll down memory lane...

(Previous Chapter)

Read This on AO3

——-

You’ve got to be kidding me.

The three black figures strolled out of the hallway, the clattering of their boots echoing hollowly into the room. Tron’s eyes deadened. His nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw almost to the point of breaking.

Why…?

His hands balled into tight fists.

WHY?

How many times… do I have to endure this…? ...How many times will I be betrayed?

“Well, you see, it’s actually kind of a funny story. Well, I mean not really ‘funny’ per se, but--” Pandora cut off mid-sentence, as she turned from looking at the elite black guards back towards Tron and paled. His circuitry had reverted to pitch black, and his expression darkened. His icy gaze fixated on the approaching guards, and then lost itself as his obsidian helmet snapped up and eclipsed his face.

The figures stopped abruptly. Pandora raised her hands frantically.

“W-wait! You don’t understand! I-”

“Oh, I understand,” Tron snarled, the distortion of his helmet crackling his words. “I understand all too well!”

In a fraction of a moment, his hand was on his disc, and it buzzed to life sharply.

Pandora fell backwards onto the floor, her arms scrambling to steady herself as she slipped. Her eyes widened in utter terror. “N-no, please-- please, just WAIT!”

The bright disc roared over her head, careening into the guards. She barely stifled her scream.

… But then it went straight through them. No cubes, no deresolution. It just sped through them like a bullet through a ghost. Their images rippled as it passed. The disc intuitively circled back around and roughly found itself back in Tron’s grasp. His helmet tilted ever-so-slightly to the side.

...What?

The three black guards were now standing defensively, their arms covering their heads, in fear and untouched. Tron looked down at the floor, and saw Pandora. She was cowering in a ball, her arms cradled around her head, just like them.

“P-please d-don’t derez me!” Her voice had grown small, quivering. Unbelievably frightened. “L-look!”

The guards lowered their arms and began flickering in and out. Like brittle glass, they suddenly and silently shattered, dispersing into the air like thousands of tiny twinkling stars, until the lights faded and the room was once again only comprised of two programs.

Not real black guards… holograms…?

Tron’s tense arms slackened, circuitry returning to normal as his helmet retreated inside his suit again. He returned the disc to his back slowly. The click of it settling into place only served to make Pandora curl in on herself further.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m s-sorry,” her muffled voice trilled. “I-I thought it w-would b-be cool to s-show you, but i-it was s-stupid of me! So stupid!”

She was shaking like a leaf.

“P-please don’t derez me.”

Tron moved to the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor.

“P-please d-don’t…”

He got up and slowly knelt down near her. She rocked back and forth as she shook, repeating herself over and over. Was she stuck in a loop? Or…?

“P-please d-don’t derez m-me. P-please don’t derez me...”

He moved to gently touch her arm, and she yelped. Gone was the warmth of curiosity and playfulness from her face. Her features were creased with a kind of terror that was well-worn. Traumatized. Learned. She reeled backwards and hit the back of her head against the wall. Her breathing was erratic, her chest rising and falling far too quickly.

Tron lifted his hands. “Hey, it’s all right, I’m not going to derez you,” he whispered. His anger had melted away, replaced by hints of guilt. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I frightened you.” He frowned a little. “I thought I was going to be attacked, so I was going to defend myself… but I was never going to attack you .”

She eyed him nervously; his words seemed like they should be soft and gentle, but they were spoken in a tone that was surprisingly stiff. All she could muster was her shuddered breathing, but he was patient. He sat there with her until she eventually managed to calm down. Pandora blinked, her face slowly easing back into a small semblance of her previous demeanor.

“I’m sorry,” she replied finally. “That was pretty stupid when I think of it now, wasn’t it…?” She shakily brushed an errant curl from her temple as she spoke. “I… I was just so eager to try and impress you with it, I-I… I overdid it. I shouldn’t have, but I did.” Her brows knit with shame. “I told you I hadn’t really talked with someone in a long time, that I was out of practice. There’s no better proof of that than what I just did.” She sighed dejectedly. “Just an awkward, solitary program.”

“It’s all right,” he assured her, “No harm done.” For once, he was relieved that his survival instincts were wrong. “But I have to know. What were those…? Holograms?”

Pandora bit her lip. “Ding ding ding, tell the program what he’s won,” she joked weakly. “That’s exactly right, Tron. They’re dupes .”

Tron sat back, his cool facade dropping as his brows raised in genuine surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across a program who could do that. That’s incredible!”

“Yeah…” She rubbed her arm uncomfortably.

He sensed her unease. “What is it?”

She got up and paced around the room as she spoke. “It’s not like I was always a dupe program or something.” She sat down on the bed. Her eyes softened, warmed by a memory. “Before… Before all this, I used to be an art program. I was a renderer.” A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she remembered. “Programs used to say ‘wow, Pandora, your renders are the best! They’re so beautiful. They’re so… real.’ I made art for my friends. It was my claim to fame.”

Tron got up from the floor and joined her on the bed, keeping a respectable distance. “But a renderer can’t just make dupes out of nowhere…”

“That’s right. I had a little help, if you could call it that.” Her eyes were glued to her knees. “From the User, Kevin Flynn.”

Tron’s eyes widened. Flynn! “...What? When? How ?”

Pandora looked over and regarded Tron for a moment. “It’s a long story, and I’m not exactly the best storyteller.” She paused. “But… here, I’ll show you.” Her arm looped behind her and un-clicked her disc from her back. She held it in front of her with both hands, and set it in front of Tron. The disc hummed gently as images began focusing and forming above it, blurring as they went, like a video tape being rewound as it played. It scratched to a stop on a particular memory, and then resumed motion as she spoke.

*******

A tall skyline cascaded across the disc as her memories played back. Tron instantly recognized it. Tron City. The view shifted from the tops of the buildings down to the ground below, whisking past the bustling inhabitants. The city had always been packed, but the crowds were strangely subdued.

It was only a few cycles or so after Clu’s coup had hit. There was chaos, panic. Pandora walked down a populated street, cluttered with programs who were huddling among themselves, whispering and murmuring in worried tones to one another. Periodically, a frenzied program would dash down the alley, disappearing into the darkness. Not everyone was so eager to accept Clu’s new position. An administrator with absolute power corrupts absolutely, right…?

For programs like myself that thrived on individuality, creativity, and freedom-- we were the ones who were the most frightened. Pandora tucked her arms in against her chest, frowning warily and picking up her pace as she turned a corner. I had already heard that Clu was cracking down on programs who didn’t agree with his approach. Clu's forces were all too cavalier about derezzing anyone who spoke up. I had... nightmares about that. And… and we had heard about other programs who just up and disappeared. Like, abruptly disappeared.

As she walked, the area grew quieter; the groups of programs thinned out, until she had turned one more corner and come to a near-empty street. Pandora sighed, approaching her apartment at the end of the alleyway. I usually spent the ends of cycles with my other art program friends… but my two closest friends vanished two cycles prior, suspiciously right after they had created some anti-Clu propaganda that they copy-pasted across several of the larger buildings in the city… including your own ridiculously tall security hub. My other friend wasn’t so lucky… he was derezzed right in front of me for openly defying Clu and standing his ground. Pandora bit her lip as her hand reached for the door. He was gone and I knew I would probably never see the others again, either.

A cough erupted from a darkened corner, startling her. A lone, hooded figure was sitting there, almost imperceptible in the shadows. Pandora’s footsteps evidently had woken it up. The figure raised a hand to its shrouded face and rubbed its eyes. It dropped its hand when it noticed Pandora frozen in place.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “Didn’t mean to spook you there.”

Her fingers were still hanging in the air, short of touching her door’s security panel. “...That’s okay,” she replied hesitantly. Unidentified programs were things to stay away from right now; she didn’t want to risk getting in trouble. The image of her friend shattering into cubes was still far too vibrant in her mind.

The hooded figure cocked his head. He stared at her just a little too long, definitely long enough to unnerve her. “Tell me,” he inquired, “you’re an art program, aren’t ya?”

She swallowed hard. Was this a trap? If she affirmed him, would she be spirited away just like her friends? … Or was this perhaps another art program as well? Hiding from Clu? Too scared to show themselves?

“I might be,” she replied at last. “... Are you?”

The figure chuckled, resting his arms across his knees as he leaned back against the wall. “That’s kinda debatable, I guess. Some people could call what I’ve done in the past ‘art,’ but I guess that’s always in the eye of the beholder, right?” He noticed she was still unmoved. He sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, I’m not any kinda bad news. At least not yet.” He stood up, dusting himself off, an unusual motion to do considering that he wasn’t actually dirty. “But I had an idea, and if you’re who I think you are, I need you.”

Pandora frowned. “And just who do you think I am…?”

The hooded figure stepped up in front of her, his smile the only thing visible under the hood. “It took me a minute, but think I finally placed you. You’re Pandora, right?”

She swallowed tensely. “Yes, I am… but who are you?”

He looked around briefly, confirming their seclusion in the alley. He dipped his hands, tugging at the hood and loosening it to collapse around his shoulders.

A weary-looking Kevin Flynn smiled sadly back at her. “Someone who needs your help.”

Pandora’s eyes bugged wide. I still vividly remember how utterly surprised I was. “ User ?? Kevin Flynn? W-what are you doin--”

“Ah ahh, let’s keep our little chat down to a dull roar, okay?” he smirked, but the apprehension was etched sharply on his features. She was still shell-shocked from the reveal. He placed a hand warmly on her shoulder. “D’you think we could go inside for a bit? It’s not really safe out here, and I’d like to fill you in on what the heck I was talking about.”

Pandora nodded dully and stumbled to her door’s security panel, activating it and letting Flynn gently usher her inside.

...

Inside her apartment, once she had a few moments to properly process everything, she was able to calm down and address Flynn.

“How,” she murmured, “how did you know who I was?”

Flynn smiled a wide, crinkled grin. “It may take me a little bit sometimes, but I never forget a program. And man, for once, I think I might’ve lucked out.” He motioned for her to sit on the simple couch near them, quickly seating himself beside her.

“Clu’s in full swing with his takeover,” he continued, his smile dissipating, replaced by a concerned pursing of his lips. “I’ve tried to fight back, but it’s like I’m trying to plug a sinking ship with my fingers. The dude’s got an army of repurposed programs doing his dirty work.”

Repurposed. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that before. When I heard him say it, I knew there couldn’t be any other explanation for the disappearances.

Flynn noticed the shift in Pandora’s expression. He squeezed her shoulder tenderly. “I’m sorry… I know a lot of your friends were probably repurposed.” His eyes faltered and then returned to her. “I wish there were something I could do right now, but Clu’s kept me pretty damn busy running for my life.” He frowned. “Can’t mount a good offense if I’m always on the defense.”

Flynn stood up and began pacing around the room, his arms emphasizing his words as he thought out loud. “I gotta get out of the city. His goons can’t follow me into the Outlands. If I can get away, I can regroup and hopefully try again from a better angle.”

“But how can I help?” she asked, at a loss. “I’m just a renderer; I can’t fight. I’m no Tron .”

Flynn’s feet ground to a halt; his eyes glinted with pain at the name. His brows sunk, heavy with regret. His gaze fell to the floor and stayed there a long while. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. “I’m not asking you to fight for me. I … I already failed Tron. It was my fault that he… he…” a hitch in his breath forced him to clear his throat, looking back up from the floor at Pandora with glistening eyes that he blinked furiously, willing the water away as he took a deep breath.

“...I wouldn’t ask that of anyone else.”

So Flynn thought I was dead as well, Tron thought as he watched. Not a big surprise; so did everyone, thanks to Clu… but it still hurt. From the looks of it, it still hurt Flynn, too.

Flynn cleared his throat again, roughly regaining his composure. “No, all I need from you is a distraction. If I can get those cronies of Clu chasing dudes they think are me, I can get to the Outlands and finally get some breathing room.”

Pandora raised an eyebrow. “But how can I do that? I mean, I’m a good renderer; I could make some pretty convincing dupes of you… but they’re static . Wall art. Holograms. Statues at best.”

He leaned forward conspiratorially, which looked rather laughable considering they were alone in the apartment. “What if I could ‘teach’ you to do more?” His lips splayed into a mischievous smirk.

“Really?” she whispered back. A User, offering her a chance to transcend herself? What were the possibilities? Her lips tightened. More importantly though, what were the risks?

“All I need is for you to trust me,” he replied, as if reading what she was thinking. “I got a far out idea when I was looking for you, and you might be my only hope.”

Was I going to let my fear win out over helping a User? I had never fought before; I was always a runner; I hid, I survived. But despite the propaganda Clu was trying to push about them, I still believed in Users. No use in stopping that now, especially when one was staring me in the face.

“All right,” she heard herself say, the tiniest hint of a tremor in her voice. “What do I need to do?”

“I’ll need your disc,” he answered gently. “I gotta see how you’re currently coded, and what I can… upgrade.”

Pandora took a deep breath, and detached the disc from her back, handing it gingerly to Flynn. He smiled appreciatively in response, and held it in his hands as strands of data began to light up and trickle upwards in the visualizer just above the disc’s edge. He sat for a few micro-cycles, just poring over the data, nodding here and there, revealing a small child-like grin when he began understanding the flow of her programming.

“It’s really quite remarkable,” he mused as he began the initial finger traces across the data strands. “I had… borrowed the idea of your code from another company a few years back. They had some cool ideas about what the future of 3D graphics could be.” He chuckled giving her a wink, “Of course, me being me, I figured I could take their ideas a step further .”

He found a particular chain of code that called out to him, and he flittered a finger over it, re-forming it and shifting it together with another strand. “At the time, I left myself a little backdoor with the code; I figured this kinda tech always gets outdated when the company doesn’t plan for the future, plan for it to expand… so I just left a kind of expansion slot.” One more chain was carefully adjusted, the bits on the visualizer separating and attaching to other chains. “And it looks like that might’ve paid off in spades.”

The data pulsed a faint blue and re-sequenced itself in the visualizer, detached data strains re-aligning and once more flowing in unison. The resulting glow of the data was a brighter tone than before. Flynn gave himself a small nod and motioned for Pandora to turn around. Obliging him, he returned the disc to her back and gently clicked it into place.

“It may take a moment,” he cautioned her, “those patched subroutines need to update… just let it do its thing, okay?”

Pandora shuddered instinctively, like the involuntary bodily response to stepping into a freezing room. Her green eyes flared for a moment, pulsing in tandem with the light on her disc. She held her head, the strangest feeling flowing through her. It was as if the grid opened up to me, just a bit more. This feeling of expanding space… the fleeting visions of places and programs I remembered in all my cycles flooding back to me and categorizing themselves.

When the patch finished, she nearly blacked out, but Flynn caught her and she managed to stay online, eyes fluttering as they dimmed back to their usual hue.

“It’s... “ her mouth felt oddly dry. “It’s incredible.”

“Now there’s no user manual for how this all works,” he admitted. “Some of it you’re going to have to acclimate to in your own way.” He stood directly in front of her, hands behind his back.

“You already had some pretty far-out skill with creating holograms,” he continued, “But with your upgrade, you can make dupes that you can control and move as you see fit. Anything in your memory banks is fair game.” He scratched his chin. “The catch though is that you gotta be in close enough proximity to your target to get the kinda data needed for a full dupe. Ahhh… I’d say within the confines of this apartment would be about how close you’d probably need to be.”

He rubbed his hands together impatiently. “But enough of me boring you with that, why don’t you give it a test drive?”

“A test drive…” she repeated. She stood firmly, staring at him and accessing her subroutines. It was so unusual… the process felt vaguely familiar, but different at the same time.

As she focused on Flynn, her emerald eyes glinted and flared for the briefest moment. A tiny sensation of draining energy, and then…

As if being filled in with stardust, a figure came to life on Flynn’s left side. It blinked slowly and then turned its head to look at the User. Flynn’s eyes widened with glee.

“Whoa!” both the Flynn-dupe and Pandora blurted out at the same time.

“Hahah! It looks like I’m beside myself with amazement!” Flynn erupted in a dorky chuckle.

Both Pandora and the Flynn-dupe moved in unison; as she raised her hand so did he, and their voices appeared connected as well.

“Hm,” Flynn mused, “I think if you allocated a little more processing power, you could make the dupe do things independent of you… hell, you might be able to do more than one!”

Pandora strained a little, and then the Flynn-dupe was running his hands through his hair, grinning wide, and humming a tune… all while Pandora was standing still.

Flynn whistled. “Looks like I made the right choice after all,” he beamed.

“I wonder,” Pandora started. A wince crept into her eyes as a second Flynn-dupe flickered into existence on Flynn’s other side. Then another just behind him.

“Whoa, now take it easy Pandora, you don’t want to overdo--”

A fourth began to materialize next to her, when suddenly a sharp jolt of pain raced through her. Her processes glitched and she felt an overwhelming deadened weight upon her. Her vision started to dim as her legs weakened and gave way underneath her.

“Pandora!” Flynn rushed to catch her before she tumbled to the floor. The three forms dissipated around them and scattered. Flynn’s touch inexplicably emboldened her fading circuitry, bringing her back.

“Ohhhh…” She held her head. She was shaken at how instant that drain was. If Flynn hadn’t been there…

“It’s okay,” he murmured gently. “Don’t push yourself. Heh… I think you found your limit.” He helped her onto the couch. “Looks like any more than three of these bad boys is too much of a power drain on you. I mean, that’s still a damn awesome achievement. Just… keep that in mind, huh?”

She nodded.

After he felt confident in her health, he continued. “I think… I think we might be ready for that other part of my plan now.”

*******

The memories on the disc fast-forwarded once again, blurring and distorting until they stopped to play a new scene. This one was on the top of a tall building.

After a bit more practicing, I was getting the hang of making and controlling the dupes. Now it was finally time to put Flynn’s plan into action. On the rooftop, Pandora looked out at the streets splitting off on all sides away from the building. I could make three of him, each to run off in different directions, each drawing attention away from him. The only hitch was that I needed to be in enough of a visual range so I could see where to make them run… so the rooftop seemed like the most logical choice.

She stared down below, three identical Flynns stepping out of the shadows and each choosing a respective street. None of them were hooded; she wanted to make sure they were as visible as possible.

Flynn meanwhile had slipped into the back alley, prepping his ENCOM 786 light cycle. Although the dupes were supposed to divert attention, he didn’t want to take chances, and the 786 was the fastest way to the Outlands that he knew of. With the cycle’s light ribbon disabled, he hoped to make a quiet getaway without attracting any gawkers. All that was left was to wait for the signal.

Up on the roof, Pandora caught a glance of Flynn’s faraway form down below. He looked ready. She took a deep breath and began the game.

Simultaneously, all three Flynn-dupes started breaking off into a run down the opposing streets, whooping and hollering and drawing quite a confused crowd. Their yells echoed throughout the city. “Down with Clu! Clu’s a tyrant! Programs should be free!” They managed to actually start working up a few groups of programs alongside them.

That’s when the black guards arrived.

Waves of the black guards trickled out of the alleyways like ants, veering off and heading towards the Flynn-dupes. Pandora bit her lip and had them all break into a run. Now or never. She flung a light grenade high into the sky, exploding like a small firework. Down below she saw the hooded User pause momentarily give her a solemn wave, jump into his light cycle, and zip off into the uncertainty of the street leading to the outskirts of Tron City.

Go Flynn. Go! Her heart raced.

Turning her attention back to the dupes, she extended them as far as she could see. I knew that once they had run too far out of my field of vision, they would break down, but hopefully it would be enough.

A beam of light bleached the rooftop in white. Shit. The firework signal had drawn some unintended attention of its own. A large recognizer was flying low and detected movement on top of the building. Pandora paled as she realized the beam had focused in on her. Had she been identified? No time to worry about that. She panicked and made a break for the fire escape.

*******

Pandora sat back on the bed, the memory on the disc glitching slightly and fading from the visualizer. She sighed and ended the process, putting the disc back on.

“So there you have it,” she chuckled weakly. “And I’ve been running ever since.” She rubbed her eyes. The strain of reliving those moments was an unwelcome feeling. “I was sure they'd put two and two together and realized what I'd done, so I wasn't safe there anymore. I managed to smuggle myself out of Tron City… and stumbled into Argon.” She offered a slight smile to Tron. “I guess I’m not the only one who had that idea though, hm?”

Tron nodded slowly. He was still trying to process everything he’d seen. She had seen Flynn, conceivably helped Flynn escape. He was still out there, somewhere . His heart did a little flip. Maybe the odds weren’t so terribly stacked against him? But that also was a long time ago… a lot could’ve happened.

A lot could still happen.

He blinked, looking at her quietly. But right now, more importantly, I’ve got a program who has a function I’ve never seen.

An asset.

But I need to handle this correctly.

An uncomfortable, pregnant silence permeated the room.

“I’m guessing you don’t know how to fight,” Tron said finally. Blunt. Not really a question so much as a statement.

“Uh, well,” Pandora looked down, embarrassed. Something in his tone made her feel ashamed for some reason. “No, not really. As I mentioned, I’ve always been more of a runner than a fighter.”

“Mm,” he grunted in acknowledgment.

I know what I need to do. He recalled just moments before how he caught himself being a little too gentle, given the circumstances. I can’t afford to get soft if I’m really going through with this. There’s too much at stake to have kid gloves on now.

Somehow, just like that, a steel door had solidly shut on his facade, his face as cool as a cucumber and impossible to read. He stood up and looked around the room briefly, inspecting it.

Pandora was drowning in self-consciousness. “I-If that’s a problem, I--”

He spun around on his heel and faced her. “I’m going to teach you to how to fight.”

She blinked.

“...What?”

(To Be Continued!)

#tron #tron uprising #kevin flynn #tron lives #my writing #my art

17 notes · View notes

daniellereviews · 8 years ago

Text

Danielle Watches Fraggle Rock Season 3 - Episode 22 : Sprocket’s Big Adventure

Guess who’s back. Back again. Where the hell is paint. It’s not under P...it’s not under M for Microsoft Paint...it’s under W for WHAT THE FUCK?

Oh, I do know this should be episode 401, but I go in DVD set order, so.....

Anyway. Today’s episode opens with Gobo having a bit of a special effect fail as he tries to dig a postcard out of the trash but we see it’s already attached to his hand. Then he runs into Sprocket.

Gobo tries to be friends with Sprocket and is all “Say my name!”

When Doc comes back up from fixing pipes in the floor we can see that he’s working quite the combover.

Let it go, seriously.

Doc doesn’t quite believe in the furry creatures in the walls, and Gobo’s left, and Doc is rather preoccupied with his repairs. And with his monkey wrench. He says that Sprocket will just have to prove the existence of furry creatures, so when Doc leaves Sprocket “falls” down the hole and starts to dig.

Meanwhile, down in Fraggle Rock...

We got Boober cooking some stew. Apparently they’re going with a “Boober’s cooking is bad” gag again this episode. I’m really not sure why they go that direction. Bad chefs must be hilarious to someone.

Red and Mokey have failed to get radishes since the Gorgs have been chilling in the garden. But they also do not want to eat stew, and Red threatens to throw it out. They scuffle a bit over the pot when Gobo comes and suggests going to pick mush melons.

In another part of The Rock Sprocket has finally dug through and I think he’s actually shrunk a bit.

I mean, Sprocket’s size next to this hole was awful when he was “stuck” in it. But there’s a little “magic” chord going on when he comes out and things get kind of weird. I think The Rock is shrinking him so that he can go on this adventure.

Like, sometimes I think that The Rock is the living organism and that the creatures within it are like symbiotic bacteria or cells or something. Because the next sequence is super weird.

Voices call “this way” as Sprocket goes deeper and deeper into the rock. Sometimes we can see the creatures that are calling.

They sing kind of a song but it’s almost creepy. Sometimes the voices almost seem to come from nowhere.

He finally ends up around some Doozer constructions.

Meanwhile, the Fraggles found one under-ripe mushmelon. Mokey, helpfully, suggests that they could possibly transcend their hunger if they think of something besides food.

Seems legit.

Sprocket continues to call for Gobo but finds the stew. He knocks over the stew and a whole lot of Doozer constructions while Cotterpin and friend look on. She says that next time they’ll be ready for him. Uh oh.

The Fraggles come and Boober is dismayed that his stew is spilled, as Red had finally become desperate enough to eat it. Gobo and Wembley are more interested in all the destroyed Doozer towers. Red points out that Fraggles would have eaten the constructions.

Which makes one wonder WHY they didn’t just eat a bunch of the constructions instead of relying on STEW and unripe melons? Huh? Geez way to be a bunch of drama llamas.

Of course, as soon as they all leave the scene Sprocket comes up looking for Gobo again.

Wembley and Boober have found each other and Boober drags Wembley off far away from The Great Hall - all the way to the Workshop entrance - so that he can cop some feels in peace so that they can be far away from whatever danger had broken everything. Boober claims to be practicing Fear. He also falls in a hole.

The Doozers find Sprocket and know just what to do.

Boober realizes the hole is from Outer Space and that what broke stuff must have been from there, too. He and Wembley flee.

Apparently what the Doozers did was go all Gulliver’s Travels on poor Sprocket. Cotterpin mentions that they work VERY hard on their constructions that he broke. And they don’t want an apology - they want YOU, Sprocket.

Meanwhile, Doc has a plumbing emergency and mentions Monkey Wrench a stilted number of times until the Fraggles think that’s what must be attacking them. That’s some season one BS right there.

Wembley and Boober run off together.

Here’s the switch of the Bait and Switch building up with the Doozers - see they WANT Sprocket to break everything.

They sing about it. There are worse songs.

Me: Where are all the OTHER Fraggles? Like, this is The Great Hall and it’s full of doozers.

Husband: They ate them.

Me: ?

Husband: That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Me: DOOZER STICKS ARE MADE OF PEOPLE!

Well after the song, they let Sprocket go and he promptly breaks tons of stuff. The doozers consider Sprocket a natural resource.

The Fraggles discuss what to do, with Wembley gamely agreeing with everyone’s ideas until they snap at him for it. He insists they need to find the creature before they can really know what idea is best. Meanwhile Boober is getting super sneezy, he’s been sneezing off and on all episode, so he goes off to rest.

On his way home he runs into Sprocket and faints.

Sprocket tries to go under a Doozer bridge carefully, but ends up shattering it. Cotterpin finds him and tries to assure him, again, that it’s fine, they like the destruction. She realizes that Sprocket probably doesn’t belong here, and takes him to “that other place.”

Boober explains to the others that he saw the hairy monster from Outer Space. Gobo decides to use Boober’s allergies to track Sprocket. It’s a little funny when Red says that Boober has to be a hero and Boober retorts that he’d rather just be alive.

Well, as one might have guessed, the “other place” is The Universe. Junior is intrigued by Sprocket but distracted by Pa.

Philo and Gunge are very unamused and Sprocket is awfully afraid of Marjory until she proves able to speak Dog.

The Fraggles track Sprocket to The Universe.

These two are doing their usual stupid stuff that no one cares about.

Until Junior captures Gobo.

There’s a cute joke with Philo and Gunge using a “cheap phrasebook” to translate Sprocket’s speech. Marjory, however, understands just fine and has calmed Sprocket down.

Until he hears Gobo calling for help. Well, Junior doesn’t want to wake Pa, so Gobo and Sprocket make as much noise as possible and Junior trips over a clock which I think ends in a dick joke with the Cuckoo popping up roughly from between Junior’s legs.

Anyway, noise noise noise and then Junior let’s Gobo go and he and Sprocket retreat. And Junior uhm...chokes the chicken.

Well, Gobo talks it over with Sprocket at the entrance to Outer Space. He says that the Trash Heap told him (when????) what Sprocket wanted. Gobo gives Sprocket a bracelet saying that will mean that Doc “has to” believe in Fraggles.

Yeah, that’s stupid, Gobo.

They part ways.

And of course Doc mistakes the bracelet that Gobo never really wears for a washer and the status quo is preserved.

Episode : 6/10

This is a good episode to start a season, which is what it really is. It reintroduces the Fraggles, the Doozers and their society and values, and the Gorgs, and the Trash Heap. Unlike some other episodes that have a lot going on this one feels pretty natural - except for the initial “what are we going to eat there’s only food everywhere” conflict. It’s pretty solid but some poor puppetsmanship drives it down a bit. Gobo’s pre-stuck postcard, Wembley’s poor arm motions, and other bits and pieces aren’t the best work. Also, we don’t get to spend a lot of time with any one group so it feels rushed. Better to be rushed than slow. A good experience, an average Fraggle Rock episode.

Message : 4/10

"It always helps to learn a second language” is a message I can get behind.

Heh. No. It’s not really a messages as much as it’s a “myth arc” episode about the connected nature of everything. The Fraggles work together to find an answer and help Sprocket - who they have come to consider a friend. It’s nice to see them not being as terrified or antagonistic with Junior. Wembley doesn’t exactly stand up for himself, but he doesn’t exactly fold completely either. Subtle changes but there’s some definite progression here, but it doesn’t form a single cohesive point.

Songs: 4/10

The songs aren’t really good this time. “This Way” serves a purpose though it’s an odd purpose. Does The Rock will this to happen? Both are kind of forgettable as songs though, to me.

Random Observations:

This follows “Bells of Fraggle Rock” on the disc and boy is THAT a hard act to follow.

It’s one more episode on the disc after this.

More stuff for Boober X Wembley as they spend a lot of time together this episode even when it might have made sense for Wembley to follow Gobo.

Less of Mokey and Red this episode.

#fraggle rock #danielle watches fraggle rock #muppets #fraggle rock season 3

15 notes · View notes

fancycollectionfury-blog1 · 7 years ago

Text

Wife was rear ended and i have no insurance we live in illinois and car insurance is required?

"Wife was rear ended and i have no insurance we live in illinois and car insurance is required?

i am working on getting insurance now once i get a estimate they will cover it

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://salecarinsurance.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr